#looking at past drawing of her and there been some serious style drift since >_>

[fluffyphocks]

her

[jadekitty777]

The Emotionalist: Chapter 3

I’ma be honest, I just found out that copying and pasting to tumblr is not saving my bold and italics. I’m too lazy to fix it, so uh, I recommend reading these chapters on A03 lol Particularly this one which is text heavy.

Prompt for Day 4: Sick

Rating: T

Word Count: 5K

Summary: Clover Ebi was a huntsman who, like most Atlesian soldiers, hid most of his emotions behind a mask of calm professionalism. That is, unless, one knew where to look. And Qrow looked a lot.

Or, 5 times Qrow learned to read Clover’s mood not from his face, but from his ears. [An adjacent story to Hunting Season Hunting Season; events from Qrow’s POV]

Ao3 Link: Burning like the Sun

~

Did you get the day off too?

Qrow leaned against the wall beside the Aceops office, left leg propped on the wall behind him and beating a staccato rhythm while he tapped a message back to his eldest niece. Yeah. Ol’ Jimmy has a heart after all. Got plans?

FNKI invited us out to a club. She replied. Rubes and Weiss aren’t interested but Blake and I are going. 

He arched an eyebrow, snorting. Try not to blow this one up firecracker. 🔥🔥🔥🔥

IT WAS ONE TIME! 

He could practically imagine the way Yang was fuming. 

Another ping only moments later, Anyways, what are you gonna do?

Things. He thumbed out, eyes drifting down the hall. Still empty.

He didn’t look away until another ping chimed for his attention.

…Responsible things?

He started to type out one of his typical answers, something that fit the blasé and uncaring attitude he often pulled with his niece. He had a dozen he used on any occasion, but some of his favorites were ‘Responsible people don’t have fun’ or ‘Ain’t my style’.

Then he paused and wondered at the ellipses his brash and impulsive niece never used in her texting and wondered if this question was more serious than he was used to.

He didn’t have to think hard to figure out why it was there.

Swallowing guilt, he told her a half-truth instead of an uncaring dismissal. If you must know, I have a date.

That certainly started some sort of implosion, as he saw his niece start and stop typing for several moments. 

Then, nothing except a big long pause.

Qrow realized he should be worried when a reply finally came in a burst of yellow text drawing itself along his screen:

Congratulations Old Man!

His shoulders shook to contain his laughter. I think my eyeballs just exploded. Then, with a huff, added, And don’t call me old.

You’ll survive. She quipped right back. After firing off a few annoying emojis his way, she finally said, Figured something was going on between you and Mr. Prince of the Forest.

Any amusement he had left died in his throat. 

Blood burning, he typed back aggressively, Don’t call him that Yang. Ever. That shit’s not okay.

Why are you suddenly mad at me??? Even through text, he could hear her indignation. 

He started to type rapidly, not even double-thinking his harshness  - Gods, she liked Blake for maiden’s sake! - but before he could even finish, her next reply stopped him cold.

That's what you called him!

No I didn’t, He defended back immediately. Sure he didn’t used to be the most sensitive about Faunus discrimination. There were definitely things he’d said or did in his youth that he wasn’t proud of, with his jeering tribemates egging him on. And because he was an idiot so desperate for approval, he hurt a lot of people who never deserved it - but that was a long time ago, and he’d grown up a lot since he’d left his old life behind and better people opened his eyes.

But, his niece was swiftly proving that false, pings coming back quick and short,

Um yeah. You did.

Like two days after the whole arrest bs

During breakfast

I mean you were kinda rough but 

Yeah

As the words drilled into his skull, they reached into his brain, pulling out a foggy memory. 

He hadn’t been… great when he first stopped drinking. Better than most, aura was a blessing sometimes, but he knew detoxing threw him for a loop. It was why he often preferred not to.

But with James not willing to put them onto the field until they at least settled in and the kids got their weapons fixed up - not even him - it had left Qrow with little to do but ride the waves of sicknesses and nausea.

Still, he had made an effort to join the kids for breakfast, even if he couldn’t stomach it. It was important they knew - well, that Yang and Ruby knew - that he was still trying.

Those first few days were always the worst though, leaving him sweaty and shaky and just all around in a piss-poor mood. That day in particular, he recalled having just come off from one of the worst sleeps of his life. First at the table but slumped over it and clutching his cup of undrinkable coffee like a lifeline.

Yet Ruby joined him as if it was just another Tuesday. 

And the small exchange he’d completely forgotten about surfaced like an oil spill on the ocean, black and poisonous:

“Hey, hey Uncle Qrow!” Ruby said enthusiastically, “Penny told us that when we get our weapons back, the Aceops want to take us all out on a mission together. Doesn’t that sound great?”

He scoffed, saying loud enough he knew every single person heard every single last one of his damn words, “Oh great, can’t wait for a prance through the frozen wastelands with Mr. Prince of the Forest and all his little woodland friends.”

He couldn’t recall exactly how anyone responded beyond a few uncomfortable laughs before the subject was quickly changed. 

He especially didn’t know what Blake’s had been - he had never looked up.

“Fuck.” He hissed to himself, smacking his head back on the wall. 

He… owed her an apology.

But first he had to fix something else. 

He forced his eyes back onto his scroll, his turn to rapidfire back replies.

Well I shouldn’t have.

If I ever say anything like that again, about ANY Faunus, punch me in the face. 

As hard as you can. 

I want to go through the WALL.

Got it?

He watched the little drawing quill dance as his niece started to reply but never let her get there as he asked, Why are you repeating me anyways? 

The quill didn’t come back.

His scroll went dark, then black.

“Qrow?”

He jumped, almost dropping the device. Looked up and around, to see Clover standing just a few paces away, eyebrow raised. His arms were relaxed at his sides, his own scroll held limp in his hand. But through the transparent display, he could see the polls newscast rolling, sound probably feeding directly into Clover’s communicator.

The sight of his ears, still in the near-permanent droop they’d fallen into since the start of the week, reminded Qrow why he was here.

“H-Hey!” He straightened up, corner of his lip pulling up in a half-smile. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Clover’s eyebrow only hiked higher, looking past him briefly. “At my own office?”

“Uh.” He articulated gracefully. “Yeah well. Figured you’d have the night off like everyone else.”

“I do.” Was the even reply, playfulness starting to glimmer in Clover’s eye. “Which only further doesn’t explain why you’re here though.”

Damn. 

Qrow cleared his throat, trying to save himself by appealing to the clever idiot, “Lucky guess?”

Clover’s ears twitched, raising just a smidge, mimicking the slow smile gracing his handsome face. “Is that so?”

“Of course.” He jutted out a hip, placing a hand on it. “Come on, don’t act like you’re not happy to see me Clubs.”

The slow roll of the other’s eyes on him was heated and absolutely deliberate. “I’m always happy to see you.” The husky promise sent a thrill through him. 

Yet, as fast as the flame was lit, it suddenly burnt out as something Qrow didn’t hear made Clover look down at his scroll, holding it tight enough he was surprised it didn’t break.

His ears had fallen once more.

“Anyways, I was just here to send off a few files Winter requested before I headed to the polls.” Clover’s tone was that clipped professionalism he usually reserved for the field as he walked past, opening up the door. “Did you need something?”

The change of pace took out some of his bluster, but he carried on as he trailed in after the other. “Well, I haven’t had a chance to see the sights lately. Was thinking you could give me a grand tour. Saaaay over dinner? Your choice, my treat?”

The other paused, hand hovering over the power button to his computer as he stared back at Qrow. “Not sure I’ve heard of a lot of tours that happen stationary in a restaurant.” The playfulness was back.

“Clover.” Qrow santured over, hopping onto the corner of his desk. “Come on already. We can even go to your favorite.”

This time he actually chuckled, finally booting up his computer. “I’m afraid my favorite place isn’t really your scene.” Clover glanced at him meaningfully. “Or your crowd.”

He’d guessed as much. 

It said a lot about the soldier and the way he’d been treated over the years that he so quickly was willing to shelter Qrow from experiencing his own culture. He didn’t think it had to do with a lack of pride, but rather a lack of agency in his own position. A Faunus holding such a high rank in the military, being James’ literal right hand, should be something to simply praise for the accomplishment itself. A sign of times truly changing.

But it was obvious from people like Robyn or Jacques, who would so easily use that stance against him, that all Clover could do instead was constantly mock an image of perfection and pureness to the world so that they couldn’t tear him and everything he stood for down.

He was so used to doing that, that it seemed to become almost second nature to hide anything that might come off as ‘troublesome’.

Unfortunately for him, Qrow wasn't really into all that rigamarole. He especially wasn’t when he wanted this to work so badly - the conversation they’d had two weeks ago about his insecurities over his semblance had only solidified that in his mind. What started out as just a bit of flirting and mutual attraction had turned into so much more. Clover was special and inspiring in a way he’d never met before, and he very much wanted to keep him in his life. 

“All I’m hearing is a bunch of excuses.” Qrow went in for the kill, leaning over the desk and dragging a hand through his own hair, disheveling it purposely as he put on his best smirk. “Come on Clover, take me out for a night on the town.”

Hook, line and sinker. Clover’s breath caught, eyes darting between his eyes and his lips, giving in with a simple, “I suppose dinner does sound nice. How ‘bout you meet me at the helipad docks at 6?”

Yes! Qrow did a mental victory dance, slipping off the desk. “You got it Clubs. I’ve got a few things to take care of, but I’ll see you then~”

“Yeah. I’ll be there.” Clover’s bright smile and raised ears was the last thing Qrow saw before the door closed. 

He started down the hall, already looking up locations for a good clothing and cologne store when his phone pinged.

A message from Yang.

He paused, the conversation from before Clover’s arrival coming back in a rush.

Reluctantly,  he tapped over to read it.

I dunno. I guess ‘cause you said it, I thought it was okay.

A hard knot of shame bunched in his stomach as the implications of that fully hit him.

“Shit.”

-

Six o’ clock on the dot, Clover walked into the station. 

Qrow took a mournful moment to admire him. Despite neither of them saying a word, it seemed they’d come to the universal agreement that this was a date.

Clover had dressed down for the occasion, and though he already missed the sleeveless vest, Clover filled out the dark green turtleneck rather prettily. His pants were black and framed shapely thighs. Kingfisher was still hitched to his hip and the leather belt it was attached to had a buckle with a shamrock printed on.

And, of course, completely for Qrow’s benefit, he wore a single chain drop earring in the tip of his right ear, a set of silver feathers that hung at the bottom tinging together anytime he moved.

As he drew close, Qrow could smell the cologne he wore. 

“Hey.” Clover breathed, eyes rolling over him shamelessly. “You look great.”

He glanced down, almost forgetting himself. He’d kept it simple, going for a pair of charcoal gray pants and matching it with a black dress shirt that had a red and white floral design on the inside of his collar and the rolls of the sleeves. He’d dug out his old necklace, the little cross settled over his heart.

But where he’d really gone all out was his nails - colored with a polish so dark blue it was almost black, with little silver confetti stars pressed over top with a clear coat. They caught the light nicely, little constellations twinkling along his hands.

The question on why he bothered with the effort still escaped him when he was about to ruin everything.

“Not as good as you, Clubs.” He tried anyways, even though his heart wasn’t in it.

Clover picked up on it immediately, one ear raising up like an exclamation as he asked, “You alright? If you’re having second thoughts-”

“No.” He cut him off quickly, not wanting Clover to think for a second it was about that. “But you might in a minute. I just… need to come clean about something.”

“Okay?” 

Clover only seemed further confused as Qrow handed over his scroll. “Read it. Next page too.” He mumbled.

They were just screenshots of the tail end of his conversation with Yang, starting from the damning slur to her last words to him.

Clover was quiet as he read it, eyebrows twisting down somewhat as he swiped to the next picture. Swiped back and read it again. Neither his face nor his ears were giving anything away, as if he was completely frozen.

Qrow felt his anxiety fester the longer he just stood there, staring at it. Eventually it grew to be too much, and he blurted out, “I’m really sorry.” 

Clover looked up at him.

On instinct, he looked away, then forced his eyes back. Look at him damnit! 

“I-I know that doesn’t make up for it. But you had the right to know.” He explained hastily and then he waited for whatever punishment was coming.

He mostly expected a punch to the face.

What he wasn’t expecting was for Clover to just blink and hand back his scroll with a calm, “That’s it?”

Excuse him - WHAT?!

His shock must have been evident, because the other man continued, “Qrow you’re not the first person to relegate me to deer-focused idioms.”

“Doesn’t mean I shoulda fucking said it.”

A sigh. “No, you shouldn’t have. But, and take this as nicely as you can - I’m not surprised that you’re kind of a total asshole to people you first meet.”

Qrow winced, but didn’t deny it. He could sweet talk like the best of them when he needed to, but on a general day-to-day? Especially with Atlas folk? Yeah, he wasn’t exactly Mr. Nice Guy.

Still…

“Clover, don’t make excuses for me.”

“I’m not.” He insisted, placing a hand on Qrow’s shoulder. “Look, listen to me, okay? I understand that you’re human and that you probably grew up with a lot of racists throughout your life. I’m not about to hold you up on a pedestal above everyone else. This stuff is complicated and more terrifyingly systematic than even I like to think about most days.” His fingers squeezed, just slightly. “But that’s not the important thing. You want to know what is?”

Qrow thought it over, shrugging a bit. “That I... was honest?”

“No. Well yes, but no. It’s that you understand it’s wrong and are willing to change it. Most people don’t give me that kind of respect.” He insisted, pulling back to rest his hand on his hip. “You know what happened when I told my last boyfriend I didn’t like him calling me ‘Fawny’? He got mad at me, asked why I was being ‘so uptight’ about it. And when I explained, he claimed I was just being dramatic.” Clover rolled his eyes, spitting out, “Fucking asshole.”

Even though it sounded truly awful, it was odd that he actually felt lighter at hearing that - but Clover tended to have that effect on him. Somehow, he always saw the best in him.

Well. Mostly.

“Didn’t you just call me an asshole, like, two sentences ago?” Qrow teased.

He waved him away. “Yeah but you’re like a general asshole, not a calculated one.”

“And that’s better?”

“Will you let me compliment you already?”

“That was a compliment?!” He mock-cried.

To his surprise, Clover burst out laughing.

It was a really nice sound, and he couldn’t help but join in. 

As it petered out, the two of them sharing smiles, Qrow admitted cautiously, “I’m really surprised you’re not mad at me.”

“Trust me Qrow. When I’m angry, you’ll know.” That promise sounded oddly terrifying. Before he could dwell too much on it, Clover pointed to his scroll. “But I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit - again. You know you never needed to tell me this, right? That you could have hid it forever, and I probably never would have found out.” He met his gaze, sincere and kind as he said, “The fact you did despite that says a lot more about the good in your character than I think you realize.”

Qrow’s eyes widened, a flush of warmth rushing through him. He might have been swooning. He was definitely blushing. “Clover…”

The soldier just seemed pleased with himself. Then a chime from the itinerary display went off, and his ear perked up before his eyes followed it. “Our flight’s ready.” He jabbed a thumb towards the loading station, giving him a wink. “What say we get outta here?”

Utterly enchanted, there really was only one answer to that. “Lead the way Clubs.”

-

The Dog Pan was a hole in the wall kind of place, right in the center of Mantle’s lower end district. It wasn’t quite the slums, but it was clear the side of town had seen better, with broken out windows and graffiti on most walls. 

Yet, the moment they walked in, he could immediately feel the closeness and community that seemed to radiate from the very core. The windows had top curtains with little leaping dogs weaved out of yarn and privacy blinds made of bed sheets with colorful designs. They matched well with the walls where, in place of traditional pictures, were long, flowing, multi-colored tapestries with beaded ends. One of them depicted the God of Animals, another the Shallow Sea and the island of Unitas it banked. It all looked hand-woven.

The place was also packed to the brim, some of the chairs shoved against tables not matching as if they had been brought in. There was music playing but he could barely hear it over conversation, which seemed unusually loud; yet despite any eared Faunus obviously pinning their ears down, there was still a kind of comradery in the laughter and noise.

“Wow. I figured it’d be nuts but not this crazy!” Clover's own ears had dropped but he was grinning. He glanced at him. “You still sure you’re good?”

Qrow snorted. He used to frequent rave bars at an alarming rate. This was nothing. “You’re gonna have to try harder if you want to scare me off Clubs!”

“Clover!” The shout had them both looking forward, a plump and jolly looking woman weaving her way around the tables towards them. She had a skin tone that reminded him of Marrow and black dog ears that flopped over on the top of her head. As she reached them, she was quick to pull Clover into a hug. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight! You haven’t been around in ages.”

“Good to see you Maxi.” He replied, hugging her back. 

She stepped back, zeroing in on Qrow, curious and welcoming. “And who is this handsome one?”

“This is Qrow, my new field partner.” Clover chuckled, patting his shoulder. 

Taking his cue, he held out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

She shook it. “You as well darling. So, just you two then? I can’t get you a table, but I do have some room at the end of the bar.”

Clover shot him a questioning look.

He knew she meant a food bar, but it still settled like an itch on his skin. Shaking it off, he assured, “Works for me.”

“Lovely! Follow me.” 

They picked their way carefully through the restaurant to get towards the back, settling into circular seats that creaked and had tears in the leather. The counter was worn and he could see words and symbols carved into the softwood. Maxi took their drink orders and, with her so close to the kitchen, was back within moments with a soda and a pot.

“Gotta say,” She said to them as she poured Qrow’s coffee. “I’m disappointed you didn’t bring my son with you.”

Wait…

“‘Fraid we couldn’t. He’s working security tonight.” Clover explained.

Maxi sighed. “Remind that boy of mine it wouldn’t kill him to see his mother now and again, would you?”

He gave her a two-fingered salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You just call when you're ready, dears.” She said before departing to handle some of the other tables.

Qrow leant towards Clover. “So she’s…?”

“Yeah. Marrow’s mom. This is actually how I met him. Saw him stop a whole tray from falling out of his sister’s hands when she tripped.” Clover told him. “I asked him why he wasn’t in the academy, and he told me he was. He just spent all his free time here, bussing tables and cleaning dishes. I knew ever since then that if I ever got a spot on the team, I wanted him on it.”

How exactly a spot ‘opened up’ was left unsaid.

Qrow could probably guess anyways.

“He was a good choice. Kid’s got talent, just needs more steadiness.” He said instead. “So, you’re the only one with the night off?” He knew Elm, Harriet and Vine were all working security for Jacques’ campaign. They’d been specially requested, for obvious reasons. Likewise, Robyn had asked for whoever was left. 

“Perks of being Captain.” Clover joked. “And, James wanted Winter and I on standby.”

“For what?”

“For whatever happens once the polls close. Riots are uh, likely.” His eyes flicked to a TV set in the corner, and though it was inaudible, the picture of Jacques and Robyn on screen, the gap between their percentage ratings narrowing every minute, told them all they needed to know. “Among other things.”

Qrow kinda wanted to shoot it. “Y’know, I was trying to get you away from all that tonight.”

“Oh Qrow, I was always going to look. But,” He slid his hand across the table, the sides of their hands brushing. “At least I’ve got some good company to get me through it.”

Qrow hooked their pinkies together, a silent support.

“Come on, let’s order.”

-

Qrow had never seen a menu with so many post-it notes. The effect of the embargo was clear, as many foods had become too expensive or outright impossible to obtain - but anything with a cheaply grown vegetable, like corn or rice, or an easily obtained meat, like chicken which were bred plentifully or fish which was naturally fished and farmed out of the tundra, were still in supply.

In the end, he took Clover’s suggestion to try the smothered chicken legs.

Baked in gravy and coming with a side of cornbread and mashed potatoes, it was all sinfully good and filling.

He also managed to coax Clover to let him have a bite of his - the fried pike burst with flavor, likely attributed to its freshness. It came with a side of fries. Qrow stole a few of those too, mostly being cheeky about it.

Yet, as dinner carried on, the mood of the restaurant shifted. Conversations became hushed and subdued, a worry rippling through the people. No, a fear. If he strained to listen, he could catch snippets of conversation, whispers of what would happen to families stuck in the slums, of their children in the schools, of their jobs, their very way of living. Even Maxi seemed to hold her tray heavier with every pass, her smiles more strained. More people came in. Few left. It got so crowded, Qrow only had to lean back slightly to touch another person.

Try as he might to keep him distracted, Clover kept glancing at the TV. His ears were low enough, the feathers of his earring were resting against his shoulder.

As the last of the fries disappeared between them, Qrow asked softly, “You want to stay here?”

“‘Til it’s over.”

He nodded, and as their plates were gathered, asked for a refill. Sipped black coffee in one hand while the other slipped over damaged wood to touch Clover’s again. 

After a moment, Clover reached back, nudging under Qrow’s fingers so they slipped over top of his own.

The minutes ticked on. 

The percentages between Schnee and Hill grew smaller and smaller.

47-53.

48-52.

49-51.

At the final second, it hit 50-50.

The whole restaurant had gone dead silent as the polls disappeared, reporter Oliver Sikes taking over the screen. “And there we have it! The polls have officially closed and the final tallies are coming through now. Phew, what a close race. It’ll be just a minute now folks.” He rambled on for a bit more, detailing out the last districts that were decided on and the few they were still waiting on the exact counts from. But like all things in Atlas, his prediction was precise. 

As the sixty second ended, Sikes was announcing, “Oh and here we go, I’m being told the counting is done! And it looks like…”

The polls flashed back on screen.

57-43.

“Jacques has been announced the winner!”

The declaration was like pulling the pin off a grenade, a sudden, explosive roar starting up around them as the restaurant descended into chaos. 

The hand in his had tightened into a vice.

“What the fuck!” Qrow exclaimed. There was no fucking way, with a race that close, that Jacques pulled that much ahead. That meant some of the votes had been falsified. He jerked his head around, spitting, “Clover, that’s - Clover?”

Clover didn’t so much as respond to him, his wide eyes still staring at the screen where Jacques had started his victory speech. His face was completely motionless and impassive.

It was his ears that told Qrow the real story, as they had flipped back horizontally, the entire lengths of them trembling with barely withheld rage.

Just as soon as he’d seen it, it was gone when a furious outcry from the back had them both looking over their shoulders in time to see a man with moose antlers toss his chair. It hurtled its way across the restaurant and slammed right into the TV, shattering it on impact.

Had it been up to him, Qrow would have given the guy a medal.

Clover didn’t seem quite as praising, as he slammed his hands on the counter before climbing up onto it, shouting across to the crowd. “EVERYONE CALM DOWN!” He bellowed. “This is a Faunus-friendly establishment - a piece of our own community! What are you doing wrecking it?!” 

Some people heard it, others didn’t, still arguing and trying to trash the place. 

“No-No, please don’t!” Qrow heard Maxi cry just as one of her tapestries was pulled off the wall. Another person threw a plate on the floor. 

A window cracked.

Sensing things were about to get further dangerous, he hopped the counter while Clover continued to try and appeal to the growing mob. Just as Qrow had managed to usher the sobbing woman through the kitchen door where the rest of her family was, ordering, “Get out the back!” he heard someone’s scream pierce the air that had him whirling around in horror.

“Wait, aren’t you Clover Ebi!? You voted for Schnee! Traitor!”

“Traitor! Traitor!” The mob chanted.

It was like a wave as they surged towards Clover, grabbing at his legs and trying to pull him off the bar. He yelped, grabbing onto a light fixture. It yawned worryingly.

“HEY!” Heart hammering in his chest, Qrow lunged towards Clover, trying to pull him the other way, kicking some of other Faunus back. “Let him go!”

The light fixture snapped but Qrow had just enough leeway to yank him down on the other side of the bar. 

They backed up against the wall as the mob all started to round it and climb over.

He curled a hand around Harbinger’s hilt. Was he really going to have to…?

In the corner of his eye, he saw Clover desperately flick the feathers of his earring.

A second later, an unmistakable siren pierced the air.

Grimm.

Everyone froze.

