#it was so nice coming back into the fandom and experiencing this better atmosphere | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

krreader · 4 years ago

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what matters is here and now.

pairing: kim seokjin x manager!reader fandom: bts warnings: / genre: angst ; fluff word count: 1.8k+

summary: it wasn’t a question of whether or not you two loved each other. it was the question of how you were going to make this work with your circumstances.

a/n: haven’t done a jin story in a while, so I hope you guys like it ♥

With Jin being the oldest member of Bangtan and not having a girlfriend – unlike others from his group – questions were bound to come up, especially from his family.

“Why do all the younger ones have girlfriends, but you don't?” his mother would complain, “I want to have grandchildren some day, you know?”

He would simply smile and nod, tell her that she would get her grandchildren eventually, but then quickly change the topic.

He would love nothing more than to tell her the truth, her and everyone else, but he couldn't.

Because if anyone found out, you would be ruined.

Getting a position as a manager for Bangtan had been a dream come true for you. You had worked hard on achieving this dream and showed your worth within the first month after a scheduling conflict could have destroyed the entire upcoming world tour. But after two restless days and nights and countless of phone calls and emails, you had managed to figure it out and the entire company was in your debt, glad to have you on board.

That was four years ago.

And a lot can happen in four years.

While Bangtan had their own personal managers, you were one of the general ones, one of the ones that they could all go to if they had a problem. And the first few weeks, you barely spoke to any of the members, were more involved with Bang PD than with the boys themselves.

But then, one night when you had been sitting in your office and had just ended a video conference with their American record label, there had been a knock on your door.

“Hello manager,” Jin had smiled a little, “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” despite your tiredness, you had smiled back at him, offering him a chair across from your desk, “What can I help you with?”

“It's not so much what you can help me with, than what I can help you with,” he had placed a plastic bag on your desk and had began grinning, “I made too much food earlier and I figured I'd see if anyone was still at the company and would like some. And... well... you're one of the only ones left.”

This was probably the first time that you had a conversation alone with him and while you had always been kind and professional towards him, this act of kindness had surprised you.

“Really?” you had blinked a couple of times in confusion, “You're... giving me this?”

“You work so hard for us, I'd like to give you something back. And right now, that is the only thing I have.”

“You don't have to give me anything, Jin. I'm getting paid to help you, you know?” you had chuckled a little.

“Hm,” he had thought for a moment, then he had smiled again, “Then look at this as our first proper introduction dinner. Just you and me, getting to know each other better so we can work even better together in the future.”

You had laughed then, had thought it was incredibly endearing and had ended up having dinner with him. Not just for half an hour, but you two had talked for nearly two hours, despite the time ticking away until it was the early morning hours.

At first it was strictly professional stuff, gossip within the company of who was dating who and such.. but eventually it started to get a little more personal. What's your favorite this and that, where were you born, what are your parents doing and so on.

And that's the kind of relationship that you've had for the first year. It was genuinely just a friendship that had developed between you two. He got along with all managers, especially his own, but with you, there wasn't that feeling of him having to be professional at all times anymore. He could simply be himself and that was something he valued a lot in you.

Feelings only started developing a year or so after that first conversation between you two.

It was at a wedding of one of the other managers, where naturally both you and him – including the rest of Bangtan – had been invited to. It was a lovely ceremony, the food was great, the atmosphere even better and at one point of the night, you ended up with only Jin in the beautiful gardens of the private venue.

“I'm so happy for him,” you had said with your head turned around to look at your co-worker and his newly wedded wife dancing and laughing, “It's so nice to see someone love someone else so deeply.”

Jin had first looked at the manager as well, but then his eyes had shifted to look at you. And that's all he did for a moment. Watch you.

Then, he had finally said: “Have you ever experienced it? This kind of love?”

Your smile had faltered, turning your head to look at him, “Have you?”

He couldn't reply, just like you couldn't.

That was answer enough.

“Sometimes I think that not everyone is destined to find someone else that loves them. Loving yourself is enough for some,” you had sighed and fully turned around now, so that your back was facing the wedding, “I have my job and I have me and I think that is enough.”

“You think that is enough.. but you wonder what it's like, don't you?” Jin had nodded to himself, looking down to his hands, “I'm like that too. I try to find solace in my work, but every now and then I wonder what real love would be like.”

You had turned your head to look at him, a small smile spreading on your face once again, “Don't worry, Jin. I know you'll find someone that see's you for the amazing, handsome and intelligent man that you are.”

“Like you?”

It came out of his mouth before he could even really think about it, but the words were already spoken and all he could do then was watch you gulp down hard before leaving in a hurry.

That night was the first night that both of you were confronted with feelings that you hadn't noticed before. However, it didn't lead to a confrontation or anything like that for a while. It was almost like as if it took both of you by surprise, that neither you nor Jin had actually thought about the fact that maybe, you had found your special someone already.

And on top of that, there was the obvious problem of you being his manager and a romantic relationship between a manager and an idol was forbidden for good reasons. Favoring said idol, the scandal it would be for the company, the fact that it would ruin your career if people ever found out of it... all of these things made neither of you say anything for a long time.

Jin tried calling eventually, texting you countless of times and asking you, almost begging, actually, to talk to him. That he wanted to talk to you and discuss... whatever it was that you two had to discuss.

But you never answered, too afraid of what could be said in that conversation.

It was months after that wedding, at a Christmas party at the BigHit building that you two found each other on your own once again, standing in front of each other when a slow song suddenly started playing.

Not wanting to make it seem like something was up, Jin had simply grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him, dancing with you like everything was fine. However, he could feel how stiff you were.

“You haven't called me back,” he said in a low voice, “Or answered any of my texts.”

“I figured if there was something important, you'd meet me in my office.”

He slowed down even more, so that he could properly look into your eyes, “It is important.”

“Not now, Jin. Not here.”

“Then where? When? You keep ignoring me. All I want is to talk, (Y/N). That's all we used to do.. remember? Because in case you forgot, we used to be friends at one point.”

But you were better at fleeing from your personal problems than facing them, unlike in your career. And so you did that once again. You walked away as soon as the song stopped, out into the hallway, thinking that you'd have a moment to breathe and gather your thoughts.

But not today.

He wouldn't let you run away again.

“Why is this so hard for you?!” he grabbed your wrist and turned you around, his eyes big, “Why can’t you just talk to me for god’s sake?!”

“Are you seriously asking me this?! Is your career on the line or mine?!”

He let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping and looking down, shaking his head once, then looking back up, “I'm not asking you to marry me. I just want to talk about... us.”

“And then what, Jin?” you let out a humorless laugh, “Because we both know what conclusion we're going to come to.”

“Then so what?” he grabbed your upper arms, “We could work things out!”

You became sad at how much this meant to him. At how much you apparently meant to him. If only you hadn't chosen BigHit. If only he hadn't. If only you had met under different circumstances.

“Jin, I'm..-”

But before you could talk any further, he had already pressed his lips against yours, doing what he had wanted to do ever since that wedding. And it was just like he thought it would be like.

It was as if you both knew that there was no going back now. Feeling the things you felt with that kiss was enough to know that you were already in this too deep.

He pulled back only a few seconds after, a lot softer than how the kiss had started, still leaning his forehead against yours, “I promise we can work it out. I promise you, (Y/N).”

You wanted to believe him so badly, all those years of you being lonely came crashing down right there and then, now that there was finally a man in front of you that cared so much about you.

That part of you that yearned for love made you nod.

The period that followed was both the best time of your life, as well as the hardest.

Constantly lying to every single person in your life wasn't easy. But simultaneously, coming home to your – now – boyfriend standing in the kitchen with the most beautiful smile on his face, kissing you and telling you how much he had missed you and loved you... it made it all worth it.

You never talked about the future, because both of you knew that if you'd want to take this just one step further, there'd be even more complications than you already had now.

So you lived in the moment, were happy with the time that you were given and eventually, if destiny would have it, you would try to figure out if there was a way for you two to spend the rest of your lives together.

But right now, right there, just lying next to each other in bed, entangled limbs and gentle kisses... that was all that mattered and all that you needed to finally be... content.

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seercayder · 3 years ago

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No but I feel as though artists are probably experiencing one of the most hostile years of posting art online that they’ve ever experienced for maybe forever. And I mean this for both amateur artists and professionals (with maybe a lil bit of bias since I also do The Art).

Tumblr’s nudity ban has crippled any piece that is either NSFW or uses nudity as artistic expression and it ultimately drove away both the artists themselves and a lot of their fans, which destroyed any remaining traction for the artists who managed to remain. Tumblr is no longer an artistic freedom-friendly site and it shows, which is a fucking shame bc they genuinely have one of the better tagging systems than other sites and I believe that most feedback on art there has been positive and friendly, which has now gone the way of the dinosaur much like Deviantart.

Twitter has problems with image compression but their biggest issue is toxic abuse, which I find to be the most damaging to artists out of all the other problems i’m listing here. Both the lure of anonymity and the mindset that ‘Speak Loud In Little Words To Make Point Means You Are Important And Right’ has fuelled the absolutely vile comments I have seen directed at artists on the site. Although it’s mainly aimed at fanartists and ship artists, I have noticed unwanted (even rude) criticism on immaculate, well-done art pieces, which is extremely belittling and insulting because the artist (although they may be open to criticism) if they haven’t asked for criticism then that means that they are not in the right mindset to receive any, and therefore it is not your place to throw disparaging comments at them.

But the biggest issue with abuse on Twitter is obviously aimed at fan-artists, especially those those that draw NSFW or “problematic” content. I could go into a whole spiel about how a drawing of a fictional character doesn’t affect reality but in short: If you find disturbing art of a non-existent character (or hey, even non-disturbing art, it’s just something you don’t like) then ignore it. Don’t go and fucking bully the artist you psychopath. If it is truly illegal then report the piece and then see if it gets taken down. Because 90% of the time it won’t be taken down because it doesn’t go against guidelines and you’re just trying to police the site like you’re the thought-police, monitoring other peoples art as if you have the god-given right to. And if you’re a minor stay the fuck out of 18+ accounts. Don’t comment, don’t follow, don’t even look. I am absolutely amazed by the mindset that some children have to waltz into a space not made for them and having the balls to insult the 18+ artist, who have specifically said “no minors”, for posting icky content. It gets even worse when you see how they abuse the Privatter or Curiouscat links the Twitter artists provide, made for anonymous feedback or for being the final barrier for an adult piece that says “hey this stuff is NSFW, don’t click if you are underage, last warning”. I’m gonna go into this more when I cover TikTok in the next few paragraphs. But ultimately, the artists on that site are having to be constantly vigilant against abuse, and it’s not unusual for them having to spend hours going through their 1K+ followers and having to block every underage follower who just didn’t fucking listen to their warnings. Imagine how exhausting and irritating and down-right uncomfortable that must be; having to monitor every fan that sees your work out of fear that they’re a minor seeing adult content or that they could throw abusive comments at you. Horrible.

Instagram is saturated with bots attempting to steal your work or advertise it on their own page and feedback isn’t really a ‘thing’ on there. Also, their algorithm (which may have also been implemented on Twitter, I believe that the Twitter algorithm now avoids promoting popular artist terms, but I can’t be certain bc the Twitter post that pointed this out is long-lost in the depths of my timeline, bc again, no tagging system) is based more around sharing than likes, which can be a huge barrier to artists. Sure, you may like someones art and even leave a nice comment on it, but do you really want to share every piece you come across, especially if it’s not something you would show dear Aunty Susan who follows you? It’s infuriating that a whole site dedicated for images is so difficult to use for artists, and with Instagram implementing features that are similar to Snapchats ‘stories’ it’s clear they’ve moving in a different direction, focusing on momentary attention-grabbing photos. This is simply because Instagram is advertising itself as more of a promotional influencer site nowadays, and anything that could sully their reputation has to be thrown into the algorithm trash. NSFW art or just plain ‘bad’ art? Trash. If you’re not gonna make money for them then why should they bother? You wanna promote your art? Pay for it because the algorithm will absolutely be working against you.

Now, the biggest fucking offender for worst art-sharing site of the year is TikTok (no surprise there), which is absolutely rampant with reposts and uncredited artwork and a gateway for abusive comments against artists. Like the Ouroboros snake, it goes through the same pattern every time; People (usually minors) find art on Twitter or Pinterest and repost it, usually without credit or going against the artist’s wishes about reposting. Then it either goes two-ways: Firstly, if the piece is SFW it will get about five-seconds of interest, a like for the reposter and people will then just move on. TikTok is built entirely around short bursts of satisfaction, feeding a a constant loop of serotonin for a few seconds before you move on. So ultimately, people rarely then hunt down the original artist, especially if their credit isn’t readily available, and usually the original artists doesn’t see any rise in likes, followers or popularity and are usually unaware that their art is even getting any attention on TikTok.

Or, if the art is NSFW, it can go down the second way. It is reposted and, as the majority of TikTok users are under-18, many users find the image uncomfortable, especially if it is a bit more ‘out-there’ or of a ship they don’t like. The reposters sometimes find the image off of Privatter, which is even worse since the piece has been posted to Privatter not just as a final barrier against minors, but also as a form of directing the piece to a specific and niche audience due to it’s... spicer than usual NSFW content. I’m talking really specific pieces with really specific kinks. Now that piece is floating around TikTok, widely seen by the general fans of a fandom, who again, are usually underage. The viewers grow uncomfortable, as the piece is not made for them, especially since sometimes the reposter only posted the piece for shock-value, and would even encourage insulting comments by only posting the credits for the purpose of getting fans to throw abuse at the artist (”The artist is ***** but they ship **** and are icky”) and so the viewers finally decide to make the effort to hunt down the original artist, only to throw insulting and bullying comments at them, made worse by the fact that they are children who don’t have the sense to hold back and have been fuelling their mindset in the echo-chamber that is TikTok.

And as a result of a lot of this hostile feedback for artists, it is becoming increasingly difficult to find a space for amateur artists who are just starting out, since the art community is becoming a little bit scary. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that new (or not even new but recently promoted) sites such as Artstation are becoming a better place for professional artists only, but it is very intimidating for learner artists. That’s not necessarily a bad thing - I believe that part of the reason for Deviantarts decline was that the tagging system was horrible, so good art was being drowned out by amateur, fetish content, so more advanced artists were distancing themselves from the site, especially if they were trying to build a portfolio for employment. I also find that fanart usually gets far more likes than more original art pieces, even if the original piece is amazingly good, which isn’t a criticism against fanart but posting your original piece on a site more aimed at professional pieces may help you reach your target audience better and improve likes and interaction. However, that does mean that if you are an amateur, or hell, just an average artists who is still learning, your best bet for exposure is posting your piece across multiple sites and very, very regularly, braving any abusive comments if you try anything slightly “spicy”. Which, obviously, become a very potentially toxic atmosphere and it’s not uncommon for artists to feel burn-out or depressed at their lack of attention or the cyber-bullying they may receive.

I’m not trying to say that posting artwork has always been easy, but there is definitely a more aggressive culture surrounding it and I think artists have to be aware that chances are they will face insulting comments, reposters, frustrating algorithms, cyber-bullying, a lack of interaction and burn-out as they try and appeal to websites that would do the bare minimum for you in terms of promotion.

This isn’t meant to be a post to scare away artists, I just wanted to point out that there is a big fucking problem and it feels as though it’s getting worse. Nowadays, websites have become a bit too comfortable targeting creators rather than fans when it comes to monitoring content and artists have been put under more and more pressure as they face more and more abuse that is rarely addressed, especially by the sites themselves that host the content. Things that are a huge punch in the face for artists, such as NFT’s, are becoming more normalised and it’s honestly just sad.

#art #sorry for the long post but I get passionate about art #and I feel like every day i'm seeing more and more cyber abuse towards artists and it's honestly depressing #artists #twitter #instagram #tumblr #tagging is the best invention and i'm confused why Twitter doesn't even have a better system for it

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junggoku · 5 years ago

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Lemon Curls and Latte Art - Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

book: Open Heart

pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Nina Valentine)

word count: 6,679

summary: Ethan’s been having a tough time with a case and desperately needs some coffee and time away from the hospital. His small impromptu trip to his favorite coffeeshop may just become more than he expected. (Alternatively: local doctor man goes to get coffee. Gets roasted for 5 minutes straight by cute barista.) A coffeeshop au

A/N: Soooo first and foremost, I’m super excited about this. I’ve been surprised at the lack of coffeeshop au’s in this fandom so I decided to take matters into my own hands. I’d like to give all my love to the wonderful @namkook for keeping me sane through this whole project and for helping me every step of the way. I love you and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you for putting up with my constantly annoying you with this. I typically don’t like my writing, I’m so proud of this one and I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did when working on it. Without further ado, buckle in and enjoy! She’s a long one wheew

Sometimes it was easier to just drown it all out. The rustling of the nurses as they moved about. The moans and groans of patients as they anxiously waited for their diagnoses. The shrill voices of interns trying to suck up to him to better polish up on their resumes, instead of focusing on their damn jobs.

On that particularly busy afternoon, Dr. Ethan Ramsey felt it was especially crucial that he drown out all the background noises and forget about his surroundings for a moment, if he was going to hang onto his sanity.

He had been pouring over a patient file all morning, having reached an impasse. When something like this happened, it was best for him to go out and clear his head. Sighing heavily, Ethan pushes out of his leather chair, leaving the mountains of scans and paperwork behind him as he closes the door to his office with a resounding thud.

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

Day 1

The chime of the bell above the door signaled his arrival into Derry Roasters, a soft click of the hinges punctuating through the air as his eyes adjusted to the gentle lighting in the quaint coffee shop.

The scene was completely opposite the hospital, with almost all of the tables here being empty save for an elderly man in the corner with his book. It seemed the cafe was experiencing a quiet afternoon, soft music playing from the small speakers lodged in the ceilings.

Whenever Ethan was stuck with a case he couldn’t quite figure out, he found himself wandering to the coffeehouse, a humble mom and pop establishment that made decent coffee. It was a step up from the caffeinated dishwater the hospital cafeteria served and he didn’t hate it at the very least. It was also close enough to the hospital that he could get to it by foot, but far enough that none of the gaggle of bright-eyed parrots interns would follow him to kiss his ass.

Crossing the distance of the room up to the front, Ethan stops right before the register. Having seen not one soul behind the counter, his hand found its way to the small silver bell waiting by the tips bucket, ringing it albeit impatiently. There was normally always someone waiting up at the front, the usual barista－a short and kindly old lady, her slightly stout face adding to the welcoming atmosphere－felt it necessary to be present at all times to best serve customers so they did not have to wait long. So much for that. Their service is going to shit.

A bright ding reverberates throughout the shop, ricocheting off the walls. With a purse of his lips, he waits for a few minutes for someone to respond to the bell, the dimple in between his eyebrows growing more prominent the longer time stretches.

About to forgo the coffee and just head back, his ears pick up a foreign sound coming from somewhere. Is that...singing?

Singing was perhaps too generous a term. There was a faint humming emanating from behind the door that led to the back, and his ears tickled as it continued for a few more seconds, before the door swung open and a figure stepped out.

Ethan’s train of thought stutters for a brief second as ice blue eyes meet a warm chocolate brown, wide and doe-like staring up at him in surprise.

She’s new.

