#my art skill had finally caught up with the vision B)

[xxyheir]

disappears out of nowhere for years only to return with nothing but the skills of drawing hot men

[mcfreakin-bxtch]

Be Yours (Knight AU) - Chapter Two

Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None that I can think of. Just language

Word Count: 2.7k+

Summary: The dread of not knowing your father’s burden comes crashes down. 

A/N: So the battle between my OC and ‘You’ has been fought. And ‘You’ won! Check out my ao3 for any more news about this story, and I did change my character Robert to Paz since I just realized the opportunity I could’ve seized. 

Chapter One

You found him by the back after the joust, where the castle’s stables were. Your own horse, and beautiful brown mare you named Henry, was next to his, picking at the hay below his feet. 

The lily sat idly by your ear, tangled in your locks. Secretly, you hoped the flower had come from Din, though—logically—you knew it couldn’t have come from him. 

He was gently cleaning his horse off, brushing it’s mane and cooing softly to it. The moment was too intimate and you would’ve turned around had he not caught you. 

“No matter where I turn, you are always right there, in my shadow.” He sighed. 

You smiled and looked down at your feet, careful of the pretty flower and lifting the hems of your dress to walk closer to your horse, stroking his nose.

Din watched you carefully, stiff and unyielding. You took no offense to it now. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lose,” you said. “Maybe one day you can teach me.”

“To fight?” Din scoffed, turning back to the white mare. “I didn’t think you to be the type.”

Now you were the one to scoff. “And why is that, hm? Because I am a woman? Women can fight too, you know.”

“I know. And I would never think that, Princess. It’s just…”

You waited patiently, keeping your attention on Henry so you wouldn’t scare him—the man in the heavy armor that is. 

“I do not think your father would appreciate it,” he finally answered. “This kingdom needs a queen, and—”

“Spare me,” you stopped him. “Just tell me the truth.”

Din sighed heavily again. He did that a lot.

“Your father… has made it known. It is too dangerous and he’d rather you stay away from the likes of war.”

You closed your eyes in frustration. Of course it would be your father. 

“It isn’t his business,” you snapped. “And I’ll have you know that I can do whatever the hell I please, so I don’t need my father’s permission to wield a sword, Knight.”

Din tilted his head, taken aback by your sudden outburst. Before you could make any sort of apology—like you were taught to—he stifled a chuckle. 

And it was so small but it radiated like a thousand suns. A thousand suns, blaring bright and proud in this little moment of serenity. You found herself smiling, chuckling and shaking your head at him. 

“Some days it’s hard to believe you’re a princess. You hardly act like it.” He noted. 

You giggled. “You’re not the first to inform me of this,” you said. “And soon enough it will be ‘Queen’.”

“I’m sure you will be a fine one.”

You blushed, turning your face away to cover it. But it quickly turned into a sigh, stepping away from your beloved horse. 

“I’m not sure that’s entirely what I want.”

It was the first time you said it to someone who wasn’t Jules. It slipped out hesitantly, but once the words left you felt better, lighter even. And you trusted Din, not only with your secrets but with your life as well. 

You saw him visibly tense from your peripheral vision. It confused you, but you guessed he was just looking out for you—as he never failed to do—making sure no wandering ears heard your declaration. 

Din cleared his throat, making you fully turn to him. He wasn’t looking at you, still trained on his horse, but he had stopped petting him and had a hunch to his form, like he was bearing more than just the weight of his attire. 

“I do not think it is wise to say such things so loudly.”

He said your name, and it made your stomach drop at the warning held behind it. 

“What —” You cleared your throat to swallow down the lump. “What are you not telling me, Din?”

Before he could say anymore, an echoed voice called out. 

“Of course,” Paz sneered. “The magnificent Din Djarin, the Princess’s little bitch, playing idly while —”

He stopped when he saw you. You smirked inwardly when you saw the way his body stiffened, like he had just been struck by a sword, and imagined he looked just as horrified as he felt. 

“P-princess.” The appointer stuttered. “My apologies, m'lady. I did not realize you were here.”

“Clearly.” You spat out, chin tilted up. “But please, don’t stop at my expense. Finish what you were going to say.”

Paz was becoming uncomfortable and you reveled in it. Din, however, just seemed as though he wanted the whole thing done and over with so he could move on with his day; you didn’t blame him. 

“Go.” You finally ordered. “And do not speak to my guard that way again. Perhaps your silence is more of use to me than your sword.”

He stammered, clearly embarrassed, and prodded away with careful steps. 

You and Din relaxed at the same moment, but now without a word to say to each other. The silence, although, was quite comfortable between you and it felt nice, being able to share it with someone. You suspected Din must have felt the same way, or least appreciated your understanding of his silent personality. 

“What is the deal between the two of you?” You broke the silence. 

He grunted softly, giving you a small, careless shrug. “Childish rivarily, one that I do not particularly care for.”

You hummed, picking at a tiny piece of string of the seam of your gown. “Well, if he continues on, be sure to tell me.”

The armor creaked, background noise to you at that point, as he fully turned towards you, arms hanging like boards at his sides. 

“I can take care of it.” It wasn’t threatening, nor frustrated; just a simple fact. 

“I know.”

He was going to say something else. Your ears perked for it, but another voice—lest wasn’t Paz—tried to entice the void. 

“Princess!” Jules called out. “You're needed by your father at once, the food is ready to be served.”

You grimaced. Your father had terrible timing. 

“Okay.” You murmured, not even sure if she would be able to hear you. 

“Are you going to eat as well?” You asked Din. 

Din shuffled on his feet. “Not yet. Have duties to attend to.”

You smiled softly. “Well, for my sake Din, try the new sauce. I think you’ll like it.”

He gave you a small bow with the tilt of his head as you walked by, brushing against him as you did. You only walked just a short way before stopping, turning your head. 

“May I ask you a question?”

He nodded.

“Don’t suppose you know the kind person who gifted me this flower?” You asked lightly, giving yourself a mental pat at the ability to hide the shyness from your voice. “It was left on my seat before the joust, and I would like to give them a proper thanks.”

“I’m afraid not.” He put out quickly. 

Your excited heart sank, but your expression remained neutral.

“Shame,” you whispered. “Such a lovely flower.”

You walked further away without another glance. You weren’t trying to be rude, you really weren’t, but you didn’t think you had it in you to hide your disappointment; you hated the fact that you had more of a difficult time with Din than anyone else. 

Jules did not say anything as she walked by your side. You were grateful for that; your thoughts too scrambled to form a conversation. 

Why are you so disappointed? You had to have known the flower wasn’t from him. You knew it was dangerous to exploit your dislike of being tied down to the royal rule. You—

It continued on and you wanted to scream.   

Maybe you should, let the whole damn world hear you stupid scream over a silly little crush. 

You were seated by the time you crawled out of your thoughts. Your father made a face at you, wondering with his eyes of the mood you were currently in. You just gave him a one sided shrug and a forced smile. 

The food was delicious. That was something—even lost in your own head—couldn’t deny nor ignore. Especially when you caught eyes with Peter, smiling with glee at the reactions to his sacred art. 

“This is exquisite!” Your father exclaimed, just loudly enough so Peter could hear as well. 

“It is.” You agreed. “We’ll have to have more of it.”

Your father's words blurred into the background again, and you shoved a mouthful of pudding into your mouth when you looked up and spotted him. 

Oh Lord. What is he doing here?

Gerald was part of Colestead’s line of fearless Knights, one that used to remind you of that of a wolf when you watched the rare and few times he participated in any fight of entertainment. 

But despite his ruthless combat skills, it didn’t show in the way he spoke—all soft, kind natured, at least towards you. 

And his presence here, as he leaned towards Din, who had just walked through the threshold of your hall, brought you back to the ship you saw earlier and your father’s words echoed in your head. Your chest tightened as the anxiety—unknown and abrupt to you, the sudden fear behind it that made the room spin—clawed at you.     

“Nothing for you to worry about.”

Do not cause a scene. Do not do anything stupid.

You took a deep breath as you tried to calm yourself. Bringham must have noticed your stance, because he followed your sight until he stiffened. It went away as soon as it appeared, and he took a big swig from his cup. 

“I’m not going to say a word about it.” You assured lowly and quickly. 

He exhaled deeply through his nose, nostrils flaring slightly. But he looked on solemn towards his people, and turned his head to you with understanding in his eyes. 

“You will know. I’ve promised you this before, and have every intention of keeping to it, love.”

You gave him a tired smile and his shoulder a playful pat. You forced your eyes to stay ahead or to the left, but never to the right where that man stood. If you wanted to make it through the last of the festivities without a trick, then you had to do anything to keep your mind distracted. 

Which is why you called Victoria, a pretty young girl around your age, to your seat with a wide smile. 

Victoria was a very beautiful woman; strawberry blonde hair, just slightly longer than yours, hazel eyes and a wicked curve to her grin. It certainly matched her soul. 

Now you never really liked her as a friend, but there were moments where you could hold a decent conversation without wanting to tear her head off. You prayed this would be one of them.

And she happened to be the daughter of your father’s precious friend. 

“Oh,” she said your name, sweetlike. “Such a beautiful day to celebrate! And where is that lovely maiden of yours?”

Jules did not like her either. You wouldn’t put her through that, and besides, you had no idea on where your friend could be; she soon disappeared just shortly after you were seated. 

“Not sure I’m afraid.” You clicked. “But I’ll tell her you said hi.”

Jules would get a kick out of it. 

She hummed, then looked over to that dreadful right, making your eyes twitched. 

“Between you and I,” she said before leaning down to whisper, “I like the White Knight.”

Din. Of course. 

“You are aware that’s my guard you’re talking about.” You grumbled. 

She giggled. “What do you think I’m going to do, Princess? Seduce your little knight away? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Ridiculous? Perhaps. But more likely to be tried? Positively. 

“You’re right. So silly of me.”

Bringham suddenly stood up, clearing his throat and tapping on his mug with a silver spoon. The crowd started to silence themselves as their king awaited patiently, and Victoria gave you a sly wink before slinking back to her seat. 

“Riverhearth has never looked as lively as it does now!” 

There were cheers echoed across the hall, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread your cheeks.

“Enjoy this feast… this moment now. Remember the happy faces and tears of joy you see around yourselves tonight, and keep a tight hold on them, so that they may never fall into darkness.”

They continued to cheer, mouthing praises and going back to their meals as their king, your father, sat down. 

Your father, whose eyes looked more aged than they did that morning. Who looked so much older than he should, holding the weight of whatever secret he was withholding from you. 

And that blood on your fingers, remember those?

The rest of the feast went by quickly afterwards. You were quick to send hugs and waves as everyone settled off to their homes. Bringham escorted you to your room himself, yapping away about fairy tales as you listened; he was drunk again. Perfect for you. 

You waited until midnight hit, and everything was quiet. You put on a small coat and very slowly creaked your bedroom door open, sticking your head out to make sure there were no one around. 

The tiptoes around the halls made you think back to that night, and how quiet he was too to sneak up on you like that. Maybe you were too drunk to notice at the time, but either way there appeared to be no guard in sight. 

“Princess.”

You spoke too soon. 

With a roll of your eyes you turned around to face Din, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Knight.”

“Not surprised to see you about at this time. Again.”

You stifled a smile at the slight irritation in his voice. “Yes. And are you going to drag me back to my room? Again.”

He huffed, shaking his head as he stalked towards you. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I have no quarrels with either.”

Your hard, tough stance faltered and he caught it. “I—.”

“What’s the problem with me wandering around my own home.” You interjected. “And besides, I have… important matters to attend to.”

You berrated yourself for not coming up with a better ploy, but it was too late to take back and Din was still walking towards you. 

“Please.” You pleaded quietly. “Please just let me—I just want to—I saw him talking to you.”

His heavy puff told you that he knew exactly who you were talking about. You prepared yourself for another argument. The seconds, possibly even minutes that passed by fed into the clawing in your chest, the hard grasp to your heart. You closed your eyes and counted your breaths as you slowly inhaled and exhaled. 

“You will not speak of this to anyone. Not even Jules. Do you understand?”

He caught you off guard. Your arms fell loosely by your sides, your expression falling and the rest of your wait breath escaping you with a puff. 

“Okay.” You nodded eagerly. “I promise.”

Din hovered his arm over your shoulder, leading you back to your room. 

“What—.”

“Not out here.” He shushed. 

You walked the rest of the way with another held breath, and you refused to release it until you heard your bedroom door close behind him. 

“There have been… rumors,” Din started. “Wars. Death. Magic even. There are—there is something coming, and Bringham—he’s enlisting Colestead’s aid in the matter, before we’re left defenseless.”

Sit. You have to sit down. 

You padded around behind you until you felt the wood of your headboard against your skin, and sat down on the edge of your bed. 

“Okay.” You whispered. “So—so that means—.”

You weren’t stupid. You were on good terms with Colestead, no problem at all with aid, but you weren’t stupid. You knew what this entitled, or what it could. 

“Yes.” Din confirmed, apologetically even. “James will arrive tomorrow at noon. And they’re—there’s—”

You held up a hand, effectively silencing him. He couldn’t say it, not wanting to push you further over the cliff you were dangerously hanging low from. 

You already knew. 

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[singingisfun]

Changing Tides - Chapter 24

link to cover art by @otpapprovedbythegods

And here’s a link to an adorable pic of Dopey as a pirate by @clockadile

ff.net: From the beginning - Current Chapter

AO3:  From the beginning - Current Chapter

The Betrayal and The Sword

Despite Arthur’s insistence, there is no fanfare upon Emm’s arrival.  Emma’s eyes scan the crowd gathered around the round table; her father, Lance, Arthur and Guinevere, Jeff and Patricia, Ruby, Dopey; all of them watching her and Killian expectantly.

The Promethean Flame is burning bright in its case, the hilt and dagger of Excalibur lying on either side of it.  Killian is to her right, their shoulders almost touching and their magic glowing warm between them.  

With a steady hand, she motions to the flame and it lifts into the air until it has risen to eye-level, then she turns to Killian.  

“Together?” she asks.

A smile blossoms on his face.  “Always, darling,” he replies.

She nods to the dagger sitting in front of him while she reaches for the hilt.  He slips his left arm around her waist as he lifts the dagger and holds it up, the tip of it meeting the severed end of the hilt in the exact center of the flame.  Energy surges up her arm and the flame intensifies, the brightness of it causing her to turn her face into Killian’s neck to protect her eyes.  The energy spreads through her body, molten heat so powerful that she’s tempted to pull away.  She doesn’t, though, instead squeezing her eyes tighter and burrowing in further until she feels Killian’s fingers under her chin to lift her face.  She opens her eyes as he cups her cheek, his lips curved in a sweet and joyous smile and it hits her that if his hand is free he must no longer be holding the dagger.  His grin widens, like he’s read her thoughts and then, with a lift of his brow, he motions for her to look.  The light is still blinding but it doesn’t so much as faze her – or Killian apparently – even though everyone else in the room has been forced to avert their eyes.  The sword is whole and in her hand and it’s…  It’s magnificent.  Time seems to stand still while she stares, the blade shimmering and sparkling in the bright yellowish glow of light.  

“We did it, love,” she hears Killian whisper and her eyes are drawn back to his.  His smile tells her he’s feeling the same awe she is, then he plants a kiss on her forehead and they both turn back to the sword, his cheek pressed into her temple.  

The glow fades but the sword is still shining when the others are finally able to look.  

“Incredible,” Arthur whispers.

Her father nods his agreement, then makes his way around the table to engulf both she and Killian in his arms.  “I knew you could do it,” he says to them.  But then he turns his full attention on her, cupping her cheeks as tears well in his eyes.  “Soon, we’ll have your mother back.”

He says it with such reverence that her throat closes and all she can do is nod.  When he wraps his arms around her waist, she drops the sword to the table and they both laugh as he spins her through the room.  

“Nothing can stop us now,” he exclaims, his voice booming with joy.  