Then some started to panic, rushing out the doors. Others flung themselves under tables or into the corners. 

Sharing a look, he and Clover moved, using the sudden space to leap onto the tables around the thinning crowd and make it to the exit.

They spilled into the street and started running. The first block was for safety. 

At the second, Clover finally managed to lift his shaking hand to his earpiece, “Marrow, report.”

Qrow grabbed his shoulder, pulling them both to a stop. He could feel the tremors leaking from Clover’s skin.

“Right. Roger. We’re on our way.” Clover dropped his hand to Kingfisher, taking a deep, steadying breath as he unfurled it. “Robyn’s party was attacked. A dozen people are dead and the grimm are flocking to it.”

Qrow gave him one last check over, just to make sure he was really okay, before he unsheathed Harbinger. “Let’s go.”

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 8- Bastards From Space

Summary: These past couple years in Wakanda with Bucky have been the best. Who would have thought some aliens would be the thing to ruin it all.

Warning: violence, angst, reader being a bad bitch, things get intense

Masterlist

Today had started as normal as ever, you woke up with Bucky’s arm slung over your face, his body practically covering you like a human blanket. Then you two got out of bed, did your usual morning routines, and started your day with helping the Wakandians with whatever tough job needed done for the next however many hours.

Which as of now happens to be chopping wood; you sit comfortably on a spared thick log while Bucky smashes the Vibranium axe into another chunk of wood while you watch him with a mischievous smirk playing at your lips. “You’re doing a fantastic job with that by the way.”

Bucky sets another one down as a smile pulls at his handsome face, “Oh yeah?”

“Yes, your form is just...amazing.” You applaud, making a chefs kiss motion with your fingers as he chuckles before splitting another hunk in two.

“You know..” Starts Bucky as he sets the axe against his shoulder while you rest your knuckles against your chin, “this would go a lot faster if you helped me.”

“Then I wouldn’t be able to watch you doing your thing....and by the way you look real fine, did I mention that already?” You add with a click of your tongue while he throws you a humored glare of affection.

“I could use your help.”

You point to the wagon seated next to you, “I did, I threw all these bags and split wood in here so now I’m taking my earned break that I obviously get because I finished my job. You on the other hand don’t deserve an earned break.”

Bucky huffs, deciding to ignore your little bout of sass that so unmistakably is targeted to rile him up, so instead does he mumble out something incomprehensible just for himself to hear, “Yeah, and if we were in that hut I’d show you an earned break.”

Snickering, you cross your arms while studying Bucky’s concentrated face; his dark mane is all wet and unwashed, clothes a bit dirty and unkept with some sweat stains marking them from when you two sparred each other that morning. But God if you don’t think he’s the most beautiful creature to have ever walked this earth in your lifetime. How did you ever get so lucky?

He’s been a true beacon of hope and refuge since Romania, and you’re for certain that if not for one another’s found love. You’d both be much lonelier people.

“What’r you thinking about?” Mutters Bucky while you return from your drifting thoughts. Though soon you’re alerted to the sounds of walking in the grass that draws your attention to the hillside. “Why the fuck is T’Challa here?” You move to stand and a moment later King T’Challa and a couple of the Dora Milaje are walking down the grassy hill with something in their arms to greet the two of you. The king of Wakanda appears a tad bit distressed, face unusually more serious then what marks his features most days. You immediately know something is wrong.

Bucky shares a wary glance with you as the king greets you two with a nod, “Mr. Barnes, Miss. Valerious.” One of his guardsmen unclasps the long black case only to reveal a Wakandian styled metal arm.

Bucky purses his lips as he looks down at the new appendage, “Where’s the fight.”

King T’Challa gives the two of you a hard expression, “On it’s way.”

——

After learning about some angry aliens on their way to take the mind stone from Vision, and that a good portion of the rouge Avengers are on their way to Wakanda. You and Bucky knew deep down something wild must be stirring in the universe for something as big as this to happen, something very bad indeed.

You just have no idea what.

Clasping your black armored top together, you move to put on the Wakandian black leathered Vibranium gauntlets that were gifted to you for this special occasion, not that it’s really that special, but you do look cool. The new armor feels solid and stable against your forearm as you focus on tightening the clasps when suddenly you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you.

“I know you’re looking at me.” You muse, side eyeing him.

He smiles, eyes never leaving you as you lock in the armor to your forearm. He studies the brilliant dark attire that’s laced with a vibrant golden hue, “You look like a warrior.” Admits Bucky almost in awe of how you’re currently looking.

You nod, “I’d feel a little out of place next to the Dora Milaje....but uh, this suit is nice.” You add with a shrug, “Comfortable and practical, they really know how to size right.”

“Yeah....” Mumbles Bucky with a breathy laugh while you focus on the task at hand, oblivious as to where his gaze wanders all over your vessel and the parts your new attire ever-so-slightly accentuates. He just thinks you’re so beautiful no matter how you look, and right now, in Bucky’s head you’re one fine specimen. 

“How’s the new arm?”

Bucky’s wandering eyes soon shift down to the new dark plated Vibranium and golden laced metalwork, “Feels light. Like it’s apart of me you know? I still can’t believe how amazing their tech is.”

“I know right..” You pause for a moment, glancing warily over to the clock, “Well, guess we better get moving. Okoye said they’ll be here soon.” Bucky nods before zipping his jacket up the rest of the way and walking over to your side. He stops to buckle down the left side of your Wakandian styled black vest while you happily let him. Enjoying how close he is to you and the adorable way he sticks his tongue out when fully focused on a task.

Once done, Bucky takes a look at his handiwork, reaching to clasp your one hand with his. He smiles though a sadness hides behind those beautiful blues, “To battle?” Whispers Bucky.

Reaching a hand up to place a soft touch against his stubbled cheek, you smile fearlessly, “To battle.”

Soon the two of you are outside of T’Challa’s palace, standing off to the side as the king and his warriors greet the approaching Quinjet as it lands on the stone landing pad. A minute later, you catch the sight of a bearded Steve, a blonde haired Natasha, Sam, Bruce Banner, and lastly Wanda and Vision as they walk out side by side.

Vision looks hurt, and Wanda has a scar above her brow. Wonder what brute did that?

T’Challa welcomes the team before he nods and turns for them to follow, Vision and Wanda walk past you two as you finally see them clearer through the parting crowd, “How we looking?” Asks Natasha as she follows behind the king, Steve to her immediate right, the others following close behind them. 

“You will have my Kingsguard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and...”

“And a semi-stable 100-year-old man.” Quips Bucky as all of you finally come face to face with one another, Steve immediately smiles as you walk next to Bucky. “Plus whatever the hell I am.” You jest as the two of them go in for a hug.

Natasha gives you a smirk as they part, “How you guys been?” Asks Steve, blue eyes flickering between you two.

Bucky looks over at you and shrugs, “Uh, not bad...”

“....for the end of the world.” You deadpan, causing Bucky to chuckle as well as Steve and Natasha.

“Well, it’s nice seeing you guys again...” Adds Steve as Natasha takes a step forward towards you. “We gotta stop meeting each other like this.” Quips the ex-assassin. 

You snort at the little inside joke between the two of you, raising a brow at them, “You know, you guys don’t have to visit just because some aliens are threatening our entire existence. Couldn’t we have saved a reunion for a wedding or something?”

Steve sighs, “Yeah, that would have been preferred.”

“Too bad none of you invited us.” Smirks Natasha as she looks between you and Bucky with a raised brow of her own, his stubbled face growing a small shade of pink while you awkwardly cough, eyes darting elsewhere.

“Yeah, we’re getting there, Nat.” You mutter while rubbing the back of your neck, the thought of marrying Bucky has never actually crossed your mind. You love him, its just, you two married? Actually married? Would he even want that? You have no idea, maybe talking about it before the alien situation would have been helpful in the long run. Too late for that now, guess another time then.

“Alright, come with me upstairs my friends, my sister will see what can be done for your friend.” Adds T’Challa as he takes a step back, Steve, Natasha, and Bruce all following suit and through the doors they go inside to assess the Vision situation upstairs. Leaving Sam and Rodney. 

You watch as Natasha’s body disappears behind the dark glass before turning around to meet a smiling Sam as he wanders closer to you and Bucky. Undoubtedly about to give you two a proper Sam-like greeting, “Nice to see you two weirdos again.” Chuckles Sam as he takes in how much or little you and Bucky have changed since a couple years ago.

“Can’t say the same.” Muses Bucky as you snicker at Sam’s half-offended reaction.

“I guess.....maybe....possibly.....it’s nice to see your annoying face, again.” You add, voice dripping with sarcasm as he nods, “Better then you coming to try and arrest us.”

“Alright, I’ll take it.” He smiles, “At least someone cares about me after all this time.” Side eyeing Bucky as he holds back a laugh.

“Never said that.” You mutter while shaking your head at him, “Definitely did not miss you at all.”

“You were thinking it.” Points Sam, “So was Bucky.”

“I wasn’t.”

About ten minutes later, after fully catching one another up on the happenings missed by the distance and time apart, the hair on the back of your neck pricks with the sound of something large and unfamiliar breaking into the atmosphere above. Soon a smoking metal ship crashes into the forcefield high above your heads, an explosion of fire and debris blasts in its wake as the destroyed object slides off the sides.

“God, I love this place.” Mutters Bucky as the three of you look to the sky.

“Yeah, don’t start celebrating yet, guys. We got more incoming outside the dome.” Announces Rodney on the ear coms as your face falls when more blasts crash against the protective outer barrier of Wakanda.

“Fuck......I’ve never met an alien before.” You mumble as they look to you now, your eyes wide and fearful as you stare up at the sky, “And I don’t think I want to.”

Soon more glaring fiery balls come racing past high up in the clouds headed straight for the Wakandian forcefield, violently crashing against it though nothing pierces through much to your great relief. Not even a minute later T’Challa and the rest of the team are on ground level with the rest of you. Urging everyone into the advanced Wakandian vehicles, you file in close to Bucky and Natasha as the driver begins making haste for the huge fields beyond.

Wind flies wildly past your face as you observe the growing smoke rising up from the broken and burning forest from where the aliens have landed, where they’re preparing for battle far behind the protective forcefield.

The hover vehicle reaches its destination on the knee high grass, immediately everyone files out; your boots fall into the soft ground as you find yourself on the field positioned in between Steve and Bucky while the rest of the Wakandian army keeps strong from your left, right and rear.

It’s a small comfort having everyone so near but it still feels like a false protection; Bruce is held in the Hulkbuster suit standing high and strong above the rest, while Rodney and Sam keep to the skies as they circle around in anticipation for what’s to go down.

You wish you felt better about this, but you’d be a lying fool if you claimed to feel dangerous and fearless, you’re not fighting against mortal men this time. These are beasts from a whole other world with no intention of sparing a life, they don’t care for human problems, they’re here for one single goal and that’s to take the mind stone.

Heart beating nervously in your chest, you turn a worried glance over to Bucky who’s holding a large machine gun in his left arm, he sends you a reassuring nod as T’Challa walks over to speak with Steve.

“There’s two by the perimeter, what our next move?”

“We’ve met the female one before, I guess we’ll go see if they can be reasoned with, though I’m afraid of their answer.” Begrudgingly replies Steve, eyes set ahead at two figures approaching the forcefield. One a tall broad scaled being and the other a half pale faced woman with two dark horns rising upward from her temples.

Steve, Natasha, and king T’Challa collectively decide to walk the distance to face them while everyone else remains in suspense. They speak for about a minute before walking back to the rest of you as the giant alien machinery shifts and rises with strange movement.

“They surrender?” Mutters Bucky as Steve takes his place by your side.

“Not exactly.” Well that sounds fucking promising.

Your body begins shaking with adrenaline as loud thunderous rumbling emits from the forest, a second later, large dog-like creatures race madly out of the tree line headed at a dead sprint for the forcefield.

“What the fuck.” You mutter, brows furrowed in confused bewilderment as the foreign creatures slam violently against the forcefield with little regard for what its doing to them.

Natasha hums, “Looks like we pissed her off.”

You nod as some of the beasts force their way through the guarded perimeter, they scream in fury and pain while their bodies and limbs get phased by the power of the giant shield protecting Wakanda.

“They’re killing themselves.” You can hear Okoye mutter in fearful bewilderment as the screaming creatures push through their violent assault, soon about a dozen break through, racing furiously over the shallow river and across the large battlefield to where everyone is standing.

King T’Challa shouts the battle cry as his army calls their technologically advanced shields to arms in an instant. The alien creatures thunder across the grass, getting closer and closer as the army around you begin shooting them down as fast as they can.

Bullets fly past your head as Bucky begins aiming for the beasts, shooting them down with great accuracy as you breath heavily from your growing adrenaline. Sam and Rodney shoot from the sky; you watch more fall but a plethora of others begins running off to the sides as they attempt at searching for an alternative way around the forcefield.

T’Challa realizing this, calls for the opening of North-West Section Seventeen, which is the one right in front of you all. Well this is it then, you think nervously. Dreading how the events of today may play out within the next hour, or ten minutes for all you know.

“This will be the end of Wakanda.” Mutters M’Baku as the section is lifted.

Okoye nods, face stoic and fierce, “Then it will be the most noble ending in history.”

T’Challa steps to the front lines before valiantly shouting, “Wakanda forever!” And with that does the warriors cry with courage and might as everyone including you begins a dead sprint across the grassy field, pumping your arms hard, you feel a thrill of strange excitement pulsing throughout your entire vessel as your boots thunder against the ground in tune with the beasts that charge onward.

Steve races inhumanly fast, you right on his tail as T’Challa makes ground to your immediate right. The rest of your fellow warriors keeping up as best they can. You don’t remember ever unsheathing your claws, or when they sliced violently into the thick skin of the first alien you met.

But soon your hands are covered in the warm inky blood of the creatures you’ve killed as you don’t have time to think, only kill and survive is all your mind is on. You’re practically on autopilot as the beasts thrash and slash at everyone in sight.

Suddenly one of them traps you between it’s bear paws and the rough ground, sharp daggered teeth chomping at your face as you drive your fist straight through it’s jugular and back out again, instantly a spurt of sticky dark purple blood sprays onto the side of your face as you turn away from the gory scene.

Shoving it off of you, another one punts you into the rocky earth, in retaliation you throw a clawed fist right across its shoulder. Making sure to sink it in deep when you reach its stomach. Screams of pain are all you hear as it dies, going still as stone while you jump right back into the action.

Without warning, about three pin you to the ground while you grunt and groan from the weight and their knife sized claws digging into your armored sides, damn you’ve really had better days. Shoving your Adamantium talons right through it’s exposed chest, it immediately goes limp as it’s two friends strain to reach you while it’s annoyingly bulky vessel pins you to the rough ground.

Your lungs struggle to take in a decent breath when suddenly a crack of lighting sounds throughout the battlefield, a second later the large alien bodies are thrown off of you from the force of bright white electricity, killing them instantly.

Sucking in a deep breath of relief and general oxygen, you jump to your feet only to take notice of a blonde man in some type of royal armor with an axe in one hand and sparks of lighting in the other. Oddly enough, a raccoon and a walking humanoid tree to either side as he scans the horizon before turning around and belting out, “Bring! Me! Thanos!” Before taking flight as more electricity sparks and shoots all around him.

Yeah, alright that’s normal. At least they’re on your side.

He lands and a giant plethora of white hot lighting emits all around him, killing many of the alien creatures where they stand. Though there’s no time to celebrate this small victory when giant circular machines of war burst forth from the ground, many going in different directions, but these couple begin heading straight in yours.

Eyes widening in fear, you book it in the opposite direction as T’Challa yells for his men to fall back for the tree line, your heart races a mile a minute as you force yourself to keep running through the exhaustion and slight pain in your left thigh from a heeling bite mark.

But just as the razored metal closes in behind you, a bright whispy red halts it in its place. Turning towards the source, you’re almost comforted to find Wanda at the hands of the machinery’s demise. She yells, throwing her hands back as the metal clashes across the battlefield, killing the beasts as they go.

And she was up there this whole time?

Turning to face more foes, you look over to notice as the female alien stalks across the ruined battlefield towards Wanda at an alarmingly hefty pace, dark rusted yellow eyes set and predatory as she reaches her oblivious prey. Smacking her armored fist across Wanda’s head, the Sokovian tumbles into a ditch, horned lady alien trailing after her.

Shit, you should do something.

Taking out another beast, you book it over to help Wanda, jumping into the wide trench behind the woman, you catch the end of her heated threat to Wanda, “He’ll die alone. As will you.” Venom tripping off of her every word, God why are they so angry?

“She’s not alone.” You growl, face painted with inky purple blood, claws shimmering in the sunlight as she whips around to face you. Her eyes trail over your body as she scowls in deep irritation, before handing her an unfriendly smirk, “Come on you ugly fuck.” You growl.

She lunges at you, weapon drawn as you dodge her deadly blow by the sharp thin blade. She quickly whips around and is kindly greeted by your claws that rips the dull white flesh of her lower face. Blood seeps out as she screams, face flaring a fierce anger as she powers through and thrusts her blade into your left shoulder. Fucking bitch!

You’re immediately greeted with a sharp stinging pain that rips violently into your body from the assault. A boot rudely kicks you backwards onto the hard earth as Okoye smacks her dagger across the woman’s back, distracting her from trying to end your life. Like that would work.

Blood pools hot and angry out of your opened flesh while Okoye and Natasha handle the horned bitch from behind you and Wanda. Your hands push you off the gravely earth as Wanda shares a fearful glance with you, giving her a pursed lip grin. You jump to your feet and assess the escalating situation before you; Okoye is breathing heavily on the ground as Natasha holds back the woman with her shocking stick while pinned on her back, straining to keep the opposing blade away from her throat.

“Hey!” You shout, causing the woman to lift her gaze from Natasha to you, she doesn’t even have a second to react as your clawed fist slashes a deadly blow across her face. She immediately stumbles back in shock as blood spirts wildly out of her deep cuts, her eyes going wide as saucers when you land a powerful kick into her lower torso, sending her body flying upwards only to be mauled by one of the circular razors rolling past.

Blue blood marking your already dirty face, you turn to look down at Natasha as she glances between the three of you, face dotted in blue blood just the same, “That was really gross.” Grimaces the blonde as you give the others a once over before jumping back out into the action.

Minutes fly by as you fight your way to the tree line closest to the Wakandian palace, suddenly Steve’s voice is heard in the coms, “Everyone, on my position. We have incoming.” And with that do you follow Bucky and T’Challa as they race into the woods where Steve, Natasha, Sam, Bruce, and Wanda is protectively holding Vision as they keep seated on the grassy earth.

Collecting your breath, you walk over to Bucky as everyone feels a soft hunting breeze blowing the trees around, “Something’s not right.” You mutter worriedly as he shares a nervous look with you.

“I know. Just stay close to me.”

You nod before giving him a weak reassuring smile, a moment later a strange anomaly of purple, blue, and dark grey clouds present themselves a small distance in front of you all. A tall figure of great stature and physical strength walks out from the odd whispy mass, he’s larger then anyone you’ve ever seen before, skin colored purple and golden laced armor of another world.

“Cap. That’s him.” Announces Bruce as you heart begins racing once more, oh shit oh shit oh shit. Fuck he’s really big.

Steve raises his two arm shields, “Eyes up. Stay sharp.” As he starts walking in the direction of you’re assuming is this Thanos everyone has been talking about.

Hulkbuster thunders past, but as Bruce reaches Thanos, his body turns a transparent blue and falls right through the purple alien before lodging himself in the rock of the ascending cliffside.

Steve’s next as he throws himself at Thanos, the titan uses his golden gauntlet when a sudden purply wisp of energy throws Steve into the trees. T’Challa lunges, but is swiftly stopped when Thanos’ giant hand wraps around his throat. He’s then thrown him down like a ragged doll; Sam is next, wings fold in on themselves and soon he’s down too.

Rodney right after as Thanos uses the gauntlet to crush him from within his suit, he’s promptly thrown to the side like a rock. Bullets fly violently through the air as Bucky fires shot after shot at the purple titan to no avail, he’s thrown across the ground like nothing.

Terrified yet too much full of rage to think, you race for the bastard titan as he pushes Okoye to the side, Natasha left disabled when tree roots throw themselves around her. He quickly takes notice as you jump on the roots, heading straight for him with an animistic rage flashing through your eyes.

His fist rises as he calls more roots to action, you skillful dodge their grip as you make a desperate jump for the titan below you now. He’s fast, but not fast enough to evade your clawed fist, the middle razor slashes a clean line right across his left eye as you tumble to the ground behind him, finding your footing in an instant.

Yourself now between him and the mind stone that’s currently getting destroyed by a tearful Wanda from behind you, though you’re not paying enough attention to fully realize what’s going down, you breath heavily while eyeing up the bulky man.

The pissed off titan whips around to meet your courageous glare, left eye missing, dripping with warm purple blood that trails like an ugly waterfall down his scared cheeks until it spatters to the forest floor. Face now visibly angered and very much in pain as he stares you down.

He takes a threatening step forward as you take a cautious one back, eyeing you up, he nods, “A clean hit, I’m afraid this one won’t heal for me unfortunately...nonetheless, I am impressed by your valor small one, but your bravery will be in vain.” Speaks the titan as you stare up at him with shaky breaths.

oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

A second later the power of his golden gauntlet sends you flying into the trunk of a thick tree, knocking you out on impact.

When you awaken with a jolt, your nose is wet with drying crimson that trails across your lips and chin. Nothing hurts anymore but your body feels incredibly weird, taking in a deep breath, you stand on shaky legs. Eyes scanning the area only to find a confused Thor who’s looking rather dreadful and lost.

Steve quickly runs up to him, eyes searching around for Thanos who’s nowhere to be seen, “Where’d he go?” Wonders Steve as you slowly walk over to them, “Thor....Where’d he go?” Asks Steve more urgently this time, blue eyes looking around to no avail. Thanos is gone. Just like that.

But how?

You quickly catch movement to your left, but it’s just Bucky walking over to the three of you. Heart filled with relief, you start walking over to him as he locks eyes with you, a confused expression crossing over his features as he looks over at his left arm.

You follow his puzzled gaze and watch as his arm begins to disintegrate like ash on a windy day. Bucky finds your concerned face; panic, confusion, and fear flashing through his stormy irises as he takes another desperate step to reach you, “Y/N?” Is all you hear as the rest of his body begins turning to dust right before your very eyes.

His gun falls to the ground with a thud as the rest of his body disintegrates to nothing more then ash and dust upon the grass. You freeze, it feels like your heart as just been frozen in ice and smashed with a steel sledgehammer without remorse.

You swallow, walking on trembling legs to where his ashes remain, you slowly kneel. Hand touching the area as delicately as you would hold a newborn, this isn’t real this is just a shitty dream and you’ll wake up any second with him right by your side.

It’s just a dream. But you know, it’s not.

Steve wanders to your side before kneeling down and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. Biting your bottom lip to hold the lump back that’s building in the back of your throat, you turn your head to meet him, your eyes glossed over with unshed tears.

He lowers his head in defeat as you stare bitterly back down at the ground where Bucky once was, lip quivering uncontrollably as you fight back a waterfall of hidden tears. The pain in your heart almost too much to bear. “Sam! Where are you?!” Shouts Rodney, a voice to bring you back to the world.

No, not the others too. How many did he take?

Blinking hard, a couple stray tears patter onto the brown ashes as you rise, Steve doing the same, you watch as he walks over to Vision who’s void of all color and taken of all life, a small crater marking the demise of his life force, the mind stone.

He kneels down to meet the body as Natasha runs into view, she quickly halts once her gaze falls onto Visions corpse, mouth agape in shock. Bruce, Rodney, that little raccoon, and Thor coming to from behind them as you amble closer to the distraught six, though your legs feel like they could give out at any moment.

“What is this?” Wonders Rodney as he looks from Steve to you and then over to Thor, “What the hell is happening?”