Silence envelops the room and Ethan finds himself studying the woman in front of him as he does with everyone, an occupational habit he’s honed over the years.

Long, dark brown hair cascades over her shoulder like a wave, a pair of chocolate brown eyes to match the curtains as they peer up at him, a hint of curiosity in them. The new barista is donning a polo the color of mustard paired with the black apron of the coffeeshop. His eyes glance over the silver name tag that brandishes the name “Nina”. Next to the tag, a small frog pin sits crookedly, the silver lining a bit dim from what he expects comes from overwear.

In his musings, he doesn’t notice the barista, Nina, pursing her lips, “Are you going to order something or are you just gonna stare at me all day?”

Shaken out of his thoughts, he raises a brow at the bland tone of her voice, before deciding to ignore it, “The Vienna.”

Slipping his card from his wallet, he sets it down on the counter as she rings up his order, sliding the piece of plastic back to him once she’s finished.

Wordlessly, he starts moving over to a table nearby when she pipes up, “What? No ‘thank you’?”

He spins around, a brow quirked as he meets her eyes. The slight curl of her lips tells him she’s mocking him and his lack of a response.

“Thank you.” He speaks, voice flat and face unimpressed. Her lips twitch.

“Gee, you’re a real charmer, aren’t you. I do need to know if you want this here or to go,” Eyes lit with mirth, Ethan itches to end this interaction and head back to the hospital. So much for that break.

“To go.”

The smirk doesn’t leave her face as she turns around and gets to work, and Ethan is eternally grateful for the conversation being over.

A few minutes pass by before he hears his name being called. Striding to the pick up station where the barista placed his order of Vienna in a styrofoam cup, her cheeks lifted into a winning smile, one she must use on all her customers.

Ethan picks it up promptly, the desire to get back to work coursing through him strongly the minute he glimpses at her face (his mistake) and finds that she’s still staring at him with a strange amusement lighting her eyes.

“Hope it's to your liking, Dr. Ramsey.”

“How do you know my name?”

Nina raises her brow, and throws a look at the elegant Dr. Ethan Ramsey, etched into the fabric of his white doctor coat, “I’m assuming that’s your name since it says so on your coat. If you were trying to go incognito, maybe lose the coat next time.”

With a wink, the barista spins around and disappears behind the door to the back, not giving him time to answer to her quip. Something pricks at the back of his mind as he watches her go. Casting a quick glance down at his coffee cup, the letters Ethonk are scrawled on the curved surface, and he couldn’t tell if he wanted to laugh or groan. More the latter probably.

Sighing for what was possibly the millionth time today, Ethan tightens his grip on the cup and makes his way out, feeling more annoyed than when he had come. I’m not coming back here.

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

Day 2

Why am I here?

He sincerely had no idea why he found himself lingering at the front of Derry Roasters a few weeks later, shoes avoiding the crunch of leaves under his feet as a delicate autumn breeze curls through his hair and rustles the pages of the book he had nestled in his arm.

Ethan had initially planned to not come here again for a long while, having no desire to run into that impudent barista from last time, Nina, her name was.

Annoying.

Shaking away the thought, he pushed the front door open and strode into the cafe, the click of the latch bolt falling back into its frame announcing his arrival once more. The shop was fairly empty again at this time, being so long after the busy lunch rush hour.

As usual, Ethan made his way up to the register, but his steps faltered for a half second when he noticed a new addition to the counter by the pick up area: a small potted cactus, its thorny arms appearing almost golden bathed in the gentle autumn light streaming in through the windows.

A little curious, he continues walking and taps the bell once when he makes it to the front.

Unlike before, the door leading to the back whipped open almost immediately after the ding, and out came the petite barista, long brown hair tied into a loose ponytail today. Small specks of what looks like cream powder dotting her cheek and on the sleeves of her peach-colored blouse, the brunette saunters over and plants herself directly across him.

Chocolate doe eyes instantly find his blue ones and Nina flashes him an amiable smile. Or it would be amiable if it weren’t for the twinkle of mischief he catches in her gaze. He bites back a mental groan.

Ethan opens his mouth, prepared to just tell her his order quickly so he could leave, when she beats him to it.

“Did you see Henry?” Her voice is a little hushed, conspiratorial. Bemused, his eyebrows furrow in place of a question.

“...Henry?”

The barista nods her head in the direction of the pick up station, eyes darting to the potted plant he saw earlier and back to him, “Henry!”

He’s not sure how to respond. Nina waits for a few beats before crossing her arms across her chest, ogling him for a reaction, “We just got it yesterday. I thought it’d be nice to spruce up the place,” She leans forward, her apron brushing against the register.

“You don’t feel a connection with it?” She pursed her lips, brown eyes twinkling with mirth. The furrow in his brows deepens, not quite enjoying the way she was eyeing him.

“Why would I feel any connection to a cactus?”

“Well, you are one emotionally,”

Ethan lets out a short scoff, his expression wholly unimpressed, “We’ve had a grand total of two interactions.”

“And the two were all I needed to know everything,” Nina tosses him a tiny smirk, seemingly relishing in getting under his skin, a frown beginning to mar his features. How tedious.

Sighing deeply and already feeling exhausted, Ethan ignores the quip and barrels forth, “The Vienna.” He tosses his card on the surface of the counter, almost impatient as she gingerly grabs it and rings him up, saying nothing more all the while.

Not giving her an opening, Ethan snatches his card out of her grasp the minute she’s done, and turns around to find an empty table far away from the register.

“I’ll bring it over to you when it’s done,” He hears behind him as he continues moving.

Settling into a table in the back corner of the coffeeshop, Ethan sinks into the leather chair and opens his history book, determined to ignore and forget his interactions with the barista so he can take a break. Why he came back here when he already predicted this happening was beyond him. He won’t repeat the mistake again.

A few minutes later, Ethan feels a presence in front of him and peeks from his book to find Nina placing his cup of Vienna on the table. Turning his attention back to his pages, he reads another line from Robert Service before glancing back up.

She was still standing there. Hands clasped together in front of her chest, Nina was peering down at him, blinking innocently.

“...Is there something wrong?”

“No,” She answers, giving a slight shake of her head in emphasis. She still didn’t move.

“...”

“...Did you want something?”

Her expression shifts promptly, fixing a saccharine smile his way and a sense of dread creeps up his spine.

“Well you see,” Nina sweeps an arm around the expanse of the room, where only one other patron beside him was sitting in the opposite corner, tapping away on their laptop, “no one’s really here.”

He feels a budding headache pricking, “And what does that have to do with me?” He asks, tone flat.

Her large smile widens a little more, “I’m bored and you’re the most entertaining thing here.”

There’s a brief moment where the two of them did nothing, a staredown ensuing with the only sound coming from the ceiling speakers and the tap, tap, tap of the laptop.

Pressure behind his eyes growing, he brings up a hand to scratch at his stubble. Yes, he really regrets coming here today.

“Well what do you want to do then?” The defeat in his voice is evident as Nina starts shuffling over to the chair opposite him, appearing so pleased with herself Ethan could only breathe out another sigh.

“If it’s cool with you-”

“It’s not,”

“-I’m just gonna hang out here with you,” She plops into the leather recliner and beams at him, eyes scrunching into two crescent moons. Huh. “Besides, I’m doing you a favor really.”

His annoyance fading just a smidge, he eyes her, distrustful. Closing his book with a small thud, Ethan leans back, sinking further into the plush material.

“How on earth is you neglecting your work and bothering me when I’m trying to read you doing me a favor?”

Nina flicks her chin at the cover of his book. The glossy surface catches the warm rays of sunshine drifting in through the windows, the text Comrades!: A History of World Communism almost swallowed whole by the natural light.

“I am doing you a favor,” The steam from the coffee mug wafts up and swirls in the air between them, “I’m sure you’re already busy being a doctor full-time, I’m giving you a chance to take a break from your communist endeavors so you can actually enjoy your down time.”

Seeing no point in disagreeing when she looked determined to stay there, Ethan takes a sip of his Vienna, the liquid still warm and settles pleasantly on his tongue. Over the top of the cup, he catches Nina leaning forward slightly as though waiting for his reaction.

Putting the mug back down, he turns his head to the window, content on ignoring her still and watching the people strolling up and down the street outside.

Her quiet voice breaks him out of his reverie, “What’s it like? Being a doctor?”

At the question, Ethan turns his gaze on the barista, finding her peering at him with a mix of curiosity and...admiration?

He shrugs, “It’s alright.”

“...That’s it?” Her head tilts to the side, eyes widening as she silently urges him to elaborate. He’s not sure why he’s humoring her, but he relents and continues.

“It’s...it gives me opportunities to figure out the mysteries of the human body. To find ways to conquer and defeat the things that defeat us,” He keeps his gaze on her, watching as the brunette follows his every word like he’s telling her some universal truth.

Nina nods, seemingly soaking in his explanation and satisfied with it, “That sounds really cool. You’re like a hero,” She laughs a little, a tenderness in it that confuses Ethan, but he doesn’t say anymore on it. Hardly.

A beat of silence falls over them again. There’s no awkwardness in it though and Ethan’s content to let it stretch on.

“I wanted to be a doctor when I was younger.”

The spell is broken and Ethan’s attention is now directed solely at her, the barista tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. When he doesn’t speak, she continues, “Always wanted to help people. It just seemed like the perfect job for me to defend those who were fighting for their lives. For their second chances.”

The small frog pin on her apron gleams as she fidgets, light from outside hitting its metallic surface.

“Why didn’t you?” He finally asks, albeit hesitantly, “Become a doctor.”

A wistful look crosses her face and she smiles, “My brother’s health deteriorated and he collapsed as I was graduating from high school. Things just never worked out,” Nina pauses and considers the room, Ethan noticing for the first time that the other customer had left, no more tap tap-ing sound to be heard.

“But it’s whatever. I like working here. And at least I get to keep my sleep schedule,” She jokes, eyes landing on him again.

Ethan doesn’t speak for a long moment, holding her gaze. At the lack of reaction, Nina begins to squirm, appearing nervous, but doesn’t prod him.

Finally, he finds his voice, uncharacteristically timid, “This place is lucky to have you.”

A blink and a beat later, and a glowing grin stretches across Nina’s face. She chuckles, a soft pink flush dusting her cheek.

Waiting another beat, Ethan clears his throat and begins to move, grabbing his book and nudging the now-drained cup of Vienna away, “I should head back. I have work. At the hospital.” He holds back a grimace. Moron.

Nina tilts her head, the action releasing a couple of strands to fall from her ponytail, “I would hope so, since you’re wearing your white coat,” She snorts when she sees the unimpressed expression on his face, “Go save lives, Dr. Ramsey.”

With that, the barista turns and heads back to work, humming softly as she goes.

A feeling he can’t place courses through him, sending a slight shiver up his spine as he steps out into the street. Just a chill. With that, Ethan makes the familiar walk back to Edenbrook, the gentle breeze returning and dances through the soft locks of his hair the whole way.

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

Day 3

“Quit stalling already and drink!”

Grumbling, he lifts the cup to his lips, taking a cautious sip.

The silence settles throughout the room, and Nina leans forward just a little bit, in an attempt to gauge his reaction. He tries to keep his expression blank.

“...Well?”

“...”

Ethan lets the silence linger for another moment before bringing the cup back to his lips. Slowly, a smile begins to bloom across Nina’s face, bright and smug, “Heh. So what’s the verdict, Doctor?”

He refuses to give her the satisfaction of a reply, instead determined to keep his eyes trained on the inside of his coffee cup. His ears pick up a tinkle of a laugh.

“I told you you’d like it,” The barista giggles, her eyes forming crescent moons, as she attempts to stifle the full force of her laughter. Placing a hand on her hips, Nina gazes at him, her self-satisfied grin making a home on the corner of her lips. Ethan decides, right then and there, that he hates it endlessly.

He especially hates how that cheeky ass smirk makes her eyes sparkle more.

Releasing a bone-weary sigh, Ethan sets the mug down on the table and leans back in the chair, training ice blue eyes on the brunette across from him, “I tried it. Are you going to tell me what it was now?”

Still beaming, Nina sinks down into the soft leather chair opposite him, hand coming up to tuck a stray lock of dark hair behind her ears. Crossing her legs, she glances down at the drained coffee cup, “Espresso Romano. As you can probably guess, it’s a shot of espresso with a slice of lemon served on the side and rubbed on the rim.”

A soft calming song plays in the background, the notes resonating through the air and floats around them, framing the little pocket of the world they were occupying. Nina looks back up at Ethan, holding his gaze as she continues, “The lemon’s zestiness brightens the drink and cuts off the bitterness. Which, no offense, but that looks like something you could use some help with.”

Biting back a retort on the tip of his tongue, he picks up the discarded lemon curl, long fingers absentmindedly playing with the garnish. The silence settles once more between them as he takes in what she said.

In a voice so quiet he’s hoping she doesn’t pick up on it, the words leave his lips: “It’s decent.”

The crescent moon smile she gifts him with tells him that she heard it loud and clear. He doesn’t say anymore, but he doesn’t need to. She hears the rest of what he left unspoken.

“Such a way with words. You really should’ve been a poet instead of a doctor,” Amusement never leaving her eyes, she leans over to pick up his mug and plucks the lemon peel out of his hands, dark brown hair falling over her shoulder at the movement. Soft afternoon sunlight streams in, bouncing off the tan of her skin and for a brief moment, she looks like she’s glowing. Ethan frowns, averting his attention to the space behind her instead.

Humming quietly, Nina stands up and turns, the soles of her white Converse squeaking in protest. Tossing him one more knowing smirk, she begins her trip back to the register, the arm of his empty cup resting on the crook of her finger. A minute later, she disappears through the door into the back area, the gentle music from the ceiling filling up the room in her stead.

Ethan releases a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and glances back out the windows overlooking the street, the faint taste of lemon still sitting on his lips.

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

Day 4

The coffeeshop feels a bit different in the mornings, fresh dew and the gentle rise of the sun blanketing the room, wrapping it in a peculiar warmth. The lack of customers at this time adds to the ambiance, though Ethan doesn’t pay much mind to any of that at the moment. Instead, his attention is aimed at the disheveled barista in front of him and the mayhem surrounding her.

The next time Ethan walked through the doors of Derry Roasters a week later, he was met with what he could only describe as chaos. A collection of discarded coffee cups littered the counter and drops of milk and cream dotted the floor all around Nina. The brunette ran a hand through her long hair frustratedly, apron stained with liquids.

A quick explanation told him that she had been attempting to perfect the craft of latte art, though Ethan would argue that you can’t perfect something you didn’t even have the basics for. Recognizing that her skills were abhorrent and wanting to please customers, Nina had made it a habit to arrive at the cafe very early in the mornings, where she could practice in solitude. And that was what he had walked in on when he dropped by, having thought to get coffee before his shift later that day.

He watches her struggle with the milk for another minute, bumbling around like a newborn, before peeling off his white coat, a strand of hair falling just over his eyes at the motion. Nina turns at the rustle beside her and is greeted with Ethan’s tall figure peering down at her handiwork.

Startled, she takes a half step back, eyes wide in surprise, “What...are you doing?”

In place of a response, he rolls up the sleeves of his button down shirt and helps himself to one of the aprons hanging on the coat rack by the back area.

“Watching you spill milk on yourself like an infant is getting painful. I used to work as a barista through undergrad so I remember some things...” He pauses, gazing inside one particular mug that was housing what resembled more creamy vomit than coffee, “...though I’m skeptical if it could even help you at this point.”

The flat tone of his voice must have irritated her, as she shoots him a mild glare, a cool determination flashing in her eyes, “That sounds like a challenge, Doctor.”

“It definitely will be.”

A couple hours later, the work area resembles a battlefield, thermometer and portafilters thrown haphazardly all over the counter, milk and coffee powder strewn across its surface in reckless abandon.

Ethan shakes his head, arms crossed over his chest and focused intensely on the mess she’s making, “You’re not doing it right.”

Nina groans, the sound tickling his ear. Her grip on the pitcher slackens which promptly spills more of its milky contents all over the counter.

“I’m doing it exactly as you said. You just suck at teaching,” She mumbles, tsk-ing a little at the new addition blooming on her apron. Taking in the growing clutter decorating the counter, Nina lets out a sigh before turning to Ethan, “This feels hopeless.”

“Giving up already, rookie?” He quirks up an eyebrow, a corner of his lips twitching.

She stops and blinks at the nickname, but doesn’t comment on it further, “No!...Just. Ugggh,” With a loud whine that sounds awfully like a puppy’s, Nina sets the pitcher down, knocking it into the thermometer that was sitting nearby. Placing a hand on the surface of the counter, Nina leans into it, sagging with disappointment. The chagrin expression on her face so directly contrasted her usual bright grin that it makes his chest throb strangely.

Clearing his throat, Ethan glances back down at the mugs, highlighting all her failed attempts. Despite the mess, he could still see her progress, the more recent works showing slight improvements.

With a flick of his fingers, he starts selecting some of the cups out of the batch, “These aren’t too bad. The shape is starting to take place.”

Not looking entirely convinced, Nina skeptically eyes the attempts he singled out.

“You sure?” She points to one, “This one looks like a bad rendition of the Scream.”

Gently, Ethan nudges the pitcher and the thermometer towards her, voice quiet but firm, “It’s an upgrade from the foamy blob you made earlier. You’re getting there. You just need to keep working on your technique.”

Releasing a sigh, Nina relents and pours more milk into the pitcher, readying for another round.

Delicate sunshine slants through the windows and catches on the tips of her hair as she bends forward, eyes narrowed at the face of the thermometer. Ethan keeps a watchful eye on her movements, leaning towards her a fraction more.

Despite the intensity coming off of Nina as she tackles the task, Ethan feels curiously light, as though the usual restlessness humming under his skin was dimmed. Hovering a little closer, the weak scent of apples from Nina’s hair tickles his nose, as she turns to heat the milk. Grabbing the steam wand, she inserts it into the liquid and turns it on, the thermometer clinking onto the side of the pitcher.

When she gets to the part of pouring the milk into the coffee, the hand holding the steamed milk trembles slightly as she tips the wide-mouthed cup of the espresso forward in her non-dominant hand. Stepping ever closer and settling right behind her, Ethan leans his head down until it practically rests on her shoulder, her back to his chest, and brings a hand forward to steady her grip.

At the contact, the warmth of her skin spreads through his fingers, scalding in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

This close to her he can hear the intake of breath, the slight shudder in her voice as she continues, concentrating on the feeling of his hand and the milk as it spills into the espresso.

Morning light grows warmer as the sun rises up higher in the sky, and Ethan loses track of time as he watches Nina pour the foam, successfully forming an asymmetrical flower. The minute she finishes with the last drop, the barista sets the pitcher down, staring wide eyed at her work.

Turning her head slowly, she fixes her stare on him, a look of utter disbelief on her face, “...I did it.”

Ethan’s lips quirk and he nods once, “You did.”

There’s a pause as it sinks in.

“...Oh my god! I did it!” Elated, Nina leaps towards Ethan, throwing her arms around him in a bone-crushing hug.

“Oof,” He braces himself at the force of her knocking into him. Letting out a snort, Ethan finds himself chuckling at the brunette’s joy, a small feeling of pride spreading through his chest, having spent all day trying to get to this point.