K&EK&EK&E

The celebration is unparalleled, wine flowing and everyone talking and laughing.  Killian stands right in the middle of it with Emma at his side, accepting congratulations from all their friends.  They have every reason to be joyful, do they not?  It’s a great feat that has been accomplished.  Excalibur is whole after centuries of being separated and now their victory is imminent.  

But Killian can’t shake the feeling that something is off – something they’re missing.  

Still, he can’t deny the victory of today, so he pushes the nagging worry aside and pulls Emma with him into a dance.  Her eyes are sparkling with happiness, her smile brilliant with joy and he spins them through the room with the ease they’ve always had.  Arthur and his wife join in, then Jeff and Patricia and Emma giggles when Ruby is bombarded with simultaneous invitations from both Lance and Merlin.  Lance is the lucky winner, so Merlin turns his attention to Grace who makes everyone laugh when she drops into a deep and formal curtsy before accepting his hand.

The night goes on like that, the ladies switching partners from time to time to make up for the lack of females.  Killian stands to the side to watch Emma dance with her father, then snags Patricia from Jeff while Emma dances with Merlin.  

The wizard returns her to his side, both of them a little breathless as he slaps Killian on the arm and compliments Emma on her tolerance when it comes to his two left feet.  Emma immediately denies his lack of dancing skills, telling him he did very well – for a man of his age.  

Merlin throws his head back in laughter but Killian…

Killian doesn't know what alerts him, what instinct compels him to move.  Later, he might attribute it to a glint of light in the corner of his vision, or a muted gasp that floats on the air.  But right now, in this moment, his body moves faster than his mind and he pushes Emma behind him, grabbing frantically for his sword in the same motion. His hand closes on the hilt just as a sting blossoms on his neck, but he disregards it, ripping the weapon from his scabbard and swinging blindly in the direction of the apparent danger.

A dull thud sounds next to him, then there’s a harsh clang of metal that echoes through the room as vibrations zing up his arm.  Then there’s chaos – a barrage of frenzied movement that his eyes can’t even register.   He spins, reflexively lifting his hook to stop the flash of silver that is rapidly descending upon him.  

His muscles strain, his hook frozen in front of his eyes as they finally focus, revealing the curved blade of Excalibur caught between it and his own sword mere inches from his face. King Arthur’s features appear behind the weapon, his eyes alight with madness and his face dark with determination as the two of them struggle against one another for several tense moments. The weapons teeter between them, muscles shaking from exertion, but with a rush of strength and a deliberate twist of his wrist, Killian sends the legendary weapon clattering to the floor just as a dagger comes to stop a hairsbreadth from Arthur’s throat held by none other than his most trusted knight, Lancelot.

The treacherous king raises an eyebrow when his gaze flicks to Killian’s neck and a devious smile spreads across his face, but Killian doesn't have time to ponder on that as Emma shoves past him and falls to her knees at his side.

“No!” she screams, and he follows the sound of her voice to see Merlin sprawled on the floor, his hand soaked in blood when he lifts it away from the red stain on his chest.  Emma’s hands dart out to cover the injury and Killian immediately feels the spark of magic in his stomach.

“What have you done?!” King David bellows, drawing Killian’s attention back to Arthur just in time to see Emma’s father adding his sword to the dagger Lance still holds against the man’s throat.

Arthur snickers.  “Why, I’ve betrayed you, Dave,” he replies with a touch of pride.  

David’s brow draws together, his eyes widening with understanding.  “It was you,” he breathes.  “All this time, it was you.  You’re the one the prophecy foretold.”

“I suppose so,” Arthur replies pleasantly.

David’s face slips into a mask of rage, his hand tightening on his sword as he takes a half-step closer, the tip of his blade pressing into Arthur’s neck.  “Why?!” he demands at a shout.  “Why would you do this?”

Arthur’s eyes turn cold, “Excalibur was meant to be mine! To be wielded by me!” He motions to Merlin. ”He told me it was supposed to heal MY land!  He sent me on a fool’s errand to… what?  Just hand it over to you? Let you and your daughter claim all the glory?”

“Glory?” Merlin asks in a strained voice, disdain dripping from the word. “Is that what you want?”

“I want what was promised to me!”

Merlin blinks rapidly a few times, obviously fighting against the pain to stay focused.  “And this is going to get it for you?” he asks. “You want to go down in history as the man who murdered me?”

“It's better than going down in history as the fool who spent his life fulfilling someone else’s destiny!”

“Oh, what a disappointment you are,” Merlin croaks in reply.

“I’m the disappointment?!” Arthur rages, breaking free from Lancelot and stepping away from the group gathered around Merlin.  “I’m the one who did everything that was asked of him.  And what do I get for my loyalty?  Both of my closest friends have betrayed me.  One has stolen my destiny to hand it over to his daughter and the other has stolen my wife!”

Lancelot blanches but it’s Guinevere who speaks up.  “That’s not true!  It’s not like that – ”

“Enough with your lies! I see how the two of you look at each other.  Do you think me a fool?  But it doesn’t matter anymore.  I’ll have what I deserve. Regina is going to reward me handsomely for this.”

“If you believe anything she said, you are a fool,” Merlin tells him, falling into a fit of coughing as soon as the words are spoken.

Emma’s body stiffens and she pushes harder over the wound, the usual warm tug of magic in Killian’s stomach shooting an unexpected flash of pain up his chest.  Their magic seems to be having no effect and he instinctively drops to his knees by her side, slipping his arm around her waist in the hope that his touch will help.  Her hands shine brighter and the discomfort in his chest intensifies but Arthur’s next scathing comment distracts him.

“It's no use,” the bastard chides, “a wound from Excalibur can't be healed.”

“He's right, princess,” Merlin gasps, “don’t exert yourself.  It's futile.”

“No, there has to be a way,” Emma replies with determination.

Merlin’s eyes fill with gratitude and he even manages a small smile but Killian can tell he’s only placating her, especially when he next slides his eyes to David’s. “Well, I guess now we know why I could never see how this ends.”

Killian glances to David whose brow is furrowed in sympathy.  “I’m sorry, my friend,” he whispers.  

But Emma is not one to give up, frantically shaking her head.  “No! There has to be something we can do. There has to be!”

As if to specifically contradict her words, a dense black fog suddenly appears, filtering out of the wound and through Emma’s fingers.  Its abrupt and sinister appearance causes Emma to jolt away from the fallen wizard even as Killian pulls her back.  The room goes deathly silent, everyone watching in horror as the eerie cloud splits into slithering tendrils in the air, coiling and twisting slowly toward the ceiling.  

“What is it?” Lancelot asks quietly.

“It's my magic,” Merlin replies on a choked sound. “Looks like the legend was right.”

Once the fog stops oozing from the wound, a rush of air comes from nowhere and the cloud disintegrates, breaking into millions of tiny flecks that all blink out in the same instant.

“And that’s my cue,” Arthur speaks up, his voice much closer than it should be.  

Killian whips around in alarm to find Arthur only a few feet away, his forearm closing around Guinevere’s throat.  Apparently, while everyone was distracted, the retched king had slinked his way back into the group.  

Lancelot immediately raises his weapon, but Arthur is too quick, putting Guinevere between them like a shield.  

“Ah ah, old friend. You wouldn’t want to tarnish this flawless skin, would you?” he asks, one finger brushing against his wife’s neck.

Guinevere struggles. “Let me go,” she demands.

“I can’t do that, dear wife. You’re coming with me.”  His eyes flick to Lance.  “And soon you’ll forget all about your gallant knight.”

“You’ve nowhere to go. The knights – ”

“Are more loyal to Lancelot than to me.  Yes, I know. But I’ve got a better way.” He pulls a potion bottle from his pocket and holds it up to show the group, his eyes triumphant as he scans the faces.  With one last look at Killian, he raises an ominous eyebrow and throws the potion bottle to the floor.  

Lance lunges into the purple smoke that engulfs the couple but when the mist clears his arms are empty.

There’s a tense moment of silence, no one moving an inch, but Merlin’s strained cough breaks it.  Emma shoots forward, her hands already glowing again as she covers the injury.  Merlin’s breathing is starting to hitch, his chest wheezing with each intake of air and Emma’s hands glow brighter with power.  Killian feels it yanking at his lungs, making his own breathing difficult but he keeps his arm in place around her waist.  She must be putting a great deal of effort into it because his vision blurs again and he has to balance his weight on his hook to keep from fainting dead away at the quick onslaught of dizziness that assaults him.  

Merlin says something, and David says something else but he can’t make it out past the roaring in his ears. There's something wrong, he's never gotten weak or nauseous from their magic before, but now it's sending waves of pain through him, waves that start in his stomach, travel up through his chest and collide in a spot near the pulse pounding in his neck.

Without thinking, he lifts his hand to cover the excruciating pain and draws it back to find blood covering his fingers.

“Emma…” he breathes, his voice barely even a whisper as it all starts to make sense.  The sting on his neck when he'd pushed her out of the way… the triumph on Arthur’s face… and the last glance he’d given him as he’d disappeared.

A wound from Excalibur can't be healed.  

His stomach drops and he fights the darkness descending upon him, forcing his eyes to stay open even when his vision grays.  “Love…” he tries again but he can’t get it out. With the last bit of strength he has, he grips at her waist, his fingers barely contracting on her hip just as the dark swirl of dizziness engulfs him and he collapses to the floor.

K&EK&EK&E

Emma’s ears are ringing, magic saturating every cell in her body.  She can feel Killian behind her, his hand resting lightly on her waist, his heartbeat humming alongside her own but then…  

Then, the furious beats lose their synchronization.  

She feels one instant of confusion before her father shouts his name.

“Killian!”

She knows immediately.

Even before she sees him… she knows.  

Her breath stops and the most agonizing panic she’s ever felt seizes at her lungs.  A low hiss sounds in her ears; a terrible, grating sound that intensifies until it pounds against her skull.  Her movements are sluggish when she turns, like every muscle in her body rails against what she already knows she’s going to see.    

When her eyes land on him, the scream rips through her throat, “NO!!”

The wound on his neck looks like it’s already festering, the edges of it curled and the skin raw. It’s also oozing blood, painting a crimson streak that disappears behind the collar of his black shirt.  Her hand covers it immediately and she can feel his pulse working beneath the cut, each frail beat soaking her fingers in red.  There’s also a sheen of sweat on his brow and he’s so pale that it makes his lips appear as red as the blood now coating her hand.  

Gripping at his collar with her free hand, she shakes him with all her might. “KILLIAN!”

He sucks in a harsh breath and his eyes open, the blue riddled with pain as they land on hers.  

“STAY WITH ME!” she shouts desperately, pressing harder on his neck, “YOU HAVE TO STAY WITH ME!”

“Emma…” he gasps, his eyes squinting like he's not sure if she's actually there.

“I’m here,” she reassures him, already calling on their magic again, “you're going to be fine.”

He gives a pitiful shake of his head as her palm glows, his eyes blinking several times even as he tries to raise his hand to touch her.  His fingers make it to within inches of her chin before the effort becomes too much and his hand drops to his chest.  

Quickly, she links her free hand with his, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of it and digging deep into her heart to gather as much magic as she can and push it into her palm.  The glow strengthens but the injury doesn’t respond, another drop of blood escaping and rolling down his neck.

“It was Excalibur,” Killian croaks, his voice sounding almost apologetic.

Emma’s eyes lift to his and her stomach plummets.  

No.  

No, no, NO!  

This isn’t – It can’t be…

She can’t lose him now, not after everything they’ve overcome, after everything they’ve been through…  

This can’t be it. Their story can’t end like this.  

“It's alright, love,” he grits out, “you have everything you need now.”

“No.  I need you.  I can't do this alone.”

“You won't be alone. You'll have… your parents…”

His eyes slide shut and she shakes him desperately, “No! You have to stay.  You have to stay.  Please, Killian!”

“Take that sword and defeat her, darling.  You're the only one who can.”

Her throat closes. “I can't, not without you.”

“You can,” he insists, prying his eyes open with obvious effort, “you can do anything.”

Tears cloud her vision and she shakes her head frantically to clear them.

“I love you, Emma,” he whispers, lifting his hand one last time to touch her face. The tips of his fingers make it to her chin, grazing lightly before his strength gives out and his arm falls limply to the floor, his eyes slipping shut.

“NO!”

Her hand leaves the wound on his neck, urgently holding it over his chest to check for a heartbeat. It's there but it's faint and she clings to it, her mind racing.

There must be a way. He can't leave her.  There must be something. Her eyes dart in every direction and come to land on the legendary sword that did this and her temperature spikes.  Merlin said it was selfish, he’d warned her it was greedy, and as she stares at it lying benignly on the floor a few feet away, she feels such rage that her skin heats from it.  

“Don't Emma,” Merlin gasps, and Emma feels an instant of guilt because she'd forgotten all about him lying on her other side.  

“It could save him,” she replies. “It could save you both.”

“But you don't know that.”

“Emma? What are you…” her father asks slowly.

But Emma doesn't answer as she continues her desperate train of thought.  She needs something solid… something stronger than Excalibur… something…

The stone.

Rushing forward, she nearly trips as her hand closes around the hilt of the weapon, the handle sending a shock up her arm when she lifts it and turns on her heel.

“Emma, what are you doing!?” “Emma, stop!” “You can't!”

But the sword… the sword hums as if in encouragement, vibrating in her palm.  It slides easily into the sheath of the stone and she'd swear she hears a light sigh of relief.  Once it's buried, she grips the hilt with both hands and yanks.

K&EK&EK&E

Killian fights against the inevitable, clinging to the sound of her voice.  No matter what he said, he doesn't want to leave her and he combats the approaching darkness with every ounce of will he has.  His consciousness goes in and out, one instant he can feel her presence next to him and in the next she's gone, then the next there’s a bombardment of shouts and yelling, enough so that he manages to force his eyes open. They're telling her not to do it; they're screaming at her to stop and Killian struggles to search the room for her, desperate to see what’s happening.  

His eyes land on her and, if his body had the strength, he’s sure his stomach would clench.  As it is, though, his body has no physical reaction but his brain screams in protest.  She's at the stone, the sword buried half-way into it while she pulls on the handle with all her might.  

She's trying to break it.

No, his brain screams, it's too valuable.  You’ll need it to defeat Regina.  He's not worth this.  

But then their eyes meet over the hilt of the weapon and with one last jerk that has her bellowing with rage and exertion, the blade snaps in a shower of sparks.

It feels like an instant later that their magic is flowing through him again.  It's warm and shimmery and it swamps every single blood vessel in his body.  There's a gasp and an echo of it and then he's jolting up, sucking in a clean, fresh breath of air that fills his lungs for the first time in what seems like ages.

“Killian!”

Emma crashes into him and he almost falls back over from her weight, his strength not fully returned yet but he manages to catch them just before they hit the ground.  

“It's alright, love. I'm alright.”

Her tears soak his shirt, her face burrowed in his neck and he pushes them up into a better sitting position so he can return her embrace, tangling his hand in her hair and burying his face in her throat.

“I'm alright,” he assures her again, but she’s not letting go, she just nods into his neck while their magic burns through him, the life of it warming him from the inside out until even his skin feels hot.

Emma is nearly suffocating him, but she’s shaking so badly that he doesn’t dare move for fear that she’d not be able to sit up without his support.  As to him, his strength is returning rapidly in the wake of their magic, his lungs expanding more easily with each breath.  He sees a glimpse of Merlin getting to his feet, he hears some murmured words being spoken between the wizard and the rest of the group but when he tries to turn, Emma grips tighter.  

“No, don’t let go yet,” she pleads roughly, “Just… I need another minute.”

His heart constricts and he crushes her closer, a rush of reverence pouring through him as he realizes just how broken his brush with death has left her.  He knew she loved him – it’s not that he didn’t – but the unreserved urgency of her touch in this moment is more powerful than any words that have ever been spoken between them and it’s… well, it has him closing his eyes and basking in it, has him pressing his nose into her cheek while her fingers dig urgently into his back.  