Tears stream silently down the sides of your cheeks now, they make a clean line from all the other dirt and blood that marks your skin. Breathing heavily, Natasha looks over to you, “Y/N?” She asks, voice wavering as her eyes trail over your mournfully stoic face.

He can’t be gone, not Bucky, not him.

-

Tagged: @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes​ @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94​  @iamasimpingh0e

[withcolebrock]

Still

Summary: Colby confesses his love towards Y/N after having been broken up for a while

Part 2!

Warnings: talks about mental health, swearing?, and implied smut 

Word count: 2,818

Author’s note: hi so I have worked on this piece for like two weeks and to me it doesn’t really make sense yet I love the idea, also it’s sorta rushed but yeah so like, ehhe. I may delete it ope I hope you guys like it (I don’t know why I chose this gif, he’s just hot okay)

It had been a rough eight months to say the least. Her life hadn’t been the same since the day she broke up with Colby; her boyfriend of two years. They still hung out in the same friend group and would go to the same parties; but it wasn’t the same. Only small words would be shared between them, nothing too serious. Colby and Y/N tried their best to not make it awkward for the group, but it was hard to hide the tension.

It wasn’t hatred between them, it was the complete opposite. She was longing for him. All she wanted was to jump into his arms and wrap her legs around his waist.  She wanted to kiss him and run her fingers through his hair. She craved for the electricity she felt between them. She craved for the way his fingers glided along her skin. The feeling wasn’t just desire, she missed the way he made her feel. He made her feel beautiful and worthy. She still loved him, she was still madly in love with him.

Except, she was slowly slipping away from him. Y/N never learned how to love who she was. For months she debated with herself if the confidence she had was because of Colby, or because she truly loved herself. Her mom had always said to her that you can’t fall in love with someone else, if you haven’t fallen in love with yourself first.

Y/N thought that idea was silly, until time went on with Colby. She was herself when she was with him yet she was holding something back. It was something she didn’t understand, until social media found out about their relationship. The media’s words were horrible towards her, even though Y/N was seen in videos with him in the past. It escalated when they announced their relationship.

She started losing herself when she was with Colby; her confidence was only in her when she was with him. Y/N wanted to be herself and confident when she was not with him. She needed to be able to love who she was away from Colby. As time went on it hit her that she can only do that if they took time apart.

~eight months earlier~

“I just don’t understand,” Colby pleated while leaning back against his sofa. His voice was hoarse as he spoke. He rubbed the back of his neck as his eyes flickered towards her. She stood in front of him, with her arms wrapped around her chest and tears streaming down her cheek. He thought everything was going great, he wasn’t just happy with her, he was in love with her.

“I love you, Colby, I’ll always love you. But I have to do this for me,” her tears made it hard for her words to leave her lips. Everything in her told her it was the right decision, but her heart was breaking.

“Is it because of the fans? I’ll say something, I’ll tell them-”

“It’s not, Colby,” her eyes met his teary ones as the words fell from her red lips. She took a long breath, “You did nothing wrong. You are perfect, you are sweet and loving, you are everything I have ever wanted.”

“Then why are you ending this? I love you, I want you,” he stands up from the couch and takes a couple steps towards her,  “I don’t want anyone else,” her body stiffens, as butterflies fill her stomach. Her eyes do not leave his blue ones as silence falls between them. Their bodies maintain the distance, as she searches for the words to say. She watches a tear fall onto his cheek and begin to stream down. He quickly wipes it away, turning his head away from her.

“I love you Colby, but I feel like I just need time to figure out who I am. I need to step back from us for me to- I’m sorry that I’m hurting you, I’m so sorry,” she covers her face with her hands as she begins to cry harder. Colby’s body softens as he watches her fall completely apart in front of him. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her, pulling her into his chest.

He doesn’t say anything for a while. He felt that it was selfish of him to want to savor his last moment with her. She was doing the same, she was remembering the feeling of being secure in his arms. “I’ll be here, always,” he whispers as he kisses the top of her head for a short moment.

She finally pulls herself from his grasps, avoiding eye contact with him. Her body went cold as the heat radiating from his body was no longer there. She walks towards the couch and grabs her bag before turning her body to face him. He licks his lips as he meets her eye. Taking in a long breath, she heads towards the door and leaves his room. She keeps her head low to avoid seeing the roommates and talking to them while she looks the way she does.

~~~

For the first couple of months, she felt worse than she did before. She mostly felt guilty about how she handled the situation. Different ideas of what she could’ve done ran through her mind nonstop. In the end there is no good way to break up with your boyfriend.

Colby and herself kept the information about their break up vague; which led to the fans attacking Y/N even more than before. Saying Colby changed and it was her fault but some of them still supported her.

As time went on she found ways to work on her self love and mental state. Therapy and different journaling styles helped her the most, she focused on more positive thinking as well. It took a few months but she truly began to love who she was. The process was not something that happened overnight, it took months for her to start realizing that she was perfect the way she was. She still had her days filled with doubts, but most of the days were great.

Yet the thought of Colby was always at the back of her head. She always wondered what he was doing, how he was feeling, if he was thinking about her. It did not help her wandering mind when she had pizza night with him weekly. Her eyes always wandered over to him at the parties. It was as if a magnet was pulling her to him, but she owed herself to not listen to it until she was ready. Until she was finally who she wanted to be.

It was as if something clicked between them. Her guilt was lifted and his heartbreak was gone. Conversations were easier yet the tension was building between them the more they saw each other. Each time their eyes met, her heart would start racing and her cheeks would flush pink.

Tonight is another pizza night at Sam’s and something was different between herself and Colby. She felt his eyes watching her throughout the night, even meeting his eyes a few times. Every time a smirk would toy to his features, before she would turn her head away. Since she spent most of the night hanging around Tara, she began to see something was going on.

Tara sat down beside Y/N on the couch while lightly hitting her on the arm, “What’s up with you and Colby?” she whispered as she tapped her fingers against her cup. Y/N shook her head slowly while widening her eyes. Tara rolled her eyes while huffing, “Come on, he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you all night,” she subtly pointed towards Colby standing in the kitchen. Her eyes follow towards Tara’s finger, to see Colby’s eyes already looking in her direction.

Quickly shifting her eyes away from him towards Tara, she drops her mouth open as she rolls her eyes. “There’s nothing going on,” Y/N whispers confidently as she leans back against the couch.

Normally he would keep his distance, since she needed him too. But as his eyes met hers for the fiftith time that night, he decided to walk over to where she was sitting. Her cheeks began to flush beneath the layer of makeup she had on, as his body slumps down beside her. Tara furrowed her eyebrows, meeting Y/N’s eye but turned her attention towards Jake. He rested his hand behind her on the top of the couch as he leaned over and quietly said, “You okay, if I sit here?”

He leaned his body back slowly, while licking his lips. She looked into his eyes and smiled nervously. “Of course,” she breathed, he smirked as he leaned back against the couch, keeping his hand rested behind her. Her body stiffened as her gaze lingered on him for a couple of seconds longer than she would have admitted to. Every week the group decides on a game that they’ll play before the pizza arrives; and if they film it or not. This week the group decided on Never Have I Ever.

“Okay, I’ll start,” Kevin said as he clapped his hands together, “Never have I ever kissed somebody in this group,” he raised his eyebrows to the couples sitting around the couch. Colby smirks as he turns his attention towards Y/N, slowly pulling the drink to his lips. She fights off a smile forming to her lips as she shifts her eyes towards Colby. Their eyes meet for a moment as they both take a sip of their drinks.

“That is such a cheap shot, Kevin,” Tara groaned as she pulled the red solo cup to her lips. The group falls into laughter as most of them pull their drinks to their lips.

“My turn,” Aryia begins as the laughter dies down, “Never have I ever-”

~~~

As the game went on, Y/N felt herself relaxing into Colby’s arm. He subtly began running his finger along her shoulder, drawing random shapes. It felt normal, her body felt relaxed with his body sitting beside her. It was barely anything, yet his touch lit a fire in her that she didn’t know she needed to be lit. The game was getting pretty heated as stories that haven’t been shared before are being told every other minute. Y/N eyes drift towards Tara, her eyes were already looking in her direction.

Tara smirked as her eyes slowly widened. Y/N lips curved into a soft smile as she found herself leaning into Colby’s body. Colby’s eyes were steadily watching her every move. He watched as her lips curved into a smile and how her nose scrunched lightly when she laughed. He always admired every inch of her, and now after months apart, he’s seeing her in another light. Her eyes widened as she shook her head, Tara pulled her cup towards her lips fighting off a laugh. Y/N finds herself doing the same, even though she should slow down with the drinks.

The game was soon finished and everyone slowly dispersed into their smaller groups. Sam and Kat were with Kevin and Aryia. While Reggie, Cassie, Jake, Tara, and Corey were hanging in the kitchen. Tara offered to grab her another drink as she stood up to follow Jake towards the kitchen. Handing her cup towards Tara, she pulled her phone out of her pocket.

She began to scroll through Instagram as Colby began to shift his body closer to hers. Glancing towards him, she feels her cheeks start to heat up. “Colby,”

He smirks as his eyes meet hers, she lacks words as her eyes flicker down towards his lips. “I should probably get going,” she breathes as she suddenly stands up from the couch. Colby leans back into the couch as he watches her walk away from him while fiddling with his rings. Y/N begins to say her goodbyes to her friends, while finishing the drink that Tara made for her.

After a long fifteen minute departure she opens Sam’s apartment door and leaves the party. Taking in a long breath she began to walk towards the elevator at the end of the hallway. “Y/N,” her body straightens as she slowly turns her body around. Her eyes land on the boy standing in the middle of the hallway. His body stands confidently yet his tone fell nervously.

Her eyes look down towards the floor, “Hey,” she breathes as her body slowly starts walking towards him. His gaze slowly looks her body up and down as his cheeks slowly begin to pink. Her eyes finally met his baby blues as she stopped only a few feet away from him.

“Can we talk?” he asked while rubbing the back of his neck, she nodded as they continued walking towards his apartment. He pushed open the door and held it open for her, she mumbled a quick thank you. Her body tightened as her eyes looked around the apartment, avoiding Colby’s eye. Colby leaned his body against his countertop as he kept shifty eye contact with her.

“I realized I never really asked you this,” he started, “How have you been with everything?”

“I’ve been really great, I’m genuinely happy. I really got to work on myself and I’m really proud of where I am,” she responded while brushing a few pieces of hair behind her ear. Colby slowly formed a tight lipped smile as he simply admired her.

“I am really happy for you, an-and I can tell. You’re like radiating this new energy,”

“Yeah? What kind of energy?” she asked while pursing her lips. He chuckled softly while closing his eyes briefly.

“You know,” he whispered as he slowly took a cautious step closer to her, “Confidence, it’s like you’re hot and you know you’re hot,” he paused while he watched her eyebrows furrow, “You own it,” a soft blush began to form to her features as she slowly took a step back away from him.

She hummed, “Tell me more.”

He slowly stepped forward towards her, again. “You smile more now, like almost all of the time. It’s cute,”

“You know what’s cute?” she questioned while brushing a few pieces of hair away from her face, he shook his head slowly. “Your new hair,”

“Oh, you like it?” he whispered as he took another step forward. She nodded as Colby took a cautious step towards her. “I’m still in love with you,” he lets out, catching her off guard. Yet hearing the words, her cheeks slowly began to flush red as she fought a smile forming to her lips. Taking another step back, she gasps as her body hits the door.

“I never stopped loving you,” she breathes out while brushing a few strands of hair away from her face. He shakes his head slowly as his body moves closer to her again. His eyes flicker down towards her lips as he rests his hand beside her head. Chills run along her back as his body slowly inches closer to her.

“Kiss me,” his voice was barely above a whisper, as he pressed his lips together.

“I’m drunk,” she breathed as her eyes glanced down towards his lips leaning closer towards her own.

“Kiss me anyway,” his eyes looked deeply into hers as he rested his hand delicately onto her chin.

“You’re drunk,” she felt as though she was in a trance as his fingers slowly moved along her chin towards her cheek. His thumb slowly ran along her skin as his eyes flickered down towards her lips.

“Kiss me,” this time she listened. She leaned up towards him and pressed her lips against his hard. His hand slid down from the wall and rested it against her lower back. His hand sneaks beneath her shirt, pulling her body closer to his, his rings send a cold shock through her. She places her hand at the base of his neck, she slowly begins to run her fingers through his hair. “Jump,” he whispered, pulling away from the kiss, breathless. she smiles against his lips, before pressing her lips to his. Jumping, she wraps her legs around his waist as he begins walking towards his room.

With one hand holding her thigh he pushes open the door with the other, he quickly walks towards the bed and he lightly drops her down onto the bed. Eyeing her up and down he quickly throws his shirt over his head, climbing over her. He leans down and kisses her, “Now, you better be quiet, the party is still going on over there,” he whispers as he points his finger towards the wall. Y/N giggles lightly as he leans down kissing her neck while placing his hand tightly along her hip.

“Shut up and take off your pants,”

[mxndoscyarika]

Red Sunsets (Javier Peña x Chinese!reader) | Chapter 8: El Punto de Sucumbir

Author’s note: I don’t wanna give toooooo much away, but I just wanted to let you know that we’ve finally reached lucky number 8 👀 If you were here a couple nights ago, you proooobably have an idea of what’s going to happen, because I had asked a few questions related to ~kisses~, if you catch my drift. Let me know what you guys think!

Summary: Family fights, grudges, and determination. Those three things defined your journey as you navigated through the workings of the DEA. Getting in was hard, and catching Escobar was even harder. You joined Javier Peña and Steve Murphy in the hunt for Escobar, forming bonds and life lessons along the way.

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist. 

Red Sunsets masterlist

Warning(s): food, Careless Whisper lol, physical affection, implied smut

“So where are you taking me, again?” you asked, looking out at the passing buildings. You didn’t recognize the shops and restaurants you’d passed. The sky was darkened to a royal blue, the last rays of sunlight already well below the horizon.

“One of my personal favorite restaurants in Colombia,” he answered. “They have good arepas, your favorite, and the owners are pretty friendly. I used to go there often before you came along.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “What happened after I arrived that made you forego your favorite restaurant?”

Shrugging, he said, “I guess you happened.” He scoffed at your pout. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You’re worth all the arepas in the world.”

You were thankful for the shroud of darkness, because you felt your cheeks grow hot and you bit your lip to contain your grin. “And you’re worth all the homemade dumplings.”

Javi chuckled softly, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. As usual, you had the perfect response. He could barely remember a time when he truly cared about flirting, or how the women of his affections responded. But somehow, every time, you managed to turn his tactics around on him.

It took every ounce of self control to keep his eyes on the road and his hands to himself. You wore a simple t-shirt and jeans, and what little makeup you applied only served to make your cheeks and lips look unbearably kissable.

He took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the wheel. More times than he wanted to admit, he’s caught himself reaching to hold your hand or rest his hand on your thigh. Thankfully, it was dark enough that you probably hadn’t noticed. As much as he hated to acknowledge it, you weren’t his. He hadn’t even worked up the guts to tell you how he felt yet.

“Hola Javier!” the owner greeted, her face lighting up. She wiped her hands on her apron and waved for him to sit down at a table. “Hace mucho tiempo que no nos vemos. Quién es ella, tu novia?”

Javi blushed, smiling sheepishly. While he couldn’t understand what Chinese shop owners said, you could understand Spanish as well as he did. “No no no, ella es una amiga. Nos conocemos del trabajo.”

The owner of the restaurant simply hummed in response and eyed you from head to toe, much like how a parent may analyze a prom date. “Pues, no te molestaré, okey? Cuéntame si necesitas algo.”

More than accustomed to eating family-style, you and Javi ordered a couple of the smaller entrees and a flan to share. Much like how Javi let you take the reins in local Chinese restaurants, you let him order the food and make small talk. You propped your head up against your hand as you watched him, a small smile perpetually on your lips.

The low moan that left your lips when you bit into a cheesy arepa was music to his ears. He wondered if you’d sound like that when you were kissed. Only when your eyes met did his train of thought come to a screeching halt.

Fighting back a blush, he busied himself with splitting an arepa stuffed with meat, beans, and cheese and sliding the plate over. You tried not to think about how he was so gentle. “Try this one, hermosa. I think you’ll like it.”

“You’re a man aiming for my heart,” you hummed. In your past relationships, you never had anyone treat you the way Javi did with his genuine eagerness. Not that you and he were on a date, you’d never called it that, but you couldn’t help but draw the comparison. You lifted the half that he offered and took a big bite, giggling when the grated cheese stuck to your cheek.

“You have a little bit of….” Laughing softly at your plight, he reached over and brushed it off with his thumb, the pad of his finger caressing your cheek. You fought the urge to lean into his touch and nuzzle your face into the palm of his hand. Javi was just being polite, right? It didn’t mean anything.

Javi drew his hand away and glanced down at his watch. “The movie should be starting in about 45 minutes, let’s start finishing up here and then head over to the movie theater.” He paused, then added, “Unless you feel like going home for a night in?”

“What’ll we do at home?” you wondered, wiping your hands with a napkin. “I’d love to have a night in, if that’s what you want. As long as I’m with you, I really don’t care.”

His heart skipped a beat at your words, though the logical part of his mind stamped down any hope he had. Was he just a friend that you wanted around because you were lonely? It’d been a long time since his last serious relationship, but he couldn’t imagine diving back in with anyone else. He just hoped you felt the same. “We could just relax, maybe turn on some music and just talk.”

“I never knew that Javier Peña would be one to ‘just talk,’” you quipped, smiling at him.

“I can be, with the right person.” He shrugged, picking up the singular spoon and scooping up a bite of the flan. Its amber caramel sauce glistened in the restaurant’s warm lighting. Smiling softly, he held it up to your lips. “First bite is yours, hermosa.”

Taking turns eating spoonfuls of flan, you talked about things ranging from family to favorite animals. Growing up on a ranch, Javi’s favorite animal was a horse, sparking your questions about his life back in the States. You only knew the little bits of information floating around the DEA headquarters, and you wanted to know more.

At first he was hesitant, but then he told you about his father and how he’d grown up in a small town. You listened quietly as he told you about Lorraine, and how they were engaged to be married over a decade ago. His voice grew soft as he recalled all the wedding planning and shopping they did, and how their families had all converged to help out. Apparently, they’d been the talk of the town. It made you wonder if he ever missed her, or at least missed Laredo.

It was no secret that you’d come from an immigrant family, one rooted in traditions both good and bad. Well, good and bad by American standards, of course. You couldn’t deny that your parents had noticeably different views from the parents of your friends, nor could you deny that it gave you a window to your family’s heritage. No culture was perfect, free of discrimination, but you could always learn from it. All you could hope was that you weren’t too damaged or different to be with him.

“Is this how you get all your women to go home with you?” you teased, swirling the spoon in the pool of caramel. “You buy them dinner and feed them dessert before sweeping them off their feet?”

Javi shook his head. “Just you,” he replied, his voice like velvet. Shivers ran down your spine at the implication.

---

The drive back home was quiet, the two of you donning faint smiles in the darkness. You couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said throughout dinner, the sweet words and touches. It was a different man sitting across from you, one that you normally only saw glimpses of previously.

You bit your lip and looked out the window at the passing buildings, hoping the cool night air would soothe the burning in your cheeks. What did his words mean? Why did he seem so embarrassed when the restaurant lady asked if you were his girlfriend? Were you truly just a work friend to him? If you were, why did he look at you like you hung the stars in the night sky? Why did he watch you with those dark brown puppy eyes that made your insides melt?

“We’re home, hermosa.” Javi’s voice interrupted your chain of thought as he pulled up to the apartment building. Before you could finish unbuckling your seat belt, he was opening the car door for you.

It felt like second nature to walk over to his front door and wait for him to unlock it. But something about it felt different this time, like it was more than just a friendly hangout on a weekend evening.

While Javi turned on a couple lights, you made your way over to his record player and flipped through his various vinyls. “Any music preference tonight?”

He flicked on a lamp. “Anything is fine, Y/N. Your pick.”

The sound of a familiar saxophone blared out from the record player, making him freeze.

You laughed at his startled expression and stopped the music before switching out the George Michael record for Foreigner. “Except this one? Don’t worry, Javi, I know what you like.”

Shaking his head fondly, he sat down on the couch next to you and watched as you scooted closer to rest your head on his shoulder. The lyrics of I Want to Know What Love Is filled the air as you basked in each other’s presence.

“What do you think you’ll do once we catch Escobar?” you asked. Realizing you just brought up work on a weekend, you cringed. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

Sighing, Javi shifted and replied, “I don’t know. I didn’t exactly let myself leave much behind in Laredo.”

“You have your father and your family ranch,” you suggested, playing with the blanket you’d draped over yourself. “And I’m sure you could find someone to be your sweetheart in the States. After all, you’ll be the man who took down Pablo Escobar.”

“And what about you?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. He tried not to dwell too long on your assumption that he’d want to be with someone from Laredo when he could be with you. “What will the magnificent Y/N L/N do once this is all over?”

You shrugged. “I guess I’ll continue my work in the States. Maybe set up a research lab of my own to study other drugs. And maybe I’ll stop by my parents’ house and see if they’ve forgiven me.”

“Well, if you ever need somebody to tell them how great you are, you know where to find me,” he said, smiling shyly. You felt warm as he continued, “You’re an amazing agent, and an even better friend. Anyone who doesn’t see that can fuck off, in my book.”

You laughed softly at his boldness, even if you knew him well enough that he wouldn’t insult your parents to their face. It was the thought that mattered.

But as you sat there, your hand resting in his and your cheek on his shoulder, you couldn’t help but wish that you could stay like that forever. The early morning drive to work with Javi, the casual lunch breaks, dinners, and late nights all made you wish you were together. You rarely felt like you belonged anywhere, but in his apartment? In his car? His bedroom? You felt safer than you ever did back in your hometown.

“Thank you, Javi,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the music.

“For what?”

For being there for me, you wanted to say. For seeing the best and worst parts of me without shying away. For making my coffee just the way I like it every day in the office. For staying with me after I woke up in the hospital. For having my back out on raids, and checking my vest to make sure I didn’t forget anything. For listening to me when I go off on tangents about my culture.

“Everything,” you answered softly. “For putting up with me, I guess.”

A smile graced your lips as he slipped his arm around you and pulled you closer to him. “Anything for you, mi amor.”

You furrowed your brow and looked up at him from your slouched position. “What did you call me?”

His soft brown eyes met yours, the outer corners crinkled just slightly as he gazed at you. You hadn’t realized how close you were until you could feel his warm breath against your nose. Your eyes trailed from his beautiful eyes down the curve of his nose to his plush lips. Up close, you could see the small crease in the center; it was as if he were perpetually pouting.

“Mi amor?”

Unable to resist the magnetic pull any longer, you and Javi met in the middle. Your lips slotted against each other, a soft sound escaping you as he cupped your cheek and kissed you fervently. His lips were softer than you’d imagined, his mustache tickled your upper lip. You could kiss him all night, if he let you.

Warmth bloomed in your chest as you moved to straddle his legs, hands wandering up from his chest to play with his brown locks. You’d always wondered what it would feel like to run your fingers through it, drawing soft groans from the man beneath you. You could feel the heat radiating from his body as you pressed yourself against him.

His arms wrapped around and held you close, the weight of his hand settling on your upper back. Your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. You gave him one last kiss before pulling away for air, your noses brushing against each other. Smiling, you gave him a peck on the tip of his nose.

“Do you want to stay?” Javi asked, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes searched yours for any sign of regret, of realizing that you’d made a big mistake.

You nodded and leaned in to press your lips to the crease between his brows. “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me, cariño.”

He hummed softly against your neck, nuzzling his nose against your pulse point. “Is it too late to tell you that I really like you?”

“Maybe,” you replied, sighing as he sucked lightly at your skin. If he left a mark, Murphy would never let you live it down. But somehow, you didn’t care. You ran your fingers through his hair, making it stick up in some places. “But I’d rather you show me instead.”