The moment lingers, Nina’s arms still wrapped around Ethan’s broader frame, the thumping of her heart beating against his rib cage. In a tiny, slightly muffled voice, “Thank you.”

Tilting her head up at him, she awards him with a gentle smile, the softness of her face accentuated by the tender curl of her lips, “Seriously. It was thanks to your help today. Guess you really are a good teacher,” Nina quips, a levity about her now that made it difficult for him to look away.

Ethan smirks, “Of course I am. I’m good at everything.”

The barista rolls her eyes all the way up to the ceiling, “Glad to see you’ve got a strong ego.”

“Was it not earned?”

“...Okay yes, but it doesn’t mean you have to be annoying about it,” She grumbles, lips forming a pout.

It takes Ethan another minute to realize that neither of them had moved, the both of them still wrapped around each other. The warmth of her skin bleeding through his shirt, the faint apple scent of her hair tickling his nose once more and he unconsciously leans down.

Nina’s eyelids flutter as she moves towards him, and soon he’s close enough that he can count every speck of caramel in the brown pools of her eyes. The pink of her lips. The small shudder of her breath. Every second that ticks by is another he’s falling...Wait, what?

Ethan jolts, his thoughts crashing to a stop, his entire body tensing. Sensing the change of mood, Nina halts as well, pulling back slightly to look at him, brows furrowed in concern, “Are you alright, Ethan?”

No. He doesn’t respond as he starts extricating himself from her grasp, peeling away from her. The groove in between her eyebrows deepen as Ethan hurries to place some distance between them.

There’s another moment of silence that blankets over them, but this one is different. It’s tense, making Ethan’s gut churn a little.

“...Did I...is something wrong?”

Unable to meet her eyes, he holds back a grimace, hearing a tremble of hurt in her voice as she asks. He stays silent for another beat before glancing in her direction, not meeting her gaze, “No, it’s just. It’s...I gotta go. My shift starts soon.”

Not waiting for a reply, Ethan yanks off his apron, roughly throwing back onto the rack before hastily grabbing his white coat and rushing out the door, never once turning back to look at the barista, whose eyes never left his back as he briskly walked off back to the hospital.

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

Day 5

“You’re still here, Ethan?”

At the sound of the voice, Ethan looks up from a patient’s x-rays he’d been examining, finding his colleague, Dr. Baz Mirani, standing in the doorway of his office.

Throwing a quick glance at the wall clock, it read 11:54 p.m.

Damn. It’s this late already? He’d completely lost track of time.

Rubbing a tired hand over his chin, Ethan releases a sigh before packing up his things, and leaving his office for the night, brushing past Baz on the way out. He wasn’t going to be able to do much more tonight.

A full effect of autumn had taken root and blanketed across the town in the past month. Stepping out in the night, Ethan lifted up his face, the scent of the fall leaves and cool evening air caressing the tip of his nose. As he moved closer to his car, a restlessness buzzed under his skin and he was unable to shake it no matter how much he tried.

He’d been feeling this way for about a month now. Ever since then.

A flicker of brown eyes and soft smiles crosses his mind and a gnawing apprehension sits in his throat, one that feels suspiciously like guilt. Guilt and...something else Ethan doesn’t want to define yet.

Sighing once more into the autumn night, he reaches his car door, ready to go home to his bottle of scotch waiting for him. The feeling continues to nip at him though, and he pauses when reaching for the handle of his car, the weight in his backpocket feeling much, much heavier.

Maybe...He suddenly...felt an urge for some coffee.

Before he could talk himself out of it (this is a bad idea), he leaves behind his car and takes off in the direction of the coffeeshop, his footsteps slow and effortful.

The lights are still on when he reaches Derry Roasters, the blinds of the windows all pulled down save for two that overlook the counter. His eyes immediately land on the barista, sweeping away at the floor on the other side of the register, expression tight and disappointed.

The guilt started to creep back in at the look on her face.

This really was a bad idea. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk to her yet, after his abrupt exit last time. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready, but he certainly wasn’t today.

Backtracking, Ethan began turning back in the direction from which he came, but the movement catches her eye and right away, Nina glances up, brown eyes connecting with blue ones. Ah shit.

Seeing him, the barista’s expression tightens a fraction more, a cool gleam flashing across her eyes, and she frowns before beckoning him to come in with a quick nod of her head.

A weary sigh leaves his lips as Ethan ambles over, the ding of the bell ringing out like it was announcing his execution. The minute he walks in, Nina folds her arms across her chest, still wearing her black apron over the pale blue sweater she donned today.

“Did you need something?” She asks after a long, tense moment.

He doesn’t reply, the lump in his throat growing as he hears the familiar line, ones uttered by him not too long ago. The circumstances in which they were said so different.

She presses forward when he doesn’t speak, “You haven't been around much lately.” It sounds a little like an accusation.

“My coffee machine’s working again. So I didn’t really need to come here anymore,” He tries to hold back a grimace at how calloused he sounds.

Nina’s frown morphs into a glare and Ethan’s sure he’d rather be toughing it out in the Amazon right now than having to be the object of this woman’s current woe and ire. He’d rather be anywhere else.

He regrettably continues to dig his own grave, “There wasn’t much else this place could offer since I could just get coffee from my office now,” Why the fuck-

“Well sorry I don’t have much to offer a world renown doctor,” A tinge of bitterness laced in her tone and he holds back a wince.

It was strange how easy it was for him to deal with the people at the hospital, never finding any need to mince words with idiots with fat pockets, and vultures trying to increase their profits at the expense of others. With his patients, always doing his best to be honest with them as they faced their own battles everyday, fighting for their lives. But here, in front of this woman who miffed him and intrigued him to no end, Ethan always found himself hesitating and clumsy with his words.

He stays quiet for too long and his silence, his lack of anything annoys her.

“You really are a cactus,” Nina mumbles, tightening her grip on the broom, keeping her eyes trained to the ground.

Taking a steadying breath, the barista glares pointedly at the crack in the floor before speaking up again, “You’re always like this, you know. I’ve talked to you like five times, and even I can tell you what you’re like.”

He doesn’t speak, the tension in the air making it difficult for him to cut through, his throat closing.

Nina holds up her hand, dainty fingers curled into a fist before she begins counting, “You always have to be sarcastic or ironic about something,” She lifts up a finger, “You’re always grumpy and kind of an asshole,” She puts up another finger, “You’re so closed off it’s sometimes so hard to talk to you because I have no idea what you’re thinking,” She pauses, ticking off another finger as the edge of her glare starts to fade, “...You never say what you mean. You’re so emotionally constipated and you make a habit of running away. You can’t just admit you like something and you always have to find a roundabout way to-”

During her tirade, Ethan had inched closer to her, slipping out what he had hidden in his back pocket. In one swift motion, he presents it to her, shoving it right under her nose and effectively cutting her off mid-rant.

Nina blinks, staring down at the trinket. A small frog keychain sits in the palm of his hand, the plush material appearing velvety under the beam of the ceiling light.

“...What?”

His other hand reaches up to scratch the back of his neck as she peers up at him, wide-eyed and confused at the gesture, “I saw it a while ago. I don’t know why I thought of you but I bought it.” He nods at the pin clipped dutifully on her apron, right next to her name tag.

A long stretch of silence envelopes them and Ethan’s not sure what to classify this one. It didn’t feel comfortable nor was it tense like before. The brunette continued to stare at the item in his hand before gingerly, almost shyly taking it into her hands, rolling it a bit between her fingers.

After another long moment, she speaks up, “My brother...always liked frogs,” Voice airy, she keeps her eyes on the plush and continues, “He got sick a lot, and they always made him feel better. So I would always be wearing them and bringing them to him whenever he got sick again.” Nina glances up at him finally and he notices her eyes glistening with emotion.

“He’s alright now, but I guess old habits die hard. I’ve grown attached to frogs myself,” She chuckles.

Ethan watches her, blue eyes lingering on her frame before finding his voice again, “I’m glad your brother is fine now. You’re a wonderful sister.”

Nina remains quiet, eyes still fixed on the gift and Ethan’s not sure why he feels the need to keep going, “I found it in the gift shop at the hospital.”

There’s another pause as Nina freezes again. As the seconds stretch on, Ethan’s worried he overstepped. Maybe don’t tell her that. Preparing to backtrack and excuse himself from this scenario, he readies an apology on his lips, when he’s interrupted by the sound of a snort.

She’s...laughing?

Bemusement takes over his face as he blinks, watching as the barista starts curling over, laugh growing in intensity and volume. One peek at his face and she’s launched into another fit.

Nina continues to laugh, her body shaking as the amusement runs through her small frame. Ethan stands there silently, not sure what he should be doing as the barista keeps giggling, hand clutching the keychain tight in her grip.

Finally, after what feels like ages, Nina’s laughter subsides, fixing her posture and settling her gaze on him, something that Ethan can’t define sparkling in her eyes.

A fond sigh leaves her lips as she regards him, “You make it hard to stay mad,” She lets out, voice delicate like a whisper.

Nina links her hands behind her back, expression happy and radiant, and he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from her. In his daze, he doesn’t notice her moving, approaching quicker than he has time to form a coherent thought.

Nina practically skips towards him, closing the distance between them. Ethan almost reflexively took a step back, the sudden proximity shocking him speechless as he catches the caramel flecks in her eyes, sparkling and utterly captivating.

“So,” Drawing out the one syllable, Nina’s eyes crinkle into those familiar crescent moons, as she lifts herself up on her tiptoes and leans towards him, noses almost touching. Ethan finds himself rooted to the spot, completely at a loss before her as her eyes reflect like stars.

“Are you gonna ask me on a date or what?”

Fin.

taglist: @openheart12 @ethandaddyramsey @noboundariesplease @drethanramslay @ethanramseysgirl @senseofduties @messrprongs @x-kyne-x @ethxnrxmsey @newcolonies @choices-love-affair @sekizincimektup @nooruleman @fightingtheinevitable @kaavyaethanramsey @agent-breakdance @blueacacias @edith-eggs1

#open heart #playchoices #choices oph #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #choices fanfiction #choices fanfic #ethan ramsey fanfiction #my writing #SHES SO LONGGGGGG #please don't let this flop i will swear off writing forever #so help me gOD #no seriously leave your comments and what not i'd love to hear your thoughts #i'm so proud of her sHES MY BABY #my shitty writing

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kinetic-elaboration · 3 years ago

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August 25: Poly Fic Background

Watched the excellent TOS episode Is There In Truth No Beauty? today but do not feel up to writing my thoughts on it. I thought I did but I just kept on putting it off and obviously with time I feel more tired, not less.

I’m truly dreading work tomorrow. I don’t even know why precisely... I’m still in ‘random project’ mode and that’s starting to wear on me a little bit. And tomorrow I’m working from home and trying to keep up the focus for miscellaneous tasks for hours on my own....when a 3-day weekend is right there...and a lot of the stuff I’m planning on doing was put off for a reason... hmm pass.

I need to sleep like 10-12 hours, write some lists, follow the lists, clean my apartment, and then be creative in some manner.

I haven’t really been working on any projects (tbh have been a bit Demoralized and thinking about Retirement again lmao) but I’ve been thinking in vague big picture ways about the Poly Fic. Absolutely wild that I’m so gung ho to (at least theoretically) write this very positive fictionalization of poly relationships given how sour I’ve been on the concept lately--all of the drama with B in general, and then thinking specifically about his contention that he does think that being polyamorous is like objectively morally superior in some way (I have heard that one before), which I think is not true and also just a knee jerk reaction people, certain people, have without really thinking it through (short version of the rebuttal: monogamy is a short cut that helps control so many of the worst human impulses and, though perhaps not necessary for stable partnerships, at least makes them damn easier; it’s pretty ballsy to say ‘I don’t need this I am EnLIGHTened”).

I’ve also been thinking about how, in my experience... open relationships are such an easy excuse not to make hard decisions. I think that’s what’s happening to him too and I think that’s what happened to L. Is it a coincidence that when relationships are breaking up someone inevitably suggests “well what if we were open?”? It’s such a CLICHE. And the reason it’s a cliche is that it’s an attempt to have your cake and eat it too. I have absolutely done this. I have been able to be stubborn about one person while also not giving up on another because of the “poly” excuse. “I’ve met someone else and I want to pursue it and I ALSO see all the supremely bad problems in my current relationship, and all of this together should be a wake up call that I need to extricate myself from what is not working, to abandon the sinking ship--or otherwise to truly devote myself to fixing what’s so broken, without distraction elsewhere--but heck it would be nice to continue limping along with this person I used to love, in order to avoid the emotional messiness of a breakup, or even facing my own feelings, while also allowing the distraction of the Shiny and New to keep me from addressing the very real problems in the relationship I’m already in.”

I’m not the only one who’s done this. This has been done to me (...more than once). This is absolutely how I’m reading the situations in the two recent poly stories I’ve heard about. Which I acknowledge may or may not be fair given that I am not involved in those relationships and clearly have some bias.

I don’t know. I do romanticize it as a concept some. But I feel like that’s because it’s some combination of flattering fantasy and easy way out.

Of course I think people’s relationships are their own business and that poly and/or open relationships can work. This is more a rebuttal to the idea that they’re inherently better, however you want to define better, as well as a defense of my own intermittent aversion--again based on my personal experiences. I feel like there’s a certain strain of.... conversation, discourse, whatever, that just presumes multi-person or non-monogamous relationships are either preferable objectively or, for example in fandom, otherwise ‘cute’ (”I don’t want love triangles, I want OT3s!!!!11!!”) and I have a knee jerk reaction to those sentiments because I feel like they’re unthinking and I SUSPECT, at least in internet discourse, that they’re generally coming from people who, like, don’t know what they’re talking about. But maybe that’s just me being arrogant. I’m not an expert, I only know what I’ve personally experienced and seen and it has inspired some Skepticism.

I think the purpose of the poly fic, to get back to that, is to work some stuff out from my Past but in a gentle atmosphere. Ideally, were this story to exist, there would be people not at their best, people making bad decisions, people being lazy and selfish and communicating poorly, coming in with good intentions but fucking up, and people angsting and being uncertain and questioning themselves and each other--but also people learning, growing, and trying better in the future, people giving something a chance even if they’ve been hurt before. A sort of best case scenario for myself. A fictional playground to test out some of my ideas, beliefs, and hopes.

#the year 2021 #2021: rl #2021: writing thoughts #the poly fic

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riversofmars · 4 years ago

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Christmas is around the corner and since 2020 has been a stressful for everyone, the Doctor is determined to make it a special Christmas for the Fam. It's never JUST a simple Christmas with the Doctor though. Particularly not when a trip to the Doctor's favourite Christmas world results in a chance meeting with the woman she has long presumed dead.

Hello everyone! I hope you're all experiencing festive giddiness, despite the state of the world today. Seeing as I've just finished my last long term project, I was thinking of what to do next and thought that a Christmassy something would be a great way to see out the year and also to thank all of you for you continuous support: for reading, commenting and liking my writing. It's really made my 2020 so much better to get back into fandom and I just want to say a big thank you!

So, I thought what would be nice (and I really hope I can see it through....) would be to do a sort of advent calendar fic. So basically, a shortish chapter every day leading up to Christmas Day. Christmas themed of course. My very own Christmas special, Doctor/River celebration, The Husbands of River Song... updated, let's say :D It'll feature Doctors 10-13, various companions, a Christmas adventure with a lot of banter and fluffiness and excitement. It'll be one big story that I've divided into 25 parts. Sooo... wish me luck that it'll all work out the way I want it to, and enjoy!

Happy December 1st!

Read below or on AO3!

Home For Christmas

“I LOVE Christmas!“ The Doctor announced prancing around the TARDIS. It was December 1st, at least in 2020, according to the Fam, so it was about time she got excited for it.

“Of course you do.“ Yaz rolled her eyes in amusement, it was very like the Doctor to have an obsession with the holidays.

“You’re a time traveller though, surely every day can be Christmas for you?“ Ryan shrugged sitting on the stairs next to Yaz.

“Well, I once spent 900 years in a settlement called Christmas where it was literally Christmas every day!“ The Doctor skipped to the lower level of the control room and started bringing boxes up-

“Of course you did.“ Graham shrugged, wondering why any of them would even be surprised at that.

“Sounds weird and wonderful at the same time.“ Yaz commented.

“It was.“ The Doctor popped her head up from below. “Apart from the fact I had to defend the town from Cybermen, Daleks and all sorts of unsavoury people the entire time.“

“Again, of course you did.“ Graham chuckled.

“But this year, considering how stressful and unsettling 2020 has been for all of us, I want us to have a peaceful and fun time!“ The Doctor clapped her hands together. “Baking biscuits, listening to Christmas music, decorating, putting up a tree…“

“Right here in the TARDIS?“ Yaz asked watching the Doctor bring up more boxes.

“Why not?“ The Doctor looked at the Fam confused, why were they so reluctant in their excitement?

“I guess Earth is not a lot of fun this year.“ Ryan mused, looking to the others for opinions.

“Exactly! I mean, I have plenty of decorations!“ The Doctor pulled out some gold tinsel from a box and wrapped it around herself. “But what I think we need most of all to start with is a tree!“

“I guess…“ Yaz chuckled as they gave in to her excitement.

“I mean, shouldn’t be too difficult, we just go and find one.“ The Doctor shrugged skipping over to the console. “You know there is this planet dedicated to the spirit of Christmas. You can get floating candles, fluorescent tinsel, baubles that play christmas tunes… and trees that never lose their needles!“

“That sounds like a fun place to visit.“ Yaz smiled as they all got up to step closer.

“We always say that and then things go very wrong…“ Graham couldn’t help but point out.

“Well, what could possible go wrong? We’ll just pop up in, enjoy the festive atmosphere, pick a nice tree, maybe some more decorations, have some gingerbread, and be on our way, in and out, no fuss.“ The Doctor grinned and started typing coordinates.

“It’s never just in and out…“ Ryan mumbled and the other nodded with heavy sighs.

“It’s fine, I’ve taken plenty of my friends here, it’s like a rite of passage and never got into any sort of trouble.“ The Doctor waved off their concerns. “Not that I remember, anyway, well apart from that one time when… oh and that time Donna… and when Amy… anyway, it’s all a bit of a blur.“ She pushed the lever down and the TARDIS jumped into action. “Trust me, you’ll love it.“

“Sounds fun.“ Yaz smiled, elbowing the boys who nodded quickly.

“Let’s go.“ The Doctor grinned when the TARDIS landed and waved for them to come along. She wrapped her big rainbow scarf around herself and the stepped out of the TARDIS that had materialised in a small ally hiding itself away. It was as if they had stepped into Winter Wonderland. The air smelled of gingerbread and mulled wine, somewhere in the distance Silent Night was playing and snow covered the ground. They walked out of the ally onto the main road and found themselves in the middle of hustle and bustle. The Fam couldn’t believe they were anywhere but Earth. It resembled a quaint seaside town, colourful shop fronts, steep narrow streets, old fashioned streetlamps and cobbled roads. Fairy lights and glittering decorations were strung between the houses, there was holly on every door and candles in all the windows.

“Wow.“ Yaz breathed, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of it.

“Got to hand it to you, Doc, that’s really something.“ Graham looked around, trying to take it all in.