And that’s where they stay, cradled together on the floor, both of them oblivious to the conversation going on around them, both of them trying and failing to get their breathing under control.  He’s not sure how long it lasts, how many times their chests rise and fall, but he’s in no hurry to end it.

[raspberryfanfics]

concepts—hyuga hizashi

Summary: All of the world's unproven things could be explained in concepts: fate, freedom, fear, love...and a girl obsessed with birds made Hizashi question everything he believed in and made him believe. He didn’t question it, he just let it be. After all, change is just a concept too. Word Count: 6612

dedicated to @theshitthatidoishere. Your comic inspired me to look for Hizashi backstories inspiring and the lack of them inspired me to write one. Your art is wonderful so please keep on drawing.

Read and follow on FFn for notifications on updates for ii and iii

i

There weren’t just the bandages to tell them apart.

Identical twins shouldn’t look so identical, with the same exact length of hair, posture, eye colour, skin tone, face shape, and voice. Yet at the same time, they shouldn’t be so distinguishable by a single glance. From the back, you may not tell the difference between Hyuga Hizashi and Hyuga Hiashi, but one look in both of their eyes and they were about as similar-looking as a kunai and a shuriken.

In Hizashi’s eyes, one would see a little joy, kindness, bitterness, and pain. There’s a saying that the saddest smile the brightest, and he was sad. In the academy, he excelled in his classes, graduating with one mark higher than his brother. He remembered coming home that day and overhearing his parents, who neglected him even though he was just as much their child as Hizashi was, scolding his sibling. 

At first, he was about to defend his brother, knowing that he didn’t deserve any of the yells for not fulfilling the role of an heir and being bested by a branch member. After all, Hiashi was only 12 years old and even if they had been separated, burdens of leadership shouldn’t be placed on a child. Yet the unlucky branch member remembered the pain of the cursed seal placed on his forehead on his fourth birthday and the love he lacked from his parents. He would prove them wrong one day.

The team he was assembled to was announced the next day.

His first squad member was Asuka. Just Asuka without a last name. He didn’t know much about her, other than the fact that she was shy, was an orphan, and loved birds. She was constantly drawing them on her notebook in class or gazing out the window to observe them. He was sure she wouldn’t be a problem to his progression, considering she had average grades. It was probably because she spent most of her time bird-watching rather than doing anything else. She was also the prettiest girl in their class and the only girl who wasn’t obsessed with Hiashi (because the other girls thought that the future leader of the Hyuga was husband material). Though she didn’t have any features that immediately set her apart, (dark brown hair like his and light honey eyes), her features were perfectly shaped with high cheekbones, large almond eyes, soft eyebrows, small button nose, and lips that rested in a natural pout. Funny, because she was probably the girl his brother had his eyes on and the only girl he wouldn’t get.

The second was Ryoku Kenji, last in their class not because he lacked skill, but because two months before graduating, his home was burnt down by rogue-nin and parts of his house collapsed onto him, disabling the use of both his legs and one of his thighs. They put him on prosthetic limbs and he was severely behind on his studies when he returned to school after multiple surgeries but managed to pass. Hizashi didn’t know if he wanted to be on the same team as someone who couldn’t even run properly but he kept his thoughts to himself. He wasn’t one who judged by appearances alone. 

Finally, there was their jonin leader Katate Kazane. Kazane-sensei approached them and to their surprise, she waved at them with a prosthetic arm. All three aspiring ninja stared, wondering how a jonin would be able to perform ninjutsu or genjutsu with only one hand. She didn’t tell them how she lost it, but took off her arm and threw it towards them, which took them by even more surprise. Ninja wasn’t supposed to be surprised, but their teacher threw her arm at them.

Kazane-sensei started off by asking them about their likes and strengths. He told her that he was able to use his Byakugan since age seven, which she didn’t seem impressed by. Asuka said she liked to and was able to run quickly and jump high because it gave her the sensation of nearly flying. Kenji only bowed his head and replied that he didn’t have any strengths, only weaknesses which he wanted to overcome. It was clear that he was referring to his disadvantage in moving because of his prosthetics. 

“Well, in order to pass, you will not be relying on any of your strengths.” she began. “As for you, Kenji, you will be relying solely on your weakness. You aren’t to use any ninjutsu or genjutsu, the only method you can use is taijutsu.”

She raised two fingers and suddenly, Asuka had dirt enveloping her feet, causing her to be immobile. “You are to fight in one spot. You are not to move.”

There was no time to be impressed at a one-handed jutsu, only fear. 

“And you, Hizashi,” she flicked her fingers again and darkness clouded his vision. He couldn’t see anything. “You will be fighting blind. If I see any veins protruding from your eyes, you automatically fail.”

He tried to stay calm. He always relied on his eyes. How could he fight without them? What really was a Hyuga without their eyes?

“Your goal is to immobilize my hand. The boundaries are here. Don’t cross them. You have until the stars come out.”

And with that, she threw several kunai into a large circle in the clearing, and Hizashi took some weapons from his pocket and threw them towards her. He could hear them miss their target and he leapt off, doing his best to use his other senses to try and navigate himself. It was hard, not knowing exactly what his target was doing, having to react the last minute when he could hear a swish of air, and not knowing if he even caught his target or not. He didn’t even know how his teammates were doing. 

From what he had heard, Asuka had dodged everything and used a couple of clones to distract their sensei and threw several weapons in the direction. She was mostly defending the two, using whatever she could to knock away dangers. When she was targeted, she easily leaned back and knocked away anything that came close. Kenji on the other hand, even though he wasn’t fast, happened to be strong. He didn’t land any punches, but his chakra control was good enough to cause a couple of dents in the ground. While listening to the sound of his teammate’s attacks, he didn’t catch the sound of fist swinging towards him until Asuka screamed.

“Hizashi! Duck!”

And he responded. He responded quicker than any other sound would to provoke him to, reacting to her order in an instant. Their eyes couldn’t meet, but an idea formed in both of their heads. 

“Swing! Duck! Kick! Left! Duck! Jump! Right! Swing! Behind!” he coated his hands with chakra and swung blindly, hoping to accidentally strike or come into contact with a tenketsu. “Do that chakra swing again! Chakra forwards! C-Right! C-more right! C-L, C-R-R! R!”

Suddenly, his female teammate was his eyes and he was her movements, trusting her command fiercely as Kenji covered them with strong punches. Her letters were quick and he got the hang of it immediately, as it was the only thing he could rely on. He hoped desperately that he would soon strike an arm, as it was the only hand that could perform hand seals.

Suddenly, he felt a metal hand come into contact with his face quicker than he could comprehend, and pain rushed to his face. Hizashi felt so helpless and he hated being blind. How could he—

“C-U”

Channelling the chakra to his hand once again, he sliced upwards so fast that he almost hit himself in the face. Yet he felt it cut through something, something similar to a wire. And it really didn’t do much until he felt a hand reach forwards and grab the part attached to the wire and pull back quickly. Everyone was silent.

“You all pass.”

Hizashi’s vision was suddenly restored and it was already sunset. When he looked around after processing the light, he noticed the metal hand in Kenji’s grip.

“Not only have you considered the fact that my prosthetic is still a hand, metal or not, you also learned to overcome your weaknesses and work as a great team. I look forward to teaching you three. Dinner is my treat tonight.”

The three collapsed in exhaustion and he met Asuka’s brown eyes again, thanking her silently for helping him considerably during the fight. She smiled, no teeth, but it was warm and sincere. No one smiled at him like that before. Even at twelve, his breath caught in his throat, finally seeing what all the boys in his class had seen in her. He possibly could be screwed.

In the following year, they trained hard.

Kazane-sensei pushed each of them, especially Kenji, who needed to overcome his disability quickly. He was now almost as fast as Hizashi’s average pace. Their teammate finally found a strong point, and that was his chakra control. Because he had a physical disadvantage, it forced him to work on traits he could control and studied medical ninjutsu at night. 

Asuka became even faster, running so quickly and jumping so high it really did seem like she was flying. She possessed wind release and occasionally used it in desperate times to practically make certain people “ride the wind”. Despite her love of the jutsu, it used up a lot of chakra. It happened to be pure luck that when their team defeated a B-rank rogue-nin, captured him, and found a summoning contract with ninja swifts. 

Though it probably wasn’t moral, Asuka forced a kunai to his neck uncharacteristically and demanded that he summon a swift, which he did. Kazane-sensei didn’t stop her because they were all too shocked at her sudden change of temper. It took him quite a while to summon it because apparently, the ninja bird was forced into the contract. The swift took a liking to Asuka, probably because she was sweet, innocent, and looked at the bird with such admiration that she immediately agreed to form a contract. She spent the next month honing her skills in summoning the swift until she summoned one whose wing was bigger than her.

There were two rookie teams in the chunin exams that year: his team, and his brother’s. As their sensei worked to train Kenji harder, he and Asuka sparred constantly. Both of their taijutsu skills improved rapidly and so did their long-range combat, as he learned from their final genin test that he couldn’t rely solely on his Kekkei Genkai. His team would also practice combination jutsus, formations, and discuss strategies for going into the chunin exams. Their plan was to not speak unless spoken to and make sure they didn’t leave an impression.

The written portion was hardly a problem for each of them. Their proctor was Orochimaru, who posed several questions based on morals and the shinobi code, making sure they could find several loopholes. Based on their wit and ability to take in every instruction, eleven teams passed towards the next exam, placed in the forest of death.

Each team then signed a waiver and listened to the instructions of Kato Dan, who gave each of them either a heaven or an earth scroll, explaining to them that they had four days to acquire another scroll and bring it to a temple in the middle of the forest. They were not to open the scroll until they reached the temple.

As soon as the horn went off, they ran off until they found a good place to discuss a plan. During this time, he kept his Byakugan activated in case any enemies approached them. They would make their way to the temple, they’d find the weakest looking team with their opposite scroll, and then complete the exam as fast as they could. Asuka would take the front as she was the fastest and reacted the quickest, he would take the back because of his Byakugan, and this would also protect Kenji, who was the only one who knew medical ninjutsu. 

Unfortunately, they overestimated their opponents and by the time a whole day had passed, they decided to attack the first team they came in contact with, who also thankfully had the scroll they were looking for. It was a team from the Village Hidden in the Clouds, who didn’t seem at all to possess incompetence. Yet filled with adrenaline, they didn’t care. 

Asuka started off with a simple wind jutsu, as Hizashi and Kenji threw on ridiculous-looking goggles from their pack to protect their eyes, swinging her cloak around to lift debris from the ground and leaves from the trees to promptly distract their opponents. Because the cloud-nin relied on lightning release, their opponents had a serious disadvantage against them. He used his air palm to push his target towards Kenji, who channelled his chakra into his fist, quickly knocking the ninja out cold. Meanwhile, Asuka was jumping around trees as the cloud-nin zapped each one she landed on with lightning, until she flew down right above him, swinging her cloak to ward off any other strikes or weapons, and kicked him towards Kenji as well so their second opponent was also unconscious. The last member of that team was now completely terrified so they spared a little mercy on him and disabled some of his tenketsu so he could at least look after his teammates.

They were the first team to complete the second task and went home to rest. They had a month to train for the final task: one-on-one battles.

Hizashi’s first opponent was Inuzuka Tsume and her dog Kuromaru. She was Hiaishi’s teammate and apparently, she and her huge dog did many quick and powerful attacks. Though he could always leap out of the way, he was starting to doubt how well he would be able to defeat her. He may be able to easily block a couple of punches but to block a 150-pound dog leaping at him and threatening to tear off his skin?

In total, there were twelve contestants who made it this far. He and his female teammate examined the chart and saw that if he were to proceed to the next round, he would be facing either a rain-nin or a sand-nin. Meanwhile, Asuka could face Hiashi if they both won their next round, something he was interested in seeing where it could go.

“Looks like you’re gonna have a disadvantage in your match.”

Hizashi’s breath caught in his throat as she leaned her head over his shoulder to examine the sheet of paper. When he tried to control his breathing, he caught a whiff of her shampoo. When he tried to breathe in with his mouth, he could feel her breath gently brushing against his neck. It was intoxicating and hard to concentrate when she was just so close. Asuka was way too close.

“What?” 

“You have a disadvantage against Inuzuka Tsume. She’s Hiashi’s teammate. She knows how to aim at the weak points of a Hyuga. She can probably beat him in a match and if she can’t, she’ll have enough of an upper hand to defeat you.”

“Your vote of confidence is deeply appreciated,” he mumbled, slightly offended.

She laughed. Her laugh was like music, soft, bright, and sweet. “Hey, that’s not what I meant!”

“Was it not?”

“No! I meant that we’re gonna have to train pretty hard to make sure that whatever you do, it’s better than what Hiashi can.” she grinned.

“I’m only slightly better than him.”

“Every technique?”

“Barely different enough to notice.”

“You know all the jutsus he uses?”

“All the same.”

Asuka snapped her fingers a couple times. “Are there any jutsus that the older Hyugas use in which Tsume probably doesn’t have experience combating?”

“Of course,” Hizashi scoffed. “You don’t think my abilities are limited to the ones I have now, do you?”

“Ah, men. Always defending their masculinity, even when it isn’t threatened.” she sighed. Before he could interject, she continued. “Why don’t you learn one of those?”

“Well, you see, those jutsus are reserved for the main members,” 

The tension increased dramatically. Asuka was the only person he trusted enough to tell her about his situation. She was a great listener and didn’t judge him, only his family. Yet he often had to make sure she kept all her opinions to herself because even if she was shy, she was very unafraid to speak her mind about topics she was passionate about.

“Will that stop you?”

And that’s how Hizashi and Asuka ended up at the Hyuga compound, observing the older members spar. She often came over to train so no one thought anything of it as they climbed onto a tree and watched closely. It was a very dull battle. He could tell she was bored as they swung at each other and stuck out fingers quickly. She only caught interest again when one of the members threw several weapons at once and the other rotated, blue chakra spinning in a circle.

“Woah,” she breathed in amazement. “What was that?”

“The Kaiten,” he said longingly. “They call it the ‘heavenly spin”. I wish I could learn how to do that.” 

“You mean you will.”

And it kept that’s when they started to train. 

They were extremely lucky when one day, he found his father teaching Hiashi how to do the Kaiten and he ran over to Asuka’s apartment as fast as he could, dragged her over quickly and quietly, then used one of her birds to listen to all the tips they acquired. After gathering as much information as possible, he started to perform it.

In their training ground, he would practice the spin by pushing out chakra continuously from each tenketsu and spinning so it surrounded him in a dome. However, sometimes if his chakra control wasn’t precise enough, he would spin out of control and land ten feet away from his lopsided crater. When he felt ready, Asuka would use her wind release and lift the debris, leaves, and rocks to hit him. She started out easy at first, only using a few twigs. As he got better and better, she would incorporate stones, then sand, then even knives. This also helped her accuracy with weapons while using her wind release. 

Because not much was known about her rain-nin opponent, they overall made sure to push themselves physically. This improved their amount of chakra and stamina so they would last much longer in a battle. They also made sure to summon the swifts once in a while to tell prepare them and practice with them. Hizashi found that battling her when she was riding her huge bird Chūrippu, facing the wind release of her medium one Yuri, or even the unpredictableness of the smallest swift Suisen, who was by far the most vicious was incredibly challenging. Dealing with an animal would be a lot of help for his upcoming battle.

When he faced Tsume in the first round, he realized how accurate his teammate was. She was so immediately accustomed to his fighting style it was almost like she possessed the Sharingan. It was challenging, but the longer he fought, the easier he predicted her next moves. Realizing that she was slowly losing the upper ground, Tsume swallowed a few food pills, gave a couple to her dog and suddenly, they were much stronger. The duo started a crazy combination ninjutsu—fang passing fang, and he realized how much more powerful the next attack would be. A split second before he launched into his kaiten, he met Asuka’s honey-brown eyes which he could read instantly. He could practically hear her in his mind saying “start showing off just a little”. 

The most satisfying part of spinning like that was the shock on his brother’s face as he stopped spinning. In the next moment, Hizashi charged towards his opponent as fast as he could and immediately disabled all of her chakra points, winning the match. 