The walk to his room was well-practiced from your days living with him, but knowing that he was following you made a shiver run down your spine. Everything about his bedroom was familiar, yet new. You wondered if you were dreaming, if this was just another cruel figment of your imagination after a long day of work.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want to,” Javi said, wrapping his arms around you from behind when you stopped at the foot of the bed. Your hands covered his, caressing his knuckles. “We could always wait.”

“I don’t want to wait.” You turned around and pulled him into a deep kiss, your hands sliding down to rest on his chest. “I want you, Javi.”

Translations:

“Hola Javier! Hace mucho tiempo que no nos vemos. Quién es ella, tu novia?” Hello Javier! It’s been a long time. Who is this, your girlfriend?

“No no no, ella es una amiga. Nos conocemos del trabajo.” No no no, she’s a friend. We know each other from work.

“Pues, no te molestaré, okey? Cuéntame si necesitas algo.” Well, I won’t bother you, ok? Let me know if you need anything.

“Hermosa” Beautiful

“Cariño” Sweetheart/darling

“Mi amor” My love

Tagging:

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[ditch-witches]

Silhouette (Dean Charles-Chapman x reader)

request: Dean x Kiwi by Harry Styles (idek if this is okay im sorry)

warnings: smoking, drinking, weird au, some adult themes

word count: ~3000 (IM SORRY)

a/n: hey guys! since I’m now on break, I’m going to try and get back to writing. let me know what you think (literally even if it’s like ‘lol this sux’) and---as always---our inbox is open and we love to hear from you. happy reading! ♡

𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓶𝓵𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓽 𝓫𝓪𝓻; the buzz of his surroundings vibrating through his bones with the slight nervousness he yielded. His heart skipped a few beats, his mouth drying as he shed his jacket and ran his fingers into his hair. The smoky atmosphere was cut by the strong scent of Acqua di Parma and sweat as he was drawn further into the gentlemen’s club via the deep wine-colored curtains twisting this way and that to cover the bare walls beneath. The accents of gold lights barely illuminated certain corners of the large room, sending a small rush of claustrophobia pulsing through his veins. Girls of various silhouettes seemed to sway between the tables, tending to the desires of sundry men gathered around tables and stationed in lavish, velvet chairs. 

He felt out of place, to say the least. The only time he had ever found himself in such a setting usually occurred when his garrulous boss and his group of kiss-asses wanted to slip away from their loyalties of marriage for a dirty tango with a nameless courtesan. They often disguised these faults of character as “letting off steam after a biting week.” By a simple survey of the room, Dean recognized several of the men from the last times he was dragged to the underground business. Appalling. 

“Chapman!” A husky voice beckoned Dean from one of the prominent tables. His eyes drifted towards the noise after his feet had already begun to carry him away. The man who’d called to him was one of the heirs of the company Dean worked for; a capricious bastard who could and would liquidate Dean’s position at the drop of a hat. He was pinned to his seat beneath a woman no older than Dean yet the years against the outside world painted her face, twisting into the lines framing her eyes and mouth. The Heir held onto the woman a bit tighter as he flung his hand in the air almost like he was trying to wave down Dean in the middle of the Colosseum. 

Dean nodded in acknowledgment and gestured towards the bar, hoping to kill enough time and gain a bit of patience before having to withstand the course of a few hours with the group of heinous Yale alumni. He slumped onto one of the bar stools, pushing his fingers against his temple and mumbling a drink order to the suave bartender. Dean was no prude, but the thought of paying for women to throw themselves at his colleagues seemed like a waste of money. 

She worked her way through a cheap pack of cigarettes / Hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect.

As a tumbler of copper-colored courage was set in front of him, Dean chewed the inside of his cheek, glaring at the glass as if it were containing everything distasteful about the position he was seemingly cemented into. Raising the crystal schooner to his lips, his eyes drifted towards the end of the bar as an ick of being watched by smoldering eyes slithered up each of his vertebrae. The dark shade of your lipstick seemed to be cut from the same fabric as the curtains; the hue pressing around the thin paper of the cigarette you were drawing from. The slender elegant swirls of smoke dancing around you gave your appearance an almost ghost-like aura as your eyes analyzed Dean. The corner of your mouth drew up in a small smirk as he tugged his eyes away from you. Dean knew not to let himself look frigid and square under your gaze, plucking as much courage as he could from the depths of his being to ease his mannerisms and seem unbothered. 

And all the boys, they were saying they were into it / Such a pretty face, on a pretty neck.

You seemed familiar to him in a way he couldn’t place, yet as his eyes lifted once more they fell onto the Heir who smoothed his hair back into place, a mission in his eyes like you were an untouched civilization waiting to be colonized. His lasering stare glued to you as he fastened his jacket button and straightened his pant legs. You lazily took another drag from your cigarette, brushing away the slight smear of your lipstick with your pinky and blowing your spiraling clouds directly towards the Heir as he bluntly approached the vacant seat beside you. The acrid expression in your eyes only seemed to beckon him further into your personal space as he leaned towards your ear to whisper a leerish bribe. You tilted your head away from him as his breath fanned over your neck, your eyes kindling a fire deep within Dean as he watched the man practically drape himself over your shoulder. 

The Heir leaned back from you faintly to dig into one of his suit jacket pockets for a fold of money. Your eyes fluttered to the bar in front of you, the ice in your drink decomposing like a forgotten animal as the Heir pressed towards your ear with a brutish attempt at holding your attention. 

She’s driving me crazy, but I’m into it… / It’s getting crazy, I think I’m losing it. 

Dean scorned himself for staring, yet he couldn’t bring himself to jerk his gaze away from you. Your sultry eyes knew what the Heir’s actions and your subtle reactions were doing to Dean as his cheeks warmed with each trailing glance and wordless comment. The air seemed to grow thicker as Dean took another drink, watching the small conversation pass between you and the Heir.

When she’s alone, she goes home to a cactus / In a black dress, she’s such an actress.

It only just hit him that you were one of the popular performers. The Heir had been a regular of yours, something Dean had only mildly been attentive to in his previous visits. You had been the one he had talked about during business dinners, trying to persuade Dean into becoming a regular at the club. You were the one he visited during the “droughts” with his wife. You were the other woman. Dean shook his head in mild disbelief as an almost venomous ache settled in his bones at the realization of just what kind of game he could be getting into with you. 

The Heir settled a hand on the back of your neck, the first graze of his skin against yours under Dean’s scorning eye. You wet your lips, flashing your sights back towards Dean as if commanding him to watch. You held an almost debonair attitude towards the Heir; humoring the snobbish brat like he was a toddler too easily upset with not getting his way. Your graceful figure withdrew from under his grasp, sending a few parting words to the Heir before you vanished from Dean’s peripheral. Dean struggled to finish his drink, knowing he would have to face his colleagues after nearly falling into your maniacal web. 

She sits beside me like a silhouette. 

Dean tilted the glass around its base, your eyes still scorched into the depths of his consciousness. The way you disappeared forced the thought to cross Dean’s mind that maybe you were just a figment of his imagination. He could almost picture the shape of your figure as the Heir twisted his ownership and title around you like a thick, suffocating bow as heavy as the draping curtains. Dean gestured for a top off on his drink, his mind wandering to where you were now, and god-forbid if you were at the mercy of the Heir once again. He scoffed to himself, cursing at how late it must be if he were catching a fit like this over a lady of the night. 

And in an instant, it was as if he had manifested your apparition as you settled into the seat beside him. “Stinger please, Joe,” you hummed, sending a small grin to the bartender and crossing your legs. Dean smirked to himself as you nonchalantly popped open your compact mirror and touched up your lipstick, your leg in danger of grazing his own. He gnawed on his bottom lip, searching for the correct string of words to figure out how cautious he had to be around you. 

He side-eyed you, your features more stunning at close contact than from a distance. He was nearly surprised you hadn’t looked as… tired… as the other woman that had been entertaining the Heir earlier in the night. “Did you take the money?” He asked you, a sharp inhale of pride stinging his lungs as he gave into his curiosity. He noticed your sly smile at his words, hating the way you nearly coaxed his thoughts from the tip of his tongue. He took another sip of his drink, pretending it was a struggle for him to make eye contact with you. 

You seemed to chew on your response, the suspense killing Dean as he hung on a line for you. “No, I told him that he got me pregnant,” you quipped lightly, your words reaching out to backhand Dean. It felt like too much information for him but the way you confidently muttered your response had him wondering whether or not you were serious. “He left to phone his wife. I have a feeling I won’t be seeing him for a while,” you continued, a smile threatening to break past your lips. 

Dean perked an eyebrow at the knots in the wood grain beneath his hands, forcing himself to swallow. “What are you gonna do then?” He chided himself for pursuing the topic even further when the thought of it (you and the Heir) made him ill. He stroked his chin, feeling your eyes dance to him. You were close enough that he could smell the mint in your drink. He could swim in the aroma of your delicate perfume and biting liquid. Your voice was a lulling tone he wanted to live in his ears forever.

You wet your lips slowly. “Celebrate, no?” This time Dean did look at you, nearly falling into a trance at the realization that your eyes were more brilliant and cunning than he had remembered. Your gaze jumped from his own eyes to his lips and then back, making him want to slink away from your observance of him. On the flip side, he wanted to pass your inspection. He wanted you. Your voice dropped into a quieter octave, leaning towards Dean faintly, “Men are so easy to break. Tell one white lie and they run for the hills.” You sent him a sneering grin, making him roll his eyes playfully. He watched your fingers as you popped open your cigarette case, striking your lighter and inhaling deeply. The swiftness of your movements sent his thoughts to dark places. “Who are you? I’ve seen you in here a few times but you never leave with any of the girls.” 

Dean chuckled slightly, “I work with your baby daddy at the firm.” Your face flushed with mock realization. Dean turned back to his glass, his facade of confidence adherently fading under the close proximity to you. You were so intoxicating to him, it reminded him of the first time he had dabbled with absinthe in his early college years. You were probably just as dangerous. 

And now she’s all over me, it’s like I paid for it. 

You turned in your seat, facing the floor as you leaned against the bar and closed in on Dean. He knew what you were doing and didn’t dare object to your actions. “Why don’t you ever pay for one of the girls?” You asked, prying over eggshells as Dean fought not to smile. 

“Doesn’t do it for me,” he answered after a moment's hesitation. Your eyebrow perked at him as if to call his bluff, your interest inflating his ego. He would never admit it, but despite his calm exterior, his heart was beating at an ungodly rate. He swore if consumption didn’t kill him, you definitely would. He struggled to completely withstand the pressure of what he was about to challenge. “I’d rather not mix business and pleasure.”

You smirked slightly, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth. “Prove it,” you cooed, reaching into your clutch and flashing a key before Dean’s eyes before you settled it on the table in front of him. He chewed the inside of his cheek, watching as you walked away towards the stairs on the opposite wall of the bar. Dean's mouth grew dry, yet his ego inflated at the fact that he could mumble a few words and an attractive woman such as yourself would be beckoning him to bed. 

It’s like I paid for it...

I’m gonna pay for this.

The music from the parlor drew quiet as Dean climbed the stairs, furthering into the dimly lit hallways with the numbers of your room repeating in his mind. It was almost slow motion as his mind raced with what he could do to you, and more importantly, what you could do to him. 

[calitraditionalism]

Arc Two: Chapter One

(AO3 counterpart here.)

“Listen to that. You can hear the chaos all the way from here.”

Mistface twitched his nose as a noncommittal response. He was walking by the side of a nearly-black tabby molly named Darkpelt through the burgeoning fresh blades of grass growing in for the season. Behind him, a pair of toms were trying to occupy themselves with taking in the sights of the vast valley they lived in, for lack of anything else to do. The one directly behind Mistface was the smallest of their troop – a sleek and skinny dark brown tom with a permanent frown on his face. He was very much dwarfed by the massive white tom beside him, who was making an effort to walk slowly so that he didn’t overtake the rest of the group.

Mistface himself, a handsome blue-grey tom with long fur, swiveled his ears, absentmindedly taking in the distant sounds of yowls and cheers. They were heading for the Clast settlement, and from here he could see the large stone houses that made up oversized dens for the family to live in. This was, by far, the most aggressive part of the Territory to be in; Mistface could already envision cats charging up to him once he arrived and demanding to tussle.

As if he’d heard Mistface’s thoughts, the white tom, Laurelclaw, nervously said, “You don’t think we’ll have to do any fighting, do you?”

Beetlefoot, the little tom, snorted. “That’s all Clast cares about. We likely have to in order to fit in.”

Darkpelt twisted her head and fixed Laurelclaw with her wide-eyed blind stare and a grin. “You’ll have quite a few fans in there before long, I think. They love a big guy.”

Laurelclaw hummed anxiously. “I know I’m supposed to be the muscle, but…”

“Ain’t a problem yet,” Mistface said. He was sharply reminded that his drawl was the strongest of the accents in the group as he spoke. “Darkpelt, you got a game plan? I’m assumin’ you’ve done this before.”

“Obviously!” Darkpelt winked at him and, for the second time since meeting her, he wondered how she knew to do that. “How long do you think I’ve been in spy work for?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Mistface said, with a disdainful sort of feigned politeness. “How long?”

“Nine months of age,” Darkpelt said smugly. Mistface disliked her. “I mean, to be fair, it’s usually simpleton’s work, but this time I’m collaborating with newbies, so I made sure to have a ‘game plan’, as you say. I’m sure this’ll be easy enough, but still-”

“You’re free to share it at any time after you’re done boasting,” Beetlefoot said dryly.

Darkpelt laughed and curled her tail. “Fine, fine. Mistface, Fernstar pretty much laid out what you’re do to – you’re our spokesperson. Anyone asks questions about us, especially when we first arrive, and you’ll be answering them.”

“Got my answers ready for me?” Mistface asked.

“I do, actually.” Darkpelt nodded. Her tone shifted to be more business-like than jolly. “The three main points: one, you’re here for your brother and nothing else. Two, you don’t know anything about the deputy’s supposed plan to leave. Three, we all met up at the Gathering and decided that our interests aligned and we should go to Clast together.” Her tail uncurled and waved in the air. “Aside from that, you’re smart, so I hear. You can come up with stuff pretty quick. All minor details about the rest of us can be half-truths or non-answers.”

Mistface made a noise of acknowledgement.

“As for the rest of us-“ Darkpelt looked back at Laurelclaw and Beetlefoot. “Laurelclaw, you’re here because you’re tired of your life with the Plage. Beetlefoot, you’re doubled up. You’re done with constantly working for the leaders, and you have friends in Mistface and his mother. They sort of inspired you to come along with and check out a new style of living.”

Beetlefoot wrinkled his nose as soon as the word ‘friend’ was said, but he waited until Darkpelt finished talking to respond. “And none of us know anything about Redheart wanting to take cats out of the Territory?”

“You might have heard about it,” Darkpelt replied, “but you don’t believe the rumors. That’s not to say you aren’t curious, though. Laurelclaw and Mistface don’t know anything. You haven’t said a word to them yet, mostly because the idea sounds too silly to be real.”

In a way, Mistface mused, it was. The Clan, made up of multiple large families and hundreds of individuals, lived in a massive collection of areas all forming the Territory. Mountains, hills, the valley, marshes, and even a trail leading to the coastline provided comfortable and beautiful homes for these cats. Prey was abundant, especially because of the land being littered with certain ones that had a white mark on their heads that proved they had been given to the living by StarClan. Even besides that, there were almost no predators to bother them, definitely no neighboring groups large enough to pose even a slight challenge, and so few struggles that the biggest hurdle to one’s happiness was unseasonably cold weather.

What in the name of the stars, then, would cause a cat like Redheart, said by Fernstar herself to be sensible and level-headed, to consider leaving at all? Something petty, perhaps, like a power struggle, or maybe she wasn’t as level-headed as she was said to be and thought life would really be better in the outside world. Mistface couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

“Remember,” Darkpelt continued, bringing Mistface back to the present, “your job – all of you – is to be inconspicuous. Redheart isn’t stupid, and neither is Greyleaf. They’ll know something’s up if you just sit around listening in to conversations or asking strange questions all day.”

That was the other thing. Mistface’s brother, Greyleaf, had mysteriously abandoned his post as the official healer for the leaders and their high deputies – those that served directly beneath the collective heads of the Clan – to join Redheart in the Clast under the pretense of going to see his dying mother to the end of her life. Greyleaf was an anxious wreck with no desire to step a toe out of line and draw attention to himself. The fact that he had lied so brazenly about his family, the thing he held in higher regard than anything else, and went to the rowdiest group in the Territory to work with a cat that was calling for negative attention was baffling to everyone that knew him.

“It’s the job of me and Mistface to get the information we need.” Darkpelt’s usual mischievous smile disappeared for a moment as she turned her head to blindly scan all three of the toms with a very serious look. “And even then, Mistface is to keep near his brother and the common folk in the settlement. Let me do the sneaking around and spying, got it?”

“Right.”

“Got it.”

“Yes.”

“Atta boys.” Darkpelt’s smile returned. “Now, let’s keep our mouths shut from here about this. Maybe some awkward small talk, but nothing beyond that. Spokesperson, walk a little ahead of me.”

Another round of affirmatives, and Mistface picked up the pace until his shoulders were past Darkpelt’s nose. There was no small talk, but the air did become a bit awkward anyway. Laurelclaw looked uneasy and Beetlefoot seemed to be focusing on appearing as calm and indifferent as possible. Mistface was sure he looked confident enough as he was.

Gradually, the sounds of fighting and excited spectators came to drown out the bird chirps and gentle breeze of the flatlands. Beetlefoot’s face creased contemptuously, but Laurelclaw and Darkpelt looked at least a little more interested as an explosion of cheers burst from the houses.

Mistface’s eyes drifted and he caught sight of a grey-brown tom lazing about where the cobblestone was cracked and overtaken by the earth. He was small and dully colored enough to almost completely melt into his surroundings, and he only moved to look up at the approaching party.

“Somethin’ fun happenin’ in there?” Mistface asked casually, once he was close enough that he knew he could be heard over the commotion.

“Always is.” The tom was at least polite enough to sit up and greet them as they paused a few feet away. “You here for the party or the rumors?”

Mistface was aware of Darkpelt’s presence, as if she was staring directly at him to will the correct response into his head. He blinked slowly and replied, “I’m just here for my brother, actually. Heard you got a cat named Greyleaf here now.”

“Ah.” The tom gave an amused scoff. “The boy just showed up, yes. He’s been busy.”

There was a screech and the cheers erupted one again.

Mistface offered the tom a friendly smile, swallowing the distaste for crowds brewing in his chest. “He’ll be real busy after whatever move they just pulled, I reckon.”

“We both will.” The tom stood fully. “I’m a resident healer. Vireoberry. Though everyone’s been going to him over me, if you can believe it.”

“I can,” Mistface said. “He’s quite good.”

“So I’ve seen,” Vireoberry said. “If you want to talk to him before Redheart pulls him away again, now’s the time.”

Mistface thanked him and continued walking, the other three close behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Laurelclaw beam and wave his tail to Vireoberry as they parted ways.

Two houses had to be passed before they rounded a corner of smooth rock and emerged into a cobblestone clearing, currently crowded with cats. There was just enough room to see a dark grey ticked tabby standing triumphant over a young golden tom. The cats gathered were shouting various things like “Cry uncle, Ryestripe!” and “One more hit!”.

“Is it a good fight?” Darkpelt said in Mistface’s ear.

“Looks like it’s about over,” Mistface said.

The golden tom looked up nervously at the tabby, who grinned down at him, before he flopped fully onto his side and raised a paw. Laughter and jeers rang through the clearing and the crowd backed up unanimously, as did the tabby. The golden tom unsteadily got to his feet and shook his head, which Mistface could now see was bleeding.

Beetlefoot made a noise of disgust. “Savages.”

“Ain’t our place to judge how they spend their time,” Mistface said over his shoulder, flicking his enormously fluffy tail. “Let’s find Greyleaf.”

The crowd began to disperse, with a few cats walking up to the tabby to shower her with compliments (to which she seemed very receptive). Mistface scanned the clearing for his brother, eyes narrowed a little. He watched a cluster of cats suddenly part to allow a tall, elegant red-brown molly through. He recognized the molly as the one that he had seen talking to his brother once at a Coterie gathering for the smaller groups within the Clan. His eyes narrowed further.

The golden tom caught sight of the molly and immediately scrambled to his feet, bowing his head repeatedly and scattering blood on the ground.

“Easy, Ryestripe,” the molly said, and even at a normal volume, her voice seemed to drown out all other sound with its clear, commanding tone. “Just sit down.”

Ryestripe complied, grinning weakly. “Heh, did you see? I nearly got her.”

“I saw.” The molly didn’t quite smile, but her hard face softened a little. “You’ve been doing well for yourself. Don’t overdo it when you were just patched up, though, alright?”

“Don’t bother making him promise,” the tabby said. “He won’t keep it.”

“Neither will you,” Ryestripe shot back.

“I’m not the one who got beat up!”

“Do you have any injuries anyway?”

Mistface perked his ears and turned his head. A grey tabby, just as fluffy as him, was weaving around cats to join the two mollies and Ryestripe. His voice was having a much harder time making itself heard over the rambling around him.

“’Course not, Greyleaf!” The grey molly pressed a front paw to her chest, jokingly offended. “What do you take me for?”

“A moron?” Ryestripe offered.

The grey molly rounded on him, about to pounce, but the red-brown molly quickly stepped between them with a stern look to the victor of the fight. Greyleaf’s eyes flickered skyward for just a moment before he approached Ryestripe and started examining his wounds.

“Now’s our chance,” Darkpelt whispered to Mistface. “Go see him, we’ll be a little behind.”

Mistface straightened up and strolled as innocuously as he could towards his brother.

The red-brown molly saw him first. Before he could say anything, she moved to greet him.

“You’re new,” she said, in that regal-sounding voice. “Welcome to the Clast.”

“A merry afternoon to you,” Mistface said, mostly to be polite.

At his voice, Greyleaf’s head jerked up. He caught sight of Mistface and his eyes widened.

“Thought you might be here, brother.” Mistface offered a winning smile to the molly, then a more genuine one to Greyleaf. “Didn’t have the decency to sent Beetlefoot to tell us?”

“I w- well-“ Greyleaf shuffled his feet, looking bewildered and anxious. “I was going to, things just got busy…”

“I sent for him to help us here,” the red-brown molly said. “I apologize for that. I should have had the decency to alert you and your mother.”

“Mm.” Mistface regarded her now with a slightly tilted head. “I assume you’re the one in charge?”

The molly nodded once. “My name is Redheart. I’m the deputy.”

“Your brother has all sorts of connections, doesn’t he?” Darkpelt said suddenly. Mistface looked back to see her strutting up with Laurelclaw and Beetlefoot hurrying behind her. “Bit of a downgrade from working for the leaders, though.”

Greyface blinked. “Beetlefoot?”

Beetlefoot jerked his head in acknowledgement.

“Nice to see you again,” Laurelclaw said in a very clear attempt to sound friendly that came off as awkward. “I don’t know if you remember me, we met at that Coterie-“

“Oh!” Greyleaf coughed, visibly wracking his brain for the memory. “Right, uh, Laurel… Laurel…”

“-claw,” Laurelclaw finished.

“Right, sorry.” Greyleaf cleared his throat. His eyes drifted to Darkpelt. “And you are…”

“A bored warrior looking for some fun,” she said, grinning. “Darkpelt.”

“It’s nice to meet all of you,” Redheart said, dipping her head respectfully to these cats of inferior status as if they were high deputies. “Are you all companions?”

“Just for a bit,” Mistface said. “We met at a Gatherin’ and decided to come here together.”

“He wouldn’t shut up about you,” Darkpelt said to Greyleaf, cheekily twitching her whiskers. “I hope you’re as good of a healer as he said you are.”

“He is.” Mistface glanced back at her, eye narrowed, though his tone was light. “Might serve you well if you decide to join the chaos here.”

Darkpelt laughed. “Good luck finding anyone to fight me.”