“This is awesome!“ Ryan spotted a street vendor selling burned almonds and chestnuts.

“Told you!“ The Doctor grinned proudly. “Now, how about some eggnog and…“ She turned around but couldn’t finish her sentence as she collided with someone. She found herself thrown over and winded, the weight of another person on top of her and a lot of hair in her face.

“So sorry darling, didn’t see you there, in a bit of a rush!“ The Doctor blinked and froze. The voice was incredibly familiar. River pushed herself up and brushed her curls back, she was out of breath, she was clearing running from something or someone. She looked down at the Doctor, giving her a once over, clearly not recognising her. “I mean, as much as I’d like to continue this, and I would.“ She winked at her flirtily. “Got to run.“

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oh-theres-a-woman · 5 years ago

Text

Blood Doilies; Part Three

A/N: Warnings for mentions of abuse and abusive relationships. Please read at your own discretion. The next chapter will also have the same warning. I understand that such topics can be triggering to some people, this is pure to show what the Female Reader has experienced in married life and her breaking away from that with the aid of the Blinders. Once more thank you for taking the time to read this story, feel free to reblog or comment if you’re enjoying this.

Taglist: @zodiyack , @itsfrancisneptun , @shelbys-we-get-the-job-done, @amy-booxx & @fandom-fucking-shit

Parts: [ 1 ] , [ 2 ], [ 4 ], [ 5 ], [ 6 ], [ 7 ], [ 8 ], [ 9 ]

Pairing: Thomas Shelby X Female Reader

Word Count: 1923

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You set the tea down on the coffee table noticing the children had both fallen asleep on Mister Shelby’s knee. Offering a smile at the sleeping children. Whispering softly that you could take the children to bed, Thomas simply rose to his footing. Carrying both the children upstairs, calmly following him. Showing the beds for each child. Annabeth curled up into a ball with her little dolly looking absolutely smitten and at peace. Leaning down you kissed the little girl’s head, smoothing the messy mop of hair away from her face. Pulling the blankets up to her shoulders, brushing the back of your knuckle lovingly over her cheek.

Repeating the same action for Marcus, knowing that he’d need another feeding in a few hours time. “You’re a good mother, you do so much for your children,” Thomas said observantly from the door watching on with silent awe. Aunt Pol had always warmed someplace in his heart at her mothering but it had been a time since all the Shebly children had ground. Now the mothering seemed like a nagging.

Maybe it was the war that changed him but watching you at that moment. He didn’t see the harshness of his own upbringing. But the solid foundations of nurturing and admiration. Tommy didn’t quite remember the loving gaze of his mother, only her death. It had been the first of many lives that were lost. Charlie Strong had been the replacement when his father walked out of them and Pol took the helm of mothering. Swift in her workings and proved very stern for the young Sheblys’ that were left like orphans before she swooped in.

However, you were a different case. There was something about your maternal instincts that caused Thomas to stop a moment. Admire the qualities of a woman. The way in your wounds and bruises from an abusive husband, no matter the pain. You carried on your task of being a mother never let anything go to chance or mess with you. Easily smoothing a hand over baby Marcus’s locks whose were just like your own. Beautifully soft with a slight wave in the front. Tucking your son in, you watched him for a moment listening to his breathing, the little snores that left his buzzing button nose.

Thomas and yourself wandered back downstairs to the tea. Looking at each other for a moment. The narrow stairs led to you brushing hands in the walk. Causing you steps to falter for one moment. However, the Blinder once more found his seat again. Marking the page he had been reading to the children as if he’d continue that story for them another time. Picking up his teacup, he added some cream and one sugar. Stirring with the provided teaspoon then offering the spoon to you. Carefully, you poured the creamer not adding any sugar. Enjoying the strength of the tea. Lips slightly pursed together, glancing back to Thomas Shelby again. “Thank you for offering my family this safe house for the time until we get our lives back on track,” you said with a warm blush on your cheeks.

“It is alright, Mrs [Y/N],” Thomas said in a swift and noble tone of voice. Leaning back into his chair observing you. “The Peaky Blinders don’t take kindly to men who bash into their women and children.” Thomas’s words sparked a cool murderous rage in him. His eyes were like a cool fire, burning hotter than any red flame you’d seen in your lifetime. Glancing down at the marks that riddled your body and all that was hidden under your clothes. You hadn’t remembered a day where things weren’t thrown or fists were flying. Once upon a time, it was a social norm for a husband to beat his wife.

“I’ve had it happen all my life, my father was a drunk and my mother a prostitute. I don’t really know any better…” You admitted in a defeated manner. Clenching your fists on your legs thinking about the life you led. “But, I want this cycle to end. Because if I let this keep happening, it��ll only happen to my children and they won’t know how to respect each other or their future loved ones.” Deep down you knew this was the right thing, the sudden separation to make sure no more harm would come to yourself or the children if your husband overstepped his normal range of violence.

“Do you need my help in any way of separating from the man, because once you're divorced of him that debt owed is only on him. I don’t believe in wives cleaning up their husband’s debts when they have a family to protect. By those marks too, I’d believe you’ve been looking over them for some time too.” Mister Shelby said, reaching into his coat pocket, procuring a silver cigarette case. Opening it and offering you one with a slight incline of his arm. Reaching out you picked up one of the expensive tailor-made, always used to the harsh rolling without a filter.

Placing the stick of nicotine in between your lips, that were chapped and broken from a hit. Picking up a matchbook from the table lighting up your cigarette, then leaning out to light Thomas’s. He leant into the flame. The small light of the match burning embers of life at the end of the neatly rolled tobacco. Watching the embers eat at the paper when Tommy puffed. The flame licking at your fingertips were lighting the sharper features of the Shelby before you, causing a feeling of enchantment to pull over you.

Tingling burns at your fingertips, causing you to finally shake the match and drop it into the ashtray. Settling back into your seat letting out a calm inhale and sighing softly. The sitting room clouded with an illusion-like smoke cloud. Giving a new atmosphere to the room. Like it wasn’t heavy in the topics of conversation. The stress had been disbursed in to the air, exhaled with the carbon-dioxide and smoke through lips and nostrils.

“I need to find a way to get divorced from him, I know it’d help my case that we’re living separately from one another. It would be a year’s process at the longest, I’d need to find a way to keep the tea house. My own business… I don’t want to lose it to him. Need some form of income to keep a roof over the wee ones’ heads.” You muttered, flicking the ash into the crystal tray on the table. Wondering in all seriousness how much it cost to buy because it was impeccable. Everything in the Watery Lane home was beautifully charming and way out of your price range.

“I’m hoping to get settled then go back to work, have a friend lookout for the kids.” You said to the man, who seemed to offer a small nod. Knowing the modest little establishment in your ownership. By far considered the loveliest tea shop in Small Heath, it had charm and class to the small little shop. He’d remembered Ada gushing over it opening some years ago, by a beautiful young woman that had the dream to do so. Through the proper means, she opened the shop by herself. Even without her husband’s help. This seemed like an even biggest motivator for Tommy’s little sister feminist ideals.

“Given your current condition, I’d recommend your healing before heading back to work. Keeping a low-profile due to your husband’s likely retaliation to your left with the children. For your safety, I’d advise you take a week at the least, then return to work. I or one of the Blinders will be there to escort you home after.” Thomas took a swift to inhale of his cigarette. He didn’t know why he was so adamant to protect you. Normally the Blinders would help get rid of the trouble and then recoil. Yet, deep down he knew it's because he’d seen what the government and church would do if they caught wind of things happening.

You’d lose your children. Thomas didn’t want to see that happen, because you’d taken responsibility for your husband’s debt and tried to clear it up. Even in such a state that you were in. Trying to protect the little family you’d been in. Keeping those well-behaved children in line, working the long hours that he found out on an investigation prior. Where your morning shift could start as early as four-five o’clock in the morning for the baked goods. Then until closing hours in the evening. A short break in between to take your children home, giving the neighbour a break.

Only to have most of the money earnt wasted on your husband’s addictions and there were plenty of them. Never in a million years did he even expect anyone at that meeting today. But, there you were to shock him. Taking time out of your day, to see him and try to make things right. Surprisingly, it gave Tommy a little bit of hope for some of the women in this day and age. So, the patriarch of the Shelby family sat there and discussed with you into the long hours of the night. Things were arranged for your meeting with a solicitor under the guidance of Polly Gray. Moral support. Plus, everyone seemed to be as scared of her as they were with Tommy. Bonus.

***********

The following days passed quickly with everything being prepared. Marks began to fade on your skin and it restored some of your lacking confidence. You felt happier in the safe house. Not because of the fancy layout because your children were happy, they were settling in nicely. The Shelbys’ came to visit enough. John Shelby bought over his children someday and they all played while business and things were attended to. More often than not it meant walking in on the children all snuggled up on each other and napping; after having an argument or fight. Everything was sorted with a simple nap together, then they were as good as rain. It made you often wish that adults were as simple as children.

By the following Monday, you were returning to work. Your workers had been running the ship well and left things in perfect condition. It was nice to see the faces of the customers again. Hours were long like normal, but that’s how you enjoyed working. Things were peaceful and you didn’t feel an ounce of stress because Thomas had promised to come to pick you up after work and walk you home. It was safe… Well, that’s what you thought.

Hours passed by swiftly and you finished the till counting after hours in the office. The last thing was to do the bins. When you were collecting the bins. Wandering in the dark alley, tossing things into the larger bins outside for landfill. You were so focused on your task that the sound of someone sneaking up on you escaped your knowledge. A rough hand, the smell of hard liquor and cigars filled your nostrils. You knew that scent from anywhere. Your husband.

He holds a hold on you, smothering your screams of utter terror and pinning your body against the firmness of his body. “It’s not nice to say goodbye in a letter,” he whispered in your ear with vile intent. Holding out in front of you, the wedding band you letter on the letter. Forcefully sliding it back onto your finger as tears fell.

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myfandomrambles · 5 years ago

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Am I the only one who doesn’t find Hordak sympathetic?

Like I feel bad that he was abused by his father/brother figure nobody should be. I can understand that his trauma is real and obviously not should ever feel that.

But after everything, I can’t find him a really sympathetic villain or antagonist. I don’t feel like he is someone who has even just fallen so hard into his abuse and pain he’s lashing out. Because this many years on he should be at least able to not hurt others, even if he’s still suffering.

Like I just look at him and think “Some people are child-abusing colonial imperialists, to cope?”

Because being traumatized and disabled (also ableism much?) doesn’t make it okay to hurt other people so much. He’s a grown adult who’s been away from the system that abused him for years. He can actually have made a different choice since then, he could have decided to not be an abusive imperialist entitled man. He didn’t though. I’m not saying be healed, or all okay now. I’m saying maybe abusive victims don’t all become fascists? Like even IRL former child soldiers have been adults who didn’t continue to do that?

So I think it’s odd that people try and use that as a trump card.

This applies to Catra too, but people seem more willing to call out Catra, who deserve it, but it’s just true that Catra has caused the same amount, well less considering the time and children, damage then Hordak. She has been a force for great harm, and I think deserves to be criticised. But the idea people seem more angry at her for betraying Hordak then him ya know raising her as a child soldier doesn’t make sense to me.

Hell people seem to be calling Glimmer out for yelling at her friends twice and being willing to look into using a weapon to kick out the colonialists and return the resources (magic) that previous colonialists took from her people.

And having a crush on Entrapta, and losing her doesn’t erase that.

What he’s done:

Like Hordak is so close to real-world imperialist and abuser. He's done so many things just like those real people:

He made a deal with one group of indigenous people to get a foothold.

Went back on this and stripped that group of all their resources & stole/bought their child.

Destroyed said groups connection to heritage and culture, including destroying the government.

Ripps resources from the whole planet, we saw these vegetation-less swaths of land.

His camp throws up pollution and leached poison to the ground.

Takes children whose family they usually killed (calls them war orphans) and raises them as child soldiers.

He has those kids raised by someone he knows is a horribly abusive person. This is part of his process of making them into child soldiers and easily manipulated.

Seems to have forced adults into the army.

Uses other people for his own ego.

Wants to take over this whole planet for the “Horde”, like for king and country.

Destroyers peoples homes, burning buildings and pushes people of their towns.

Has turned people into people refuges many times.

Occupies territory and puts any people there under his control if they are not kicked out.

With the black garnet, he is willing to kill the entire forest killing what people use as their home and at least Perfuma’s people used for food.

Uses his own manipulation to try and keep people in line. Creating an atmosphere of fear and a need to not be a “failure”

Wants to take over the whole place with no regard for people’s lives in his own army.

Sends people to Beast Island, where we know people die and uses this to scare people.

With Catra he uses her own issues and history with Shadow Weaver to control her and make her what he hopes is a manipulatable second i command.

Suffocates her till she passes out in retaliation and then sends her to die in the Crimson Wastes.

Takes all the credit for a war won by Catra, Entrapta’s tech and before them Shadow Weaver. Like I mean who wants to own up to being a space dictator, but it is still such entitled behaviour.

Realises the person he taught to be cruel and lie, like did it too and has the audacity to be hurt And attack her. My dude your the one who uses Beast Island in the first place, and who hurts people who are honest with you.

Sells all the people who worked for him out to Horde Prime, who we know isn’t going to give a fuck for all the people in the horde army who got him to this point. Or anyone else Including Entrapta and Catra. Giving the planet over to him will get all the Etherians possible, colonized, subjugated, enslaved, killed or who knows what. But not anything good.

How can you read that and be like but he experienced trauma and/or but he liked Entrapta so he’s sympathetic?

Now let’s look more at Entrapta For sec:

He isn’t even actually very nice to her for one thing and is using her. But more so even if he does “love” her I don’t care? I don’t think it's cute he blushes, I don’t think it’s sad he's sad, because an abusive terrible warmonger can love one person and still be bad. Plenty of awful people had wives (or husbands) and were still awful. Loving one person doesn’t make you cute or a better person.

Entrapta isn’t my favourite character, but honesty she deserves someone who doesn’t think she’s one of the good inferior people from their nowhere planet.

Conclusion:

Does everything really think he’s sympathetic? Like people seem more sympathetic towards him then Glimmer now. I don’t understand, I really don’t.

Though I will admit that I don't find him very enjoyable as a villain in the first place in the last two seasons. He strikes me as painfully normal kind of evil, he doesn’t have fun powers and doesn’t even seem to have fun with being bad. If your gonna be a bad person like have some panache, and don’t come across as such binal evil. So I guess that could be part of why. If your gonna be a purely bad person, I’d like them to be having some fun or be more fantastical.

So yeah I don’t get this fandom’s view on Hordak.

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kingjasnah · 4 years ago

Note

Is there the full list of brandersons favourite games reposted somewhere?

i dont think so? or not that ive seen. u can literally just sign up for the newsletter on his website but screw it ill just post them for u. it sure was a TRIP scrolling past these to get to the interlude though. undertale is on this list.....im shakign at the thought that adolin was based off ff10 tidus but i cant get it out of my head now

#10: Katamari Damaci

I love things that make me look at the world in a new way. Katamari did this in spades. It is an imaginative, bizarre vision with unique gameplay. It is like nothing else in the world and I love it for all its strangeness and occasional lack of gameplay polish.

I was transfixed the first time I played it, and have looked forward to it being remade and rereleased on multiple different consoles. I love the cute—and somehow creepy at the same time—storyline. It feels like a fever dream more than a game sometimes, and is probably the closest I’ll ever get to understanding what it’s like to do drugs.

#9: Undertale

This is an oddball on this list because I think it’s the only game that is not a franchise from a major studio—but is instead an indie game, which I believe was originally funded on Kickstarter.I loved how this felt like a novel as much as a game. It was one person’s vision; a single story told really well, with a huge amount of personality. The humor was just my kind of wonderful/terrible, and I was instantly enamored with the characters.That probably would have been enough, but it is a nice deconstruction of video games as a medium—and has not one, but multiple innovative gameplay mechanics. Together, the package left me enamored. This is a work of genius that I feel everyone should at least try, even if it ends up not being for them.

#8: Fallout: New Vegas

I have played all of the core Fallout games, and I was one of the (it seems few) who was really excited when it moved from turn-based tactics to first-person shooter. While Fallout 3 was good, it didn’t have the charm of the first two.New Vegas delivered on everything I was hoping to see. The charm was back, the writing sharp, the quests imaginative. The gameplay was engaging and branched in a variety of directions, the gunplay was solid, and the atmosphere immersive. I of course love the first two games in the series—but New Vegas combines everything I like in gaming into one package. (As a note, I own the Outer Worlds, and am looking forward to digging into it. Consider this item on the list a recommendation of other Obsidian games—like Knights of the Old Republic Two—regardless of genre, as I’ve found them universally to be superior to their contemporaries.)

#7 Super Mario World

When I was eleven, I flew (alone, which was very exciting to me) from Nebraska to visit my uncle Devon in Salt Lake City. Before I left, my father gave me $200 and told me to pay for my own meals while on the trip—but of course, my uncle didn’t allow this. At the end of the trip, I tried to give him the money, which he wouldn’t take.I mentioned my dad would take the money back when I got home, but that was okay. Well, my uncle would have none of that, and drove me to the local mall and made me spend it on a Nintendo Entertainment System. (This uncle, you might guess, is an awesome human being.)Since that day of first plugging it in and experiencing Mario for the first time, I was hooked. This is the only platformer on the list, as I don’t love those. But one makes an exception for Mario. There’s just so much polish, so much elegance to the control schemes, that even a guy who prefers an FPS or an RPG like me has to admit these are great games. I picked World as my favorite as it’s the one I’ve gone back to and played the most.

#7: The Curse of Monkey Island (Monkey Island 3)

I kind of miss the golden age of adventure gaming, and I don’t know that anyone ever got it as right as they did with this game. It is the pinnacle of the genre, in my opinion—no offense to Grim Fandango fans.This game came out right before gaming’s awkward teenage phase where everything moved to 3-d polygons. For a while after, games looked pretty bad, though they could do more because of the swap. But if you want to go see what life was like before that change, play Monkey Island 3. Composed of beautiful art pieces that look like cells from Disney movies, with streamlined controls (the genre had come a long way from “Get yon torch”) and fantastic voice acting, this game still plays really well.This is one of the few games I’ve been able to get my non-gamer wife to play through with me, and it worked really well as a co-op game with the two of us trying to talk through problems. It’s a lovingly crafted time capsule of a previous era of gaming, and if you missed it, it’s really worth trying all these years later. (The first and second games hold up surprisingly well too, as a note, particularly with the redone art that came out a decade or so ago.)Also, again, this one has my kind of humor.

#6: Breath of the Wild

I never thought a Zelda game would unseat A Link to the Past as my favorite Zelda, but Breath of the Wild managed it. It combined the magic of classic gameplay with modern design aesthetic, and I loved this game.There’s not a lot to say about it that others haven’t said before, but I particularly liked how it took the elements of the previous games in the series (giving you specific tools to beat specific challenges) and let you have them all at once. I like how the dungeons became little mini puzzles to beat, instead of (sometimes seemingly endless) slogs to get through. I liked the exploration, the fluidity of the controls, and the use of a non-linear narrative in flashbacks. It’s worth buying a Switch just to play this one and Mario—but in case you want, you can also play Dark Souls on Switch... (That’s foreshadowing.)