To determine who would fight against him, a Sand-nin and a Rain-nin battled, the Rain-nin defeating the Sand-nin after sinking all of her sand with water. Asuka’s match against the winner’s teammate proved to be a very interesting match as she won by using the wind to control the water her opponent summoned, riding on waves with excellent chakra control Kenji and him taught her to do themselves. A smile spread on his lips, knowing that a month ago she would have difficulty even standing on water. 

Meeting in the contestant podium after being checked for injuries, they discussed their matches with Kenji, who was quite nervous about his upcoming battle.

“For a few minutes there, we really thought you were screwed.” Kenji teased.

“I didn’t think she would know your moves that well,” admitted Asuka. “Good thing we prepared, otherwise I really think your disadvantage would have ended up in defeat.”

 His twin’s match was up next. It was a short match especially considering the fact that Hiashi’s opponent decided to go head-first with taijutsu, and ended up disabled very quickly. Asuka would have to go against him, and he was slightly jealous.

“Wait, Tsume had an advantage because she was familiar with the Hyuga fighting style, which means you will too,” he said.

“Also means that he’s gonna be extra careful,” she said, analyzing her opponent, who unlike them, was without a scratch.

“You just have to end him quickly,” Hizashi said encouragingly. “Don’t be too hard on him.”

“Just a little easier than I go on you?” she teased. “That’s still pretty bad.”

“Just don’t aim for the blind spot unless you have to,” he said. “That’s kind of cruel.”

He expected a laugh, but she just frowned. “It wouldn’t be as cruel as how you’re treated.”

It wasn’t often when she looked so angry, but there she was, upset because of his situation, not hers. 

“It’s not like he’s the one who does anything,” Hizashi spoke softly. “He doesn’t know how to activate the seal yet.”

“Yet,” she said bitterly. “Tell me, does he stand by and watch without any sympathy?”

“Asuka…”

“I’m sure he’s been cruel to you too. Don’t say he’s never used his status selfishly.”

He didn’t really know what to say. It was unfamiliar seeing someone care for him as much as she did, and while it sent a warm feeling through his body, he ached for more. 

“Please don’t be angry, it’s not his fault. It was just fate.”

“I’m angry at the concept of fate. For everyone’s fate. We never get to choose if we even want to live.”

“The concept?”

“The concept that we can’t change anything. That we’re subjected to a destiny and there isn’t anything we can do about it. I hate the concept of not being able to choose, which is why it makes me so angry that you’re treated this way.”

She sighed, looked to her side where Hiashi was, and he was watching them interact very closely. It was clear that he was jealous of their relationship, after all, the heir of the Hyuga Clan was used to getting everything he wanted. A glare sent his direction was warning him not to get too close. He chuckled to himself. How could he stop himself from getting close when she was the one who always insisted on helping him and sharing the pain?

“Only if I have to,” she said. “Any last-minute weaknesses I’m not to pursue?”

He shook his head and faced the podium again. His brother’s other teammate, a guy with slicked-back black hair, a heavy fur coat, and fingerless black gloves won against a contestant from the Sand, which left Kenji’s battle next.

Asuka cheered, hollering out Kenji’s name as he prepared himself, carefully analyzing his teammate. The last Sand-nin didn’t seem that threatening. She was small, likely not very strong compared to Kenji, and therefore couldn't have a lot of chakra. However, this also meant that she would likely be very fast, which would put Kenji at a disadvantage because of his legs. 

He started off by punching the ground with his fist full of chakra. Most of the others were shocked by his strength and his teammates hadn’t realized how far he had come that month. There were rumours that he had received many tips from a medical ninja named Tsunade, who was known for her super strength and used this to his advantage. His opponent quickly dodged the ground ripping open towards her and bounced off a nearby tree to attack him from above. It worked in his favour, as his reflexes in his upper body were superior, demonstrating amazing taijutsu. He punched at her, his fist full of chakra, and everyone thought she would be done for good. However, she was able to dodge a direct hit, so she was only knocked back.

When she started on a jutsu which seemingly would target the ground, causing him to have to leap, also risking her seeing his prosthetics, finding his weakness, he punched the ground again before she could do anything. Kenji started a barrage of weapons towards her and charged with a katana in hand, battling her until she was at her breaking point. It seemed hopeless for the small girl until she seemed to notice a gleam of metal on his leg, She quickly formed hand seals in the air and pushed fired towards him. It wasn’t accurate, but since his legs were metal, it heated up anyways and pressed against his limbs, causing him to holler in pain. 

Though he had enough time to counteract it with water, the moment of distraction was enough for her to send a punch and knock him out, disabling him. Asuka sighed, in disappointment, knowing that he was very close to winning. However, their teammate fought well and they were still confident that it was enough to make chunin.

Hizashi’s battle with the rain-nin ended as soon as he was in range to strike 64 of his opponent’s tenketsu. Thankfully, his position also placed him in the person who would sit through a match so he could rest. He jumped up into the contestant podium and Asuka congratulated him. He wished her good luck.

He wondered how she would face Hiashi. It was clear she wouldn’t face him head-on, but it wasn’t like there was any other option. As soon as the match started, she flew off, before even giving him any time to activate his Byakugan. He saw her from the corner of his eye making familiar hand seals before shoving her hand onto the branch of a tree. There was a poof, and he saw her smallest bird summoned. She started whispering to it and he couldn’t read lips, but he did catch three words: first thoracic vertebrae.

Asuka then jumped off the branch and faced him once again. Meanwhile, her swift flew off, no one suspecting a thing. The two circled each other, examining their opponent closely, trying to figure out the best way to attack, or the best way to defend.

“I’ll go easy on you.” Hiashi teased. “Tell you what, I’ll only disable 32 of your tenketsu instead of 64.”

“I won’t need it,” she said. “I was told to go easy on you before our match, in fact.”

“By who? Hizashi?” he snarled, “Ignore him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’ve been trained by the main house to learn all their secret techniques.”

“We know,” she said sweetly. “He appreciates your lessons.”

Hiashi’s face went pale and she waved to him up in the stands. The branch member of the Hyuga clan also paled in embarrassment.

“The tips your father offered you were very useful by the way. It would have been impossible to master the kaiten without them. How would anyone be able to master the ultimate defence by just observing?”

“You—you helped—”

“Well, I guess I did. Maybe you should go to him for some pointers. I’m sure it will help to receive some tips from someone who recently just learned the kaiten.”

“Don’t you dare underestimate me!” he cried and charged at her headfirst. 

It was suddenly vicious taijutsu battle and Hizashi waited, knowing that even if she knew how to defend herself, she wouldn’t last long. When his brother stuck out two fingers to strike the chakra point on her shoulder, she ducked easily, knowing exactly where he would aim. However, to everyone’s surprise, she stuck out two fingers as well and aimed at the tenketsu from underneath his arm, with perfect accuracy as well. Did Asuka learn the secret techniques of the Hyuga without the Byakugan?

The silence in the area was deafening and Hiashi paused in confusion and shock, only to realize that it was only a decoy. It was too late to react when she kicked him in the chest and he flew back, angry that he fell for such a stupid trick. Hizashi resisted a laugh. Of course, she was clever enough to aim directly at a chakra point, making him think part of his system was disabled, and aim a hard hit.

She started with long-range combat from there. First, she swept as much debris and sand as she could muster, throwing her weapons in there for good measure, circling it around him so it would possibly blind him or injure him. He did a good job defending himself, knocking most of it away apart from the sand, which only got in his eyes a little. She continued to surprise him with attacks from every direction, using techniques that even Hizashi, her own teammate, would have trouble anticipating. Asuka nearly caught him in a cleverly placed trap by disabling it herself, only escaping it too because she was quick enough to run out of the way so it almost hit him instead. 

It was all clearly going in her favour until suddenly, she slipped. She slipped. His teammate was graceful. She was practically able to fly, so there was no way she could have slipped. But she did. 

And this gave Hiashi enough time to get her in range and disable 32 of her chakra points.

He covered his mouth with his hand, severely disappointed in how close she was to defeating him. Hizashi was so excited to see the look of defeat in his brother’s eyes when he lost, and now, it was just the same arrogance on his face. Asuka fought well. It was sure to give the Hokage a good impression.

“I told you I would go easy on you,” Hiashi smirked. “Only thirty-two. You probably wouldn’t be able to stand with all 64 disabled.”

Asuka groaned and tried rolling away, but he smiled. “I expected you to actually try to get up. Looks like you can’t even stand with 32 disabled.”

The proctor was about to stop the fight until she used one hand to perform several seals.

“Maybe you can beat Hizashi, but that doesn’t mean you can beat me. You out of everyone should know that you can’t use any chakra now. Yet you still perform hand seals. One-handed ones. Too bad you’ll never get the chance to show them off.”

Hizashi agreed silently. Asuka knew perfectly well that there was nothing she could do once her points were disabled.

“Funny you say that because I was never able to beat Hizashi. He knows me too well. He knows exactly what I’m going to do next, which means that he’s always anticipating my next move. Yet also, it’s because we don’t spar with the intent to kill. This fight, I fought you harder than I’ve ever fought before. I will use anything to beat you.” she said, panting heavily. She quickly grabbed a kunai from her holster and threw it, but it missed severely.

“You missed. Maybe I could give you some pointers.” he teased, eyebrows raised, lowering his head to look at the kunai by his feet, “You underestimated me.”

Suddenly, Hizashi realized what she was doing. He grinned, shaking his head, ignoring the glances the others sent him. The moment she threw the kunai, Hiashi looked down and the back of his neck was exposed and facing the sky.

“No,” she coughed, forming more hand seals slowly. “I didn’t underestimate you at all. In fact, you are right.”

Her opponent’s eye widened in confusion. 

“I wouldn’t be able to stand with 64 of my tenketsu disabled. I know I can’t use chakra. I won’t be able to show off any one-handed seals, also because I don’t know how to do them. My sensei does. I didn’t underestimate you, Hyuga Hiashi. I don’t underestimate anyone. That is because I never overestimate myself.” Asuka said softly. “You’re only wrong about that and one other thing: I didn’t miss.”

And in that second, barely anyone saw it coming. A swift dove down quickly and slammed right into Hiashi’s first thoracic vertebrae and he started to fall over. The bird then dug into her holster and pulled out some wire, wrapping it around him. His body was tightly bound together and he finally hit the ground, grunting in pain. 

“The White-Throated Needletail, a species of swift, is the third-fastest bird on the planet. It also is considered the fastest in flapping speed, travelling at one hundred and five kilometres an hour. This is my summon, Suisen. She travels at one-fifty.” Asuka then stood up perfectly, towering over him. “She was also my back-up plan, in case I needed one. Thankfully, we can also communicate by hand signals, so she knew exactly what to do.”

Suisen chirped up. “For a person with a blind spot, you should probably move around a little more. It was very easy to remain out of sight.”

“I’d never aim for Hizashi’s blind spot, even if we were up against each other during the exams. Yet you are a different story. And also, I kind of had no other option.”

He growled. “You were able to stand this whole time! You knew about my blind spot! That’s—that’s completely unfair!”

“Everything in a match is fair. In life-or-death, you should be able to combat any factor. What really isn’t fair is the way you treat your brother. That’s a factor you can change.” she said. “Proctor, please tell me this match is over?”

“The winner is Asuka.” the proctor said, still in shock.

Cheering overtook the stadium and she waved Hizashi down. He released her chakra points and helped her to the medical station to restore a little energy. 

“You fought extremely well.”

“Technically, I didn’t aim for his blind spot, Suisen did,” she said softly, a pretty blush forming on her cheeks.  

“You don’t have to defend yourself,” he said softly. “Nothing is fair in the shinobi world, right?”

“Yea, that was a little harsh.” she chuckled to herself, rubbing her neck. “God, I’m sore everywhere.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

“Be more specific.”

“Well, behind my neck and shoulders—what are you doing?”

Hizashi pulled her long hair back and massaged her shoulders, pressing his thumbs to her neck. 

“Giving you a massage.”

He felt her skin heat up and a smirk crawled up his face. She leaned back into his hands and sighed. “Th—That feels good.”

“Good.”

“You don’t have to do this.” 

“You have a match after this. You’ll need as much energy as you can get,” he told her. 

Her match against Hiashi’s last teammate ended up with her going unconscious and he didn’t even have time to check on her before having to go against him in the finals. His opponent, though strong, had used up almost all of his chakra so Hizashi defeated him quickly. He won the tournament.

His team was crying out in the stands for him as loud as they could and he waved at them before the proctor announced him as the winner. They all personally congratulated him and went out for dinner. It was a great night. He found himself smiling more than ever before, happy with how his whole team performed. Their sensei even cried a little bit, but she denied it. 

He insisted on walking Asuka home that night and they both walked slowly, unhurried. The twelve-year-old tried not to stare as the moonlight reflected off her eyes and her hair floated with the breeze. They talked for a while, about how they felt about the tournament, their teammates, the other contestants, and themselves. He was disappointed when he reached the door of his apartment and smiled goodbye. She slowly turned the doorknob and opened her door, but paused. 

“Congrats again,” she said softly, just before planting a kiss on his cheek. 

Hizashi swore he must have stood facing her closed door for a solid minute, eyes wide in shock at what just had happened. Had he imagined it? It was too quick to be true. Yet his face burning up could not have been fake, and he walked home in a daze.

His parents were mad at Hiashi when he got home, but he went his own way towards the branch compound, ignoring them. He was in too much of a good mood to care. Yet after a shower and fresh clothes, his mood was ruined when his twin knocked at the door. 

“Hiashi-sama,” he greeted politely, though he hoped his voice wasn’t stained with coldness. “Can I be to your assistance?”

“I’d like to have a word with you.”

“Yes?”

The heir to the Hyuga Clan pushed past him and crossed his arms as Hizashi closed the door. 

“Stay away from Asuka.”

Suddenly, he started coughing at his brother’s statement. “Excuse me, what?”

“You heard me. Stay away from her. She was the reason I didn’t win the tournament, and if it weren’t for you, she wouldn’t have humiliated me in front of everyone. You’ve been telling all of our clan’s secrets to her. It’s your duty to protect them.”

“She’s my teammate,” he growled. “She will always be my teammate. You can’t expect me to stay away from someone who will have my back for the rest of my life.”

“I can. I can make you do whatever I want—”

“This isn’t about your defeat to her.” he interrupted. 

“You must be out of your mind.”

“I am not. You like her. She was the only girl back in the academy who didn’t think you were their future prince charming. She’s a challenge, a conquest, and you thought that if you could beat her, or even just beat enough people, she’d admire you or date you. But she defeated you, she purposely tormented you, and you realized that she’d much farther from your grasp than you expected. Asuka would rather me, the second-born branch member than you, the spoiled heir, isn’t that right brother?”

“You—”

“You are in control of me and if your command is to stay away from her, I cannot follow that command because the shinobi way is much more important to me than the clan. I will still be her teammate and I will still help her train, let her help me train, and have her back. However, if it means this much to you, I will not make any advances onto her because I am a branch member, cursed to serve you.

“So you admit it, you’re interested in her.”

“It means nothing if you’re interested in her as well, Hiashi-sama.”

“You better your word, brother.”

That night, he had trouble sleeping.

Once again, please review on FFn and follow the story there for Part 2, which will be updated once proof-read, and part three after it is completed. 

fun fact: Asuka means “the fragrance of tomorrow” or “flying bird” depending on the kanji. Guess which one it is.

[kaiju-emperor]

d’Artagan (Saber) Character Concept

(d’Artagan servant outfit. Art by @angelicvangaart​ Thank so much for this amazing work! Please go give them your support)

One of the central characters of Alexdre Dumas’s classic ‘The Three Musketeers’. d’Artagan was a young woman, who dreamt of being a musketeer and traveled to Paris. There, she met the titular Three Musketeers, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. The four would go on many adventures together, and d’artagan would come into her own as a great sword fighter. 

d’Artagan takes the form of a woman in her mid twenties, with flowing locks of brown hair. Her usual attire is the leather armor and cape of her musketeer uniform. She wields a basket hilt rapier, a parrying dagger and flintlock pistol with deadly accuracy.

d’Artagan has an easygoing and ‘rougeish’ personality. She is ‘romantic’ in the classical sense of the word, having a deep sense of honor and manners. Her tongue, and wit are sharp, offering witty quips and jibes in and out of battle. However, she knows when the time for such things is over.