“I’m sure there will be at least one.” Redheart’s eyes crinkled a little – not quite enough for a smile to follow, but enough to give off an easy, comfortable air. “You’re all welcome to stay as long as you like.”

“Redheart!” someone shouted, their voice echoing from inside a house. “Olivepaw’s acting up again!”

“Coming,” Redheart called, and with a final nod to everyone, she walked off. Somehow, she managed to move as quickly as a trot without hurrying.

Greyleaf watched her go, inhaled deeply, and huffed out a breath, his fur smoothing down as he did. He looked back at Mistface. “What about Mama?”

“She’s nearby,” Mistface replied. “Turns out the Vultures’re restin’ up with one of theirs havin’ kits, so they were happy to take her in and keep her away from this whole…”

“Yeah.” Greyleaf gave a blatantly fake smile. “Well, I’ll have to visit her. You’ll show me where to go?”

“We can go tomorrow.” Mistface’s smile was still real. “Once we’re settled.”

“Your mother’s a sweetheart,” Darkpelt said. “She came with us.”

“We took our time,” Mistface said, before Greyleaf could protest forcing their mother to travel. “She’s doin’ well. Happy to rest, of course, but…”

“Right,” Greyleaf murmured, seemingly to himself. “Right.” His voice raised again. “Well, uh, you guys are free to wander around and check out the place. Uh, Darkpelt, do you need assistance, or-?”

“Laurelclaw’s got me,” Darkpelt said cheerily. She turned her head a little towards Laurelclaw - but, Mistface noted, not quite at him like she had before. “Come on, let’s see what they’ve got. Beetlefoot?”

“I’ll walk around myself,” Beetlefoot said shortly.

“Alright!” Darkpelt tapped Laurelclaw’s chest with her tail. He jumped and hurried to walk by her side, his own tail just touching hers as he pretended to need to give her directions. Beetlefoot nodded again to Greyleaf and started off the opposite way.

Greyleaf cleared his throat, “Well, I, uh, I better get to work on Ryestripe here- Uh, do you just want to hang out while I do?”

Mistface stepped close enough to gently flick his brother’s nose with his tail. “Wouldn’t want to do anything else.”

[love-takes-work]

The Art of Steven Universe the Movie: Outline & Review

The Art of Steven Universe The Movie was released March 3, 2020. It's a wonderful journey through the concept art, character development, and experience of fashioning these ideas into the movie we all love.

Nuts and bolts: The book is published by Dark Horse, and it was designed by Ryan Sands (a zine specialist), with commentary by Takafumi Hori, Kat Morris, and Rebecca Sugar. It includes art by Rebecca Sugar, Kat Morris, Takafumi Hori, Alonso Ramirez Ramos, Angie Wang, Ashley Fisher, Becky Dreistadt, Chromosphere, Danny Cragg, Elle Michalka, Hilary Florido, Ian Jones-Quartey, Jasmin Lai, Jeff Liu, Joe Johnston, Julian De Perio, Katie Mitroff, Leonard Hung, Miki Brewster, Patrick Bryson, and Paul Villeco.

Full review below with low-quality images.

[SU Book and Comic Reviews]

An introduction explains the same origin story that Rebecca Sugar told us in the movie DVD's commentary: that she accidentally restored her phone to factory settings and lost years of important stuff, and she ended up applying that devastating premise to her movie. That combined with the concept of "breaking" the main premise of a TV show to make a movie was how she got started developing the story. The opening of the movie styled like a storybook is blocked out with some great drawings and breakdowns of which narration would go to what storybook pages. This is combined with some partial sheet music for "The Tale of Steven." Rebecca writes about how she felt having to wrap pre-production on Season 5 only to take on this even bigger movie challenge. The biggest challenge was writing all these songs in such a short time--six weeks--and having to deal with the stress, being crushed under all that pressure while still wanting to do this story so badly, and it was humbling to still have to work so hard to sell the idea. The feeling of relief to finally be done that Steven expresses in "Happily Ever After" is very similar to what Rebecca went through feeling like she wanted to be finally done but still knowing what she had to do to climb an even bigger mountain. Some very cute Steven-at-age-16 and Connie in Space Camp clothes follow. Notes indicate that Steven and Connie are the same height now, but his poofy hair is just slightly higher than her head.

Notes from 2017 also give us the "Neckstravaganza": design notes on Steven's new form, with a neck and a jacket. It's very cool.

Some beautiful Joe Johnston boards follow, with sequences from the "Happily Ever After" song. We also get Angie Wang's final design (with Ashley Fisher's color) of the injector, including some sketchy concept art for it from Rebecca Sugar and Hilary Florido. In the rough concept notes, they call this the "Mega Injector," with notes for Takafumi Hori to use for scale. It looks beyond huge in a Leonard Hung drawing.

Spinel concepts are next. Some notes explain that aivi & surasshu (the usual composers) were involved very early since it was a musical, and Rebecca included them when pitching the story to the Crew so they could organically develop the sound. The heart shape was central to Spinel from the beginning, and early versions of her had an entire heart shape to her head.

(There's a doodle of what looks like a cartoon dog in the pile of drawings shown in this section. It's not clear what that was.)

Spinel was given the heart imagery partly because Rebecca had learned early on about the importance of symbols, and when it came time to assign one to Steven, the star was chosen because it's so positive and is read as gender-neutral. Rebecca still hadn't used hearts for anything, so it was time. They also incorporated really old, dated character design ideas to make Spinel feel like an outdated cartoon from the rubber hose era.

The aspect of her design with the running mascara versus cute eyelashes predated the rotation of her Gem. Rebecca likes to start with more realistic sketches when she's figuring out a character, and then she'll move to making it more cartoony. A quote from Miki Brewster is shared: "Spinel can do anything, as long as it's entertaining!" Her "best friend" form is described as "a doll for friendship fun & games! Of a different era--hokey, charming, weird...super gullible and trusting. Incredibly loyal, constant entertainment machine!"

When it comes to developing her "worst enemy" form, Rebecca explains a bit that she has a really complicated relationship with old cartoons because nostalgia is not compelling to her--the animation from the 1930s is so neat, but considering the social limits and the way the industry was at the time, Rebecca doesn't think she could have participated. Especially considering nowadays she even had to struggle to be allowed to tell the stories she needed to tell and it would have been impossible five years ago. The norms of the time aren't entirely extricable from the art itself.

Takafumi Hori weighs in with commentary on how fun it was to animate a scary but fun character on top of Miki Brewster's boards for the "Other Friends" fight sequence.

Next, moving on from the central new character, they also spend some time discussing Steg. Rebecca first explains "Steg Multiverse" as a character so uplifting he can make you fly, combining Greg's unending support and Steven's positive power. She makes reference to the early "stegosaurus" concepts they had for his look, but they didn't want to lose the opportunity to have his hair flow. Rebecca confirms that the pompadour idea was established in "Steven and the Stevens" so they wanted to give it to Steg, and she credits Paul Villeco for really finalizing his design and bringing him to life.

And of course the poofy hair from Steven and the double-necked guitar was essential for Steg.

Next, the book gives us a whole page of handwritten notes about "Drift Away." Kat Morris explains the intentional duality of the scene--how Spinel should be shown seeing her own past with new perspective, being embarrassed, blending together who she was with who she is. The partial lyrics to the song and some sketchy boards are offered.

Rebecca shares her personal connection with the subject matter--how she once left a stuffed animal in her garden and the side facing the sun faded. It really made a mark on her as a child that things changed without her, because of her actions, and that she'd left this treasured toy alone without thinking about it all that time, letting it be affected by the elements without her interference. She wrote "Everything Stays" for Adventure Time based on that plushie, and realized that she was writing about it again for the Steven Universe movie.

Many beautiful miniature boards are shown in this section.

Partial sheet music for "Drift Away" is also offered here. It's credited to Rebecca Sugar and Aimee Mann. The music sheet is followed by some lovely images of the garden by Julian De Perio, Patrick Bryson, and Leonard Hung.

Takafumi Hori returns for a discussion of the final fight sequence during "Change," which he animated from Jeff Liu's boards. He discusses trying to keep the fight feeling dramatic and serious even though Spinel's fighting style is funny. He wanted to keep her tension. Hori-san throws in a word of thanks for being allowed to work on his favorite show again, praises Jeff and Miki, and compliments Rebecca Sugar's demos. He hoped we'd get a soundtrack album. (Of course, we did.)

Some final boards by Rebecca Sugar and Becky Dreistadt of the characters in their show gear descending the steps close out the book. There are also some cute little doodles at the end on the credits page, like a head of lettuce with caption "lettuce adore you" and Spinel in a drifting go-kart laughing, captioned "drift away."

The back cover pictures Steven with his arm around a heartbroken Spinel, comforting her.

Overall, the book is wonderful--the accompanying information is generally not new to anyone who watched the DVD's documentary and commentary, and many of the sketches have been released one way or another directly by the artists through Instagram, Twitter, or Tumblr blogs. There was still plenty of wonderful new concept art that wasn't already out there, and looking at some of the iterations Spinel and Steg went through was particularly captivating. There was no new insight into the development of the plot beyond the premise and the Spinel-related conflict, though; nothing about how they decided to focus the Garnet storyline, the Pearl storyline, and the Amethyst storyline for how they would each get their memories back, and there was no spotlight on their movie versions--modern Cotton Candy Garnet, copycat baby Amethyst, and factory settings uncustomized Pearl. I was hoping especially for some Amethyst stuff because the movie was the first place we got to see her with the simple default outfit and segmented limbs. It was primarily an art book with commentary on some of the most definitive movie aspects--it didn't reach the depth that Art and Origins gave us. It has a start-to-finish feeling in a sense, but it's mostly just splashes of information that are fun to know. It's a great companion and definitely should not be missed by any fan of the movie. I recommend it heartily!

[SU Book and Comic Reviews]

[iwillhaveamoonbase]

Replay ch. 4

Callum gulped as he sent the text to Rayla.  She was fully in her rights to reject a drawing session in the woods.  Not only that, but he was asking her to bring her own clothes because he didn’t know her exact measurements.  Was he asking too much?  He read the text again.  ‘If it’s not too much trouble, I was really imagining drawing you among the trees, like a faerie or an elf.  If you have any flowy clothes that you are alright with getting dirty, please wear those. I’ll send you the location if you’re comfortable.  If not, we can do the beach or my backyard.  I just can’t imagine drawing you in a confined space like my studio. I don’t think it would fit your spirit.’

Callum internally screamed. Did he really send that?  She was going to rescind her acceptance of his request to draw her, wasn’t she?  ‘Her spirit’? He had met her once!  What was wrong with him?  It was true, though.  That was something about her that, despite the suit and the situation that they met in, made him feel like she would be more at home running barefoot through the forest or relaxing by the sea.

Either way, now all he had to do was wait for her to reply back.  If she rejected the offer, well, he didn’t want to think about that, because that meant he probably was never going to see her again.  Meeting her once was enough to make her haunt his every thought for the past three days.  While he and his friends had finally ironed out how they were going to go full-time with YouTube, she had been right in the back of his mind.  

He had looked up her name and ran across a few things.  She really was the daughter of two bodyguards of the British royal family and her adoptive fathers ran a famous Celtic jewelry shop in Aberdeen, the designs being a mix of traditional shapes and styles and new materials.  She did dance for years as a way to channel her energy. There was even a video online of her at sixteen doing a ballet routine to a Kylie Minogue and Madonna compilation. She had inserted traditional Irish step dance in a way Callum never would have thought worked but it did. Maybe that was because of the sheer joy on her face as she moved.  That made her departure from dance all the stranger and it’s also where information about her basically stopped.  The most recent thing he found was that she worked for Patel and Associates Anti-Fraud Law Office.  

A lawyer…his faerie was a lawyer.  It certainly explained the suit but it was almost absurd.  Here he was imagining her running through the trees and she was surrounded by paperwork in her daily life.  Did she enjoy it?  Did she like spicy food?  What was her type?

Callum hit his head against his desk.  He needed to stop letting his mind drift to her and whether or not she could ever be interested in him.  There was no way someone like him was her type.  She couldn’t hide just how toned her long legs her in her suit.  She probably worked out often while he was a lazy twig that indulged in sleeping in too much.  Also, she was a lawyer.  A lawyer falling for a YouTuber/artist?  Yeah, right.

A stray chip hit his forehead.  Callum looked up to glare at Soren.  “What?”

“You thinking about that hot girl at the cheese shop again?”

“What?  No!”  Callum could feel the blush creepy up on his cheeks and all the way to his ears.

“It’s fine if you were. She was smoking hot.  I never thought I would find white hair hot, but DAMN.”

Claudia hummed in acknowledgement.  “I’m calling it now; she’s Bi or Pan.”

“What makes you say that?” Soren mumbled around a bunch of chips.

Claudia winked.  “Gaydar.”

“Wishful thinking?”

“Maybe some of that, too,” Claudia shrugged.  

“She’s got two dads,” Callum mumbled.

Soren, Claudia, and Ezran all turned to him.  “Does she now?” Claudia asked.

“Yeah.  She told me at the shop.  It was the painting of Aunt Amaya and Aunt Janai that made her accept my offer.  She was raised by her parents’ friends, hence, two dads.  They run Gael Jewelers in Aberdeen.”  

Claudia immediately pulled out her phone, probably to look them up.  Shortly after, she whistled.  “Wow. She comes from a really good-looking family.  Her mom is a totally MILF.”

Soren rolled his eyes. “Claudia, you can’t just-” Claudia shoved the picture in his face. “MILF alert.”

“Mm-hmm.”  Claudia scrolled through.  “Ethari and Runaan and are also incredibly attractive.  Damn.  What is in the water in Scotland?”

Callum rolled his eyes. “Guys.  Let’s focus.  Do we need a production manager?”

Claudia shrugged.  “My vote is you’re in charge of creative for group projects, we run our own channels, and we hire an editing assistant.”

“We also need a social media manager.  Ez can’t do it all on his own while he’s in school.”

Ezran nodded.  “It’s nice that you guys do your own channel stuff, but, sometimes, it would be nice to have some help.”

“Do we need a strong social media presence?  We have YouTube and Twitter.  Isn’t that enough?”

Ezran scratched the back of his neck.  “Maybe? Claudia’s got a large following on Tumblr ever since she came out during one of her make-up tutorials.  Her super casual ‘my ex-girlfriend taught me how to do this and this is the first time I’ve done this eyeliner look since we broke-up’ just made her blow-up and our channel gained thousands of followers over-night.”

Callum nodded.  “We gained a lot of followers after I did that art tutorial with Janai, too.  A lot of people just went gaga over her and I see a lot of requests for her to come back on the channel.”

“Which is where a social media manager could come in handy.  Maybe they could track requests so we don’t have to?”

Soren sighed, taking another handful of his chips.  “We also need someone to help us with events.  Getting us into them, working booths…being famous is hard work.”

“We aren’t famous, Soren.”

“Beg to differ.  I get stopped all the time.”  Soren flexed his arm.  “And it’s not just because of these guns.”  The other three in the room rolled their eyes.  

“Himbo,” Claudia coughed, no-so-subtly.  

“WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?! Stop using words I don’t know!”

“Stop being a himbo.”

“CLAUDS!”  

Ezran and Callum shared a look, snorting at their childhood friends’ teasing.  Soren and Claudia couldn’t go five minutes without teasing each other or making a serious situation humorous.  “Can’t take them anywhere,” Callum whispered.

Ezran nodded.  “Bait is better behaved.”

Callum eyed the frog in the glass bowl Ezran took with him wherever he could.  “He’s glaring at me again.”

“Because you won’t stop thinking about that girl.”

“It’s not my fault she won’t leave my head.  You saw her, Ez.”

“Yeah, she’s beautiful, but she’s not running through my head like she is your’s.  Are you even ready for another relationship?  After Melissa-”

“Melissa was a nightmare. She constantly asked to be introduced in our videos.  I didn’t know at the time, but you were right, she approached me because she wanted to piggyback off our growing fame.”  Callum ran a hand through his hair.  “I was an idiot.”

Ezran put a hand on his shoulder.  “I wasn’t going to say that.  I was going to say that Melissa really hurt you and I want you to be careful.  You didn’t even like her that much, if I remember correctly.”

“She was nice, pretty, liked some of the same things I did.  But she didn’t really inspire me to be better or push my art.  She only encouraged the YouTube thing, not what I actually like.”

“She is why we got almost fifty thousand subscribers in one week, though.  That story broke and you had to give that little video and it really stuck with people.”

Callum remembered that video.  As a way to quiet down any questions, he had made a short video detailing how they had met (in a coffee shop), why they had never gone public (he had wanted to keep his private life and his YouTube life separate), that she had met his family but they kept it hush-hush (impossible not to meet Ezran after knowing Callum for a week), and that the break-up had not been mutual.  Callum had broken-up with her because he had felt that it wasn’t working because they wanted different things.  Melissa pushed the YouTube thing, and there was nothing wrong with that, but, if Callum was going to be known for social media and videos, he wanted to be proud of what he put out into the universe.  He loved his art more, and, if he could, that would be all he did.  Melissa had wanted to do sponsorships and Callum hadn’t.  They just had different values and desires and no one else was owed this knowledge, but Callum had been forced to do damage control because people would not stop asking.  “Yeah. I was really surprised that that happened.”

“People value honesty. I think it comes across in our videos and your art tutorials that you are not in this for the fame.  We’ve done meet and greets and you are just awkward as anything.  Melissa showed her true colors on her own with posts afterwards.”  Callum didn’t even want to think about how Melissa had tried to monetize their break-up.  It had been bizarre to see her sponsored by a make-up wipe company to tell her side of the story, which basically confirmed everything in Callum’s video, but with the caveat that she had wanted him to reach new heights and that YouTube and not his ‘lame art’, as she had put it, was the way to do that.  Their fans had not taken kindly to that and Melissa had lost thousands of followers she had gained overnight in even less time.

“Social media is weird, Ez. No matter what, we have got to stay away from the drama.  We do not want to be involved in any of that.”

“Yep.  That’s why I think a social media manager could help.  A good one.”

“I’m all for it if that’s what keeps our noses clean.”  Callum straightened when his phone alerted him to a text.  

He opened it to see it was from Rayla ‘The woods?  OK.  I’m still bringing my friend.  When’s good for you?  It would have to be on a weekend for me because of work.  Sorry about that.’

“Holy shit,” Callum whispered.

“What?” Ezran looked over his shoulder to read the text.  “That text sounds weird.  Callum-”

“I know, Ez, but she didn’t say ‘no’.  She didn’t reject me.”  Ezran raised a brow.  “You know what I mean.”

“You’ve got it bad.”

“I just need to draw her to get her out of my system.”

“Either that or she is your muse.  Poor Aunt Janai.  She was having so much fun being your muse.  So was Khessa.”  Callum chuckled.  Khessa, Janai’s older sister, did enjoy modeling for Callum.  His exhibit on women of color had been a smash hit in part because of her always accepting when he asked.  She had once modeled with a crown while sitting on a throne and that particular piece now hung in her house in her living room, showed off to everyone who came over.  Callum smiled as he remembered that exhibit.  His crowing achievement, to this day, was the portrait of his mother, eyes softened, and an easy, loving smile on her lips.  People thought of her as this rough former military general and tactician who once taught at military academies.  They didn’t know that she had a sweet tooth or that her relationship with Callum’s father had led her to leaving the military because she saw that the push for peace was more important.  

She was now known for her discussions on US-South Korean and US-Thai relations because both her parents were immigrants and her own history in South Korea.  Sarai and Amaya had both spent half their childhoods in South Korea in Korean schools, helping Sarai learn how the rest of the world saw the States. She and Amaya and joined the military because it helped pay for university, but both found they were really good at it. So good at it, they extended their contracts before finally leaving to focus on family and peaceful negotiations. Callum was proud of his mother’s work and was proud of the picture showing the softer side of her so many people didn’t see.  

He shook his head and sent a quick text to Rayla that next Saturday worked for him if it worked for her.  This Saturday was in a few days and, if things went how Ezran wanted, they were probably going to be doing interviews all weekend for a social media manager.  “Let’s get a social media manager, Ez.”

“YES!”

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

Rayla smiled at the text. The woods was a bit of a strange option, but she was excited.  She hadn’t had a chance to go running through the trees barefoot in years.  She was going to have to ask Corvus if he was willing to head out early so she could do so.  She mentally thought of her wardrobe and realized she didn’t have anything flowing that she was willing to get dirty.  She was going to have to go thrift store shopping.  

Was she really going to go buy a dress so a random artist that she had met one time could draw her surrounded by trees?  Yeah, she was and she was going to look so good she was going to haunt his mind like he haunted her’s.  His voice followed her and she had watched all of his videos in three days.  She barely slept because she wanted to hear him more or see him smile or laugh.  She felt like one of those stalkers who was convinced a famous person was in love with them, but she had met him in real life.  He had approached her, he had asked to draw her.  Either way, she wanted him to be tongue-tied when he saw her and, hopefully, she was going to quell some of the fire that refused to leave her belly since they had shaken hands.

[youarejesting]

Odd

Rating: Teen and Up Genre: Mystery, Romance, Drama, Action, Angst, Paranormal. Pairing: ? x Reader Summary: In Bightville there is never any nonsense, the scariest thing one might face is tripping at the roller-disco. But, when you move to the small town, crazy things start to happen. Suddenly people are going missing without any leads. It’s when your neighbor Seokjin goes missing that things get serious because now his friends suspect you!

Announcement: Soon my pretties....

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Namjoon looks at Jungkook who has started to breathe heavily averting the eyes from the creature on the paper in front of him, Taehyung destroyed the paper seeing his friends distress and not wanting to aggravate his anxiety further.

Namjoon settled the youngest on the couch, he sighed receiving a pizza delivery and tried to create some small talk with the young female in their presence. “So what do your family do for a living?” 

“My father is an electrician and my mother is an engineer. We moved out here for my mother's dream of a country home.” Your face showed distaste, Namjoon realised you didn’t share your mother's country lifestyle dream. 

“I have been trying to escape ever since I arrived here. The coolest thing about the town is the cult house currently being demolished at the corner of town.” She said flippantly while eating pizza, the boys were surprised by how much she could eat.

“It’s not a cult house, it’s just an old church” Hoseok laughed gently pushing you away “My dad was against it, you know him a romantic guy, all books and meaning and no style”

A part of Namjoon was surprised at how everyone was reacting to your presence. You didn’t seem to be odd at all you fit right in, or was it perhaps because they were trying to use you to fill in the space where Seokjin should be.

The group grew tired and eventually they all began laying out bedrolls and Taehyung rolled out his. He refused to let you sleep on Seokjin’s as he still didn’t trust you completely. He felt that perhaps you had something to do with his disappearance and wouldn’t give you the luxury of his friends bedroll.

“You can have this one” Taehyung handed you an old bedroll and you frowned but accepted it, old was better than the ground or at least that is what Namjoon thought. He thought Taehyung was being too harsh but they were all too tired to argue with him.

It was a long night, lots of tossing and turning and Namjoon heard Jungkook’s whimpers and Taehyung’s protests from across the room. It didn’t take long but soon Namjoon drifted off to sleep and when they woke Namjoon noticed you were gone. 

He grew worried that perhaps you had been taken as well but Yoongi spoke quietly across the room, “She left early something about getting ready for school and making sure her parents didn’t murder her or something.”

It didn’t take long before the group were moving each getting ready and heading to the school. Namjoon was filling his locker when out the corner of his eye he saw you rushing past. You didn’t slow down weaving through the crowd with a sense of purpose.

Curiosity got the better of him and he followed after you, it seemed like perhaps he wasn't the only one as Hoseok and Yoongi followed as well. “Hey do you know what she is rushing for?”

“No idea, I have been following her since she passed by our hideout, I was refilling snacks with Jungkook and Jimin but they didn’t seem to notice her at all.”