#5: Halo 2

Telling stories about Halo Two on stream is what made me think of writing this list.I’m sometimes surprised that this game isn’t talked about as much as I think it should be. Granted, the franchise is very popular—but people tend to love either Reach or games 1 or 3 more than two. Two, however, is the only one I ever wanted to replay—and I’ve done so three or four times at this point. (It’s also the only one I ever beat on Legendary.)It’s made me think on why I love this one, while so many others seem to just consider it one of many in a strong—but in many ways unexceptional—series of games. I think part of this is because I focus primarily on the single-player aspects of a game (which is why there aren’t any MMOs on this list.) Others prefer Halo games with more balanced/polished multiplayer. But I like to game by myself, and don’t really look for a multiplayer experience. (Though this is changing as I game with my sons more and more.)I really like good writing—which I suppose you’d expect. But in games, I specifically prefer writing that enhances the style of game I’m playing. Just dumping a bunch of story on me isn’t enough; it has to be suited to the gameplay and the feel of the game. In that context, I’ve rarely encountered writing as good as Halo 2. From the opening—with the intercutting and juxtaposition of the two narratives—to the quotes barked out by the marines, the writing in this game is great. It stands out starkly against other Halo games, to the point that I wonder what the difference is.Yes, Halo Two is a bombastic hero fantasy about a super soldier stomping aliens. But it has subtle, yet powerful worldbuilding sprinkled all through it—and the music...it does things with the story that I envy. It’s kind of cheating that games and films get to have powerful scores to help with mood.The guns in Two feel so much better than Halo One, and the vehicles drive far better. The only complaint I have is that it’s only half a story—as in, Halo 2 and 3 seem like they were one game broken in two pieces. And while 3 is good (and Reach does something different, which I approve of in general) neither did it for me the way Two did, and continues to do.

#3: Final Fantasy X

You probably knew Final Fantasy was coming. People often ask if the way these games handle magic was an influence upon me. All I can say is that I’ve played them since the first one, and so they’re bound to have had an influence.On one hand, these games are really strange. I mean, I don’t think we gamers stop quite often enough to note how downright bizarre this series gets. Final Fantasy doesn’t always make the most sense—but the games are always ambitious.Ten is my favorite for a couple of reasons. I felt like the worldbuilding was among the strongest, and I really connected with the characters. That’s strange, because this is one of the FF games without an angst-filled teen as the protagonist. Instead, it has a kind of stable happy-go-lucky jock as the protagonist.But that’s what I needed, right then. A game that didn’t give me the same old protagonist, but instead gave me someone new and showed me I could bond to them just as well. Ten was the first with full voice acting, and that jump added a lot for me. It has my favorite music of the series, and all together is what I consider the perfect final fantasy game. (Though admittedly, I find it more and more difficult to get into turn-based battle mechanics as I grow older.)

#2: Bloodborne

Those who follow my streams, or who read other interviews I’ve done, probably expected this series to be at or near the top. The question wasn’t whether Souls would be here, but which one to pick as my favorite.I went with Bloodborne, though it could have been any of them. (Even Dark Souls 2—which I really like, despite its reputation in the fandom.) I’ve been following FromSoftware’s games since the King’s Field games, and Demon’s Souls was a huge triumph—with the director Hidetaka Miyazaki deserving much of the praise for its design, and Dark Souls (which is really just a more polished version of Demon’s Souls).As I am a fan of cosmic horror, Bloodborne is probably my favorite overall. It really hit the mix of cosmic and gothic horror perfectly. It forced me to change up my gameplay from the other Souls games, and I loved the beautiful visuals.I am a fan of hard games—but I like hard games that are what I consider “fair.” (For example, I don’t love those impossible fan-made Mario levels, or many of the super-crazy “bullet hell”-style games.) Dark Souls is a different kind of hard. Difficult like a stern instructor, expecting you to learn—but giving you the tools to do so. It presents a challenge, rather than being hard just to be hard.If I have a problem with Final Fantasy, it’s that the games sometimes feel like the gameplay is an afterthought to telling the story. But in the Souls games, story and gameplay are intermixed in a way I’d never seen done before. You have to construct the story like an archeologist, using dialogue and lore from descriptions of in-game objects. I find this fascinating; the series tells stories in a way a book never could. I’m always glad when a game series can show off the specific strengths of the medium.In fact, this series would be #1 except for the little fact that I have way too much time on Steam logged playing...

#1: Civilization VI

This series had to take #1 by sheer weight of gameplay time. I discovered the first on a friend’s computer in the dorms my freshman year—and I can still remember the feeling of the birds chirping outside, realizing I’d been playing all night and really should get back to my own dorm room.That still happens, and has happened, with every game in the series. I have a lot of thoughts on this series, many of them granular and too specific for this list. (Like, it’s obvious AI technology isn’t up to the task of playing a game this complex—so could we instead get a roguelike set of modifiers, game modes, etc. to liven up the games, rather than just having a difficulty slider that changes a few simple aspects of the game?)I’ll try not to rant, because I really do love this game series. A lot of people consider IV to be the pinnacle of the series, but after V unstacked units—and VI unstacked cities—there was no way I could ever go back. If for some reason, you’ve never played this grand patriarch of the 4X game genre, it’s about starting with a single stone-age settler who can found a city—then playing through eras of a civilization, growing your empire, to try to eventually get offworld with a space program. (Or, if you prefer, conquering the world.)It’s a load of fun in the way I like to have fun, and I feel like the series has only gotten better over the years. My hat is off to the developers, who keep reinventing the series, rather than making the exact same game over and over.Now, about that request for difficulty modes...

there are runner ups but for the sake of anyone whos on mobile and cant get past a read more (first of all omg im SO sorry) ill refrain. anyway he thought WHAT loz game was the best before botw?

#mix between HARDCORE judgement and like. yea. yea ff10 was pretty good wasnt it #but i dont think its anywhere near the best of them #long post #im read mores dont work imm so fucking sorry this is so long #MOST of these games are good its just so wild its so wild its SO wild #asks #Anonymous

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band-of-bitches · 5 years ago

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Don’t Call Him ‘Sparky’

Summary: Malarkey, Penkala and Skip try to entertain themselves during a long night in Bastogne AKA they learn to be careful who they talk about when they think no one is listening.

Author’s Note: This is something I thought up when I wrote that shit post about how Speirs’s nickname was “Sparky” but no one actually calls him that in the show. This is also my first fanfic I’ve ever written for a fandom so be nice to me plz.

Word count: 1048

No Pairings

Warnings: Some mild cursing

“Sparky? What kind of a nickname is ‘Sparky’?”

“Better question; how does a man like Speirs get nicknamed something Faye would name a cat?”

Malarkey laughed, but quickly regretted it when cold air stung at his lungs. Skip, Penkala and himself sat huddled in a foxhole, trying to ignore the freezing temperatures that kept the trio glued close together.

Malarkey had never experienced cold like he did during the nights at Bastogne, where he could hear the sounds of gunfire going off all around him, or the screams for medics to then be followed by a quick flash of a red armband running by. Sometimes he’d see the same armband coming back clutching a wounded soldier. Sometimes not.

Nights like this are when he was glad he had Muck and Penkala to distract him with their crude jokes and constant quips that never ended. He was thankful that all three of them could find a topic to go on about and use to distract themselves from the war and violence that surrounded them. On that particular cold night in Bastogne, the main topic of conversation seemed to be what they loved most to bug Malarkey about: Ronald Speirs.

“I don’t know how he got it, but I heard that a replacement in Dog Company called him ‘Sparky’ once, and the next day he disappeared from his foxhole,” said Penkala, muffled by the scarf that he had wrapped around his mouth and nose.

“Bullshit,” said Malarkey. “You’re making that up!”

“No, I swear! I heard it from a Bill who heard it from Luz who heard it from someone from Dog Company.”

“Jesus Christ, I feel like a high school girl” retorted Skip.

“Aww, you upset Billy didn’t ask you to the prom?” Malarkey mocked, putting on his best pouty face. Skip leaned forward and reached across Penkala to smack Malarkey across the helmet, getting a small chuckle out of Penkala. Malarkey could see the cold air leave through Penkala’s scarf as he laughed. He doubted the piece of cloth was helping much.

Skip retreated back and wrapped his blanket around his shoulders. “Well, no matter how he got it, I doubt anyone actually calls that to his face. Imagine calling a man like Speirs ‘Sparky’.”

Malarkey couldn't imagine it. He came to the conclusion that only those with a death wish would even dare to utter the nickname. He remembered the POW’s back on Normandy and how one minute he was chatting his fellow Oregonian up, and then the next him and the other POW’s were just more names to be etched on a gravestone. He thinks a name like “Scary as shit” or “Jesus Christ that’s him” would be much more befitting for the Dog Company officer. That’s already what most of Easy Company say when Speirs makes one of his rare appearances.

Malarkey thought back to what Skip said. The nickname did kind of sound like something a cat would be called. Maybe a dog. He let out a small chuckle.

“Sparky, huh? I guess ‘Spot’ was already taken?”

They all laughed, and Malarkey ignored the cold air that stung his lungs that came with laughing. He was still laughing when he heard footsteps from behind him. He turned around to see who was approaching the foxhole Penk, Skip and himself were couped up in, half-expecting it to be Buck to tell them to quiet down. The laughing subdued when he saw the face the footsteps belonged to.

“Hello, boys,” Speirs greeted. He stood above their foxhole, peering down at the three friends, his gun held in both hands carrying the neutral expression that never seemed to leave his face. Malarkey couldn't help but stare slightly wide-eyed at the man, and although he couldn't see their faces, he knew Penk and Skip were sporting similar expressions, the grins that were previously occupying their faces most likely long gone. Malarkey wasn’t sure if he noticed the shift of the atmosphere, but if he did, Speirs didn’t show it.

“Do any of you know where Captain Winters is?”

No one said anything.

“Um, no but, uh...Sergeant Compton probably knows, Sir,” Skip piped up, the usual liveliness of his tone missing

Speirs didn’t move for a moment and just stared into the foxhole for what felt like an eternity. His cold, hard eyes not moving and his neutral expression staying put. Malarkey didn’t dare move or say anything. Realistically, he knew Speirs wasn’t going to gun them down then and there, but there was an energy to the man that sent shivers down his spine each time he saw him.

He couldn't be sure, but Malarkey swore he saw a smirk meet the side of Speirs’s lips before he finally spoke.

“Thank you.” He turned around to leave. “Have a good night, boys.”

Malarkey watched Speirs as he retreated to go find Buck. He didn’t relax until the man completely disappeared behind the snow covered trees and into the night, the darkness enveloping him.

Jesus fucking Christ, he thought. He turned to look at Penk and Skip, only to find them both expressing a shocked but relieved expression, an expression he was probably sporting himself.

“Holy shit, you think he heard what you said, Malark?” asked Penkala, eyes wide and brows raised.

“I don’t know,” replied Malarkey. He really needed to get into the habit of not talking about superior officers behind their backs. He swore it would be the death of him.

Skip apparently read his mind.

“Well, when you wake up dead tomorrow, I’ll make sure your cause of death says you did something heroic, not ‘called Ronald Speirs ‘Sparky’’.”

Malarkey snorted. “Thanks a lot, Skip.”

“Yeah,” said Penkala “It could say something else stupid instead, like ‘ran into the middle of a battle field to pick a lugar of a dead Kraut’.”

This time it was Malarkey's turn to smack Penkala across the helmet.

Soon all three were laughing again on that cold night in Bastogne. Malarkey swore that as soon as the sun rolled up across the horizon in a couple hours, Skip would immediately tell the other guys about their encounter with the oh-so-scary Rondald Speirs. He also swore that he would never utter the word “Sparky” again for the rest of his life.

#band of brothers #hbo war #ronald speirs #don malarkey #skip muck #alex penkala #it took all my willpower to actually post this

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coffeebased · 4 years ago

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Hey! Wikathon na! I’ve started reading Relocations by Karen Tongson, about a third through now, but I had to take a little detour through Harrow the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir like I said I would. I’ve finished reading HtN but I’m not quite done experiencing it, so I’ll probably pick Relocations back up tomorrow.

But here’s what I read in July! What’s a segue?

1. Haikyu!! Volume 44 and 45 by Haruichi Furudate

A chance event triggered Shouyou Hinata’s love for volleyball. His club had no members, but somehow persevered and finally made it into its very first and final regular match of middle school, where it was steamrolled by Tobio Kageyama, a superstar player known as “King of the Court.”

Vowing revenge, Hinata applied to the Karasuno High School volleyball club… only to come face-to-face with his hated rival, Kageyama!

And with those two volumes, Haikyū has ended. I’m really glad that my cousin got me to catch up to the series because being a part of the sheer joy and love that’s poured out the fandom these past few months has been refreshing to my spirit. I enjoyed the way Furudate brought the series to its conclusion, by giving all the characters a future and room to grow. I hope to hear more from him in the upcoming years.

2. Looking for Group by Alexis Hall

I read Looking for Group because I was reading up on Alexis Hall in anticipation of Boyfriend Material, which I will talk about later, and saw the synopsis:

So, yeah, I play Heroes of Legend, y’know, the MMO. I’m not like obsessed or addicted or anything. It’s just a game. Anyway, there was this girl in my guild who I really liked because she was funny and nerdy and a great healer. Of course, my mates thought it was hilarious I was into someone I’d met online. And they thought it was even more hilarious when she turned out to be a boy IRL. But the joke’s on them because I still really like him.

And now that we’re together, it’s going pretty well. Except sometimes I think Kit—that’s his name, sorry I didn’t mention that—spends way too much time in HoL. I know he has friends in the guild, but he has me now, and my friends, and everyone knows people you meet online aren’t real. I mean. Not Kit. Kit’s real. Obviously.

Oh, I’m Drew, by the way. This is sort of my story. About how I messed up some stuff and figured out some stuff. And fell in love and stuff.

And I knew that I had to read it. Immediately.

I enjoyed it way too much. The characters were adorable, the conflict was done well, the geeky gamer wrapper was AMAZING and the author never dropped the ball on integrating the online game into the narrative. It was very readable and I enjoyed the atmosphere of the book immensely. I also may have spent a heady week or so thinking of playing WoW, but I avoided that temptation. Made me miss uni too, and the way my friends and I would spend countless hours with each other.

3. Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall

Wanted: One (fake) boyfriend Practically perfect in every way

Luc O’Donnell is tangentially–and reluctantly–famous. His rock star parents split when he was young, and the father he’s never met spent the next twenty years cruising in and out of rehab. Now that his dad’s making a comeback, Luc’s back in the public eye, and one compromising photo is enough to ruin everything.

To clean up his image, Luc has to find a nice, normal relationship…and Oliver Blackwood is as nice and normal as they come. He’s a barrister, an ethical vegetarian, and he’s never inspired a moment of scandal in his life. In other words: perfect boyfriend material. Unfortunately apart from being gay, single, and really, really in need of a date for a big event, Luc and Oliver have nothing in common. So they strike a deal to be publicity-friendly (fake) boyfriends until the dust has settled. Then they can go their separate ways and pretend it never happened.

But the thing about fake-dating is that it can feel a lot like real-dating. And that’s when you get used to someone. Start falling for them. Don’t ever want to let them go.

I came into this book with high expectations after Looking for Group, and my expectations were mostly met. The few issues I had were ultimately negligible, probably cultural differences or conventions of a genre that I’m not familiar with. The characters were strong, and I found the book funny. I know it sounds as though I’m damning it with faint praise, so I’ll say it plainly: it was an enjoyable read and I was totally invested in the romance. I think it’ll make a really good film as well.

4. The Subtweet by Vivek Shraya

Everyone talks about falling in love, but falling in friendship can be just as captivating. When Neela Devaki’s song is covered by internet-famous artist Rukmini, the two musicians meet and a transformative friendship begins. But as Rukmini’s star rises and Neela’s stagnates, jealousy and self-doubt creep in. With a single tweet, their friendship implodes, one career is destroyed, and the two women find themselves at the center of an internet firestorm.

Celebrated multidisciplinary artist Vivek Shraya’s second novel is a stirring examination of making art in the modern era, a love letter to brown women, an authentic glimpse into the music industry, and a nuanced exploration of the promise and peril of being seen.

If you’re a millennial and if you’ve ever had complicated friendships, this book will ring really true for most of it, I think. I kept wincing at the characters’ actions and “mistakes”, recognising them as things I or my friends have done, but there are portions of the story that I found inaccessible because Neela, the main character, just seems really opaque even when they’re the ones speaking. The music Shraya made as a companion to the book slaps and can be found here.

5. Empowered 11 by Adam Warren

Costumed crimefighter Empowered finds herself the desperate prey of a maniacal supervillain whose godlike powers have turned an entire city of suprahumans against her.

Not good! Outnumbered and under siege, aided only by a hero’s ghost, can Emp survive the relentless onslaught long enough to free her enslaved teammates and loved ones, or is this–*gulp*–The End?

From comics overlord Adam Warren comes Empowered, the acclaimed sexy superhero comedy–except when it isn’t, as in this volume’s no-nonsense, wall-to-wall brawl guaranteed to bring tears to the eye and fists to the face!

Warren’s tying up a lot of loose ends and answering a lot of questions and I’m wondering if that means Empowered‘s ending soon. I haven’t seen any info regarding this, even though the words “The End” are right there in the summary, because comic books always lean on the whole the hero could die! thing, and more often than not they never do. But Emp has come so far in the past 11 volumes, and I think that she’s ready to confront a lot of the stuff that Warren’s only hinted at in the past. Most of Empowered is about how Emp deals with failure and how she rises above it, and recently it’s become about how other people have failed her, rather than how she has failed, and how she deserves better. I’m worried about her, but at least we are another volume’s worth of evidence for the Emp/Thugboy/Ninjette OT3.

6. Sex and Vanity by Kevin Kwan

The iconic author of the bestselling phenomenon Crazy Rich Asians returns with a glittering tale of love and longing as a young woman finds herself torn between two worlds–the WASP establishment of her father’s family and George Zao, a man she is desperately trying to avoid falling in love with.

On her very first morning on the jewel-like island of Capri, Lucie Churchill sets eyes on George Zao and she instantly can’t stand him. She can’t stand it when he gallantly offers to trade hotel rooms with her so that she can have the view of the Tyrrhenian Sea, she can’t stand that he knows more about Curzio Malaparte than she does, and she really can’t stand it when he kisses her in the darkness of the ancient ruins of a Roman villa and they are caught by her snobbish, disapproving cousin, Charlotte. “Your mother is Chinese so it’s no surprise you’d be attracted to someone like him,” Charlotte teases. Daughter of an American-born-Chinese mother and blue-blooded New York father, Lucie has always sublimated the Asian side of herself in favor of the white side, and she adamantly denies having feelings for George. But several years later, when George unexpectedly appears in East Hampton where Lucie is weekending with her new fiancé, Lucie finds herself drawn to George again. Soon, Lucy is spinning a web of deceit that involves her family, her fiancé, the co-op board of her Fifth Avenue apartment, and ultimately herself as she tries mightily to deny George entry into her world–and her heart. Moving between summer playgrounds of privilege, peppered with decadent food and extravagant fashion, Sex and Vanity is a truly modern love story, a daring homage to A Room with a View, and a brilliantly funny comedy of manners set between two cultures.