As a servant, d’Artagan is a master of the blade. She was more than likely one of the greatest swordmasters of her era. She strikes with precision, and finesse over brute force. Using diversion, positioning and superior skill to win over her opponents.

(Casual d’Artagan)

Parameters

Strength:C+

Endurance:B

Agility: A

Magic Power:C

Luck A+

Noble Phantasm:A

Skills

Charisma C+:Despite not being a leader, d’artagnan has a decently high charisma stat. Her personality is infectious and she has a way with words.

Riding B+: Like most musketeers d’Artagan was trained in the art of horsemanship. She even has some knowledge about sailing thanks to her travels

Magic Resistance B: Being a saber class servant, d’Artagan is granted a high level of magic resistance. 

Noble Phantasms

Tous Pour Un: Musketeer’s Bond Rank B

A secondary noble phantasm to d’Artagan’s main one. Using this power, she can call on a phantom of one of the other musketeers. They infuse her with power, each one granting a different boon. Calling upon the power of Porthos, her Strength and Endurance stat increase, allowing her to clash with opponents physically stronger than herself. Calling upon Aramis grants her keen vision, and agility. It also summons Aramis’s trusty musket, which is a low ranked noble phantasm in and of itself. Finally, by calling upon Athos, the phantom of Athos will strike alongside d’Artagan, mirroring her moves, or defending her from harm. Allowing her incredible versatility in combat. As well as the ability to stand toe to toe with servants whose skill exceeded normal humans in life.

Un Pour Tous, Tous Pour Un: Oath Of The Musketeers Rank A

The full power and form of d’Artagan’s noble phantasm. It is a crystallization of her oath, and friendship with the other musketeers. A representation of their intertwined legend. By speaking the famous oath of the musketeers, d’Artagan creates a reality marble that is an image of the Palace Of Fontainebleau. Inside of the bounds of the reality marble, she summons the full forms of her three companions Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. All three of them are full servants in their own right and their parameters are on par with d’Artagan herself. As long as the reality marble is maintained, the four will fight together to defeat their enemy. It is here that the full power of the musketeers is seen. Within the space of the reality marble, things such as authority and divinity do not matter. All are equal within. Which allows the musketeers to harm divine beings despite not having divine weapons or divinity themselves.  

FGO version

4* Saber

Deck

Passive Skills

Riding Rank B+:Increase Quick performance by 9%

Magic Resistance B: Increases own debuff resistance by 17.5%.

Active Skills

Charisma C+ : Increase attack party attack  for 3 turns. from 8.5 to 17%

Un Pour Tous: Porthos: Increase own attack for 3 turns from 10-20% Apply Debuff Immune for 3 turns

Un Pour Tous:Aramis: Apply evade to self for two attacks. And apply sure hit to self and gain 10-15 crit stars. 

Noble Phantasm

Un Pour Tous, Tous Pour Un: Oath Of The Musketeers Rank A, Type:Arts, Anti Unit

Deals 900-1500% damage to a single enemy that ignores defense. Overcharge Increase NP gain for 3 turns from 20-40% (activates first)

Dialogue

Summon

“I have answered your call, I d’Artagan shall be your sword and your shield. Hehe, sorry that was far too formal. Let me try again. I am d’Artagan, Saber class. *leans down to kiss your hand* “Enchante, My Lord/Lady. I hope my companions and I can serve you well.”

Level Up

“ Ah je me sens déjà plus fort!” (Translation:Ah.  I feel stronger already)

Battle Start

En garde!  Prêts? Allez!  (Translation: On guard! Ready! Lets begin!)

Battle Start 2

All For One, And One For All! (Randomly said in French or English)

Attack 1

“Advance! Hah!”

Attack 2

“Attaque au Fer!”

Attack 3

“Doublé!”

Extra Attack

“Parry! Then...thrust!”

Hit By Noble Phantasm

“Gahhh I must...endure!”

Defeat

Ah! Tou...che.

First Skill Used

Transmettre mes amis! (Translation: Onward, my friends!)

Second Skill Used

Porthos! I need your strength!

Third Skill Used

Aramis! Grant me your speed!

Noble Phantasm Selected

“It is time, my friends!”

Noble Phantasm Used

“Let me show you, the strength of our bond, of our oath. The dream of our legend! All For One, And One For All! Athos! Porthos! Aramis! Fight by my side once more!”

My Room Lines

(If you have Jeanne d’Arc Ruler/Archer) “Mon dieu! Is that Jeanne d’Arc?! I was told stories of her as a child. It is such an honor to meet her in the flesh! She is truly as beautiful and radiant as I imagined.”

(If you have Chevalier d’Eon) “A fellow knight of France! It is a pleasure to meet someone who served the country as I did! To think that there would be future knights as lovely and cute as yourself! Hahaha! No need to blush!”

(if you have Marie Antoinette) *quickly bows* “I can tell just from your beauty and countenance that you are of royal blood. A future queen of France you say? So, I was right! I do seem to have a talent for reading resplendent beauties.”

(if you have Edmon Dantes) “That man... He has a dark aura about him. I feel the pain in his eyes. What must he have suffered to have such eyes?”

(if you have Astolfo) “I’ve been spending some time with Astolfo lately. They are quite the character. On the surface they seem quite strange and lack common sense. However, deep within they truly are worthy of being a paladin of the great Charlemagne”

During an Event

“It seems something exciting is happening out there, master. A festival perhaps? Let us go and see.”

Likes

“Things that I like? Hmmm. Wine, roses, books, and poetry. But the thing I love most, are women. Eh? That last one was obvious?”

Dislikes

“Dishonorable types. Backstabbers, traitors and the like. The worst types like that however, are the ones who make women cry.”

About the other musketeers.

“You want to hear about Porthos? Porthos was a boisterous man, always smiling. He had a hearty loud laugh. He was also a bit of a dandy. Always wanting to wear the latest fashions and look his best. I never knew a man who shined his boots more.”

“Aramis was a ladies man, through and through. Despite being highly religious he always seemed to find time for women. *sighs* More than once I caught him knocking boots with the nuns of various churches. But, despite all that, he was a good and stalwart friend, and he always respected when a woman was not interested in him.”

“Athos... Athos was... He was like a father to me. He was the one who taught me how to fight with a blade. I looked up to him, and loved him dearly. But, he was also a haunted man. I often found him drinking away his sorrows. Curse that Lady de Winter...”

Bond 1 “Good day to you my lord/lady. I hope you are doing well. I’m still trying to get used to this modern place. Its a lot to take in.”

Bond 2 “Walking among these halls of heroes, I feel like I’m back at the musketeer barracks again. Just without all the drills, haha!”

Bond 3: “I was not born a noble like the other musketeers. I was a simple farmer’s daughter. But I dreamed of being one despite all that. I remember arriving in Paris, my eyes wide with wonder, and head full of dreams. Ah, sorry, I’m rambling.”

Bond 4:”Hmm? You want to know more about my childhood? Well, there’s not much to tell. I was a farmer’s daughter, as I said. I grew up in the fields of France, milking cows, collecting eggs, milling grain and so on. It was a simple life. But I don’t think it was for me in the end.”

Bond 5(if male mc): “Master, I wish to offer my fealty again. You are my king, and I your loyal musketeer. You are truly a great and kind leader. I could not ask for a better lord to serve.”

Bond 5(if female mc): “Good day, my lady. I hope you’re well. I have something special planned for us today. I’ve arranged a rayshift to the rolling fields of France. A perfect place for a romantic picnic, oui?~ Shall we, my lady? There’s no need to be shy. Take my hand, ma petite fleur~”

Bond CE: “Note From The King”

Effect: “Party Quick, and Arts up by 10% “

“I remember that day. It was many years after my friends and I had drifted apart. I had been recognized for my accomplishments, despite my common birth. I was leading France’s forces against the United Provinces. During the  Siege of Maastricht, I was reading a letter signed with the royal seal. I was to be made into ‘The Marshal Of France’ the highest honor I could ever hope to achieve. I can hear the ringing of the sudden gunshot that followed. The feeling of the musket ball piercing my chest... Blood leaked from lips and I felt my life ebbing.  ‘Athos, Porthos, Aramis, adieu forever....’ “

[bvckysbitch-blog]

Butterflies

Summary: The reader is nervous about going to an awards ceremony and Bucky helps the reader through it

Warnings: A couple of swears, nothing else really.

Word Count: 1,870

A/N: It’s taken me a lot of time to get back into writing. I don’t know if this will be a regular thing but I had an idea on my day off today and wanted to put it out there. It’s also been a while since I’ve written something that wasn’t academic so don’t be too harsh lol.

You stared at todays date on the calendar, reading the words hastily scrawled out in red letters: AWARDS CEREMONY – 7PM. Looking down at the clothes you were wearing, you let out a deep sigh. If only you could rock up to these kinds of things in jeans and an old t-shirt. Alas, it was time to begin the long process of getting ready. Most people usually have a glam squad or something to help make getting ready a whole lot smoother, but you’re just a plus one so you don’t get that kind of luxury.

Walking into your bedroom you head towards your wardrobe, opening the doors and pulling out the only dress currently hung up in a fancy bag with the tags still attached. You carefully draped the item on your bed before sitting down at your vanity, staring at yourself. Every imperfection and flaw was glaring at you, like they were holding a sign and screaming at the top of their lungs for attention. Dark under eyes, spots forming here and there, uneven eyebrows and pores the size of potholes. You shuddered as you overanalysed yourself, reaching for your primer and applying it to your face. There’s only so much a person can do when striving for perfection and unfortunately awards ceremonies demand perfection �� especially when cameras are involved.

You apply your make-up as best you could, eventually accepting the fact that your skills do not match those of make-up artists and set about styling your hair. You decide that soft and loose curls are the best way to go about things and start curling your hair, focusing so hard on trying not to burn yourself. Eventually your hair is curled and set and all that is left is to don the dress that lay neatly tucked away in a bag. You turn around in your chair, eyeing the hidden dress uneasily. The last time you were this glammed up was for your senior prom and that was terrifying then. Knowing that your photograph could end up plastered across the internet for all to see sent your stomach churning. What would people think? What would they say? Would it be a good idea to make your accounts private so that you wouldn’t be verbally abused by people? Okay, stop it now. You’re being silly.

With a deep breath, you rose from your seat and headed towards the dress, unzipping the bag and staring at the deep red hue of the dress. It was mesmerising to say the least. You thought the dress was beautiful and stunning. A work of art for no more than $150 but you knew there would be people there in outfits that cost 10 times the price. Regardless, you picked the dress up from the bag and pulled it on. You loved the lace bodice and sleeves, the little embellishments that made the dress look as though it was dripping jewels in certain lights. Zipping the dress up, you stared at yourself in the full length mirror. The dress hugged your figure perfectly but something still wasn’t quite right. You delved into your wardrobe, searching for the one pair of shoes you knew could bring this look together. With a triumphant smile, you slipped the heels on and looked at yourself once more. You could still see your imperfections, but they weren’t as loud anymore. If people were looking for what was wrong then they weren’t appreciating what was right. You were satisfied. Not happy, but satisfied would suffice.

Grabbing the belongings you would need for the night, you stuffed them inside your clutch and called for an Uber to pick you up.

Half an hour later and you were around the corner from the venue where you had agreed to meet your date for the night. You fidgeted nervously with the hem of your sleeves, wondering how long he was going to be. You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone, opening up your last conversation.

Y/N: Heyy, how long do you think you’ll be? x

B: …

You watched as the dots appeared, then disappeared just as quick. Letting out a resigned sigh, you put your phone back in your bag, settling for watching the world go by as you waited. You played the game of imagining why each person was doing what they were doing, who they were going to see or where they were headed.

Finally after what felt like forever, a black car pulled up beside you and the passenger side window rolled down. You leaned forward to see who was in the car when Sam’s head popped out the window, a smile on his face. “Well don’t you scrub up well! Hop on in!”

“Oh, I was supposed to be meeting-”

“I know. He’s in the car.” Sam said with a smile. “I didn’t think it was right for you guys to walk to an awards ceremony.”

You nod your head as Sam disappears back inside the car, opening the back door and scooting yourself inside, trying not to crease your dress. No more than two minutes later and you had arrived at the venue. A red carpet was rolled out and there were photographers clambering for the best shot. You could feel your palms getting sweaty and rubbed them against the side of the seats, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself.

“See you kids in there.” Sam chimes, climbing out of the car as a barrage of flashing lights streak across your vision.

As the lights begin the fade, you look across at the man next to you, a small smile spreading across your face. “You cut your hair!” You exclaim, noticing how much younger he looks with his hair cropped short.

“Well, I decided to see if I did feel like a different person with shorter hair.”

“And...?”

“I feel lighter that’s for sure. A different person not so much.” He says with a chuckle before a soft quiet falls over us. He looks outside the window for a moment before turning back to you. “I think its our turn. Ready?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

You let out a nervous laugh. “As I’ll ever be.”

He reaches for the door handle, a small click sounding as it opens.

“Buck?” You whisper just loud enough to grab his attention. He stops and looks at you, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. “Don’t let me fall.” You whimper, your voice giving away how nervous you really were.

Shaking his head, he steps out of the car, painting a smile onto his face as he walks around to your side of the car. The door opens slowly and the camera lights are flashing so quickly you feel like a deer caught in headlights. Bucky holds out his hand for your and you take it willingly, holding on to him as tight as you could for fear of falling. Bucky shuts the car door behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you towards the doors of the venue.

“You look beautiful.” He whispers, giving you a quick squeeze and making it feel like butterflies could explode out of your chest. “Let everyone else see it too.”

You come to a stop in front of a small ‘x’ and look up at Bucky wondering how someone who had endured so much pain could still have so much more left to give to the world. “I guess we need to smile for the cameras and pretend like we’re not shitting it.”

Bucky lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head, “Got it in one.” He says, plastering a smile on his face.

You follow his lead, smiling for the cameras and following what the photographers suggest before heading inside with Bucky. The second the doors are closed behind you, you feel your legs turn to jelly and rely on Bucky entirely to get you to the closest seat. Your heart is beating erratically as you sit down, trying to focus on your breathing rather than where you are and how many photos must have been taken of you.

“Are you okay?” He asks, sitting down beside you.

You nod your head, trying hard to breathe in for 7, hold for 6 and breathe out for 5. You can faintly hear someone else’s breathing only slightly louder than usual and find yourself starting to match their breathing pattern, your heart rate eventually slowing down.

“I read somewhere that sometimes it helps to use someone else’s breath pattern to sort of reset your own.” He says, placing a hand on your knee.

“Well, in this case it worked.” You say breathily, your cheeks reddening a little from embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. It happens to the best of us. We just have to find the right way of dealing with it.”

You nod your head, smiling a little. “Buck, I’ve not really had a chance to say this yet but I’m glad you blipped back. I really like having you in my life.” You say, avoiding his eyes in fear that if your gaze met your face would be redder than your dress.

“I’m glad to have you in mine.” He says, taking the hand that was on your knee and wrapping it around your shoulder, pulling you close to his side. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and you can feel your heart speed up again for an entirely different reason, the butterflies threatening to escape once again.

“Took you long enough!” Sam’s voice booms from around the corner.

You look up, quickly scooting away from Bucky ever so slightly, directing your attention towards Sam. “What do you mean?” You ask, a confused expression crossing your face.

“Oh.. uh y’know, getting inside from the car. You know I was stuck talking to spiderboy whilst waiting for you guys.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you stood up from your seat. “You really need to ease up on that kid. After all he did beat your ass.”

“That was one time!” Sam exclaims, storming off to wear he came from.