Well we should probably see what she is up to?” Namjoon muttered and the two nodded racing after her. Tailing her to the library, Namjoon noticed the way you began practically ripping books from the shelf. He almost felt the need to protest until he saw what you were looking at. You were searching through books on mythological creatures. 

You were looking at supernatural beings and trying to pinpoint the picture Taehyung had drawn. It still felt weird to Namjoon that Taehyung had dreamt of the same creature that Jungkook had drawn and from what he heard, Jungkook had been drawing these creatures for years.

“What is she looking for?” The three watched you frantically flicking through the pages, pause and then flick through them again until you stopped altogether looking curiously on a page. Namjoon watched you finger delicately trace the page and your lips moving softly.

“It looks like she is casting a spell” Yoongi muttered

It was cold and Namjoon shivered, there was some weird feeling in the air. She hummed before walking through the shelves opening another stack of books until she figured out what she wanted to know, shoulders squared triumphantly.

“Are you boys going to stand there or come see what I found,” she called making the three boys jump. They scrambled from their hiding place and she pointed to the book and saw the creature in detail.

It was some sort of cult beast that could be summoned to attack others on command. Namjoon’s eyebrows rose “Usually confined to the places they reside unless instructed to kill, iff their home is no longer intact they can escape and cause havoc” 

“They are the beast that burrows into the spirit world, where it drags its victims”

~

“What do we do?” Taehyung asked, looking scared.

“I don’t know but we have to do something, things are getting out of control.” Jimin said, “I don’t know if I hear correct but someone else has gone missing”

“We have to go into the burrow between the worlds and get Jin out” Jungkook said “We have to get him and bring him back before this thing decides it is hungry and wants to eat”

“Okay but we need ideas,” Jimin sighed. “I work at a diner where I roll around on skates not exactly ready to fight a bear spider.”

“First we need to know who is going in and who is staying, then we need to figure out weapons that will work on this thing.” Namjoon said 

“We might have to bring a first aid kit, in case someone is hurt” Taehyung said his head stuck in a book, “from what I read it breaks its victims legs to prevent them running away.”

The list grew and everyone started preparing to pack more things, “Let’s meet back at the abandoned music room,” Namjoon said and the group dispersed, you were in charge of finding some sort of rope and weapon. You had broken into the sports shed taking out ropes and the few javelin you could find. Hoping this would be enough to defend yourselves.

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[vesperlionheart]

Pompeii Chapter 51

Sakura felt numb as she pulled herself up the front porch stairs and through the large arching doors. They opened on their own, welcoming her home, and she was grateful for the enchantment. Once across the threshold a seed of strength took root in her chest and Sakura breathed deep. It wasn’t an old home, but when she inhaled there was history and character in the air, scenting every breath.

Her watch read the time as half past ten at night, but it felt so much later.

Sakura felt something at her back and turned around so the wall hooks didn’t have to stretch as far to pick her coat off her shoulders.

Last she had been back, Tsunade had been working on the enchantment, but since the mayoral races had begun, she hadn’t had much time left to spare. It was a demanding gig, campaigning as Minato’s replacement. Several others citizens of Pompeii had surged to make bids of their own, and it was a whole week before the serious candidates were sifted out of the bulk of hopefuls.

“Is that Sakura?”

Sakura looked up and smiled. “As if you didn’t know the second my car crossed town limits.”

“Hey, you never know, I might get distracted one of these days and miss it,” Ashura chuckled.

He shuffled into the room in an oversized fluffy robe from deep in her closets that made her want to laugh. Instead she reached for the edges and curled her fingers into the plush softness. Ashura easily drew her in, resting one wrist over the other behind her back.

“Welcome home,” he whispered.

“What...smells so good?” she asked, feeling her eyes drift shut once more. It had been a struggle to stay awake. “Potatoes?”

Ashura pouted, but turned around to draw her under his arm and guide her into the kitchen where the aroma drifted. Indra stood in front of the oven, cutting into a steaming golden yellow breakfast casserole made from fresh eggs, hash browns, and an assortment of other delectable breakfast meats.  

“Oh Indra,” Sakura moaned, eyes watering as her empty stomach did flips. She was so tired, but she knew she couldn’t go to sleep until she had some food.

“You’ve been neglecting yourself. Here, come eat,” Indra said, already cutting out a portion for her and placing it on one of the china dishes. Ashura led her into a chair at the kitchen table and then left to fetch a glass of water.

“It takes so long to get home to begin with,” Sakura complained, sounding younger and more childish. Yamato would often tease her about how she seemed to regress in age whenever she was hungry and sleepy. “I didn’t want to stop for food. I just wanted to get home.”

Yamato and Sai took turns with Ashura and Indra watching over her when she got home from work. She worked hard long shifts and came home spent and in dire need of pampering. It became something the whole house quickly picked up on and soon shifts were sorted out to the housemates all for the sake of keeping Sakura well fed and rested.

“We are always eager to have you back under this roof, but you worry us with how you neglect your own body. A few minutes more doesn’t change much in the grand scheme of things. Here now, eat,” Indra said. He held the fork out to her and Sakura took it, stabbing at the breakfast casserole that warmed her belly like all good comfort food should.

Sakura finished over half the plate before she remembered to breath. She took Ashura glass and drank deeply before picking up her fork again. That’s when she noticed the cute blue and white pattern of the dishes.

“Are these new?” she asked.

“Said picked them out from a local thrift shop. He’s been quite handy about decorating this place up. Do you like the plate?” Ashura asked. He had come back to sit across from her at the table in his fluffy robe.

Indra reached down and pinched some of the robe’s fabric between his fingers. “Why are you wearing this again?”

“Let go, Sakura said I could.”

Ashura batted his brother’s hand away with a solid smack that Sakura chose to ignore. The two quarreled enough for her to know when it was appropriate to stay out of it and let them have their space.  

“I like the plates,” Sakura finally answered. “They remind me of...I think it was a tea set I had as a child. It’s a pretty color though. I’ll have to compliment him on his choices when I see him in the morning.”

A yawn broke off the rest of what she wanted to say and Sakura nearly dropped her head onto the table for how tired she suddenly felt. Her belly was warm and full, her plate pretty and empty, but why did she feel so wrong?

Ashura was beside her in an instant, tugging off his robe to lay over her. It was warm too, and big enough that it felt like a blanket.

“You’re going to make me fall asleep at this table,” she chuckled into the wood grains.

“You do a fine enough job of that all on your own. The hours of your work establishment are just too unreasonable. Why can’t you quit?” Indra asked. “We have the money for it.”

“We have so much money. If you don’t believe us we can go get more. There’s tons of it buried in Pompeii that only we know how to get to. You’d never have to work another day in your life,” Ashura added. He sounded worried

“It’s not about the money anymore,” Sakura said, feeling another yawn budding at the base of her jaws. “I-I just want to work. I need to work.”

“You work too hard,” Indra said, voice turning hard in the beginning stages of anger. “Look at the state you come home in every four days. You’re a beautiful mess someone has to clean up or else you'd be left in a puddle on the doorstep.”  

Sakura turned her head over and smiled up at the older brother. Seeing the look on her face his cheeks turned red and his ears twitched.

“You think I’m a beau-ti-ful mess?” she asked, teasing out the sounds in the word beautiful. Her own cheeks flushed pink.

“You’re a minx,” he grumbled, placing a wide palm over the lower half his face and spreading his fingers over the other half. A single eye poked through to watch her. Indra didn’t handle embarrassment as well as his brother.

“My brother has a point though, and yes, Sakura, you’re always beautiful. But back to the main point here, you’re running yourself ragged,” Ashura interrupted. “Can’t you go back to being Pompeii’s doctor? They need one.”

“No way. They can get by just fine without a doctor. They chose to forgo my services for months during the whole Kaguya fiasco. They can manage.”

“I’d be inclined to agree,” Ashura sighed, “but we miss you too much. You’re gone so much. Can’t you find something else to do that’s closer? We want to see you every night, not every four nights.”

Sakura felt a little guilty, but not guilty enough to change her mind. “I’m not ready to work in this town again,” she whispered. “Not yet.”

Ashura opened his mouth, but it was Indra that tugged him back. “She’s entitled to that,” Indra said before his younger brother could get any of his words out. “If she changes her mind, the clinic will finish its repairs in a number of weeks. If Sakura never changes her mind that’s fine too. It’s her choice. You agree with me, it’s more than they deserve after how they treated her.”

Sakura shut her eyes and felt the warmth from her dinner fade. She was cold on the inside again. It was too easy to remember how friends turned away and avoided her eyes. Parents who she thought she got along with lashed out more viciously than their children. And what was worse was the apologies that came, because she couldn’t bring herself to be okay with most of them. She didn’t want to forgive anyone. They wanted to burn her at the stake at one point. How does a person come back from that and ask to be your friend?

“Sakura? Are you still awake?”

Sakura lifted her head and felt the tears filly slip with the help of gravity. “I’m too tired to be asleep,” she mumbled.

“Then here,” Indra said, reaching for her. He picked her up, pinning her robe around her and folding her close to his chest.

Ashura moved around his brother to push in the kitchen chair and open doors when Indra got to Sakura’s bed room.

The walls were painted a dusky blue that blended up into a black ceiling dotted with stars and swirling celestial figures in Sai’s unique style. The bed was left in the center of the room, big and wide enough for her to roll around in and spread out in her sleep...or entertain the warmth of another if she ever wished for it. The gauzy curtain embroidered with stars and flowers was a gift from Ino that Ashura had to pull back to allow Indra better access to the mattress.

“I need to brush my teeth,” Sakura moaned, weakly flapping her free hand.

“Here, and don’t make it a habit,” Indra said, producing a shard of enchanted floride. Sakura took it from his fingers and felt the tingle in her mouth as the spell cleaned her teeth.

“And don’t forget,” Ashura sighed, “you need to be dressed for bed.”

Ashura slipped a metal ring onto her pinky and moved away. Sakura recognized the gift as one of his from when they all first moved it. There was a spirit in the ring that dressed her in any elaborate dress or suit she desired, no matter how elegant or extravagant. It was a glorious gift, but Sakura ended up only using it to change into silk pajamas without getting out of bed.

“You guys are life savers,” Sakura murmured dreamily.

“ Literally ,” Indra affirmed, tone serious once more.

Sakura just chuckled. “Thank you. Niiiiight….”

Indra turned to head out and leave her be, but Ashura moved forward and leaned over her mattress until he could reach her face with his lips. He kissed the side of her jaw and rubbed his nose into her loose hair before pulling back. Sakura hummed in appreciation, still not quite asleep.

Indra’s expression was a cross between horrified and outraged.

Ashura just shrugged and whispered, “What? She doesn’t mind.”

“You-you cad.”

Ashura rolled his eyes. “You’re just jealous.”

Indra left the room fuming while Ashura was more content than a cat with his cream.  

In the morning Sakura woke half across the bed, wrapped in layers of a silk night dress. Her hair was a mess on her pillow, but that wasn’t anything she couldn’t fix on her own.

If Kin saw her looking so out of place she’d have a fit and then insist Sakura take a seat while she fixed her hair. Kin was always meticulous about things like hair, and Sakura had only asked about it once.

“My hair was the only nice thing I had for myself at one point in my life.”

It was the morning of her first of four days off before she would have to go back and work another four days at the clinic, which was an odd set up, but it was fine for now. She was doing well and got along well with everyone there, but she didn’t want to admit out loud of how of place she felt. Even in Pompeii with all its monsters, she had clicked right away.

She was uneasy among humanity, as funny as it was.

Sakura climbed out of bed and winced at the open window with all its sunlight. It didn’t look like morning anymore. No doubt she had slept in again.

Typical.

She almost left for the bathroom when a note on her nightstand caught her eye.

‘Sai and Yamato will be home early, so wake up before 4, okay?’

There was no signature, but she recognized Kin’s handwriting and knew out of all the other housemates that Kin was the only one who gave her so much unfiltered grief. Zaku and Dosu kept a respectful distance, but not one that made her think they still doubted her. In comparison, they kept everyone else at a much greater distance and rarely came out into the communal spaces.

Sakura took her shower, washed her hair extra nice, braided it back, and brushed her teeth to get rid of the taste of day old magic. By the time she was dressed and roaming the hallways it was even later in the day and she realized that most of her housemates were at work since it was a weekday.

She stopped at the threshold to the old tinted glass greenhouse.

There was at least one person she could still greet that was available.

Inside the temperature went from early March’s chill to a balmy warm that made her want to unfold and lay out on the ground to soak up all the light there was. It was nice and warm, but in addition to all that, a plethora of different plants grew lush and fill under Zetsu’s careful guidance.

“You’re back again.”

Sakura turned to see the half shrouded figure crouching in front of a row of flowers that rotated on a wheel. He didn’t look at her, but didn’t flinch away from her when she approached. Some days when she came in to greet him he was more skittish, forgetting their friendship and regressing to his former self.

“I’m back again,” Sakura echoed. “I always come back.”

“You did not come back yesterday morning, or the morning before that, or the morning before that. One more morning before all of those you were here, but you did not bid me goodbye.” Zetsu spoke without making eye contact.

“I’ve told you about that, haven’t I? I had work. I needed to go to my job.”

“You left!” Zetsu blurted, grabbing the edges of the planter and bracing against it. “I-you were gone and you were not here. You went too far away.”

The boundary of Pompeii, she crossed over it each time she left.  

“Were you frightened by my leaving?” she asked, softly.

Zetus finally glanced her way and a new light came into his golden eyes, and it was like he was seeing her for the first time. He straightened his back and faced his flowers again. “No, I was not frightened. Don’t assume such things,” he answered in a newer voice. It was a mix of old and unknown.

“I missed you and this place,” Sakura admitted easily, holding nothing back. “You make it so pleasant in here. Will you show me what you’ve been working on?”

Zetsu paused before glancing up at her. He nodded stiffly than stood to gesture to a newer corner of the garden. He showed her his favorites and the new plants as well as the old. He updated her on what would be ripe soon and what would take more time to bloom.

Spring was coming soon.  

“Will you be here tomorrow?” he asked her when she noticed the time.

“I’ll be here,” she promised.

Zetsu nodded and turned back to his plants. “Very well.”

Sakura watched him a moment more, holding the side of her face, fingers curled around the shell of her ear. Kaguya had left more than just Sakura broken and scarred. There were still plenty of wounds left in the wake of her death.

In the house Kin was eating the food Indra baked. The table had banana bread, scones, and spice muffins. When he saw her coming in from outside Indra shot her a frustrated look.

“All my beautiful breakfast pastries, and you don’t get out of bed until two?”  

“I’ve been awake longer than that. I was with Zetsu,” Sakura huffed, reaching for a muffin. She bit into it and moaned aloud at the texture. “And it is never a bad time for your beautiful breakfast pastries, Indra.”

“Look at that, Sakura, his head just grew two sizes. Maybe you should pop it,” Kin teased, waving her own muffin around in the air.

“You’re insufferable,” Indra grumbled.

“That’s not what your mom said last night.”

“Vulgar child.”

“Someone has to be.”

Indra made a gesture with the flat of his hand running across his throat and Kain pantomimed the action of shooting him in the brains.

It was enough to make Sakura sigh. “And here I thought everyone in the house got along.”

Kin barked a laugh. “Not by a long shot.”

“You wouldn’t know anything about that, though,” Indra muttered.

Sakura just laughed and sat down at the table with a new plate and started to load it up with things to try and snack on. While she ate Kin cleaned her hands and went after Sakura’s hair, combing it back and braiding it down the back. It was almost enough to make Sakura fall asleep again.

Sakura opened her eyes and saw Ashura sitting across from her at the table, smiling fondly at her. His smile only grew when she meet his gaze.

“I’m not falling asleep,” she said.

“Could have fooled me.”

“Tell me how your days were while I was gone,” Sakura said, then she listened as each friend shared something new she could respond to.

The sound of the front door opening and closing made her stand, her smile stretching. She knew their footsteps by heart. There was no way she wouldn’t recognize them.

Kin was already leaning against the far wall with her arms crossed, watching the hallway. Ashura stayed in his seat and Indra watched from in front of the oven where a new set of biscuits were baking for dinner.

Sakura left them all behind, turning sharply from one room into the other, until Sai was there, crashing into her. Yamato came up behind them and swallowed both Sai and Sakura in his arms, nearly lifting her off her feet.

“It’s only been four days,” Kin sighed. “Do they have to do that every time she comes home?”

“Yes!” Yamato shouted. “Until she stays home, you better get used to it!”

There was plenty of chuckles and jokes after that, followed by dinner, and then movies. Sai refused to part from her side, and Yamato kept his eyes on her even when she left the room. When she came out of the bathroom he stood at the end of the hallway, checking his phone and waiting for her.

“You’re getting worse,” she teased.

“And you’re getting further away.”

“I’m not. It’s been like this for a while now.”

Yamato rolled his shoulders in a half hearted shrug. “It wasn’t any easier in the beginning, and it’s not getting any easier. You’ve seen Sai.”

“You’re both off tomorrow and Sunday. We’ll hang out. It’ll be okay. I promise to spend more time with you,” Sakura said.

“It’s not just that.”

Yamato sighed, taking her under his arm and leading her back into the living room. In place of a movie, the local news was on. The news anchor was talking about the local mayoral election. A banner at the bottom scrolled in red and white letters.

“And in  other news, a group known as Akatsuki has been officially recognized as a legitimate organization dedicated to keeping local authorities in check. We asked local candidates their opinions on the Akatsuki but received only comments from Itama Senju, the younger brother of Tobirama and Hashirama Senju who some say is just another example of the old powers trying to hang on.”

The image on the television screen cut to a younger boy with bi-colored hair looking younger than either of his brothers. He wore a suit, but all Sakura could see was a boy playing dress up.

Itama addressed the microphone in his face. “I’d welcome any help the citizens might put forth on their own. Grassroots groups are a sign of an active community, and that’s what Pompeii is.” He smiled brilliant and then a new reporter pushed through.

“Senju, Itama Senju, what about the experiments left over?”

Itama’s smile twitched.

“Of course they’re an issue we need to address. The people of Pompeii come first, and their safety is my top priority.”

A new reporter pushed in and redirected the flow of conversation back to the Akatsuki members, and what Itama thought of them personally. Sakura thought Itama’s answers sounded like the came from a cereal box they were so stiff. He was a puppet, and she knew exactly who was pulling the strings.

“Experiments?” Sakura echoed. “What are they talking about?”

“Us.”

Sakura turned in her seat to see Zaku and Dosu standing in the doorway, glaring at the television screen. Kin was a shadow not much further back, watching as well. Dosu touched the curse mark on his neck and winced.

“They’re talking about Orochimaru’s failed experiments...us. Itama wants us rounded up and deported,” Dosu explained.

“What else is new?” Zaku hissed. “No one’s ever welcomed us, not really. Not anywhere except here. Pompeii isn’t much different.”

“They-they can’t do that,” Sakura said, feeling the stone of dread deep in her belly. “That’s cruel and inhumane. They wouldn’t do something like that!”

“They can do whatever they want with us. To them, we’re no better than garbage.” Kin said, sounding faded in comparison to earlier in the day. Her voice was a ghost of its former self. “And besides, none of them are human, and neither are we. What does that matter?”  

[bridget-multifandom-writer]

❝dating them would include❞ Tate Langdon

Dating Tate Langdon Would Include

You met him when you first moved into the house

He showed up in your room introducing himself as your neighbor

You didn’t think much of it as he quickly began sorting through your music collection

“Do you got any Kurt Cobain?”

“Yeah, its.... right here!”

“That’s so cool. I never find anybody else who listens to him,”

“The older stuff is the best, isn’t it?”

“Tell me about it.”

He just sorta came around after that

Whenever you came home from school he’d be waiting for smoking outside your door

If you question him about it he just pushes it off or uses the excuse he's homeschooled

He’ll show up at your bedroom door and come in and talk to you

Or just listen to music

He tries to help you with your homework but he's only good at Art

Which he frequently shows his drawings to you

Their mostly gothic portraits that usually predict the person smoking

It carries the 90s grunge style he loves

Sometimes, he tries to teach you to draw

Which is just his excuse to put his hand on yours

Tate has been alone for a while (before and after Violet)

So he falls for you pretty easily

It’s the little things about you that get him in the beginning

Your lovely taste in music

The fact your both calming and quiet while still being spontaneous

How he can bitch around with you and you don’t get offended, just bitch right back at him

Then when you two got closer he just fell in love

You weren’t scared to pry

Asking him things about his past and his family

“How come your homeschool? I mean, Westfield isn’t that bad,” 

“It was just some stupid shit-”

“Don’t bullshit me, Tate, tell me the truth.”

You were slightly pushy but he kind of liked it

Plus he loved how you were unconsciously affectionate

When he’d show up at your house you’d always greet him with a hug, then shy away

When his dirty blonde curls would fall into his face you’d brush your fingers against the curls and fix them out of his face

Your eyes drifting down to his lips

Or the times you’d fallen asleep while listening to music and pulled him closer

While still denying the fact you were just as needy as he was

Finally, after he brazenly flirted with you, he made a move

You were both in the front of your yard

Sitting on the rail of the porch while passing around a blunt

You looked at him as he exhaled through his nose, a goofy smile on your face

You were always more emotional when you were high

“What?” he asked mimicking your smile.

“Nothing,” you said “Your just pretty,” you laughed. 

He laughed to wrapping his arm around you “Come here,” he said pulling you close

You scooted and pressed against his side looking up at him with red eyes

Then he pressed his lips against yours

The next day, you remembered what had happened

You tried to ignore Tate

But with him (secretly living in your house) almost always there to the point, your parents gave him a key

He found you quicker than you expected

He had you pressed against the closest 

“Look... you don’t have to pretend that you like me. I’ll understand if you don’t,” You said looking down.

Tate just stared at you confused for a second before he shook his head and laughed

“Kitten, I kissed you first. I want you... do I need to prove that?”

You looked up with a quiet gasp as he swooped to brush his lips against yours

“Please, will you be my girlfriend?”

“God, yes...”

Tate is a surprisingly affectionate boyfriend, he tones down after a few months, though

Whenever Tate is around (which is always) his arm is always around you

He’s always touching you

Holding hands, having his arm around you, keeping his hand on your thigh, on your back - just anywhere, really

He loves distracting you

If you're trying to study, he puts his hand on your thigh and just rubs slowly

He’ll move closer to you and kiss up to your neck

He sucks at that spot that just makes you melt and bite at your lip

“Tate, I really have to get this -- mhmm  -- done.”

He’ll just shush you brushing hair out of your face 

“That can wait ‘til later,” he says pulling you closer to him

He still is a sarcastic fuck, though

“Tate, I get that you don’t like her. You can dislike her... not everyone has good taste.”

“Kind of like her music, right?”

*going off on a tangent about something the school should do, in a serious manner* 

“Babe, you shouldn’t take yourself so seriously. No one else does.”

*rolls eyes*

“Stop throwing pillows at me! When someone is being dumb, it is my obligation to enlighten them with a sarcastic comment!”

He can be really serious when you need him to

If your upset at anything, he just wants you to feel better

So he’ll come over and he’ll hold you

Stroking your hear while he tries to get you to talk to him

“Kitten... everything is going to be fine. Do you wanna talk about? If you wanna talk about, I’ll listen,” he prods. 

If you struggle with depression or (most) other mental illness, he understands completely

It’s one of the few things he took from his past life

He’s just very understanding

If you find out about his dark part he tries his best to prove he's different

He tries to tell you about how he didn’t remember he did that

He’s clearly upset as he does but you just don’t know if it's true

So you avoid him for a little

He gives you your own space but after a week or two he starts leaving little notes

“I miss you”

“I’m sorry”

“I never meant to”

You try your best to ignore them and think of what you’ll do

You come to the conclusion that since Tate hasn’t hurt anyone you love he might be better

So you walk into your room seeing Tate walk that way and see a new note on your bed

“I love you”

You rush around the house and finally decide he must be in the basement

“Tate?” you call out “I wanna talk...”

“Are you mad at me?” He asks quickly.