This was the third romance novel I read in July, and that’s honestly the highest concentration of romance novel I’ve ever had in my life. I know that I’m supposed to find romance novels like super kilig and stuff, but so far I am just very anxious for romance novel protagonists all the time. I think that the whole thing about the romance novels I have read is that they’re mostly about how deeply anxious people learn how to allow themselves to be loved and that is tough! I wanted to protect Lucie all the time! I was Invested in her Welfare, and I don’t think I cared about Rachel Chu from Crazy Rich Asians half as much, even if you condensed all my attachment from the entire trilogy. Also, small spoiler, there is a hint that Sex and Vanity is in the same universe as Crazy Rich Asians, which I think is awesome.

6. Trust Exercise by Susan Choi

Pulitzer Finalist Susan Choi’s narrative-upending novel about what happens when a first love between high school students is interrupted by the attentions of a charismatic teacher

In an American suburb in the early 1980s, students at a highly competitive performing arts high school struggle and thrive in a rarified bubble, ambitiously pursuing music, movement, Shakespeare, and, particularly, their acting classes. When within this striving “Brotherhood of the Arts,” two freshmen, David and Sarah, fall headlong into love, their passion does not go unnoticed—or untoyed with—by anyone, especially not by their charismatic acting teacher, Mr. Kingsley.

The outside world of family life and economic status, of academic pressure and of their future adult lives, fails to penetrate this school’s walls—until it does, in a shocking spiral of events that catapults the action forward in time and flips the premise upside-down. What the reader believes to have happened to David and Sarah and their friends is not entirely true—though it’s not false, either. It takes until the book’s stunning coda for the final piece of the puzzle to fall into place—revealing truths that will resonate long after the final sentence.

As captivating and tender as it is surprising, Trust Exercise will incite heated conversations about fiction and truth, friendships and loyalties, and will leave readers with wiser understandings of the true capacities of adolescents and of the powers and responsibilities of adults.

This is a book I could not stop reading and I felt gross after I finished it. I think that I enjoyed it and that the narrative flips were well-done and it was engaging, but Choi writes teenage trauma in 3D, and you can smell her scumbag characters. Very good will never read again unless looking to feel bad.

Re-read:

Temeraire: His Majesty’s Dragon, Throne of Jade, Black Powder War, andEmpire of Ivory by Naomi Novik

Aerial combat brings a thrilling new dimension to the Napoleonic Wars as valiant warriors ride mighty fighting dragons, bred for size or speed. When HMS Reliant captures a French frigate and seizes the precious cargo, an unhatched dragon egg, fate sweeps Captain Will Laurence from his seafaring life into an uncertain future – and an unexpected kinship with a most extraordinary creature. Thrust into the rarified world of the Aerial Corps as master of the dragon Temeraire, he will face a crash course in the daring tactics of airborne battle. For as France’s own dragon-borne forces rally to breach British soil in Bonaparte’s boldest gambit, Laurence and Temeraire must soar into their own baptism of fire.

I started re-reading it because I wanted to introduce it to my girlfriend, and I outpaced her very quickly, and selfishly. She’s still at the beginning fourth of Throne of Jade, and I feel like I blinked and gulped down four of the books in quick succession. I had to stop myself after Empire, in a very belated effort to sync up to my gf’s progress. The series is amazing, and I don’t know if I’ll ever read one like Temeraire again. Being able to revisit it should be enough, really, because every time I do it’s as though I’m caught up in a strong and wonderful wind that fills me up with delight and awe. Novik’s starting a new series this September, and I hope it’s just as good.

That’s it for July! I’m probably going to do two books at a time for my Wikathon posts, just to keep things fresh and current, so keep a weather eye out for those posts!

July, next verse, same as the first Hey! Wikathon na! I've started reading Relocations by Karen Tongson, about a third through now, but I had to take a little detour through…

#books #books 2 #reading #reading 2

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bionic-buckyb · 6 years ago

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When It Rains: Part 7

A Thor x Reader / Soulmate Series

Master List

⚡ You’ve been dreaming of the same voice, the same man, for as long as you can remember. You never thought that he could be real, let alone that he was the God of Thunder, your soulmate, and the key to unlocking a mysterious power within you; a power that could be used to save Thor’s homeland of Asgard, or, in the wrong hands, to destroy it.

A/N: Heyyyyy, this hasn’t taken 5 months or anything, but I’m back. I hope you guys like this part. I’ve been writing it for a while. I’m a little rusty, so please be gentle. Let me know what you think. ♥

Word Count: 1,571

Other Characters: Bruce Banner, a surprise at the end ;)

Tags: (at the end)

*gif source: [ x ]

Pregnant. A baby. An actual demigod.

That’s what was growing inside of you right now; half you, and half the god of thunder; two equal parts of normal and ethereal.

You were terrified, and rightly so, but there was also a part of you that was extremely excited. So many unanswered questions swam through your mind. Would the child carry more of Thor’s traits than yours? Was it a boy or a girl? Would the child have powers similar to their fathers? How much danger would this child be in at all times, and how would your pregnancy differ from other normal pregnancies? How would you keep your baby safe?

A knock on your open bedroom door made you jump out of your thoughts.

“Sorry to startle you!” the voice squeaked, soft but raspy. A woman was standing in the doorway that you’d never seen before. Her palms were outstretched in defense. “Bruce sent me up to get you. I’m Natasha Romanoff.” This time her hand was out for you to shake. “But you can call me Nat.”

You reached and took her hand, shaking it once or twice before dropping it. She was stunning, with auburn hair that hung in loose curls around her shoulders. Her eyes were astonishingly green, like sparkling emeralds.

“Hi, Nat,” you said with a smile, getting up from your chair. It had only been a few weeks since you’d found out that you were pregnant, but you were already beginning to show. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she replied, with a smile to match your own. Her eyes moved to the lump under your shirt. “Wow, you got a belly goin’ on there, huh?”

“Yeah…” you sighed, rubbing your bump. “I wasn’t expecting this to go like a normal pregnancy, but this little seed just keeps growing. I’m afraid there won’t be any room left.”

“Well, you’re in the best hands possible here, trust me. Come on,” Nat said, grabbing your hand as if you were old friends. “Bruce is waiting.”

She led you out of the room, navigating expertly around the tower, and down the long, spiral staircase to Bruce’s lab. Here, he’d acquired all the equipment he’d need to help you along with your pregnancy. After speaking with Thor, Tony, and Bruce, you all decided it was the best and safest idea to monitor you from Stark Tower. No one, not even Thor, had ever dealt with the birth of a demigod before. If you went to an actual obstetrician, it might raise a few eyebrows, considering you were carrying a god’s child. Also, the prospect of Loki meaning to harm or kidnap you, or your unborn child, was still an issue.

When you finally reached the door of Bruce’s lab, Nat pushed it open and rushed you inside. Bruce was waiting with a smile. He embraced you to him, giving you a slight squeeze.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Nat said, making her way back through the door. She smiled, her teeth as white as snow. “It was nice to meet you. I’ll see you around.”

And she was gone, slipping away in the darkness of the hallway with scary precision. You stared at the door for a millisecond, before turning towards the reason you were here.

“Hi, Bruce,” you said, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Good morning,” he replied shyly. He had excitement written all over his face; his eyes positively twinkling with it. “I have a surprise for you.”

“What is it?” you asked, sitting down in the chair that Bruce patted with his hand for you to occupy.

“Equipment!” he cried, clapping his hands together. “Actual real obstetrician equipment. We can monitor the progress of your baby now. In real time!”

His eyes lit up as he gestured to the shiny, stainless steel monitors and machines that buzzed and whirred around you.

“Bruce! This is amazing! How did you get all this?”

“Tony! Of course. When I told him what was going on, he didn’t even hesitate. He’s away, but he wanted me to tell you that we’re all here for you. And Thor. We want to help. This is Tony’s way of helping.”

“He’s done enough by letting me stay here. Thank him for me when you speak to him, but I’d like to thank him in person.”

“I’m sure you’ll get the chance,” Bruce said with a soft smile. “Now, shall we get started?”

You lifted up your shirt and laid back, as Bruce fixed the chair. His eyes grew wide as he saw your ever growing bump.

“Wow,” he whispered, his eyes widening.

You chuckled under your breath.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Tell me about it.”

“I’m not a… doctor in that right but, I don’t think you shouldn’t be, um…” he stopped, not wanting to offend you.

“This humongous?” you replied, rubbing your belly. It was true. It had only been several weeks and you couldn’t even see your feet. “This baby is growing much faster than any normal baby, that’s for sure. I swear I felt it kick me in the ribs this morning.”

“Are you experiencing any sickness? Any pain?”

“No, just a bit of nausea here and there, but nothing serious. I’m eating like a house though,” you said, suddenly feeling your stomach rumble. “I could eat a whole pizza by myself, I swear.”

“Banner!” a low, soothing voice called from the staircase, as Thor made his way down. “I came as soon as you called.” He had a smile on his face as bright as the sun when he saw you, stomach out. “What is all of this?” Thor asked excitedly.

“We’re going to look at our baby,” you beamed, reaching out for his hand. He took it, wrapping his fingers into yours. Your hands always felt so small in his own. You suddenly imagined how small your baby would look, wrapped up in his giant arms. “Bruce and Tony got us an ultrasound machine.”

“It’s 3D,” Bruce chimed in, grinning like a madman. He was so pleased with himself.

“I’m not sure what all of that means,” Thor said. “But let’s see that beautiful baby boy!”

“What makes you think it’s a boy?” you asked, raising your eyebrow.

“Let’s just say… I have a hunch,” he replied, leaning down to place his hand over your stomach, before leaving a soft kiss on your forehead. “But whatever it is, it is part of you, and I will love them with everything I have.”

“Okay,” Bruce said, snapping rubber gloves onto his hands. “Thor, could you please put this stuff on her stomach?”

“What is this?”

“It’s going to help us see the baby better.”

Thor squirted the gel onto your stomach and it was cold. You yelped and he chuckled, before clucking you quiet. Bruce placed the device to your stomach and began moving it around. The monitor across from him lit up with activity. You watched as his eyes widened.

“Wow…” he breathed, as he moved the device along your stomach.

“What is it?” you asked, doing your best not to fidget on the table. Thor squeezed your hand to make you sit still.

“I think I know why you’re um, bigger than normal.”

“Because she houses the child of the God of Thunder, that’s why,” Thor quipped, winking at you.

“Thor, aren’t you also the God of Fertility?” Bruce asked, his eyes glancing from him back to the monitor again.

“I am,” he replied with a nod. “But why do you ask?”

Bruce turned the monitor towards the both of you. There, you could see two perfect beings, like ying and yang, entwined around each other. Like peas in a pod. You could see the outlines of their faces, due to the 3D technology, and one of them clearly had Thor’s nose. The other was sucking their thumb.

“Well... because you’re not just having one. You’re having two.”

You stared at the monitor for what felt like an eternity. No one spoke. Thor’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

“T-twins?” you finally stammered. “Can we see what they ---”

“One boy,” Bruce said before you could finish your question, moving closer to the screen to be sure. “And one girl.”

Your heart hammered in your chest. You were housing not one, but two demigods. The sudden panic of birthing two babies overwhelmed you. You felt your eyes begin to roll in the back of your head, heard the sound of Thor’s pleas for you to open your eyes, to stay with him, as you passed out on the table.

Your field of view was black for a moment, before a vision washed over you. You were standing in what felt like a century old library, a large, stone staircase in the center of it. There was a new man you’d never seen before, pouring over a dusty book. He looked up from what he was reading as he realized something, as if an epiphany came over him, or as if he felt something. The mysterious man looked around, his eyes darting to each dark corner of the room, to be sure they were empty. The man walked to the middle of the room, his cloak billowing behind him. He was standing so close to you, but he couldn’t see you.

“I can feel you,” he said to the air, and you knew he was speaking directly to you. “I can feel your electric energy. If you can hear me, please, you need to know.”

You wanted to scream, but nothing came out. You knew he was speaking directly to you.

“My name is Dr Stephen Strange,” the man said, outstretching his hands. “Loki of Asgard has entered Earth’s atmosphere, and he means to find you.”

@howlingbarnes @captainrogerss @theashhole @sebbytrash @captain-rogers-beard@avengerofyourheart @katalina-from-hellbound @captainradicalpassion@thefallenbibliophilequote @daphne-fandom-writing @writingthingsisdifficult@radrouda @randbrie @elleatrixlestrange @ican-do-this-all-day @mojean13@izhetbean @detectiveloki23 @tomuchmarvel@keshuasd@burningrosepassion @cluelesslycluelessinclouds @simplebvtch @ldyhawkeye @marvelspidey-tomholland @libbymouse @absentmindeduniverse @jinx-is-fire @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @flowercrownsandmetallicarms @mizzezm @starry-barnes @inumorph @sapphire1727 @gracethegeek9902 @the-people-read-marvel-spn@quierdoofthestars @gatorgal94 @generalgoldfishldrm @thebookisbtr @wonderless-screwup @charcoalartisan @captain-starks @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @xx-ss-bb @interwebseriesfan24 @princess-yuna @aikibriarrose@peterman-parker @bless-my-demons @xtina2191 @my-blackbird-universe@vgurl18 @the-geeky-engineer @apeshit7x@awkwardnesshabitat@xxdragonqueenxx @me-a-hopeless-romantic @thehuntress26 @tchallaholla @the-evil-pumpkin @waywardpumpkin @buckyofthemyscira @2ka-tja2 @queen-maximoff @potterhaven @daylight-saver @alexislsanchez @infinityblogger @alexiamiky2003 @http-ilse@systemfailuresunshine@brittanymcsharry @smoothdogsgirl @callme-barnes@tinyfistwarrior@willieshakesqueer @volvoxrain @alwayshave-faith@metalarmlover@abbessolute @chinupdarling @witchymarvelspacecase@starmission@storiesandgarbage @hcwlingccmmandcs @part-time-patronus@diinofayce@zofty15 @danijimenezv @flyawayprincess @mizzezm @ashnicole-xxox @series-obsessed @vaisabu @occasionalfics @hazuki22@dolamrothianlady@biawol @xi-i-i-whatsyouremergency @mdgrdians@brokensimpson@charcoalartisan @always-kneel-to-loki @avengersbabe13 @spaz8550 @xx-ss-bb @gaggle-of-gays-blog @howling-at-that-moon@battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @potterhaven @whimsicalbarnes @christopher-evxns

Starting a new tag list, as it’s been awhile and I don’t know who still wants to be tagged. Add yourself

here

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picassho-18 · 6 years ago

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APPRECIATION POST

I’ve been wanting to do one of these for a while, so this is just gonna contain some of my mutuals, followers, and people I follow that I appreciate and love dearly, so here’s to you people that gave me a home on tumblr!

@spidermanswifi Yoouuuuuu! Just let me say that I love you so damn much! Being you chocolate anon is one of my favorite things, and when I first started, I would constantly check it to look out for your answers and squeal everytime. Me and that CB anon agree, you are amazing and deserve so much love and respect. I loved becoming on of your friends and getting to know you, and it just makes me so happy. Internet friends are amazing! -🍫 love your one and only chocolate mamma ;)

@gingerwritess LET ME JUST SAY this is my bff and I love her and you all should follow her! You deserve all the love in the world, and just a little extra because now you’ve started writing and I can share whatever I’m working on at any hour of the day and you’ll give me such wise feedback. You’re amazing and I love you, and am so so thankful for you as a friend, classmate, fellow marvel writer and fan, and sister. Because you are a part of my family

@hollandroos You are a writing goddess and I’m so thankful for following you, and just experiencing your blog. Your own posts, updates in your life, advice, and reblogs all roll into your blog and it’s one of the best. Thank you!!

@feistybaby You were so kind to me, after I left a comment on one of your posts, and you never left me dash since I followed you. While I don’t know everyone that you post about, I most definetely keep you around just because you are so nice, and I literally start to smile every time you pop up on my dash! And plus you reblog some pretty good stuff!

@sgtjbuccky The “Run to Me” series THIS SERIES MAN This got me into Mobster AU’s and even got me into writing my own, Blood Petals. And not only was that series just amazing, but all the drabbles along with it was just perfection! Your blog is great, I love it, thank you!

@mintmintdoodles All your drawings are so cute and adorable. I love seeing you stuff on my dash seeing whatever you’ve come up with. And you fundraiser with the Seeing Eye is just magical. Through the internet you seem SO nice I can only imagine how amazing you must be in real life.

@plus-size-reader The url is enough said I literally read everything they write EVEN IF I haven’t even heard of the character before. Great amazing writing that I love, and as someone who’s a bit chubby I don’t find plus size reader fics everywhere but when I find some as good as yours, I just have to recognize it. Thank you!!!

@fuckyou-imspiderman They’re masterlist is PURE GOLD so give that a read, but stay for the atmosphere. Your blog just has this feeling that makes me smile every time you pop up on my dash. Life is hard, and I know you’re struggling right now, but know that you make me so happy, and that I hope you feel better and keep writing! Thank you for you work, and you lovely attitude that welcomed me onto tumblr!

@ugh-supersoldiers “Under Oath” Just OMG this series is amazing. I really don’t know how someone could be so gifted with writing something in such detail and a type of story that hasn’t really been written before for Bucky. Even though you’re having a rough time now, just know that I love you and your writing. Never stop please, I couldn’t bare it!

@wordsinwinters “Then Again” series Let me all tell you, this series literally got me into the Marvel fandom. This was what developed me into a Marvel Stan, that’s how powerful it was. I love your blog so much and your writing is amazing! Thank you for getting me into this fandom!

@olukewarmo You are amazing, you comment on a ton of stuff and it never fails to make me smile

@mummy-woves-you You just went through my ENTIRE masterlist never failing to leave a note on every single post, and I was in awe. I literally was watching you go through it in live time. THANK YOU

@celinejfong Your comments and reblogs on Blood Petals kept me going, and always put a smile on my face, thank you!!

@retaw2116 You literally saved Bood Petals. I was leaning towards not continuing and a single comment from you got me back into it, and now I’m almost done with it. I really really am thankful for you and that motivation you gave me!

@98piece-of-cake00 Your comments on a lot of my fics were so welcomed and really motivate me to continue writing thank you!

@ilovetaquitosmmmm Your heart reblogs, though you never said anything, I literally looked forward to posting for you to reblog with hearts because you do it almost ever time and I LOVE IT!

Okay this was the bulk of it, but if i missed anyone know that I love all my followers, and appreciate every comment and reblog! I love you guys, and I hope this post conveyed that!

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brightephemera · 6 years ago

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ask meme #1 favorite character for star trek #6 media adaptations for star wars/swtor #7 game mechanics for dragon age. :)

1. Analyze your favorite character! Get as in-depth as you want.

Nyota Uhura YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW.

Sigourney Weaver spoofed the “be pretty, repeat what the computer says” role brilliantly in Galaxy Quest, but Uhura’s existence was groundbreaking. In the world of sci-fi, a world I breathed growing up, sci-fi’s Golden Age - the future belonged to smart, educated, bold astronauts of the male persuasion. Those were the heroes. And then Uhura came in, and she was smart, educated (I’ll never forgive that Undiscovered Country can’t-speak-Klingon gag), and bold, and good at her job. That scene in ?? when she was under the desk soldering to reroute some signal or other to its backup, and Spock, instead of doing it for her, told her he couldn’t think of anyone who could do it better, that was a revelation.