You shook you head as you watched him go, feeling Bucky stand behind you.

“You know that’s not what he meant right.” Bucky whispers, his mouth inches from your ear.

You turn around, a small smile playing on your face. “Oh, I know. “ You say, readjusting Bucky’s tie so that it laid straight, your hand lingering against his chest. “Maybe someday you can show me somewhere a little more personal?” You say, quirking an eyebrow.

“It’d be my pleasure.” He says, taking hold of your hand and pressing a kiss to it.

You feel a blush creep up under your skin, pulling your hand away and clearing your throat. “Maybe we should save Sam from the kid.” You say, turning around and heading in the direction Sam went.

“You’re probably right.” Bucky says, falling in step with you.

“I don’t know how much help you’ll be though considering he kicked your ass too…” You say, trailing off as a smirk plays at the edge of your lips.”

“Again, that was one time.” Bucky says with a chuckle, wrapping his arm around you.

[rushmanatalie]

falling like the stars || ch. 3

Rating: E

Summary:  Natasha remains haunted by demons from her past, but Steve is there to remind her that she’s not alone.

Notes:  So it’s been *checks watch* a LONG time since my last update, but hopefully the slight fluff, smut, and angst make up for it? Once again, thanks for reading. Feel free to leave comments on things you want to see in the future :)

Read on Ao3

Tchaikovsky plays softly through her headphones. A simple four four count, soft violins, and a touch of piano. Her feet sting with blisters underneath the satin shoes, her muscles aching with every leap and turn, but she loves every second of this. 

If Natasha ever truly had a permanent home in her life, it would be here: somewhere between the music and the movement, where agony meets beauty and art is made in the blood shed when she steps over that edge.

The music ends as softly as it began and she chases her fatigue with a swig of rum, relishing the burn as she’s learned to accept all forms of pain. 

She’s used to it by now: all the hurt in her life, and she has the Red Room to thank for that. They taught her to think that it was all she could ever have, that it was all she was worth. So when she had finally found her family, when she had found Steve, that warmth, acceptance, and dare she say, love, felt completely foreign.

Undeserved.

The road to redemption isn’t easy. Every time she takes a step forward, it’s as if there’s a force pushing her back, and rarely does she find herself winning the battle.

Natasha catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror and takes another swift sip of alcohol before throwing the flask aside. Pulling the headphones that hung around her neck over her ears, she allows the music to swallow her thoughts, her eyes fluttering shut as she gets a little more lost in the melody of the strings. When she opens her eyes, her body follows in movement with a perfect, practiced fluidity.

“Again!” Madame B shouts from the corner of the room. 

One of twenty-eight young ballerinas with the Bolshoi—

The memory comes so suddenly, Natasha falters on her turn.

“Again!” A gun goes off. The gun in her hand, smoking as she points it at a target. 

The training is hard—

Head pounding, heart racing, her legs nearly give out beneath her.

“Again!” She holds a knife to the throat of the girl who sleeps beside her. She’ll make her death quick, but it wouldn’t be painless. The blade runs against her neck with an awfully guttural scream. 

But the glory of the soviet culture—

Her fist smashes into the mirror. When her hand comes away from the glass, it’s slick with blood as broken shards cut into her skin. She pulls a piece of glass out from between her knuckles and watches the redness flow down her wrist. 

The glory of the soviet supremacy—

The sound of her heart hammering behind her ribcage fills her ears until the thumping is so loud it hurts. She’s suddenly aware of the way she struggles for every breath, gasping for air. Everything blurs, and before she can catch herself, she’s falling to the floor. Natasha barely registers the front door opening before her vision goes black. The last thing she hears before she finally drifts is Rhodey shouting her name.

—————————

The drive home seemed longer than the forty minutes it took, but Steve manages to get back to the Avengers facility with his motorcycle in one piece. 

Three years ago, Steve never called the place home. He still doesn’t, not the way Natasha does, and sometimes it pains him that this is it for her. 

He finds her in her room, or what’s become their room. Rhodey stands by the door, his back against the wall as he rests a concerned glance at Natasha, who lies curled up on the bed, asleep. Steve quickly notices the bandages wrapped around her right hand, blood seeping through the gauze around her knuckles.

He turns to Rhodey, careful to keep his voice down. “What happened?”

Rhodey shakes his head. “I’m not sure. I was coming by to drop something off and I found her in the studio. She just...collapsed. Think she hit the mirror.” He sighs, crossing his arms and shifting his weight. “I’ve seen Tony go through similar episodes—PTSD, anxiety, addiction—I’m worried about her, Steve. Thanos hurt everyone, but Nat…”

“I know.” The words left unsaid hung heavily in the air.

Ever since the Battle of New York, the Avengers had become Natasha’s family. She never admitted it out loud, but Steve could see how content she was around them: the way her shoulders would soften, her walls seemingly down. And when the Sokovia accords had broken the team, she had watched it fall apart and tried desperately to put the pieces back together.

Until Thanos ripped away everything that remained.

Maybe that’s why even now she clings to the job, to the work. It’s all she has left.

“I can stay to keep an eye on her tonight.” Rhodey offers softly. The suggestion almost comes as a surprise to Steve, and he’s suddenly reminded of the fact that no one knows. No one knows about them.

Steve shakes his head. “It’s okay, I’ll stay. Thanks Rhodey.”

Rhodey shoots him a somewhat knowing look, a sad smile on his lips. Before he leaves, he puts a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You take care, Steve.” Take care of her.

Rhodey’s footsteps are still echoing down the hall when Steve turns his attention to Natasha. Her fiery red hair is splayed over the white pillows in soft waves, a few tendrils falling over and framing her fame. His old, worn cotton tee almost swallows her small frame, but it’s one of his favorite looks on her. As he walks to her side, he can’t help but notice how peaceful she looks like this, caught in a dreamless sleep, her chest rising and falling in slow, deep breaths. It’s almost out of a force of habit that he pulls the comforter over her shoulder, gently enough to not wake her, but her light hum of satisfaction lets him know she knows he’s there. 

They’ve been like this for two years now. Whatever this is. For Steve, it’s hard not to want to define it. After all, he came from an age where people were quick to “go steady” and eager to settle down. And for a while, he had wanted that with Peggy.

But that was before.

Before the war.

Before what seemed like the end of the world.

Before Natasha.

With the ice, HYDRA, and Thanos, Steve hasn’t much luck with love, but he’s had enough experience to realize that whatever this is between himself and Natasha, it might be the closest thing to love he’s ever had. Their bond, connection, relationship? It goes beyond romantic love or lust. To him, she’s a partner: the one person whose loyalty never falters, who’s always there, and perhaps the only constant left in his life, and he clings onto it with all of his stubbornness, all of his hope. And despite everything they’ve been through, everything he’s been through, sometimes he catches himself wondering if it was all fate’s cruel way of bringing them together.

“Steve?” Natasha’s green eyes flutter open in a haze of sleep. 

“Hey.” He kneels down next to the bed, pulls her bandaged hand to his lips, and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I’m here.”

“Where’s Rhodey?” 

Steve almost smiles because it’s so damn her to worry about other people first. “He went home.” There’s a small beat as they both avoid the topic of what happened before.

“What time is it?” Her brows furrow with the question.

“Six. You hungry?”

She shakes her head. 

“Okay. I’ll spare you the tragedy of me cooking dinner, then.” He’s aware that it’s a half-assed remark on his own culinary skills, but it wins him a smile.

“Come to bed?” It isn’t so much of a question as it is a request, a plea, and he obliges, kicking his shoes off before climbing under the covers next to her.

Natasha tucks herself into Steve’s chest and he brushes his nose against the crown of her hair. The lavender scent of her shampoo has become unknowingly familiar over the years and he finds it somewhat soothing now. He traces a finger down a strand of hair, caressing her jawline. They lay in the peace and comfort of each other's breaths for a moment, relishing in the warmth until he breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry.”

There’s a second of deliberation, but she responds nevertheless, a soft breath against his chest. “Me too.” 

“Don’t be.” Steve tips her chin up to meet her eyes and it’s all there: years of pain and fear, hundreds of unanswered questions, a million unnecessary apologies, welling up in tears that threaten to fall. He knows she’s not ready to put it in words, not yet, but he knows he’ll be there to listen when she does.

For now, that’s enough.

And all he can do is kiss her. At first, it’s sweet, slow, delicate, his lips barely ghosting over hers. But the contact is apparently exactly what she needs because the next thing he knows, her lips are crashing into his and it’s messy, all teeth and tongue, but he lets her take and take and take.

With a single push on his shoulders, she flips them around so that he’s pinned to the bed while she straddles his growing hardness between her legs, not bothering to suppress a heady moan at the much needed friction. Her hands are deft, desperate, as she reaches down to undo his jeans, but before she can pull out his length, he grabs her by the wrist to stop her.

“Natasha.” They’re going too fast. He usually wants to take his time with her, only she has other plans in mind. 

Gently peeling his hand from her wrist, she guides his fingers down to the ache between her thighs. His throat catches when he feels her wetness through the thin fabric of her underwear. “I just need you inside me.” She leans down to kiss his jawline. “Please.” Her voice is thick with wanting, so he lets her have him. All of him.

Her underwear comes off in a moment no longer than their lips leave eachothers’ for breath. This time he doesn’t stop her when she reaches for his length and slips it inside her heat with a lewd moan. She’s tighter than usual without the foreplay, but the way her face contorts in pleasure gives him confirmation that she enjoys the stretch. His hands move to her waist as she rides him, his hips rising to meet hers as she sets an unrelenting pace. It’s crude, the way their skin sounds against each other, the smell of sex in the room, but it just brings him closer and closer to the edge. He knows she’s nearly there too, so he drops a hand to her clit and watches as she comes apart seconds later, a string of Russian curses on her lips. His own release follows closely and she holds him tighter as he spills inside her.

They lay spent, still clothed, with her collapsed over him, face buried in the crook of his neck, for what seems like eternity. As their breaths even out, she rolls over to his side, pulling the blanket to her chest.

Just before Steve is about to drift off to sleep, he feels her lips murmur against his arm. 

“Today was Lila’s birthday.”

He opens his eyes. She’s staring off into the corner of the room, sadness lurking through the greens of her irises. 

“She would’ve been sixteen.” Natasha pauses at the thought, but he doesn’t speak. He just listens. “And I just can’t shake the thought of him being alone.”

A few months after Thanos took his family, Clint had gone off the map. No phone calls. No emails. Not a single word. They checked everything. Bank statements. Search histories. Print records. License numbers. But the only clues to his whereabouts were the brutally dismembered bodies he left in his trail.

Steve remembers the first time they found it: the connection between the massacres. All the victims had been gangs, mobs, and human trafficking organizations, the kind the Avengers would have taken down anyway, except the hooded katana-bearing vigilante didn’t seem to care about making a mess and showing no mercy.

Natasha drank herself to sleep that night.

It hurts him to see her like this, but he knows not to make promises. He can’t guarantee they’ll find Clint. Can’t guarantee if they’ll want to. So he says the one thing he knows is certain. 

“He’s never really alone. Not while we’re still here.”

The words linger in the air, and he watches her take it in as the lines between her brows unfurl.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “I guess no one ever really is.”

[anon-luv]

Blankets [JungkookxReader](Pt 2/5)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (Feat. Yoongi, Jimin, Taehyung)

Genre: Romance/Angst/Smut BadBoyAU!

Summary: A one night stand turned into various visits. No strings attached, or at least that is what you told yourself every time he walked through the door. His first name was the only thing you knew, besides having memorized every sensitive spot that laid upon his skin.

One night you catch a glimpse of his world. One that you had never had the temptation to roam on your free will. Jungkook though was addicting, and your craving for his touches led you to venture into his life. This new found world offering you a freedom you didn’t know existed. The consequences of your actions instead of taking you a step closer to him, formed a barrier. Jungkook’s sweet touches turned rough with rage, his passionate kisses turned possessive, and his comfortable casual talk went to promises/lies of a forever.

Rating: M [Language, Strong Scenes, Drug usage, Sexual Scenes](Will add a warning prior if that chapter will contain any smut scenes)

Author’s Note: Sorry for the small delay. I am still not super happy with the way this came out. I scrapped half the chapter that I had already finished, and rewrote it since my vision of where this fic was heading changed. This also triggered the fic to grow in complexity now expanding it from a 3 part to a 5 part. Hope ya’ll enjoy.

Also quick confession….. I have never written in 2nd POV till now, so sorry for any mistakes I might commit while writing in this form.

Trigger warning: Drugs, alcohol, and Sexual scenes

Not 100% edited yet. Might have minor mistakes :)

Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Word Count: 4,900+

Blankets

.Part 1.

Better an Oops than a What If - Unknown

You had always heard the saying: ‘People do crazy things for Love’, but you weren’t in love, so why were you doing it? You had not figured out what temporary madness drove you to commit such a radical act. Jungkook had never played an important role in your life, nor he changed your daily routine, other than serving as an extra source of warmth through the night. How can a simple act of possession drive you to such madness. Actually, whenever he was not around to intoxicate your coherent thoughts with lust, you would dream of a faceless man who would make you fall in love chickflick style. The thought of the possibility of Jungkook filling in those shoes would make you laugh. He was a good fuck. He was an amazing source of relief, but when you looked at the boy asleep in your bed it did nothing for you.

Jungkook was handsome, that was something you couldn’t deny. From his soulful eyes to cheeky grin, it was perfection. Even the scar that lay upon his cheek looked like it was carved on purpose into his face to create an even more intricate structure. As much as he was handsome though, he was  far away from perfect. Jungkook had a bad temperament, and you had witnessed it in quite a few occasions, when he came home beat up only to take out his frustrations by pounding you so hard and rapid that it left your center bruised. Those nights he would escape the security of your bed right after without even a goodbye. Other than cooking skills and casual talks, Jungkook never bothered to find out much about you. He like you, seemed to find those specifics irrelevant. Jungkook was immature. He threw tantrums if you didn’t open the door right away, and the few opinions he shared with you over frivolous topics seemed to be based upon illiterate sources. Jungkook was stubborn. He liked things his way or not at all, and that would’ve been okay if you weren’t stubborn as well, which would lead to boundless amounts of arguing and angry sex. Jungkook was just sex. That’s what you have told yourself repeatedly, for the past year when you laid alone upon your bed, inhaling his scent from the unwashed blankets, as if by doing so he would materialize beside you.

“Are you sure about this??? Your hair I can dye back, but I definitely won’t be able to glue this together” Danielle said holding the scissors in her trembling hands. She knew how erratic your request had been last night when you called her to come over and dye your hair a sinful red. You rolled your eyes at her overthinking nature. You tried reaching for the scissors. You had decided to take advantage of the predicament you had encountered due to your temporary insanity, and really attempt getting out of the endless loop on uniformity in your life. You were a 22 year old senior in college, that had enough hangovers to count in a single hand. You had been called a prude/lame way too many times. You were not doing this only for Jungkook. You liked to think that you were also seeking something to conform your thirst for diversity in life. Danielle had explored every dark corner of her youthful years, and had gladly shared her rowdy experiences with you. Her narratives leaving you with want, but your brain shutting down any ideas to participate in such activities, until the night you bumped into Jungkook. Now you were taking the bull by the horns. You were going to go big or go home as they say.

“If you do not do it already, I will” you warned her.

She nodded defeatedly as she cut your waist long hair to the best of her ability.

The image in the mirror of the small bathroom already becoming unfamiliar, as the virgin hair you had was no more.

That night you made sure to give Danielle another heart attack as you dragged her along to a tattoo shop. A tattoo was way too far of a stretch from your usual comfort zone, and Danielle was aware of that. What she didn’t know was about your unvoiced fascination with permanent markings upon skin as a way of self expression. Your Google search bar had sufficed to alleviate your curiosity with this practice by showing you the many forms of art that lay upon strangers skin. You were now using this as an advantage to  diverge into this now at day trend that would send your mother into hysterics.

“I want that tattoo, but can you make it bigger?” you asked the tattoo artist named Jackson, who in return eyed you a bit sceptical.