You look over at him with sad eyes “No,” you tell him “I... I miss you... and I figured since you never hurt me or anyone I love. You might be better.”

He’d give you this hopeful smile and practically run other to you

He just wraps you in his arms burying his head in your shoulder 

“I love you so much,” he cries

“I love you too, Tate”

This is the first thing I wrote, it’s also the first thing I’m posting. I’m new to Tumblr so I hope you liked it! If you did please leave a nice comment and heart it that way others can see it. If you didn’t like it leave some constructive criticism, please? Anyway, look below for my masterlist and other information. Other AHS headcanons should be posted when this goes out (Kit, Kyle, Jimmy, James, and Kai are all currently out.)

Request are currently closed, ships are open, check out my Masterlist if you want to see more. I write for multiple fandoms (American Horror Story, The Vampire Diaries, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, Strangers Things, and more!).

Masterlist

Tate Langdon Taglist: @sebastianshoe

Evan Peters Taglist: @sebastianshoe

AHS Taglist:

Overall Taglist:

You can always ask to be put on the taglist so feel free to send an ask to me!

[wishingforatypewriter]

Between Us (Chapter 9)

Summary: On the eve of his first restaurant’s opening, Souma receives some sagely advice from his father. (Full story here)

On the day of the opening, Souma woke up at half past five with Megumi’s hair tickling his face. He took a moment to watch her, study the serene rise and fall of her chest, and kissed the patch of skin just below her earlobe. 

She smiled and shifted in her sleep, released a soft sigh of contentment, and Souma had to remind himself why he couldn’t just get back into bed with her. 

 When he stepped out of the master suite half an hour later, he saw his father sitting on the couch, flipping channels lazily. 

Souma waited a full thirty seconds before reacting; he had to make sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. 

 “Pops?”

“Yo, Souma,” Jouichirou greeted. “You know, you guys have got to get a better cable package. Where are all the sports—”

“Look, the rent is so high in this neighborhood, and Megumi prefers the movie channels so...” He began to explain his T.V. plight, much in the same way he had to whenever Kurokiba came over, when a glaring detail returned to the forefront of his mind. “Wait a minute. What are you even doing here?” 

His father shrugged before settling on a rerun of some football match and putting the remote down. “I told you last week I’d try to come in the morning.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you ever get anywhere when you plan to.” 

Souma recalled him being minutes to days late for every ceremony and graduation he’d had since kindergarten. 

Jouichirou chuckled a bit. “I guess that’s true, but Gin’s been sending me calendar reminders for the past three weeks. He said he wouldn’t stop until I got on the plane.” 

At this, Souma shook his head. “Listen, pops. I’ve gotta head to the restaurant soon, but make yourself comfortable.” 

“Have a smoke with me first,” he said before drawing two cigarettes from his pocket. 

“Out on the fire escape,” Souma told him, resigned to the fact that his father would do things on his own time no matter what he had to say about it. 

“Megumi still asleep?”

“Yeah. She took the day off from work,” Souma explained. “Her family’s flying in early this afternoon.”

Jouichirou whistled. “I remember cooking for in-laws,” he said, lighting his cigarette and his son’s. “Guess you really can’t fuck this one up.”

“Trust me, I know. Nakiri’s told me enough times already.” With no effort at all, his mind conjured the impassive look she maintained each time he put his all on a plate for her. 

“You and Erina still close?” Jouichirou asked, wearing an expression his son couldn’t quite place.

Souma smirked a little, thinking of all the ignored phone calls and changed mailing addresses. “No one really gets to be close to Nakiri, except Arato and Alice. But we talk every now and then, when she feels like it.”

The perplexing expression returned to Jouichirou’s face for the briefest of moments, but it was gone before Souma thought to ask what it meant. “Your mother would be proud,” he said after a long pause. “She always joked about moving to Paris — only to annoy your grandfather, but still.”

Souma nodded, recalling the jovial arguments in fits and starts. He found himself half-drowned in thoughts of the diner —Yukihira special menus and crude compliments from the regulars — when his father spoke again. 

“You know there’s no coming back from this,” he said. “After tonight, no matter what you do, the name Yukihira will always be famous.”

“Is it really that bad?” 

Jouichirou took a long drag from his cigarette before responding; he let his eyes draw closed. “I think you know already, I never wanted to send you to Totsuki. Never would have done it if the old man hadn’t been so persistent. But what’s done is done. Best you can do now is —”

“Don’t fuck up?” 

“Now you’re getting it,” he replied, slapping his son on the shoulder. “Don’t fuck up, and try to remember what’s important to you. That’s what’ll keep you from losing your mind. Oh, and Souma.”

“Yeah?”

“I think you were supposed to be at the restaurant fifteen minutes ago.” 

“Oh shit!” And with that, he put out his cigarette, sprinted to the front door, and hoped his father wouldn’t burn the place down.

Arato Hisako was convinced that the universe had no sympathy for her. That was the only explanation for why only a matter of weeks after she’d put Akira out of her mind and started getting serious with someone new, she saw his stupid, smug face on the cover of Business Insider.

He looked so cool and arrogant in the photograph, standing by a window in his Dubai skyscraper, that part of Hisako felt inclined to throw the entire magazine out the window.  

“But when did he even—”

“Ignore it,” Erina advised as they rode through the streets of Paris in a stretch limo, on their way to buy outfits for the pre-open. “You decided you’re done with him, so be done.” 

“You’re right.” Hisako heaved a gargantuan sigh, knowing for certain that he would be there for the launch of Maison de Yukihira tonight, and that it would take everything within her to keep from slapping him into infinity. 

As they moved from boutique to boutique, Hisako noticed something peculiar about her friend’s behavior. Although she’d always had impeccable style, Erina scarcely had either the time or the patience to indulge in all-day shopping sprees. In fact, she often sent a professional shopper out with her measurements and outsourced the task of buying clothes entirely. 

But now she glided through the racks with laser focus, moving in and out of dressing rooms without even the slightest huff of irritation. 

“Are you looking for something specific, Erina-sama?” she asked after she walked out of their seventh store empty-handed. For her part, Hisako had long since decided on a navy blue scoop neck dress. 

“No. It’s just you know how those food magazines photograph me every chance they get. I figured I should try to make an impression this time instead of getting caught unawares.”

Hisako sensed bullshit — and she saw that her best friend was touching the back of her neck the way she always did when she had a certain diner chef on the brain. But she wouldn’t give her any grief about it. Hisako knew better than anyone the agony derived from affections that cropped up where they didn’t belong. 

When Erina found the right dress, an onyx column gown with a daring slit running up the left side, Hisako smiled and found her gold earrings and bangles to match. 

That evening Alice met them at their hotel, dressed in the type of chic white jumpsuit that was becoming typical of her. She took one look at her cousin, from her matte burgundy lipstick to the 100 mm red bottoms adorning her feet and exchanged a knowing look with Hisako. 

“So we’re out to break hearts tonight?” Alice asked, chuckling as she helped herself to the vodka in the minibar. 

“Just the usual one, courtesy of the god tongue,” Erina replied, deadpan, and Hisako felt a creeping suspicion that she had been referring to her own. 

-----

To say that it had been a good year for Yoshino Yuki would be a gross understatement. Almost overnight she had gone from cruise ship cook to Tasty producer with talks about her own Food Network special in the works. 

For the first time in her life, she’d flown to Paris in a business class cube and she had no intention of ever downgrading again.

She had spent the last few months feeling like the girl-next-door made good. But once she stepped out of her cab and saw the culinary juggernauts waiting to enter Yukihira's debut restaurant, she was reminded once again of the abyss that stood between her and the true elite.

She had been standing by the coat check, caught between the impulse to network and the desire to search for a familiar face when she locked eyes with Marui Zenji, who was handing off his blazer to the attendant. 

“Oh, Yoshino-san!” he said, smiling at her. “I thought it’d be ages before I found someone I knew.”

Yuki returned the smile, noting that he had grown a little since Fumio-san’s 85th. Was that even possible? She had maintained the same shrimpy stature since their last year of junior high school. “It’s been awhile, Marui. Congratulations on finishing your degree, by the way.”

“Thank you.” He looked down, adjusting those absurdly round spectacles of his. 

 “What will you do now?” Yuki asked. 

“I’m actually starting a postgraduate program,” he explained.

Yuki rolled her eyes a bit. “Honestly, Marui. At this rate you’ll be in your fifties before you open a restaurant.”

He chuckled a bit. “You sound like my parents.” 

They drifted away from the coat check then, glancing about the clusters of gourmands sipping cocktails and chatting before the start of the dinner service. Yuki’s eyes nearly popped out of her head when she spotted Elaine Shiraz and a handful of editors from True Taste magazine. 

“Yukihira’s really done well for himself, huh?” she said, more to herself than to Zenji. She still had such a long way to go. 

“He’s not the only one,” he told her.

“I guess you’re right. Somewhere in this dining room, Shoji is probably shooting his shot with Arato-san.” 

This earned a full-bellied laugh from Marui, the likes of which usually only came out after his third drink. “Undeniably true,” he replied. “But not what I was referring to.” 

“Then what—”

“I always knew you were meant to be on television.”

For a moment, Yuki was taken aback. Of everyone she’d ever known, this man had to be the least aware of pop culture. So how could it be that he was following her career down its media-saturated path? 

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, as that was the only way she’d ever known how to deal with the absurdly high regard he held her in. “We should go find a table for four. You know Shun and Ryoko won’t be here until the food’s nearly out.”

Marui’s eyes darkened with regret. “Actually, Yoshino-san, I’m here with someone tonight.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed,” she said, trying to clear the surprise from her expression.

“But I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if the five of us—”

“No, that kind of thing drives front of the house staff crazy,” Yuki said, a shiver running down her spine as she recalled her dark hostessing days. “Don’t keep her waiting. It was good seeing you, though.”

“Keep in touch,” he told her. “My number’s the same.”

Yuki didn’t bother telling him that her number had changed three times in as many years. She had no intention of calling anyway. 

 ----

It was rare for Megumi to spend much time thinking about her appearance, but because this was his night she had curled the ends of her hair and put on the short red dress with the halter neckline. After getting her mother and grandfather — who had flown all the way to Europe for the first time — comfortable at their table, she started making her rounds, thanking all their friends from Totsuki and New York for coming. 

“Ohhh, Megumi-chan, why so gorgeous?” the newly minted Shinomiya Hinako squealed once she spotted her.

“Thank you, Inui-senpai,” Megumi managed to say before the older woman pulled her into a hug so tight she started to see stars. 

“Yukihira’s a fool if he doesn’t propose to you tonight.”

“He’s already a fool for thinking he can compete in this venue, green upstart that he is,” Shinomiya interjected.

“If I recall, you were even younger than Yukihira-kun is now when you opened Shino’s, and even less experienced,” Hinako pointed out. She turned to Megumi with a conspiratorial grin. “He’s just upset because he lost his best cook.”

“Ignore, my wife. She’s delusional,” Shinomiya said, pushing his sleek glasses up on his nose. “But when are we going to see your opening, bumpkin?” 

The question brought an unexpected flush to Megumi’s cheeks. “Oh...well I’ve been—”

“Too distracted by dick to focus on your craft?” he asked, rubbing his right temple. “I thought I taught you better than this.” 

“Oh, leave her alone. She’s in love, like us.” 

Shinomiya Kojirou shook his head. “The jury’s still out on that one.”

Megumi laughed a bit before wishing them well and moving on to the next set of familiar faces. She would continue on in this way, trying to let her old mentor’s comments slide off her like water on ducks’ wings, until the dinner service began. 

[jugs-and]

climb.run.hike (a la eat.pray.love)

G-d saw all that he had made, and it was very good. - Genesis 1

-------------- 

I don’t know how to write anymore. I’m 27 now, but writing, blog writing specifically, has been habitually part of my life since I was 14. Writing is very much a muscle which needs to be worked at and maintained. To say the least it all used to flow, and the process of writing, more than the actual writing output, was an essential part of how I unwinded from the happenings of life. I’ve missed this, it has sort of fallen off the radar this year, and the narrative have swirled around in my mind. For the moment, the editing process seems to garble and confuse, more than clarify and expand the language which I employ. The feelings and emotions in myself - I can’t just describe. This is about the fourth or fifth time I’ve written this post.

The final four weeks before Christmas have been pure routine. Drifting, dilly-dallying, floating - I have fully embraced my inner alter-ego lifestyle which laid dormant this year. This other-me who leaves work early, and plays video-games late, and eats and imbibes freely. It is quite the contrast to the past six months of regiment and focus, the past few weeks have been completely restful, reinvigorating and refreshing - and, frankly, quite welcome.  In all of my limited existence (27 years <gulp>), I don’t think I’ve ever been so busy or occupied in my life as this past six months.

I have a hard time letting go because the final few weeks of the year have still been exceedingly busy. The last weekend in Auckland, I hopped between four Christmas parties on Saturday and Sunday, and finished with a late night working on Sunday. In all of these social gatherings, I was faced with many questions about my year, and I spent a lot of time recounting my adventures this second half of 2019. At Anna’s 30th birthday party especially, I hadn’t seen her in months, and the conversation is always tragically short when she is that popular. 

Social-jugs can handle the small-talk conversations at parties, however vapid and soul-crushing, but it was the mental mind contortions regarding finances and relationships which slowly eroded my sanity. The past six months has not just been the normal event after event after event, but it was like each event was suffocating on my own sanity. The way that money was constantly at the mind’s forefront would affect my ability to enjoy life. Restless sleep counting money instead of sheep, while my mind was full of shopping lists and balance sheets brought me no rest. The nights were long where I would replay conversations and then drift to semi-conscious dreams of impossible segues and circumstances. 

The second half of this year was, in one word, bizarre, with A-. I was increasingly frustrated and filled with despair. For someone with a infectiously sunny disposition, she’s very good at pushing people away. Her continued longing for her previous boyfriend who was clearly abusive and emotionally manipulative broke my heart. Really. 

I began to pine for the peaceful activities - I need the hiking alone and terrible renditions of my favourite nostalgic songs with a Bob Dylan rasp. I need the moment where I wake up and lazily watch the sandflies dancing on the tent fly. I need the Saturday morning brunches and afternoons laying in bed till the evening hours reading in a foetal position. I need to walk through the supermarket in my pyjamas and nights refreshing the same webpages as if the news that the world has ended would drop at any moment. I miss the pull of the dark corners of clubs where I move with my eyes shut, hair swaying in front of my face. Just normal things (right?!). 

I learned discipline and perseverance in financial matters - I tell myself that because, otherwise, 2019: Part Two ran me ragged. I longed for the days to just climb under the sheets and draw them over my head as if I could avoid the problems in life just for a moment and just be. Climb under the sheets and maybe stay there for a while, instead of falling asleep into dreamless sleep immediately. 

In November, I took my big holiday of the year: two weeks in the South Island -- a mountain-climbing course with Colin, and hiking by myself in the second week. During this time, I realized just how complex and busy the six months prior were. Hiking, in contrast, is simple. It is just one foot in front of another, and a simple existence of self-sustenance. Without the noise of information everywhere, there is just the conversations inside my head when hiking alone. There is only the crinkle of your own sleeping bag and never moment of loneliness in the solitude. Somewhere during the nine hour sleeps and genuinely feeling exhausted more than I can ever remember - I realised I haven’t had the time to appreciate this year for what it was worth and how much I have to proud of.

-------------- 

As someone who has frequented the climbing walls at least twice a week for the past 6 months, I am still terrible at rock-climbing. Granted, my frequency and motivation for climbing, really does wax and wane like the moon. And lately, as my main source of exercise, due to this knee injury, it has been waxing. Nevertheless, I never really saw the improvement I would expect someone else to have with the frequency and focus on the sport.  To a large degree, the social element of climbing really brought me back repeatedly to the same crags. We spent many Sunday afternoons and evenings just chatting and doing very little actual climbing. But we were each other’s greatest cheerleaders in finding every little scrap of willpower and confidence to hold on to the little scraps protruding from the wall. 

Sometimes you have to remind yourself to breathe before a big move and just stick it. Sometimes you have to remind yourself to look down and see how terrifyingly high you are. Sometimes you have to take a break and shake the blood back into your hands. 

I learned it is okay to fail.

As someone who falls a lot, I can confirm that the falling gives me confidence because it means that I believed in myself enough, albeit maybe too much. I backed myself to make a move with confidence. The next attempt meant that I could attempt more and grow more in strength and resolve. The second time up would assuredly be better with experience, and there is a certain relief where you finally accomplish the right contortion of body to get past a section. 

Trad. climbing still terrifies me, but even with sport climbing and lead roping, it is still a delicate affair. Gathering at the bottom of a crag, checking each other’s knots, and double checking I locked the carabiner around my harness bell - it is a solemn routine. It’s a more serious sport and there is a lot more faith in each other and self-belief required in the equipment and process. Outside, the falls are bigger and the fall is a couple of metres to the last anchor point, which can be more than a moment in the air. I can only just breathe and trust in others to catch me. If climbing was an analogy for life, they would be my support system. 

Beyond climbing, I have found that people are a lot more compassionate, kind and exceedingly more patient than we can ever expect from someone like ourselves. If friends are ever an indication of the type of person we are, the bounds which feel almost endless, I am climbing far beyond my own character.

At the top of an outdoor crag, I learned self-confidence. 

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

The Saint Heliers turnaround is the moment of reckoning and Armageddon. The entire way out to Saint Helier, it’s pulsing through my mind that I’d have to return this path and retrace my steps to finish. The people ahead of me are on the other side of the road, returning to the finish line, looking worse for wear. The turnaround is where the final nine kilometers starts, and the mind resets and forgets about the previous 33km which should have been easy-going. 

At this point, the race really starts to feel like a marathon. No amount of training prior could prepare for the tortures and endurance of this section. If I could describe the feeling - it’s like trying to spread peanut butter on toast from an empty jar. The opening to the jar is tiny, only enough for a butter knife to fit inside, and it continues to scrape the bottom of the jar. The bottom of the jar makes a screeching noise, and every single urge is to stop scraping, but for some reason we continue. 

I changed the music to my specially prepared list of tracks, rummaging through my pocket of half empty gel packs, to change to the final track in my <Marathon 2019> playlist. At 33km, I made it up to this point feeling mostly okay -- so I went for it. 

I made it four more kilometres with a negative split, running past multiple people who had started walking, before falling back into a numb survival mode. The sort of survival where you grit your teeth and and look for energy and strength you never knew you had. Digging deeper into the jar for one last push with two fingers jammed into the opening.

I ran alongside someone else who looked like he was struggling as much as I was, and we stuck together. I even had a little kick of speed about one km from the finish, near Britomart, before falling behind him again. Abby found me at the finish line, but I couldn’t move any closer to hear what she was saying. Nick came and found me to congratulate me, and I gave him a ride home via church. 

The last 9 kilometers was truly one of the hardest things I have finished, but I was so happy at the finish line. I don’t think anyone else could ever understand the tears of joy -- I could do it.

On the Auckland marathon, I learned self-belief.

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

I think people who have hiked with me can assure you that my hiking style is best described as obsessive. Nearly all can affirm this, the rest never really made it back. When I returned to Auckland in November, I remarked that to Y- that I was genuinely just exhausted, Y- was astonished, 

> I cannot fathom what kind of hiking could make you exhausted

The Cascade Saddle day-trip was rough. It wasn’t the day trudging through knee-deep snow, or the sunburn starting to form on my cheek, right below where my cap did not provide shade -- but it was the collective two weeks of hiking and climbing, and finding my limit at the end of three long ten-hour days with a full pack. The entire day was full of the highest highs and the lowest lows. 

The Dart Glacier, arguably the centre-piece of this hike was stunning. The entire hike was designed around tracing the Dart River upstream on the true left of the river to its source. It was easily the most awe-inspiring thing I have seen this year, in terms of majesty and beauty. There is nothing on earth which makes me feel so small or insignificant, as standing at the base of a glacier and looking at the timeless, frozen rivers that run around me. 

The lows followed quickly after, descending from the mountain saddle, toward the end of the day and rapidly losing daylight. Fully knowing there was still 5 hours of hiking left in the day, slightly worried about the pace of the day quickly ending. 

I can still vividly remember the shape of the broad, flat rock which looked slippery, and despite making the mental cost-benefit analysis, still carelessly putting my entire weight on the rock. In true laidback-jugs fashion, I just decided that the problem would sort itself out. Unsurprisingly, the foot did actually continue slipping, and with zero points of secure anchor, on the side of the mountain I continued to slide down the hill for a couple of metres somersaulting over exposed rock and snow. 

I cursed myself with some very self-deprecating language to numb the pain down my shins and landing on top of my camera bag. In the back of my mind, I knew that I was hiking alone, very far from the closest person. Something about the self-sufficiency in the wild makes one increasingly irritable at every oneself, and every bad decisions. The rest of the limp back was miserable and I was exceedingly negative to myself.

The next morning, I made it as far as the Rees Saddle before returning to the hut. I started at 6am and vowed to myself that I would only go 3 hours because I had another 3 hours return and another 5 hours to the next hut. I made it two and half hours of climbing and walking along the narrow mountain route before stopping. I rested. 

I felt not so alone as previous days, but in such solitude for that short half an hour, just watching the sun come over the mountains and giving my body rest. From the Intentions Book I knew that I was the first person to come across this mountain pass for four months, and I took heart from that. 

In the moments where I could stop and see creation, remembering why I was out there in moderate-high danger, crossing waist-high water, and walking for hours with what seems like all my possessions - I could see that, in that moment, it was good. 

On the Rees-Dart track, I learned self-love.

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

This year has been good, even great. It’s been the best one yet, and I know I have grown so much as a person. 

About a month ago, E- said I am often pretentious and this operated as a defense mechanism. It still slays me on the inside somewhat because it’s something I’ve battled my whole life. In reality, there is pretentiousness in me, but can that exist if I vow there is no pride? 

There is urgency in everything I do, because I like to think that I doggedly pursue and am surrounded by so much love, peace and joy. I don’t know how anyone could settle for anything less, I struggle to translate that sentiment into words and actions that other people could understand. I don’t know how I can put the thirst in me in a normal way, without resorting to l'appel du vide and feeling I’m crazy or weird (or inferior) compared to everyone else because I feel more than other people do. 

Life is merely what God has planned for each of us, and I’m just here to experience every drop of it. 

On some level, I long to share it with someone. There is so much of my life which is guarded and the way her words still have so much power over me -- I think I still have some residual feelings for her.

[all-of-the-imagines-for-eve]

Forget About It ~ Sweet Pea (Part 2)

A/n: Double post because I’m in LOVE with this. Wow it feels good to be back! Not my gif.

Word Count: 3816

MASTERLIST

'Cause I feel like a bad joke. Walk the tight rope to hold on to you. Was it real? Or a love scene, from a bad dream? I don't think I can forget about it...

"We don’t even know who you stand with! ...Us, or them? You can’t be half a Serpent. Even your boy’s kid sister picked a side. Against the North Siders, even."

"Maybe not ALL North Siders are a complete waste."

"Who said she’s a North Sider anymore?"

Jughead and I had both ignored the back and forth musing between Sweet Pea and Fangs but the words hung over my head, becoming more tangible and real and prodding and harder to ignore each and every day I spent with Jughead and the Serpents. That process quickened even more when Jughead went headlong into the trials.

Hotdog was taking to me well. We got into the habit of cuddling up to each other on the floor. Midst everything else, that was one of the great things. I didn’t need Sweet Pea’s presence and comfort anymore, which gave room for me to simply want it. We hung out and talked and got to know each other past my nonsensical craving. He became a person, not a drug. A smile and a laugh with a name. I started to notice things. How bright his smile was, no matter the setting of the room. How smooth and deep his voice was. How undeniably handsome he was. How he was good with kids - the one or two times I’d seen him with them - and how good with Hotdog he was. He was so good. To everyone and everything.