Also that one time a petulant space probe wiped her entire brain and she had to relearn language and reality…let’s not forget that. I hope she got her early memories back at some point? Even if not…Uhura is a construct built from the best Starfleet had to offer and she is a brave, musical, resourceful, and majorly pretty Black woman. (I should mention that, even though kid-me didn’t think that part was a big deal.) Uhura was a woman on the bridge who wasn’t serving coffee. Maybe that’s not the greatest distinction in the galaxy, but it was enough for a kid who had grown up thinking that the future was for people who weren’t like her.

6. Are there multiple media adaptions of the fandom? If so, talk about the differences between them— what does the adaption bring to the original material, what does it take away? If there are no adaptions, talk about a fic you love that has a unique or interesting take on canon.

Star Wars belongs to all media. I’m sure there are official Star Wars tweetstorms out there. I like the computer RPGs and movies best. I love that the Extended Universe exists but never sat down to read any of it.

If you’re looking for a distinctive fic, I direct you to my fanfiction gateway, the Doozzer’s inimitable Thursday Morning Wrath. Wacky meta hijinks about a Light Side Sith Warrior and her crew going about their lives. When I found a chapter that advanced plot, commented on NASCAR, and noted the sexual proclivities of everyone on board in under 1200 words, I realized…this is a form of art, and I must learn it.

7. If a video game fandom, how goes the gameplay mechanic contribute to, or detract from the narrative? Is the mechanic a good fit to the narrative, or could the narrative be better explored through a different mechanic?

Wow, so this is very, very different for Origins, 2, and Inquisition.

DA:O was pretty tame with the gameplay mechanics. The slow-mo kill animations added great to the atmosphere. Conversation was on the “see what you’re actually going to say” principle, so that really helped flesh out your character’s voice as yours.

DA2 I’m not going into detail about, but the companion approval as alignment system was fascinating, and in a way played into the “it doesn’t matter what you do or don’t do, you’re just trying to get by here” theme. The fact that content unlocked for both approval and disapproval, and the fact that no one party composition would always like what you’re doing, made it…well, desirable to look up ways to optimize affection, of course, but it was also freeing. Do what you want. It’ll be -35 Anders, but whatever, do what you want. No Light Side. No celestial Points. Not even the 0-100 scale of DA:O. There are the hidden Nice/Snarky/Aggressive options but they don’t reliably come out as good or evil. Love it or hate it - do both if you want - but there is no alignment outside the judgment of the people who have known you.

DA:I Trespasser’s use of the hand-mark ability was the best freaking game/plot mechanic I have ever experienced and I don’t care who knows it. *takes a breath* All right. The interplay of main plot with war table progression with companion conversations with your mark was just incredible. So many moving parts, and it reinforced the narrative, all the way down to the changing tarot cards for your different companions based on how you chose to resolve their stories. The only problem was that they made this such a staggeringly huge game, it felt empty in places. Concentrating it more might have broken physics. So many things about that game worked.

None of them had special content for people with the Blood Mage specialization, which I consider a bad oversight. Really, guys? It’s significant. This would be nearly as pervasive an issue as a Malkavian in VtM: Bloodlines, and that was awesome (I’m told).

#long post #bright memes #meta meme #bright likes tv #bright likes gaming #star trek #dragon age #star wars

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maeday-gae · 7 years ago

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Red Ribbon of Fate

BayoJeanne Week day 5 (a fricken moth late I’m sorry ) Prompt: AU Pairing: BayoJeanne Words: 7216 (DJFDKLSAFJ no wonder it took forever)

Summary: One can never tell when the smallest of choices might lead them to something they lost. For Jeanne, reluctantly tagging along to a rock concert on a lonely Friday night might have been the single best decision of her life.

Author’s Note: This story is legit massive, the BayoJeanne week is over by a long shot, but the ideas keep coming, so I’m gonna keep writing, even if it’s slowly. Frankly, I might have to write a chapter or two more for this story, as I have not even gotten to the core bits of this AU. Regardless, I had fun writing this and I sincerely hope you all enjoy reading it. :)

PS I read all tags and comments, they are always massively appreciated. Big thanks to everyone who has said nice things about my stories, they are a fuel source to keep me writing.

PPS. Massive, massive Shoutout to @xall4one for hosting the week in the first place, and for all the hard work she puts into the Bayonetta Fandom and into the BayoJeanne pairing. I think you’re one of our pillars in the Tumblr Bayo fandom. Rock on dude. :)

Jeanne regretted giving into her co-workers wheedling from the moment she walked into the concert hall. When they arrived the music wasn't supposed to begin for another half hour, but the place had already been packed, floor to ceiling, with people, not all of whom bathed regularly. The general milling noise had already been enough to start the beginnings of a headache (after dealing with teenagers all day it didn't take much), and she'd swallowed down an aspirin in preparation for the rest of the night.

A rock concert was not her first choice for a TGIF party, no matter how much her co-workers insisted it was better than clubbing.

Sitting at the edge of the bar, which was at the opposite end of the hall from the stage, Jeanne was fairly certain she could write a five page argumentative paper on how dissimilar the experiences were.

A man that was more beer belly than bone slumped over the bar and loudly slurred a drink. Jeanne wrinkled her nose and looked away before he got any bright ideas.

Argument 1, people who went clubbing generally were looking for company or a good time, both required cleaning oneself and one's clothes to hope to achieve this. Even from four seats away Jeanne could smell the man's BO and beer breath.

Someone jostled her shoulder and she nearly spilled her drink over the bar. She turned to glare at the offender, but the woman was moving off into the crowd without so much as a glance back.

Argument 2, when clubbing there was generally an accepted area of the establishment where running into people was possible, if not a given. At a concert, there was no safe place for our personal space, except perhaps for outside the concert hall. She had already been jostled, bumped, feet stepped on and generally shoved about more times in the last hour than on her last two weekends of barhopping.

“Isn't this great?”

Jeanne’s musings were interrupted by a flush faced woman whose hair was only a shade redder than her cheeks. She slid in between Jeanne and the neighboring barstool, waving the barwoman down with her empty glass.

“This place is soooo packed! With so many great looking people!” She gestured loosely towards the floor, “y-you should get out there and start cruising, there's plenty of ladies loving ladies who's looking just lovely.”

“How many of those have you had already, Claire?” Jeanne asked mildly, managing to keep her irritation out of her tone.

“'nuff to have a good time,” Claire replied with a slight slur as the barwoman handed her a filled glass, “maybe you should catch up so you can start having some fun too! Pull the stick out of your ass and join us, we're all hanging out on the edge of the pit. Best place to see them.”

“See who again?” Jeanne ignored the barb in favor of taking a drink, mentally trying to recount the names of the bands playing that night. Given that she had only heard of them on the drive over, she wasn't sure she was going to be impressed.

“Well the bands! Duh.” Claire paused for a second and followed up with. “Mostly we're here to see the name band at the end though, they are probably why it's so packed tonight.”

Jeanne gave her a flat look, but Claire didn't seem to notice.

“It's so cool they're playing here, they already did a much bigger show at the other side of town last week, but there were so many fans they booked here at the last minute. The Umbra are the best band there is.”

Ah right. Jeanne frowned sourly. It wasn't as though the old clan had much power or influence anymore, but they weren't exactly dead. Someone using the age old title for some silly pop band made her stomach turn over. She couldn't even begin to imagine what her mother would think, probably fire and rage and the threat of hexes if Jeanne had to guess. But that wasn't Jeanne's life anymore, she'd left it all behind and had no place to comment on the name, no matter how much it twisted her insides.

Claire was still talking, completely oblivious to her inner turmoil.

“.... The dummer is so handsome, I'd love to meet them. Oh! But the lead singer, Witch, she's the hottest thing on two legs right now, her performances are so good she puts all her audience under her spell! And get this,” Claire's leaned closer to Jeanne with a conspiratorial grin, “she's openly pan, it's the coolest representation I could hope for!”

Jeanne was fairly certain Claire was quoting some article or other almost verbatim. Still, she could understand Claire's glee at having a famous celebrity be open about a shared sexuality, even if the woman's stage name was something as unimaginative as 'Witch’.

“I'm still shocked you haven't heard of them! Aren't you related to that old family back where you're from?”

Jeanne stiffened. Even if Claire meant that innocently, the implications laden therein were extremely antagonizing. Or maybe it was just her American accent-that seemed to be the standard tone half the time.

“Distantly.” Jeanne lied stiffly, hoping Claire would take the hint.

“Yea I thought maybe the band was connected to that family somehow, maybe you knew about it or something.”

For being a high school leveled English teacher, Claire was very bad at reading between the lines.

“You'd better get back to the others, they'll be wondering where you are.” When Claire looked concerned and opened her mouth to reply, Jeanne cut her off. “I'm fine here, I'm fighting off a headache and don't want to be too much into the fray so it doesn't turn into a migraine “

“Well, if you're sure... you can always join us anytime,” Claire pointed to a fair corner of the hall, close to the stage without being in the inevitable mosh pit zone. “We're camping in that spot there. You should at least make your way over to see the Umbra up close, they'll be playing around midnight.” Claire started to walk off, “We'll see you in between as we need drinks!” Then she was lost to sight amid the ever shifting shuffle of bodies.

Argument 3, one actually spends time with one's friends at a club, given that they are all enjoying the atmosphere.

Jeanne was sure Claire would take news of her grumpiness back to the other teachers, many of whom she'd been friends with for the six or so years she'd been teaching at the school. Yet she knew she was still an enigma to them in many ways, her lack of enthusiasm for these things being one of them.

That was fine, she'd agreed to go with them and she had. Now she was handling the situation on her own terms, not dragging anyone else down with her moodiness by choosing to remain reclusive. If they couldn't deal with that about her by now then there were worst things going on than sitting alone at a bar.

This was fine.

It was another twenty minutes before the concert started, and when it did, the opening band caused such a noisy ruckus of ‘music’ that Jeanne was half tempted to escape to the restrooms until it was over. She supposed they might have sounded alright when not live, but frankly the overuse of flashing lights and too long guitar solo was off-putting.

She ordered another drink, keeping herself contained to light sips as the hour wore on -she had no intention of getting drunk in such an unpredictable place.

The second band was much better than the first, older and more experienced with their music and performing. She found herself nodding along to the music and took a note of their name on her phone, intent on looking them up later. Claire and several of the other ladies returned to the bar during the second to last song, ordering a new round of drinks and inviting Jeanne to join them soon, because as they said “The floor is gonna get tight when Umbra starts playing, you wanna move closer while you still can!” Jeanne had managed a light smile and promised she would in a bit, which seemed to have satisfied them.

The third band was one she had heard of before, even if just in passing on the radio, and Jeanne found herself bobbing her head to the rhythm by the second song in. By the third song, she could see what her friends had meant when they said ‘tight’. Somehow the ground floor was even more packed than it had been just a half hour ago, and though everyone was enjoying the music being played, there was an air of anticipation.

Jeanne let out a resigned sigh, and downed the last of her drink in one go, the burn of the alcohol flaring through her mouth and throat as she paid her tab and began to ease her way around the edge of the hall, slipping between gyrating bodies on her way to her friends.

“About time!” a voice hollared in her ear when she stumbled into them, tightly knit and standing a only a few feet away from the roiling mosh pit.

“You know me Trish,” Jeanne called back, having to lean close and yell for the blonde math teacher to be able to hear her, “I only show up when the party really gets started.”

The five other women cheered at that, and while most of them were at least tipsy, Jeanne guessed they’d accept that as good reason and forgive the rest of her absence.

For the rest of this song and the entirety of the final one, Jeanne sung along with her friends and cheered with the crowd. Albeit with somewhat less vocal enthusiasm than most were displaying.

It was nearly midnight by this point, and as the second to last band of the night cleared off the stage, Jeanne could feel a palpable buzz of excitement.

Then someone stepped out on stage, their whole persona a glimmering blend of black leather and bright primary colors. The crowd went wild.

“That's the drummer!” Jeanne could barely hear Claire scream over the din. “Aren't they just dreamy?!”

Jeanne didn't have time to study further for another band member strode on stage, a woman with similar clothes as the dummer, her hair shining in all the darker hues of the rainbow. Blue, green, purple.

Each of them moved with total control and confidence. The first gave the crowd a cursory nod and wave as they moved to their drum set, the woman flashed a playful grin and trotted over to a base that had miraculously appeared on stage.

The crowd began to assemble into some form of cohesion, clapping to a single rhythm and growing with a loud chant of “Umbra! Umbra!”

This went on for several long moments as the first two artists tested their instruments with such calm interest they might as well simply be sitting in their living room rather than in front of a crowd full of people.

Said crowd broke their chat and roared in approval as a second woman appeared. Electric guitar already slung over her back, its bright blue body and white lightning marks contrasted sharply with her buzz cut and orange dyed hair. She flashed hand signs at the crowd and cheered along with them, showing off a tongue piercing.

”ls that Witch?” Jeanne yelled at Claire.

“Just wait!” Claire called back, eyes never leaving the stage, her lips smirking.

The guitarist took her place and strummed a few practice cords on her instrument, the sound warbling across the whole hall. The sound caused the whole huge room to go oddly quiet, only a low buzz of hushed whispers. None of the band them seemed particularly worried or involved in what was happening, tuning out the crowd as much as they tuned into their instruments.

Jeanne frowned and glanced at her friends, suddenly very concerned that this was something a lot less innocent that simple concert.

Trish frantically waved at her to look back up at the stage, then in a low tone, she called over the quiet. “Witch!!”

“Witch!” Called someone else from across the hall.

“Witch!” A third voice, and now the rest of the hall joined it. Rhythmically chanting the name over and over, only this time there was no clapping. Instead, each and every person in the room stomped their foot in time with the call, creating a cacophony of beats.

Jeanne was reminded of a summoning ritual, and had to suppress a shudder.

The sound grew louder, voices rising in volume and stomps coming down harder. Jeanne could feel the floor rumble under her heeled feet with every chant.

Just when it seemed the whole hall was would collapse with the sound and the shaking, a flash lit the stage. A cloud of smoke rolled through the center of the stage, through the white haze the silhouette of a woman melted into view.

The hall went ballistic.

“My my,” came a smooth alto voice from the speakers, an accent Jeanne had not heard since she left home tickling in her ears, “I heard so many people calling out for me.”

The cheering increased, somehow.

There was a laugh across the speakers, and the silhouette moved a step closer to the edge of the stage but didn't leave the cover of the smoke. Hands went to hips and the head cocked to one side.

“I just had to come and see what all the fuss is about, and here I find all of my most dedicated fans, what luck.”

Jeanne was tempted to cover her ears to block the screaming, some of which was coming from her own group, but she resisted. There was something painfully familiar about the voice, and she couldn't tear herself away come hell or high water.

“Well, it looks like all my friends are here as well,” the rest of the band was still visible, all of them grinning at the shrouded figure, “What do you think then, should we give them a show?”

The rest of the band nodded or cheered, raising fists into the air.

“I guess that settles that,” there was a showy shrug, “Get ready!” then she threw her hands out to the sides and the smoke whisked away. To where, Jeanne did not care, for the woman revealed was a goddess.

Short black hair spiked in stylish lines across her forehead. A black leather top with the chest cut open wide, the neckline coming back together at her clavicle and continuing into a woven high collar. Her arms were also covered in woven leather, the design pulling apart as it went down to her hands, exposing more and more of her pale skin as it went. Hanging from each arm were six long red ribbons that flashed gold in the light, all of them fluttering in mesmerizing patterns as she moved.

She stalked close to the edge of the stage, her high stiletto boots clacking loudly as she went. Now that Jeanne was closer she could see the woman wore wire rimmed glasses. Her eyeshadow was an enchanting blend of dark grey and purple, and her lips were a shade of rich maroon. But it was her eyes that made Jeanne’s breath stutter. A shade of gun-metal blue that had to be the singular most unique color she had ever seen.

No. It couldn’t be-

“We are Umbra and the Witch!” The woman cried, throwing her hands in the air, ribbons flaring out around her, and the music started with gusto.

It was a credit to the sound system that Jeanne could hear any of the song over the sound of the crowd, but it hardly mattered to her anyway. She was utterly glued to the woman prancing across the stage.

Every note she sang was belted, beautiful, and bold, her lips and eyes smiling with each word. Every motion she made was fluid, one step flowing into the next and then curving into some unexpected half jolted turn, but even these she made look effortless and captivating.

The song was about standing tall, being loud and proud. The beat was infectious, everyone jumping or shaking with it. Jeanne was swept up, her heart thundering in her chest with the aura of the experience. But a smaller portion of her was still reeling.

There was no way that this ‘Witch’ was the same person, and yet…. And yet Jeanne recognized some of her dance moves, things reworked from fighting stances and routines.

Witch kept her crowd wild, gestures that encouraged them on choreographed into her routine. Right at the crescendos of the song, the members of the Umbra joined in on the singing to enforce her words. At the final climax of the song, Witch reached one arm over the other and tore a ribbon free, twirling it in the air for a moment before flinging it into the crowd in a streak of red and glitter. A surge of cheers erupted from where she had flung it, a victorious hand punching the air with the ribbon clenched tightly between the fingers.

Another chorus came around, and then the music suddenly stopped, and Witch was alone, her voice carrying out the final notes of the song with a long, powerful vibrato, her arms raised in the air and head tilted slightly back. Jeanne could feel the energy in her singing, feel it excite her heart. More than that, it awoke something she had forgotten.

Note ending, Witch dropped her arms and faced the screaming hall, chest heaving slightly, her lips split in a brilliant smile. She twirled towards her band and they seemed to converse about something, then all of them began to play again. Their enthusiasm evident in their faces, in the way they swayed with their music.

Jeanne was caught up in the next song as much as the first, but still she could not bring herself to make a sound. So stunned, so unsure was she by what she saw. She was under a spell, both by the music and by her own memories.

Midway through the second song, Witch tore a ribbon from the opposite arm as the first, throwing this ribbon further into the hall. Jeanne could see her scan the hall for a split second before she let fly. The woman was calculating, but in a way that only someone who was looking could see it.

It felt like hours, it felt like a few minutes, but one song blended into the next, and soon a third ribbon was thrown. Jeanne could feel her friends tense, feel their eager hope that they might be the next to catch the prize, but it flew further away that the others had. For a brief moment, Jeanne joined her friends in hoping one would come their way, if only because that would mean Jeanne could see her face clearly. She had to know.

The lead guitarist wound down the song, then hollered out, “Are we all having a good time?!” More screaming, to which she roared back. Witch was taking a drink of water off to the side, her chest heaving very slightly, but her expression amused.

“Do you have any requests for our next set?” The bassist called out next, swaying her hips and grinning. It was almost impossible to hear individual words in the tumult that followed, but there was some kind of similar rhythm to the reply, enough that the band seemed to understand.

“Down with the Moon? Oo good choice!” it was the drummer this time, twirling their drumsticks in a mesmerizing pattern, both sticks glimmering in the light. “What do you think, Witch?”