“Are you sure ma'am?? Is it your first tatt? If I was you, I would aim for something smaller” he replied as you sat on the awaiting chair infront of him.

“Yeah plus….why are you getting a turkey??” asked Danielle tilting the tattoo binder to the side, as if it was a complex calculus problem.

“I have a  high pain tolerance. No worries. And Danielle….it is a phoenix, it signifies rebirth” you stated as the guy arranged the various colors of ink infront of you “Now let me get this over with”

The buzzing of the gun going off and on causing you to grip the handle of the black chair tightly. The little voice in your head was no longer encouraging you, but instead kept sabotaging your courage with wavering doubts of your true intentions behind such an out of character act.

The needle getting closer to your skin by the second, causing your stomach to churn with anxiety. You were not known to be a quitter. Your tenacious personality caught in the current dilemma of whether jumping off the chair would be an acceptable move in your behalf due to the ongoing war in your head. One centimeter till it made full contact with your skin, and your vocal cords on their own accord let out a “Stop!”

Jackson halted and rapidly moved the needle away from your skin. A sigh of relief made it’s way out of your parted lips. That had been close.

“You know what, maybe let’s stick to a piercing first. You know, small steps” you said trying to convince the public present that the reasoning behind this choice lay on an ulterior motive other than plain ass nerves.

Jackson smiled at you as he put his gear up “No problem here, let’s just get ya over to Bam over there to sign the paperwork. What kind of piercing are you looking for??”

“Tongue and maybe Nose”  you said visualizing the look you were aiming for minus the tattoo.

A rush of adrenaline surged through your body as you took out your tongue for Jackson to inspect. The long needle in his hands appearing more like a sword from its length. The saliva starting to generate a pool in your mouth.

“You should totally close your eyes dude, that looks….” Danielle started only to be shushed by Jackson.

You shut your eyes tightly following Danielle’s instructions as you felt the cold metal against your tongue.

“Ok (Y/N),  you are going to take a breath for me and not move. I’m going to count to three okay?” he said quietly.

You took a deep breath, and blocked out the noises till you felt a slight pinch, and then like magic it was done. There had been no pain or excessive blood like your imagination had replayed over and over again in your mind.

You smiled triumphantly, maybe this was how everything would play on between you and Jungkook. In all finality, Quick and Painless.

It was red, sore, and inflamed. The pounding in your nose still fresh, and your tongue still causing a  massive fluid buildup in your mouth. Why had this seemed like such a good idea last night?? You were not quite sure at this point if the way you were heading was the way to go, but you had 2 hours to get ready before Yoongi picked  you up.

The clothes in your closet seemed inappropriate in comparison to the mini skirt that Tabi wore that night. You wanted to make Jungkook suffer for some reason unknown to you. You wanted to flaunt skin he had only been able to witness on those secluded late risque nights. You wanted to show him a side of you that would trigger an abundance of lewd thoughts to flow in his brain.

You have never portrayed yourself as the vindictive type, but as your slowly stepped into your skin tight torn skinnies you realized maybe you were just unaware of this side of you.

The need for some sort of retaliation against the boy, who according to you was a mere accessory in your life, had become a fun game and you wanted to be the MVP.

You had also made sure to rip apart one of the many band shirts he had left behind on your bedroom floor. Now, you were by no means a fashionista, but thanks to youtube and the fact this was not any sort of rocket science, you had upgraded the shirt from overwashed and baggy to something more hip with a vintage look.

The phone rang snapping you out of your trance state as you slipped on the now cropped shirt.

“Hellow”  you said as you swallowed a big gulp of saliva.

“(Y/N), are you brushing your teeth or something?? You sound funny” you heard your mom say from the other side of the line.

You gulped nervously. You had always been an obedient child from what your mom knew. You always had been the star child in her eyes, and she rarely found out about the little rushes of adventure you encountered once in a blue moon.

“Good Mama. Just getting ready for a college event. I just ate ice so my tongue is numb” you replied as you attempted to draw up a semi perfect line of mascara.

“Ok. I’ll let you go then. Just reminding you about the family reunion this month. Bringing a date would be smart, remember what happened last time?? I don’t want your aunts to pester me about your relationship status. They see you as a nun already” she said causing you to chuckle. Your dear mom was so clueless about your sexual activities, and how your commitment problems were the source of your single status, not your inability to obtain a man’s attention.

“Ok mom. Will do” you said hanging up not waiting for a response.

It had been the 11th time you had erased your left eye’s eyeliner. The complexity of capturing the same length and shape of line in both eyes stressing the hell out of you. Grabbing a wipey, you smudged the line you had unsuccessfully drawn once again. A sigh of frustration leaving your lips as the doorbell rang. It was like every force of nature was preventing you from accomplishing your mission of tracing the most enchanting winged eyeliner.

You stomped your way to the door, not even caring to ask who would be standing on the other side.

Much to your luck, Yoongi was standing there with his mouth agape.

You tried wiping your panda looking eye discretely, but you had a feeling you had just made it worse.

“Hey there, you are early” you said as you let him in.

He walked in inspecting your place quietly. Your apartment was not very spacious by any means, but you were proud of the decoration that had taken you months to put together. Your walls were every star wars fan’s dream come true. A lifesize poster of darth vader being your proudest possession.

Yoongi smiled as he took a seat on your couch without any hesitation of making himself right at home “Even more of a reason of my skepticism on the ‘Friendship’ between you and Kookie”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a teasing smile “Well, I am almost ready to be off….. Other than myself, should I bring anything else??”

“No just you and your cute butt will do” he said as he scanned you up and down, clearly taking into liking the (Y/N) 2.0 you had going on “We will provide the rest. By the way, you got something right about here” Yoongi said pointing at his eye “ I know you have this whole I wanna look rough kinda thing, but I don’t think beat up was the look you were aiming towards ”

You shook your head leaving him behind, without another word as you made your way to the bathroom. Yoongi’s mere presence feeding the atmosphere an almost turbulent aura, one which set ablaze a rebellious side of you. One which you were ready to embrace full on.

You were not sure what you were expecting from the evening, but as you stared up towards a beat down garage full of vintage band posters, you realized you were clearly oblivious to what lay behind those brown orbs you had woken up to for the past year.

“We are here princess. It’s just the gang tonight, so you will have a clear view of what I mean, by not fitting in” he said slamming the door shut,not even showing an inkling of an intention of opening yours like a true gentleman would. Of course, you were not expecting such manners from him. This was not a date. On the contrary it felt like he wanted to warn you on what kind of man you had gotten yourself involved with, not really setting to mind the value or classification of the relationship that had been established between you and Jungkook.

The beat of the bass was of poor quality, as you stepped into their territory. The worn out speakers barely being able to take on the excessive volume to which they were being controlled to play on. Your heart beating slightly faster, as the boy’s eyes landed on you taken aback by your surprise appearance. A shy smile made its way to your face which you quickly tried to replace with a sly smirk trying to enact some sort of confidence.

“Hey boys,  you said following Yoongi’s lead to take a seat on a beat up couch. Jungkook wasn’t present, but JImin, Jin the bartender who you hadn’t met personally yet, and Namjoon were sitting on the floor surrounding something that looked like a giant beaker of some sort.

“Hey aren’t you the chick from the club?? Kook was looking for you left and right, after you left. We let him know you were in good hands” Namjoon said winking towards Yoongi.

You looked at Yoongi who had a slight pink tint to his cheeks “No, Joon I just escorted her to her car, and then took off myself. I had work the next morning. Early night”

Jimin winked at him this time “RIIIGHT!”

I was about to add my two cents to the feud, when another entity made their presence known.

“We got the drinks” the boy you remembered as Hoseok came in followed by Tabi, who once again wore the tiniest of skirts.

Hoseok saw you and his grin widened “Glad to see you again. Like the new look”

You gave him a stiff smile, not really sure on how to answer back as you saw a scowl decorating Tabi’s face already.

Hoseok unaware of the sour look on Tabi tried getting her to acknowledge your presence “Tabi, she is Kook’s friend (Y/N) from the other night, remember??”

She forced out a smile clearly not ecstatic of the turn of events that now included you.

“She’s with me tonight. Wanted her to destress and get to know the guys” Yoongi said clearly noticing the radical mood change which had already left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Tabi’s shoulders relaxed when Yoongi addressed the fact that you had been invited by Yoongi not Jungkook.

“So, you with Yoongi?” Tabi asked.

You nodded, and then a wide grin came upon her face giving her a glow that made your confidence turn down a notch. She truly was beautiful in an exotic sort of way.

She sat down on the floor with the guys “Why aren’t we hitting already??”

“Waiting for Kook and Tae to bring it in. We finished the first batch while you guys were gone” Jin said looking regretfully at the item infront of him.

Everything clicked in as you stared at the crowd. Their eyes were a slight shade of red, and the magic lamp was a bong. Maybe you were more innocent than you had previously thought. Slightly embarrassed, you hadn’t put two and two together you shrank more into your seat. Yoongi noticed your slight discomfort and held your hand encouragingly. You squeezed his back, as you noticed two figures making their way towards the crew. You automatically recognized Jungkook disheveled look, and Tae’s rectangular smile. The barely visible presence of a newly formed bruise lining Jungkook’s right eye, releasing an autopilot need to run for a first aid kit and aid his wounds.

Your hand trembled with the need to go over, and make sure he was not injured anywhere else. Flashes of bruised ribs and swollen wrists from previous nights, when he had shown himself in  your steps seeking comfort, causing an inner turmoil to care for the man.

Tabi stood up right away and mad her way to his side caressing his face caringly, making  you wonder why Jungkook hadn’t run to her instead. Why did he take the path to your place, when she was more than willing to look after him, from what you had witnessed. Jungkook smiled softly at her.

“What happened??” she asked with a slight tone of worry mixed with annoyance in her voice.

“Jb was there, and he made a bet that I couldn’t refuse” Jungkook said smirking.

“You are an idiot” Tabi replied hitting him teasingly on the shoulder.

“Your idiot” Jungkook replied as he slowly lowered his head to meet his lips with hers. Before there could be any contact Yoongi coughed catching Jungkook’s attention and diverting it to your seated figure. Jungkook’s face paled as he looked straight into your eyes.

“Fuck” Jungkook said “Sorry I mean, Hey (Y/N) almost didn’t recognize you there. Nice..umm….hair”

You only nodded in acknowledgement not being able to form a coherent word.

“Hey (Y/N).” Tae said cutting into the awkward conversation “Anyone got a lighter?? Mine is out”

Yoongi took out one from his pocket and tossed it to Tae who was now making his way to the giant circle that was now forming around the table. Jungkook dragged Tabi down with him as his eyes wandered around and landed on you cautiously every once in awhile. You swore you caught a glance with a touch of jealousy as he caught sight of Yoongi’s hand on yours, clearly mistaking the situation.

Yoongi scooted his way to the floor and then caught your gaze questioningly to see what your next step would be. You looked up to take a quick glance at Jungkook’s confused face. Etched curiosity aligned along his subtle scowl. You might’ve not been super emotionally involved with Jungkook, but you had spend enough time together to wordlessly communicate. You knew he was aware of how out of place you felt here, further encouraging you to find a cover up and decide on a potentially drastic choice. You tried to force up a playful smirk and made your way down to sit on Yoongi’s lap shocking him and the rest of the gang. Yoongi adapted to the scenario quite quickly as he let his arm encircle your waist without any sort of interrogation.

“You thirsty??” Hoseok asked, not even waiting for an answer as he passed the strawberry flavored drink to you.

The bong was being passed around the circle as Yoongi explained to you in a whisper how to smoke it, and repeatedly instating the fact that you were by no means being forced to participate in this activity if you were not comfortable with it. Most of your close friends smoked pot, but they had never truly offered you an invitation to engage in the experience, and to be honest it was not something you were willing to go out of your way to try. You knew it wasn’t the healthiest activity, but you were already here, and wanted to get a full taste of Jungkook’s world, if this might be the last time you ever saw him.

When the bong made its way to you, Yoongi helped you hold it, and then he just told you to inhale and hold the hit in for a bit and then let it out.. You followed his instructions and then went into a raging coughing fit, not expecting the feeling of floating to catch up to you this quick.

“Wah Kook, this is some good shit” Yoongi said as he finished his turn after you, not one single cough coming out of his mouth.

3…… maybe 4 drinks and about 5 hits, your half lidded eyes and now relaxed stance made you feel way more at ease around the gang. Jimin and Taehyung were hilarious, Namjoon’s and Jin’s philosophical talk was tripping you out in such an enjoyable way, Hoseok’s smile was even more contagious than before, if that was even possible, and Jungkook and Tabi were cuddling and smooching every once in awhile. Surprisingly, that didn’t bother you, especially when Yoongi’s hand had made it’s way under your shirt distracting you from the fucked up scenario around you, caressing small shapes in your warm skin with his cold fingers, causing a comforting and sexual atmosphere which caused you to unconsciously rub against him in an unexpected promiscuous way, a slight smirk playing on his pink lips.

“Hey (Y/N), is that a piercing on your tongue??” Jimin asked as he licked his pink plump lips.

You attempted to gather enough saliva in your cotton mouth to gul and be able to answer without sounding like a man.

“Yeah, it is” you said with a slight raspy tone to your voice making you internally cringe.

“I have always wanted to make out with someone who had one” he said as his eyes squared right into your mouth.

In any other occasion, you would’ve blushed and felt absolutely flustered, you were not sure if the culprit was the alcohol or pot, but you found yourself turning to meet Yoongi’s eyes asking for permission. Yoongi’s eyebrows rose surprised, but an encouraging smile highlighted his usually cold features, probably high as a kite. You turned to Jungkook who had stopped his make out session just to witness what you would do next.

“Well, let’s unlock that life achievement of yours” you said leaning forward enough to catch his lips, but not enough to get off Yoongi’s lap. Your lips landed on his slowly, giving him enough time to back away if desired. To your surprise he leaned forward biting your bottom lip ,causing a small moan to come out of your mouth, which gave him the perfect opportunity to slowly graze his tongue with yours. Yoongi’s hold on your waist tightened, as you felt something hard on his lap, that had previously not been present, causing you to intensify the kiss with Jimin, as you moved your hand slowly up  and down Yoongi’s leg. You broke away from Jimin when you heard a barely audible whimper coming out of Yoongi’s parted lips. You turned your face to capture Yoongi’s lips, and give him a taste of the new metal decoration in your tongue as well. To your surprise Jimin didn’t back away, and instead took this chance to slowly kiss your neck causing a throb to pulsate on your core. Every touch amplified by 10 due to your intoxication level. You were being absorbed into a lustful state, that had sent your mind buzzing into hoeland, but at this point you didn’t give two fucks, you wanted two fucks.

“Wahh, I didn’t subscribe to porn tonight guys, not that I mind or anything” Tae said tearing the moment apart to shreds, and causing the 3 of you to separate as quick as lightning.

The atmosphere in the room turning a bit thick as you took your time to gain your composure back. Namjoon chuckled “That was hot as fuck. I would like to participate in the next round”

Tabi threw a napkin at him “Keep it in your pants, Joon”

Jungkook’s demeanor had become outraged which he tried to cover up with a deep chuckle. One you knew came out of his mouth everytime he came over to your apartment beaten up to a pulp.

You stood up from your seat as your bladder decided it was time to unload what it had retained for way too long.

“Um do ya’ll have a potty I can use??” you asked trying to figure out which way your legs were going to have to lead you towards.

“I’ll take you, I need to go grab the Doritos in the kitchen anyway before these fuckers start complaining they got the munchies” Jungkook said standing up.

You nodded robotically. You knew it was not a good idea for Jungkook to be your guide, but your bladder was not allowing you to be picky.

You followed him out of the garage and to the house next to it. The dim entrance was followed by a hallway. You tried to be as quiet as possible, not really sure if there was any other people present in the location, not wanting to disrupt anyone’s sleep.