The day Toni came to warn Jughead about the last trial was tense. I moved outside the second it got serious, wrestling with Hotdog. It was my absolute favorite thing to do. He was a big dog but he was gentle too. Even when I got him all rowdy and hyper he was still well trained and old enough to immediately step back and stop when I showed signs of strain or pain. Toni found me on the ground, dirty and pinned by Hotdog who was slobbering me up with kisses as I shrieked and giggled and tried to hide from his wet love. Toni shooed the dog, offering me her hand to help me to my feet. I took it. Once I was up I used to my shirt to wipe my face. When I was done, her serious expression wiped my smile away. "What’s up Toni?" I asked, genuinely concerned.

She looked at me a few more seconds before drawing herself up to her full height, still barely reaching my chin. "Seems this house is full of people who aren’t sure. People I can’t be sure about." I rose an eyebrow. "Are you a North Sider, Y/n?" I swallowed, my mood instantly darkening. Hotdog moved to my side, his nose nudging my hand as he sensed my distress. Toni seemed to grow more angry at the sight as I pet him, accepting his comfort. "You take shelter and seek comfort here but... can we trust you? Can I trust you not to break my best friend’s heart?"

My eyes widened and I blushed. "There’s nothing going on between me and Sweet Pea."

It was her turn to raise the questioning eyebrow and I swallowed. "I never said I was talking about Sweet Pea." My eyes fell. We both knew what I'd said was a lie. Even since the night we’d met we’d been growingsteadily and quickly closer. It was obvious that I had developed some kind of crush on him and he had become protective of me at the very least. I always had the horrible feeling that he saw me as a little sister he had to watch, but what Toni was insinuating undoubtedly made my heart beat faster. The prospect of him crushing on me in return...

Toni stepped closer and despite the height difference I stepped back, intimidated. "Don’t hurt him." She said it like a warning, an unspoken, ‘or I’ll hurt you’ added to the end that I could see in her eyes and body. I nodded, swallowing, and she walked away.

Things got complicated after that. I was suddenly aware of the effect I was leaving on the Serpents. I couldn’t stay, I knew that. Eventually I had to go home. Archie seemed to be a lot better and my dad was missing me. I was missing my dad too. South Side had become a second home, full of a bunch of friendly faces and safe corners and happy moments, unlike the dredged and tainted North Side I’d left behind where the only person I could always count on to make me feel happy was my dad. I wasn’t close to Veronica except through Archie and now that we were on not talking terms, I didn’t want anything to do with either of them. Betty I’d miss, but living with Jughead meant I’d see her occasionally. Kevin and I weren’t really all that close but he might be a face I would think about when I wondered what the North Side kids were up to. I could ask Betty for updates, though. I could visit my dad on weekends. I’m sure I could even get a job and start pulling my weight around the Jones’, not just cooking food and taking care of Hotdog and keeping things tidy. But those were long term plans. Those were moving out and being gone plans. Where would they lead?

Would I join the Serpents? Go to South Side High? Would I disgrace my whole life in the North Side because my brother had cracked and pointed a gun at some Serpents I didn’t even know at the time? Would I put my dad through losing me before I was even 18 to the dangers of the South Side and it’s life style just because of Archie?

On the other hand, could I bring myself to forgive Archie if I went back? Would we ever be as we used to be, or would I always be in this middle space? Too Serpent to be North Side, too North Side to be a Serpent?

No, Sweet Pea had made it clear. I had to pick a side eventually. Was it worth shoving a wedge in mine and my dad’s relationship to seek the freedom and happiness I had unexpectedly found with a gang that should hate me?

But, above all, if I did stay... would it be for Sweet Pea? Was this a pick and choose between Sweet Pea and my dad or was I oversimplifying it?

To summarize, I had a lot of questions and a lot of reason to be asking them. I was unsure on a lot of levels and it drove me away from Sweet Pea. My confusions and worrying and overthinking made me draw back. In my attempt not to hurt him, I drove a knife into his gut and twisted. Toni shot endless glares at me and the rest of the Serpents were starting to catch on too. Sitting close and quiet whispers and stolen stares and brief flirting turned to a solid cold shoulder as I internally panicked and it was hurting everyone around me. They’d started to trust me. Started to count me as one of their own in spirit, even if I didn’t have the tattoo and the jacket.

Now it seemed that I would be running home to the North Side with my tail between my legs.

Damnit why couldn’t this be easier?!

As if hearing my silent frustrated yell into the void of the mental universe, my brother showed up and did what he always does- he lost his temper and ran his mouth. And suddenly Jughead wasn’t blocking Sweet Pea from Archie, he was blocking ME.

"Are you friends with these thugs?" He spat.

"Are you joining the Serpents?" He asked, as if accusing.

"These were he people who attacked me!"

Each time I was there to argue.

"Don’t call them thugs!" or "Attacked you? It was a consensual fight!"

Archie kept blowing me off, straight up ignoring me. My hands were already clenched into fists when it happened. Jughead asked why he came and Archie said the one thing that tipped me off. "I came to tell you to stay away from Betty. She doesn’t want to see you anymore."

I moved to Jughead's side, my shoulder brushing his, and he started after a second, his face hardening in resolve. We both knew that was total shit. "Screw you," Jughead snapped. "I just saw Betty yesterday she..." he cut off, drifting. "She was fine-"

"No, dude," Archie cut in. "She’s been wanting to break up with you for weeks. "She’s been agonizing over it. Since you crossed the dark side. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it."

I nudged Jug again, supporting him. Helping him. He blinked, thinking. "So she sent you?" Jughead scoffed. "Betty would never do that!"

Archie took a step forward. "If you don’t believe me then call her! And feel free to tell her you’re a Serpent now, too. Bet she’ll love that." He took a step forward and Jug took a step back. We were side by side now and I was staring my brother down, angry and hurt because I knew how this was killing Jughead, who had become my best friend. "She knew where you were headed, Jughead. Okay, we all did. And she knows you can’t be with them and with her. I mean, come on, man." He shook his head." You know it too."

There was a moment of silence where Archie looked at me and I felt his words hit me on a more personal level. His message was to both of us. I felt my own eyes water as Jughead managed, “Tell Betty I got the message." His voice was wet and shaky, sounding how my heart felt.

"Yeah," Archie mumbled, voice quiet and gravely now. He looked at me. "Come on, Y/n let’s go home. There’s been enough of this nonsense."

So my time had come. Just like that I felt each and every pair of eyes that belonged to a person within what seemed a mile radius trained on me. This was my cue. My cue to leave and escape and run away. My cue to ditch the Serpents and return as the North Sider they dreaded I was.... And maybe I would have if Archie had just come to me. Maybe I would have given in and put my head back in the sand and closed my eyes to the horrors happening around me.

But something had just snapped inside of me and there was no going back now. "No," I answered firmly, my voice strong even though it was quiet. Even Jughead's eyes bore into me now.

Archie scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I get it, you made your point. I’m done with the Red Circle stuff, okay? Just come home. Dad and Vegas miss you." He sighed. "I miss you." I shook my head and he grunted in frustration, that anger from before coming back. "Y/n you’re a North Sider stop acting like you’re tough just because you want to make a point!"

I snapped. My hands flattened against his chest and I shoved with all my might, stepping into it. He tumbled back, eyes widening as he almost lost his balance. Jughead didn’t move to stop me. No one was holding me back. "North Siders are so stupid! And shallow! And... TERRIBLE!" I screamed, getting in his face. He was stunned speechless. "You look at someone different than you and don’t understand them so you write them off. You do it with your own! The popular attack the nerds, the straights attack the gays. Cheryl Blossom attacks everyone because she’s got issues and you all just let her because to actually do something to change how she is would mean putting in work to help her and you’re all too self absorbed to do anything about it! The LAST decent North Sider my age just broke up with her boyfriend because he joined a family of genuinely good people you all know NOTHING about. You don’t care about his reason or thinking or anything, you’re too STUCK on your own wants and needs and preferences. You’re so SELFISH!" I shoved him again but this time he was ready, catching my wrists and shoving back so that I stumbled. He was a lot stronger than me.

Sweet Pea moved forward behind me but Jughead caught him. "Let her fight her own fights." They both stilled.

Archie didn’t like that. Didn’t like the protective way Sweet Pea looked at me. Didn’t like me fighting my own fights. Didn’t like me fighting him. So he didn’t the only thing he knew how to do. He lashed out. "You think these people care about you at all?" It was like he’d slapped me in the face. I froze, staring at him with wide eyes. "You’re just a North Sider to them, Y/n! You don’t live on the South Side! And even if you did move in, you don’t actually know them. What they grew up going through and the life style they’re used to leading. This will all be new and dangerous to you. You have to adapt and change. They could never accept the real you. The you that sits on your bed at home because you’re tired from talking to people alone. The shy, reserved, quiet you that’s scared to raise your hand in class even though you know the answer because you get anxiety when you’re called on like a kid who took a cookie they weren’t allowed to have. You’re small and scared by everything. You’ve depended on me from day one and now you’re just running to the closest big man to protect you now that you’ve deemed me unsafe for whatever reason. They’ll ditch you so fast Y/n-"

"For no reason?" I asked in a low voice. Our eyes met and all his anger was gone instantly. It was like a movie was laying in front of us, showing the events clearly. We both saw it so easily that it was like we were watching it in each other’s eyes. "The night you completely lost your shit, I watched the big brother I looked up to for everything turn into a gun toting psychopath temping people to attack him and then threatening lives when they answered the call. Then you realized you fucked up and LEFT me. Alone, at night, terrified and shaken and about to have an anxiety attack. Those people you put in danger? Those people you shrug off as trouble, as thugs? THOSE were the people who were there for me when I had no where else to go because I was terrified of going home to a brother I was afraid of." My eyes watered as we stared each other down. My knuckles were curled tight, colored white, and shaking.

Jughead put his hand on my shoulder to calm me after a long pause of brother-sister face off. "I think you should go Archie. You’ve made your point." Archie swallowed and then pushed past me and Jug, into the crowd of Serpents and back home to the North Side.

There were no cheers. No relieved sighs or smiles. I’d chosen the South Side. But I was a wreck. Archie’s words had trashed me and they didn’t even have to see my face to know. They wanted to reach out and comfort me I could practically feel Sweet Pea itching to move. But no. All that came was silence, heavy and long.

Finally, mercifully, Jughead turned to face everyone. "What?" He snapped. "Did you enjoy the show?"

Sweet Pea didn’t even pause in his reply. "Show hasn’t even started yet."

The rest of the day I stayed in the trailer, in Jug’s room. I didn’t talk not once, and only came out to watch Jughead go through the last trial. I winced and curled away from the group as they beat him up, each getting in their own hit. Each time made me hurt as if they were hitting me, but I knew that Jughead’s pain was far worse. Finally Sweet Pea got his punch, brass knuckles glinting under the moonlight. Jughead was on the ground and I gasped. But then, like the Jughead I had come to know since living with him in the South Side, he stood up, spit blood, and almost seemed to smile. Toni put an arm around me as we both watched Sweet Pea offer his hand. Toni smiled and Jug took it and it felt like the whole South Side let loose the breath it had been holding. I was there when he got his tattoo and then I was gone, outside the trailer as Toni and Jughead talked inside. When it grew very late and Toni hadn’t come out, I sighed, hanging my head. They’d had tension since day one and I hated it. I hated it because I knew he loved Betty and that meant that Toni deserved better.

Sweet Pea found me falling asleep against the side of the trailer. He sat down next to me. "Hey." I hummed in response and he chuckled. His arm fell around my shoulders and he tugged me against him. He was so warm compared to the night chill that I curled into him, pulling my knees up a bit. "I was just gonna let you be. Toni and Fangs told me to let you cool off. But... I couldn’t sleep. Are you okay?" I sighed heavily and he nodded. "Thought so." He paused. "Jughead lock you out?"

I smiled at his protective tone. "He. Toni. Inside. I needed air."

My mumbles seemed to get to him as he nodded, letting me know he understood. "Want to come to mine then?"

Leaning away so he could see my face, I smiled. "I would love that."

His smile matched mine. He stood, pausing as I went to struggle to my feet before he laughed quietly, leaning down and scooping me up bridal style. I grunted in protest but didn’t fight him, pressing against him instead because GOD he was warm. He walked in quiet for a while before he spoke. "You know, what he said. It’s all wrong. You see the North Side like we do. I’ve seen it since I first met you. You’ve always been so protective and appreciative of us. You defended us, wrote off your brother. I wouldn’t have blamed you for going back. That’s your whole life... but you didn’t. I’ve asked a few of the guys. Fangs and Toni like you. They’re glad you’re sticking around. And we all know Jughead has a mega soft spot for you. I can’t exactly speak for everyone but I can say that there are Serpents who will have your back. And then the rest will have our backs, so really the whole family is behind you."

Eyes closed, I hummed. My hand flattened against his chest. "Thanks, Sweets. I needed to hear that." Under my hand, his heartbeat quickened when I used the pet name. The rest of the fairly short walk was quiet. He took me inside and to his bed this time. He set me down, pulling the covers over me. "Sorry I took your bed," I apologized.

He chuckled. "I don’t mind. Goodnight."

"Night." I was dead asleep too fast to even create another thought, and so the day ended peacefully and happy with me safe and warm and feeling absolutely wonderful...

Of course it couldn’t last long. Jughead worked on transferring me to South Side high and it was surprisingly smooth and easy. My father signed the papers after a call where I told him my plan about visiting on weekends and sticking close to Jughead’s side. After I told him about everything Archie had said, the friends I was making, and how much Jug was hurting and how much I was helping (because even Jug had admitted that I was helping by sticking around and actively cheering him up and said I wasn’t allowed to sleepover anywhere else anymore because he missed my breakfast making) just in general, he agreed that I was needed much more where I was. For Jug and myself.

My first day at South Side High, Sweet Pea was my guide. He walked around with his arm around my shoulders, his eyes tearing down everyone who even dared to glance my way in a shady or questionable way. He actually pulled me into his lap during lunch and no one said anything about it. I was enjoying the attention from him and generally being back into our flirty little back and forth.

My first day at South Side High, I joined Jughead’s newspaper thing because I was a great editor and an okay writer if need be. I waited at Sweet Pea’s locker with said boy while he turned the entry into the teacher in charge of the newspaper. I was excited for the publishing we had both talked about and worked hard over, perfecting to both of our standards. It was guaranteed a winner.

My first day at South Side High was pleasant even though the school was pretty crap. I found myself briefly wishing I could bring better learning conditions to the kids there because people like Sweet Pea and Toni and Fangs, who were smart and actually would try it they were given the opportunity, deserves the opportunity to try. It seemed all of Riverdale had spray painted them a general loss and I didn’t approve of it.

My first day at South Side high, Sweet Pea not-so-jokingly called, “See you later, Princess,” as I blushed. Seconds before all Hell broke lose and the brief moment of peace and contentedness shattered into chaos. The halls flooded with officers and I watched my fellow students and my friends get chased and pinned down. The sound of Sweet Pea’s fist slamming on the locker seemed to echo in my brain as I was tripped and pinned, a knee digging into my back. I cried out and Sweet Pea screamed my name and we were all dragged away as I watched my brother - of ALL people - watch with Jughead as I was carted off to wherever they were taking us like I was any other student.

My first day of South Side High taught me what it meant to be a kid on the South Side. It taught me what it meant to be a Serpent, as Toni scrambled to my side, barring me from the shifty kids in the cell with me. It taught me the Not Fun part of the life I had chosen. And it fueled me, my hard eyes turning to Toni as we shared a look of half outrage and half surrender. There was nothing we could do. But still. I was a South Side kid now. And I still wasn’t going to change it.

That was reason enough for Toni to smile.

-

Forever Tag: @bitchyseawitch @chipster-21 @alexa-playafricabytoto

[solarbird]

"I don't get their whole dynamic," Sombra said, watching the site through one of the multiband cameras she'd left behind, hidden. "Not from what you've told me. She's apparently been trying to kill him since that old Overwatch HQ blew up, and now they're best buds again, all at once?"

Gabriel managed a tiny bit of a laugh, over comms. He worried that this was not enough distance - the fiction of separation became awfully small, this close to a shared target. But, well, here we are. "She's always been a bit ruthless."

"That's pretty damn ruthless, amigo. And that's coming from me. I have done some shit."

"She has!" Lena agreed.

Laticia sat, with Gabe, listening to the voices - disguised on her and Gabe's end, not maybe not enough. She... the way she talks... who did you used to be, chica?

"It's an asset," Reyes said, "in the military. At least, to a point. You do what has to be done to accomplish the mission."

"I guess I'm not very military, then," the hacker replied.

"You're right, though," Gabe continued. "She has to have some sort of plan here. Any guesses what it might be, team?"

"Maybe.. she's going to ground? And trying to talk Jack into going along?" Angela hoped, on the far side, as Widowmaker shook her head, dismissing the notion.

"No," Gabriel nodded his head, from his side of the canyon, unseen. "She's always had contingency plans." He snorted. "You should've seen her this one time in Italy - little part of Venice called Rialto. We were holed up in this restaurant, waiting for extraction, with damn near every omnic trooper in the world coming down on us us..."

Is that the same Rialto that Jesse's talked about? the hacker desperately wanted to know, but would not ask. "What'd she do?"

"Noticed the kitchen was propane and turned the entire building into a giant shaped charge, aimed right at the primary force. Saved us all."

He paused, letting the moment sit.

"She wasn't always like this. Neither of them were. It's been a while but... we were friends, once. Real friends."

"You're really hoping you can talk her down, aren't you?"

"Of course," he admitted. "If I can. Jack..."

"Nope," Venom said, flatly.

"I know that, Venom," Gabriel said. "I get it. As I said, Jack, by contrast, is a clear and present danger, and... we're going along with doing it your way. It's not my first time in the field."

"Y'know," the hacker said, "If we can't get her to cough up all the copies of the video..."

Attention in both vehicles turned to Sombra's voice. "Go on," Amélie urged.

"What if we just... hold her for a while. Get the best copy from her we can, and start dumping altered versions on conspiracy theory sites."

"You know some good ones?" Laticia asked, poking.

"I know all the good ones," Sombra shot back, and Laticia smiled, a suspicion supported.

Sombra hopped up, out of her seat in the back of the transport, and started pacing back and forth in the low-ceilinged space, thinking about the video, her footsteps audible on the link. "The videos, though, right? It's not that she has 'em, it's that they're real. So we make 'em fake. Bad. Like, really bad. And some of 'em good. Maybe the first one. Make one of 'em what actually happened, but with Tracer edited out first and then edited back in, with, maybe, slightly fucked up lighting, and some paste effects you don't notice until you get in close. Looks real, at first, but then doesn't, when checked. Underlay somebody else under Tracer, then put Tracer back on top, leaving a little fringe."

"Dirty the water," Gabe muttered, thinking.

"Yeah, amigo, exactly, right? No, better. Change the question. Get them going, 'this isn't really Tracer, so who is it really - and who's behind it?'"

"Oh," Gabe said, a smile in his voice. "I like that."

"Then maybe some meme versions, right? Making fun of the original. Have Tracer turn into an omnic, or into that gamer from Korea, or Bowser, or," she laughed, "or a chibi version of your friend, Winston. Something like that."

Lena laughed and laughed and laughed. "Seriously?"

"Absolutely!" Sombra said, getting excited by her own idea. "By the time the real one comes out - if it ever does - our fake version of the real one will have been out so long that nobody will give it a second glance! It's just another refinement, you know?"

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around," the Widowmaker said, a small grin across her face.

"Old-style psyop, straight up. Active measures, they used to call it, back before the Omnic Crisis," Gabriel mused, calculating, trying to weigh against his own confirmation bias, wanting so much for it to be enough. "...it could work."

"We should check in with, uh," Venom said, not finishing the sentence. "You know. See what they think. Get their buy-off, 'cause we'd need them to, you know."

Amélie hummed her agreement. "I think I agree. Yes. Venom, that will be for you."

Lena groaned a little at the thought of having to call Overwatch, but couldn't deny her wife was correct. "Mind you," she said, carrying on, "we need t'get them apart before we can do anything." The younger assassin looked back to her drawings of the layout. "Got t'get an original of that video."

"Peel Ana off from Jack. Yeah." Gabriel acknowledged the point. "Tricky, though. If you wound him, and the doc's suppressor field isn't effective - no offense, Teufel -"

"None taken," the Swiss German said, waving off his worry of insult. "It is still highly experimental work."

"...he might... absorb her."

"Or, he may do something more conventional, but still particularly rash," Widowmaker added. "Or she might. It is difficult to tell."

"Gabe and I found a bunch of proximity alarms," Delgado reminded the teams. "Most of 'em were dead, like the ones you found. Maybe we trip one, maybe he comes out by himself, or she does, to check it."

"And either way, then we grab 'er, that what you're saying?" Venom asked. "And the other party goes after whoever doesn't come out."

"Seemed like worth a try," Laticia said, a little defensively. "I mean, she's a sniper..."

"It's not a bad thought, luv. I like it." She grinned to herself. "And, depending on how th' dice roll, we might both get a shot."

-----

"I heard it," Jack grumbled from the couch, resting after working out. He really needed to get to those outer alarms. He knew local wildlife had tripped half of them - that every alert had just been one more false positive - but the situation had become more serious, now. "Probably another chupacabra. Every time one of those alarms gets triggered it's some damn animal or another."

"Perhaps," Ana said, frowning, dismayed a little at his casualness. "But I will check."

"No," the soldier said, rousing himself out of his torpor, feeling more out of joint than ever. Usually, workouts helped, but not as much today. "No. You cover me, while I go out." He shook himself out, trying to rally himself, physically. It worked, to a degree. "And... when I ghost... don't freak."

That much, at least, is wise, she thought, as she picked up her rifle, got into position, and nodded.

In the trees surrounding the small cabin, Venom sat, watching. "He's comin' out," she said, with a predatory grin, "and he's alone. Checking the door..."

"They are rightly suspicious," Widowmaker added. "Ana is..." She activated her helmet. "She is covering him, from inside. Do not underestimate her, even now."

"I've seen her shoot," Laticia chimed in. "I won't."

"Shit," Gabe said, "he's ghosted." They'd let the field generator untriggered, not wanting to tip Jack off, Angela and Venom both suspecting he could feel its effects. "Teufel, hit the trap!"

"Activated," Angela replied. "Is he..."

"Fuck!" Lacitica said. "Where'd he go? I saw him, I saw his cloud, then.... where the hell did he..."

"I do not have him in my sights," Widowmaker growled, frustrated. "How? How could he...?"

"I'm goin' in," Venom spat, through clenched teeth. "He's somewhere, but he's not here. We get Ana, maybe he comes back for her."

"Go. I have her in my sights - let us make sure she knows."

The single shot smashed the window, the bullet deflected as she'd anticipated, missing the Egyptian sniper. As the older woman spun to track back the shot and respond with one of her own, Venom teleported behind her, and with one blow, knocked her to the ground, dazed but not out. Ana's hand dove into her cloak for her knockout pistol, and the Talon assassin grabbed it as she did, the two wrestling, briefly, before the gun fired, once, into the wall, and a second time, into the Egyptian woman's shoulder.

"Sorry, mum," Lena said smirking, as the older woman's consciousness faded. "Not this time."

-----

Jack Morrison floated, sightless, enraged, a diffuse mass, spreading, uncontrolled.

He'd felt himself scatter, when the trap triggered. He'd felt himself fly apart, the thinnest mist, held together for now, barely, buffeted by the breeze - how, he didn't know.

But he could hear. Vibrations in the air also vibrated what was left of him, and somehow, whatever network held him together, that still - barely - let him still think, also let him understand sound. He heard the Widowmaker's shot; he heard the glass shatter; he heard the sound of Venom teleporting, he heard a scuffle, he heard two shots, and he heard Ana fall, unknowing what it all meant.

And then, as he drifted away, he heard Venom's shout.

"Y'STILL OUT THERE, Y'MONSTROUS FUCK? WE'VE GOT 'ER, NOW."

"YOU WANT 'ER BACK?"

"COME GET HER!"