Witch gave a playful shrug, smirking as she set down her water and strutted forward. “I think these New Yorkers have excellent taste, but then, they are our greatest fans so that’s hardly a surprise.” as the crowd lost their minds, She struck a pose and cried. “Let’s dance, baby!”

Jeanne didn’t hardly hear the song, that phrase circling around and around in her head. Her body numb and her heart hammering.

It was her. There was no mistaking that oft repeated phrase of hers. The tone, the inflection, everything. It was her.

“Cereza.” Jeanne whispered, the sound totally lost in the uproar of the music, the flash of the pyrotechnics, the jumping bodies all around her.

Somehow, in some totally impossible way, Witch’s gaze turned to their side of the hall, Jeanne saw her scan, saw her reach down to grab a ribbon, and then fling it out towards them.

Time slowed, Jeanne’s hand shot out without thought, and her fingers caught hold of fluttering red silk. She caught the ribbon tight in her fist, the small rhinestone that was attached at the end swinging down to tap her arm with its momentum.

She hadn’t even needed to move, the ribbon had flown straight to her.

Claire and the others were hollering and grabbing her shoulder, jumping up and down in excitement- but Jeanne didn’t notice.

For that split second of stuttering time, she was looking straight up into Witch’s face, and Witch was looking right back. Past the entire crowd and the waving arms and the spotlights, Witch stared at her. Jeanne swore she saw a flash of shocked amazement across her face, a flicker of recognition.

The moment was over, Witch twisting away to continue her song, her groove totally uninterrupted despite the brief second they shared.

Jeanne felt… lost. Suddenly disconnected from the ruckus world all around her. The others clutching at her arms and shoulders, but she held the ribbon in a fist against her chest. As though as it was her only line to this moment in this reality.

Witch didn’t look back her way through all the rest of the song, nor through the encore that the crowd coaxed from Umbra. Jeanne couldn’t bring herself to join the cheering or the singing, too caught up in staring at Cereza. Her Cereza up on stage, shining and singing for all the world to see, pure enjoyment in her eyes and dazzling energy in her steps.

Jeanne absently wound the ribbon between her fingers as she watched, the silk smooth and warm against her skin, and she twisted it over and over as the final song came to an end with one last, long note from Cereza.

Witch dropped her arms from their high pose, smiling hugely at the screaming hall, her skin shimmering with faint sweat. “Thank you!” she called, the speakers almost not loud enough to be heard over the fanfare. “Thank you very much! You’re the best crowd we could ever ask for!”

Umbra moved to stand beside her, all shouting their thanks through huge smiles as they waved.

A handheld mic was tossed to the drummer from off stage, and after a few taps it came to life.

“We are Umbra and the Witch! Thank you New York!” They crowed, flashing a peace sign before handing the mic to the guitarist.

“We hope you had a magical night here with us!” She punched one arm in the air, grinning wickedly. Then she tossed the mic across Witch, where it was caught by the bassist.

“Take flight back home all you pretties! But please don’t drink and drive, the bar has cabs standing by if you need a safe ride home.”

The mass of people began funneling out of the hall, moving more like a bag of crusty marbles rather than anything more fluid. Jeanne was quickly surrounded by her friends, who chatted excited in her ear as they began to walk.

“Can't believe-” “you're so lucky!” “I saw Witch look right at us!” “Best. Night. Ever!”

Jeanne managed a grin, feeling her body tingling as the rush of the night set in. Her shock adding a numbing to her muscles while her heart drummed thunderously. What was she going to do? What could she do? Cereza was here after all these years, but she was an untouchable celebrity. A far gone enigma more out of reach than in all their shared years in the coven.

“Ms. d’Arc?”

A smooth baritone voice cut through the murmured hubbub, stunning Jeanne from her stupor.

Standing just inside of a hidden door in the wall was an absolutely massive man. His rich ebony skin and dark suit made it difficult to see him in the low light. His arms were crossed but even though the contours of the jacket Jeanne could see that he was built like a damn tank.

“How do you know my name?” She blurted, the hand holding the ribbon tightening further. Her friends had ground to a halt, all of them watching the man with various levels of suspicion and unease.

The man inclined his head and it was then Jeanne noticed that he was wearing sunglasses. Sunglasses! In a back lit hallway in a dim concert hall.

“Witch would like a word with you.”

All further judgments if his character were lost in a haze of white noise shock.

“Your friends are welcome too, if you'd feel more comfortable that way.”

Jeanne didn't bother to wait for the chattering and dithering to start. She wasn't going to waste this chance on entertaining possibilities and problems.

She stepped forward to the hall and the man stepped back. The light from behind him flashed across the Id badge pinned to his chest, illuminating the single word there. 'Rodin’

A hand gripped her shoulder, it was Claire. “Jeanne wait, this feels weird.”

Irritation stabbed through her, made worse by the curious crowds roving by on their way to the exit, but she fought it down. Under normal circumstances, Claire was very correct, at the moment however…

“It's fine, he has a verified badge, he's a legitimate security man. We'll be fine.”

“Jeanne I mean, this would be so cool, like chance of a lifetime cool, but why would Witch wanna talk to you? Why do you even want a talk to her? You didn't even know the band before tonight, why are you wanting to risk this?”

Jeanne guessed that Claire and the rest thought she must have been drunk, or under the influence of something to act so out of character. They weren't entirely wrong about influence, but they were wrong about what kind it was.

“Because I think I know her, the real her, from my home country. And I need to be sure.” Her tone was final, forceful and focused. “Come with me or not, I'm going. I can catch a cab home if I need to.” She walked through the door, past the giant man, and after a half second of hesitation, heard the rest shuffle through.

The door closed and the hall was instantly quieter.

“This way, ladies.” Rodin moved ahead of them and without glancing back, began to walk down the narrow hall.

It was a service corridor, doors to the side of them labeled 'Electrical’, 'Maintenance’, and the ever creative 'Closet’.

Claire fell a step behind Jeanne in the narrow space and tried to mutter something in her ear, but Jeanne couldn't hear her over the mad rush of blood pounding through her body.

The corridor opened up to the backstage area, though technically they found themselves to the side of the stage itself. Not that any of that mattered, for a few steps in they were close to the stairs that led up to the stage proper, and there, loitering around the edge of the curtain, was Witch and her Umbra. There was Cereza.

Their eyes met.

Cereza's face blossomed into a huge smile, eyes sparkling. “Jeanne!” She clattered down the stage stairs and skipped the last one altogether. Jeanne took two mindless steps forward and suddenly Cereza had thrown her arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug.

Jeanne instantly wrapped her own arms around Cereza's torso, the motion, the grip so natural and familiar that it ached.

“Cereza!” Jeanne choked out, burying her head into the crook of Cereza's neck, the intricate weave of her high collar. She smelled of leather and light sweat, strawberry shampoo and the natural floral undertone that was so very Cereza. “It really is you, I thought I'd never-”

Cereza pulled back and Jeanne had just long enough to regret the loss of contact before Cereza moved forward and her full, warm lips were pressing into Jeanne's.

Jeanne had no reservation. She kissed back, hard. Drowning in the feeling of them that she had missed for so many years. Cereza tasted of cherry schnapps and mint and Jeanne couldn't get enough.

Cereza hummed a long low note in her throat and slowly pulled back, smiling lips now swollen, her eyes shining. Her hands came up to run fingers through Jeanne's hair, cup her chin and run a thumb over Jeanne's lips.

From behind her, Jeanne heard Trish stage-whisper a “Holy shit.” she ignored it.

“It's really you.” Cereza bit her lower lip, eyes still shining, “When I saw you in the crowd I couldn't believe… I had to make sure. It was like seeing a ghost.”

Jeanne chuckled maniacally. “How do you think I felt? Seeing you up there all razzle dazzle, I kept going over and over again whether it was you or not. Gods, Cereza, seven years and here is where I find you?”

“Yo,” a voice from on stage made them both jump and look around, though neither of them let go of the other.

It was the lead guitarist, she sauntered down the steps. “Not to break up this pretty reunion, but who's this, Witch?” She looked Jeanne up and down, then smirked. “She's pretty.”

“Oh,” Cereza turned to face her band, but rather than let Jeanne go, her arm lowered to wrap around Jeanne's waist. Her nails dug into the fabric of Jeanne's dress very slightly, though the rest of her pose was relaxed.

“Jeanne, meet Umbra, my band. There's Tina,” she motioned to the noisy guitarist, “Bree” that was the bassist, “and Sam.” The final being the drummer, each of them waved and gave a mild greeting.

“Umbra, meet Jeanne d’Arc, she's…” Cereza hesitated, Jeanne could feel the weight of the years between them fill that empty space. It made her stomach drop, but she wrapped her own arm around Cereza and squeezed slightly, unwilling to let the moment drown in the tide of the past.

“We were together for many years, before circumstances forced us apart.” Jeanne supplemented gently.

“Holy shit are you serious?” Claire's voice rose higher with each syllable, and Jeanne almost flinched, having forgotten that her friends were present.

The hand on her waist went tense. “And who are these lovely ladies?”

To the room at large, Cereza was playful, teasing. Jeanne however, could hear the deeper question in her words, the tension in her tone. Even after so long apart, Jeanne could still read her like a book.

Oh that wouldn't stand, Cereza had kissed her and then been kissed back.

“These are my friends from work,” she supplied quickly, “they are the reason I came to the concert in the first place. There's Claire, Trish, Amy, and Silvia.”

She could feel Cereza relax. Potential jealousy nipped in the bud. “Well then, I owe them all a debt of gratitude for bringing you here tonight, hands of fate as it were.”

“Yea, big fans, totally had to see you okay tonight.” Amy was well and truly sloshed, but only enough that her normally quiet self actually spoke. Jeanne was grateful that she was the only one that far gone, the rest were much looser drunks than the demure art teacher.

“Well in that case, how about I sign a few thing as thanks? Oh, maybe let's do a group selfie! I bet that will leave anyone impressed!” Cereza smiled brightly at the group and their ensuing enthusiasm for the idea.

She was as in control of people here as she was on stage. Jeanne had to marvel at this skill, wondering where on Earth she had learned it so well. She'd certainly never had any kind of need or opportunity all the years of growing up...

Reluctant though they were, Jeanne and Cereza released each other as their two groups coalesced, the band cheerfully answering all questions poised to them or signing photographs of themselves that had appeared out of nowhere. Jeanne was thankful that her friends kept the fan gushing to a minimum.

She caught the members of Umbra staring at her more than once, their eyes flicking between her and Cereza with pensive expressions. To be fair, she also caught her own friends doing the same. Neither side seemed to truly believe their connection, and she could hardly blame them.

“Wait, hold on,” Sam abruptly cut their own conversation with Claire, eyes snapping over to Cereza with sharp interest, the outburst was enough to silence everyone else. “Is she the one that ‘Snowy Woman’ is about?” they pointed directly at Jeanne, the rings on their fingers glinting.

Jeanne frowned, trying to remember the lyrics of the second song they had performed that night.

“Ah hm,” Cereza cleared her throat and Jeanne was astonished to see the faintest blush dash her cheeks. “Yes, Jeanne was my inspiration for that song,” she brought her hand up to her mouth and half covered it before mumbling, “and a few others I’ve written, if I’m being honest.”

Jeanne turned to her, eyes wide and her own blush burning across her cheeks. Cereza gave her a small embarrassed smile.

“Rapid water hair, ice cold eyes, my snowy woman melts only for me,” Trish mumbled the lyrics with unfocused eyes, then giggled madly, “Holy shit Jeanne it’s totally about you and- oh, oh wow.”

Umbra laughed, Jeanne’s co-workers grinned in stunned silence. Cereza half smirked and rubbed at the edge of one eyebrow. Jeanne’s blush deepened and she buried her face in her hands. She wasn’t allowed to wallow long, Cereza gently pried one of Jeanne's hands free and brought it to her lips to softly kiss, her expression full of open affection.

“All right all right, enough grab-assing.” a nasally voice broke up the moment, and diminutive portly man appeared from the same hallway they had come from. He gave a Rodin, who had taken up a stance near the exit door, a nervous glance as he passed by, “thought you were here to keep the groupies outta here Rodin.”

“I invited them Enzo,” Cereza cut in breezly, “I saw an old friend in the crowd and I just had to see her again. Rodin was very sweet in passing along my invite for me.”

Enzo squinted at Jeanne, and at the lack of space between her and Cereza. Jeanne decided right there that she wasn't very fond of this man and his pinstripe suit.

“'’Friends’ huh, yea sure…” he chuckled and the sound oozed sleaze. “Well, you are all very beautiful women, and the band always appreciates their fans, but we've gotta get a move on.” He motioned to the Umbra, the lit cigar in his hand trailing smoke as he moved. “We've got paying VIP’s who want their turn with their favorite band. So let's go, andiamo!”

“Always a buzz kill, Enzo.” Bree sighed, offering up a fist bump to Silvia.

“I'm your manager, not your Butler, somebody's gotta keep you nuts in line if we all wanna make a paycheck.” Enzo made a shooing motion.

“Wait wait, before we go I promised these wonderful ladies a group photo, can't waste a backstage opportunity like this.” Cereza waved at Rodin. “Would you be so kind as to take a few photos for us? That would be lovely.’

He uncrossed his arms and took a step forward. “If you stand over there,” he tilted his head to a section to the side, “the light will be best.”

“Perfect! Now ladies if you'd hand over your camera or phones to my associate and let's all crowd together…?”

There was a handing over of devices, then a shuffle as they all tried to get into position, Jeanne's group nervously trying to remain at respectful distances to which Umbra half laughed and pulled them in with arms slung around their shoulders. Jeanne found herself pulled back into Cereza's side, the hand on her hip gentle but firm.

Trish was on Cereza's other side, Cereza's arm around her shoulders and an ecstatic expression on her face. Claire was on the receiving end of a half hug from Sam, wearing an equally dreamy look. That left Tina standing with Silvia and Amy posing with Bree.

“Alright, everyone saaaay, Magic!” Cereza called, making Jeanne tense slightly.

There was a chorus of “Magic!” And several flashes, Rodin trading off phones in a quick and practiced manner until each of them had several shots on them.

“Take a look.” he said, offering the phones back to their owners.

Jeanne loosened her arm from Cereza to accept her red Mato X back, only half glancing at the photos for a quick moment to make sure none of them were out of focus.

The rest giggled and chatted, pointed at or zooming in on the pictures.

“Alright alright,” Enzo interrupted the sharing of screens. “Ladies, thank you so much for supporting Umbra and the Witch, we really appreciate fans like you, but now I really gotta insist that we take our leave.”

Panic stabbed though Jeanne's guts and she resisted the very strong urge to reach out and grab Cereza's hand. She settled for casting a wide eyes look Cereza’s way instead. She hadn't thought this far ahead, they hadn't hardly a moment to talk, and there was so much to talk about, so much she needed to say-

Cereza brushed their hands together, her index finger hooking around Jeanne's pinky. “Duty does call and all that. Rodin, would you be so kind as to escort my new friends to their ride home? Make sure they get there safely please.”

When Rodin nodded and the Umbra started to walk off, saying heartfelt goodbyes and giving handshakes or hugs, Cereza turned to Jeanne.

“Jeanne I… please, can you stay a while longer? Here with me? I do have to work a bit longer but after that…” there was an edge of fear in her eyes, her pretty lips turned down in worried lines. “I know it's late but-”

“I'll stay,” Jeanne gripped Cereza's hand firmly, “of course I'll stay, Cereza.”

“Um Jeanne?” It was Silvia, she was glancing between the two of them with concern, “are you sure? I mean… um.”

“I'll be fine, I promise, thank you all for looking out for me.” She managed a genuine smile. Honestly it was all thanks to them that any of this had happened in the first place, she couldn't help but be touched by their continuing concern.

“Com’on Sil,” Trish wrapped her arm around Silvia's shoulders, “Jeanne's a big girl, she can call a cab if she needs one.”

“If she needs one.” Amy giggled this so low it was hard to hear her.

Claire winked Jeanne's way, “Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Jeanny.”

Jeanne blanched at their antics. “That doesn't exclude much of anything, Claire.” She replied dryly.

“I know, that's the point.” Claire shot back, then, in a much more chipper tone, “Witch, you rock! We love you!” She flashed Cereza a 'rock-on’ sign and started after Rodin, who stood waiting for them in the hall.

Cereza blew a kiss after Jeanne's friends as they walked away, all of them chatting animatedly and casting sly looks over their shoulders as they went. When they were out of sight, Cereza asked.

“Do they have a ride home? I don't think any of them should be driving.”

“Amy’s cousin is an Uber driver, he's waiting for them outside. No one wanted to be the DD tonight. They'll be fine.” Jeanne assured her, suddenly feeling the lateness of the night and the tiredness in her bones.

It took her half a second to realize that Cereza was staring at her, and when their gazes met, Cereza glanced down at their still intertwined hands.

Jeanne flinched. “Sorry I-” Cereza's grip tightened as she tried to pull away, then slowly lifted their hands to eye level, the crimson ribbon still wound between Jeanne's fingers.

“Do you want it back?” Jeanne blurted the first thing that came to mind and then immediately regretted it.

Cereza blinked and then chuckled. “Out of all the ribbons I've given away, this is the first one to come back to me in anyway, and I couldn't be more pleased at who it found for me.” She toyed with the rhinestone clip on the end, letting it sway between them. “They are my gifts to the people who supported me all these years, and I cannot think of anyone more deserving of it than you.”

Jeanne's throat stuck, welling with a cascade of emotions that she didn't have room to release. “Cereza I-”

“Hey Witch! Get a move on, the band is waiting for ya!” Enzo’s shout broke their moment and Cereza sighed in exasperation.

“I'm sorry. But I promise you we will have time for a talk, a good long one. We'll have time for us,” her face softened, and the touch of fear was back, “I mean, if that's what you want…”

Jeanne reached up and cradled the side of Cereza's face, the action automatic as it was affectionate. “Yes. Yes that is what I want.” She wasn't entirely sure of what all she had agreed too, but this was Cereza, there was very little implied there that she would have any opposition to.

Cereza’s mouth split into a bright smile, her gunmetal blue eyes shining...

“YO-”

“Coming Enzo!” Cereza yelled, cutting off her band manager off with a roll of her eyes.

She turned and lightly tugged Jeanne along by their held hands. “Come on, we'll be in the VIP lounge, they'll be lots of questions and autographs and picture taking for another hour, but there's also great catering and a minibar, I promise it won't be too boring.”

“Cereza,” Jeanne picked up her pace to walk alongside her, “ if there's one thing I learned about you years ago, it's that being around you is never boring.”

“You haven't seen the half of it!” Cereza flashed her devil-may-care grin.

“I look forward to seeing more.” Jeanne shot back with her deepest sultry tones, gratified to see Cereza's pupils flare slightly at her words.

Cereza pulled them to a dead stop, smack in the center of the backstage still half full of people rushing about. She turned, and pulled Jeanne in for their second kiss that night.

There was so much to be said, so many years and loss between them. But in this uninterrupted kiss, Jeanne allowed herself to hope they could go back to the way they had been before.

Their hands tangled together in the red ribbon, their fates bound as one.

#Bayonetta #BayoJeanne #BayoJeanneweek #Bayojeanne week #fan fiction #Jeanne #AU

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