“Don’t worry, this is Taehyung’s, Jimin’s, and my place. You don’t have to go all ninja up in here” he said chuckling. He pointed at the door at the end of the hall ”That’s the restroom”.

You hurried your steps, and made your way in, hoping you would make it before your bladder exploded.

When you were finished with business, you were not sure if Jungkook had made his way back already, so you gave yourself the opportunity to  wash  your hands slowly, enjoying the sensation of the cold water against your skin. For some odd reason, it was highly amusing to see how the water landed against your skin, and how droplets formed in the parts where the water halted to skim through it again.

You opened the door to the restroom only to be pushed in by a body and lips crashing into yours. You were caught a bit off guard, but you immediately recognized the lips that danced to a familiar pattern against  yours. Jungkook.

It was alot more rougher than usual, and his hands did not hesitate to undo the button of your pants and pull them down.

“You…..are……mine” he said inbetween kisses.

You shook your head “I am not yours, not when you obviously belong to someone else. I’m not your bitch”

“Oh, but you are” he said turning your around against the sink as he lowered your panties “You are my bitch, who gave you permission to play tongue wars with my two best friends while you are wearing my shirt. You’ve been naughty”

You didn’t respond as he entered you, he did  not even check if you were wet enough for him. He slammed into you so hard causing you to let out a loud unexpected moan, only further encouraging him to continue. He swallowed your noises in a deep kiss as he rocked your bodies back and forth. The bathroom growing stuffy by the minute. His hand traveled through the bottom of your shirt grasping onto your breasts as if they were a stress ball.

A voice echoed throughout the house, causing panic within you, but not willing you to stop your actions as you were being fucked out of your wits.

“Kookie??” you both heard Tabi ask on the other side of the door. Jungkook didn’t stop fucking you as he covered your mouth. The doorknob to the restroom started twirling, and in a desperate attempt to prevent the girl from opening it you ripped Jungkook’s hand from your mouth and stuttered “Tabi, I’m….here” you said between gasps “Jungkook went outside I ,,,,,think……I’m having tummy…problems” a small moan coming out at the end of your sentence. You were a bit frightened to be discovered in such a compromising position with Jungkook. His dick slamming into you while his girlfriend called out for him lovingly, wouldn’t make you out to be a good person, but at this point you didn’t care. The effect Jungkook had on  you surpassed all the alcohol and pot you had consumed today. Jungkook was your drug, and as Tabi walked away, not really interested in  you, you didn’t feel guilty, quite the opposite really. You felt an adrenaline rush so high, that it made you delirious with want. Your body exploding into millions of fireworks as you became undone on Jungkook’s dick.  His warm fluid filling you, and claiming you as his own. He slowed his pace as he slipped out, capturing your lips in a tender kiss.

“I’ll end it with her, just give me some time, please. Just don’t…..you are mine….and only mine” Jungkook said still panting as sweat traveled down his forehead.

You pecked him lightly not answering back to his pleads.

He was right, and he knew it.

There was no doubt about it. You were his…

[agressivelyunfancynerd]

Cabin in the Woods (Captain America Fic)

Let me preface this by saying I have never, ever written a fan fiction, or a smut. So please, please be kind! However, if you find any mistakes, or anything, feel free to message me J

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, Penetrative Sex, Unprotected Sex (wrap it please!), Clit Stimulation

Word Count: 3500+ 

Blurb: You’re a hacker who has been with the Avengers for a year, when you discover some seriously dangerous plans that could kill a lot of people, you help Steve assemble the team, only for them to have to leave you and Steve in harm’s way; you find yourselves in a hidden shack, and things get a bit heated.

You were the newest member of the Avenger’s team, although, calling yourself a member might be a stretch, you weren’t a trained assassin, or proficient archer or thunder god or even some rich engineer, you were simply a girl with excellent hacking skills, a big attitude and enough martial arts training to maybe not die in a hand to hand fight. A fight which you would’ve started with your sarcastic mouth.

If someone had told you two years ago you’d be working at the Avenger’s tower, or going out on missions with Captain America – your biggest crush since high school – and his team, you would have laughed in their face.

And yet here you were, sitting in the lounge room of the tower, tapping away on your laptop. It was late afternoon and the sun was blasting through the windows.

“Hey y/n, new intel just came in, it’s encrypted, think you can hack it?” Steve asked, although you hadn’t heard him come in.

“That hurts Rogers… Underestimating my ability to hack things not meant to be hacked, I’m offended” you winked at him. He smiled.

You held your hand out for the flash drive. He padded over to the couch where you were sitting cross legged and put the device in your hand, his fingers brushing against your skin, causing you to shiver. He turned and started to walk to the door, you watched.

You hated to see him go, but boy did you love to watch him leave. He turned to say something, catching you starring at his bum. Embarrassed you went back to typing away on your laptop.

Your cheeks started to burn hot, you were blushing at being caught ogling Captain America.

You had been with the team just over a year now, and in that time, you had made an idiot of yourself in front of Steve at least once a day, every day of the week.

Bucky knew you had a crush on Steve; your bedrooms shared a wall and he heard you touching yourself one night pretending it was Steve. He poked fun at you the next day, until you felt like you were going to combust, due to the heat in your cheeks; but he vowed never to tell a soul, and from then on you became good friends, he was your confidante, sparring partner, and horror movie marathon partner, and you became his tutor in all things 21st century.

But from the day Bucky found out about the crush you had gone out of your way to avoid Steve, in the hopes that your silly crush would subside and fizzle out. Sometimes you thought it was going well, you’d not see him in a week, you’d stop thinking about him every second of the day, but then bam, literally bam, you’d turn a corner and run into him. You’d touch him, he’d touch you and the crush would reignite.

This always ended in you sitting on Bucky’s bed late at night talking, and him laughing at how ‘cute’ you were. And then you’d punch his flesh arm and leave.

***

As the hours ticked by you became more and more invested in the files on the drive. If someone was trying this hard to protect and hide what was on here, it must have been important.

“Hey Y/N, I’m about to make some garbage eggs, you want some?” Wanda asked walking into the small kitchen just off the lounge.

“Hmm, what, no thanks,” you replied not even stopping typing or looking up.

“Wait, garbage eggs?” when you finally registered what Wanda had said you looked over the top of your laptop at her.

“Yeah, it’s basically when you get the entire contents of your fridge, whatever leftovers are still alright and you turn it into scrambled eggs or an omelette. Pietro used to make it for us.” She got a faraway look for a split second, before turning back to you and waiting for you answer.

“Sounds… interesting. But again, I’ll pass. Thanks though.”

Wanda cooked up her garbage eggs and left.

Bucky came in a few hours later, straight from the gym, he shot you a goofy smile before grabbing some fruit from the bowl on the counter and leaving. Bruce and Tony came in not long after that, made coffee and left, not once acknowledging your existence, or if they did you didn’t acknowledge them.

And you can’t be sure, but you thought Nat came in, but she’s so stealthy you and you were tired, you might’ve imagined it. More hours ticked over, your body was getting sore, you stomach was growling and you were starting to get annoyed.

***

Ten and a half hours…

That’s how long it had taken you to finally crack the data on the flash drive Steve had given you; it was a tough security system, encryption and fire wall, you were actually impressed. You’d be more impressed if the information wasn’t highly classified and extremely dangerous; as you skimmed the files on the drive, only registering the important words your heart started to beat in your ears, you had to tell the Avengers now. This could mean the end of the world.

Without thinking, or looking at the time, you leapt off the couch, laptop in your arms and started down the hallway to Steve’s room, since he was the leader, it made sense to tell him first. You knocked on his door, and when he didn’t answer you turned to go look for him, not realising how late it was.

“Y/N, what’s the matter?” He had opened his bedroom door, sleep still grasping at the edge of eyes; he was wearing a thin pair of cotton briefs and nothing else. He looked alarmed.

You stuttered, unable to form a coherent thought.

“I, umm, uhh…” you kept trying to look just at his face but your eyes kept wandering. He stepped out of his room and you backed up, hitting the wall.

“It’s two o’clock in the morning Y/N, what is it?” His concerned tone knocked you out of your daze.

“I cracked the encryption on the flash drive, I only just finished viewing the files, you need to see this”, you pushed past him, into his room – you were in Steve’s room – put your laptop on his desk, bent down and opened some of the files. You felt him approach, standing mere inches from you, the heat radiating from his body, the heat radiating between your thighs; as he read over your shoulder.  

Gooseflesh worked its way up your arms and across the back of your neck. There was a dull throb between your legs. You couldn’t think of anything else while he was this close. If you were a more confident person, or sure he felt the same way for you, and the circumstances were different you might’ve turned around and just kissed him, hard and fast, but you weren’t confident, and the circumstances weren’t different, so you closed your eyes and tried to breath.

“That’s great work Y/N, but uh, what does all this mean?” Steve straightened up, folding his arms across his chest and waited for you to explain.

“The cheat sheet version?” You asked, taking a small step away from him.

“Please” He half smiled, still sleepy.

You broke into a tirade, explaining the files, what you had found, what the potential outcomes could be, what the best and worst case scenarios could be and what the next step would be. You showed Steve the diagrams of weapons, bombs and other things you had found on the files, even that you had found more hidden files under deeper encryption.

“Christ,” Steve muttered. You turned back to your laptop, closing the lid and picking it up, creating a barrier between you and Steve. He turned away, grabbed a pair of long pants and pulled them on, and grabbed a baggy white tee, before grabbing your hand and leaving his room.

“We have to tell the others, form a plan, and stop this, before it begins” he said pushing you towards the elevators. “You get to the debriefing room, start making a file, I’ll get the others.”

***

You were sitting in the back of the Quinjet – you hated flying, absolutely detested it in fact. You had a fear of heights, and death.

You were bouncing your knee up and down and tapping your fingers on your leg as if it was your laptop keyboard.

You don’t really know why the Avengers were bringing you, you programmed a flash drive to reverse the process of the encryption, erase all the data and then blow up; so all they had to do was put it into the computer drive, run away and presto, it would work.

You explained all this only an hour ago to Steve, and he had taken the flash drive from you, pocketed it and then told you it was Plan B.

“So what’s plan A?” you asked.

“You’re coming with us; you’re going to copy all the data before blowing the system up, manually.” He said.

You were flattered that the Avengers had needed you… But now, sitting in the Quinjet, you hated yourself for being so good with computers.

“Nervous?” Steve asked taking the seat next to you.

“A little” you swallowed, looking around the jet, trying to get your mind off the fact you were just about shitting yourself, and the fact Steve was so close to you.

Clint and Nat were in the cock pit, Bruce and Tony were towards the back, talking science, or something else you didn’t understand. Sam, Vision and Wanda were all standing around talking to each other. And Bucky was brooding in the corner, his eyes closed.

“You know, it’s just like being in a bus” Steve said smirking at you.

“Yeah, except buses don’t usually unexpectedly fall from the sky, nor do they often get shot at.”

“Huh, I must be taking the wrong buses” Steve smirked. You tried to smile.

The jet lurched, making you dig your nails into your legs and squeeze your eyes shut. Nat announced over the comms that it was just that we had gone through some storm clouds, and no, before Tony asked, it wasn’t Thor. He was still off planet.

A big warm hand encased yours, touching your thigh.

“It’ll be okay; I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” Steve whispered next to you, “you can open your eyes.” You could feel the blush creeping into your cheeks.

You started to open your eyes, as Nat announced we were starting the decent on the base, and before you could say anything Steve was on his feet and standing behind Nat and Clint. His hand left a warm feeling on your thigh. You took a deep breath and tried to steel yourself for what was coming.

***

A bomb exploded to your right, Steve was barking orders in the comms and you heard Hulk growl before what sounded like metal being torn apart. You were bent over the computer, tapping as fast as your fingers could allow, but it wasn’t quick enough.

There was no Intel to tell you that this base was so heavily manned, but from the minute you touched down it was a flurry of bullets and yelling and explosions.

Glass shattered above you and rained down.

“I’ve got to go help Clint, stay right here. Right. Here!” Steve barked before taking off and jumping out the window. You continued to tap away on the keys, but every time you got through a fire wall another one popped up. This was far more superior to the flash drive Steve had given you.

What felt like an eternity later you had cracked the final fire wall.

“Boom bitch!” you yelled at the computer. You started the copying process; it was copying directly to the Quinjet mainframe. You heard footsteps behind you.

“I got it Steve, we’re in,” when he didn’t answer you turned, only to be smacked across the head with the butt of a rifle. You fell to the floor hitting your elbow and shoulder hard on the tiles.

You managed to roll over just as the man in a black stealth suit slammed the rifle down at your head again. You kicked him and stumbled up. You were dizzy and currently seeing three of him. You raised your arms in your guard defence, just as he launched, you T stepped, and slammed the palm of your hand into the man’s face before bringing an elbow up under his chin; just your Kung Fu instructor had shown you – thank god for deciding to get into shape – he stumbled away, losing his gun, then he lurched and kicked you in the guts, you folded in half and fell.

The man retrieved his gun, and aimed it right at your face, your heart was pounding, your vision was blurry and unconsciousness tugging at you. BANG.

You flinched, and saw the man crumple, he fell towards you and you rolled to the left. Steve came running over to you.

“Y/N, it’s okay, I got you” he helped you up, a hand wrapped around your back and waist and he put your other hand over his shoulder.

“Computer” you croaked. He headed towards the console. You let go of Steve and watched as the files finished copying to the Quinjet.

Another explosion rattled the remainder of the building; Steve started yelling in his comms. You looked up and saw the Quinjet taking off.

“Uh Steve,” you stammered.

“I know Y/N, I told them to go, they can’t hold down the forces, get us back and save the files. They’re going to get the Intel to the government, and then they’re coming straight back for us,” you must of looked at him in horror, because he grabbed your face, “I promise”. You nodded.

“But we have to find somewhere to lay low, until they can get to us, come on.” He grabbed your waist and you started out, slow and steady.

***

It was dark now, you could barely see anything. Your head was pounding, you’d tripped maybe twenty times since getting away from the compound, if it wasn’t for Steve you would’ve fallen face first in the dirt and probably would’ve just stayed there until they found you.

“Here,” Steve picked up the pace, basically carrying you, towards this little shack in the middle of nowhere. He kicked in the door, placed you against the wall before doing a once through making sure there was no danger. He boarded up a few windows, found some old musty sheets and hung them in the windows, before lighting a fire.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, lightly touching your head.

“Like a crazy ninja in a black leotard smacked me with a rifle… Oh wait, he did.” You deadpanned.

“You got a real attitude Y/N, you know that?” Steve said before going in search of a medical kit. When he came back you were leaning against the wooden table, in what you assumed used to be the dining room.

Without asking, Steve grabbed your hips and hoisted you up onto the table, he stood between your legs and put the medical kit beside you. Without speaking Steve bought a damp cloth to your forehead, he started cleaning up the dried blood and the wound on your head. You couldn’t do anything but breathe and try not to stare. He tendered to your wounds for a few minutes, before putting some gauze on it. He turned to close the medical kit up.

Without thinking your hands went to his hips. He took a deep breath and stilled.

“What?” you asked when you had noticed he had stopped. You looked up at his eyes, his stare was so intense. So blue. You had never noticed before, but being this close to him, you could see the flecks of amber in his irises.

“You’re injured, you hit your head, and you’re not thinking straight, I don’t want to take advantage.” He whispered, closing his eyes.

“Steve” you whispered. His hands folded across his chest. Almost like he was protecting himself.

“Y/N”

“I’ve had feelings for you since forever” you touched his arms, getting him to un-clench his fists, “the pain in my head is almost gone, I am thinking clearly. In fact I’m thinking logically, like if the team doesn’t get back here in time and we’re found; I don’t want die not knowing what touching you, kissing you feels like.” You entwined your fingers into his.

“Don’t talk like that, we’re going to get out of here, alive.” He said.

“But if we don’t,” you hooked your legs around his hips and locked your ankles and pulled him closer to you. Without any further arguments Steve planted a hard, needy kiss on your lips. Your hands crawled up his back under his shirt.

Steve grabbed your face, before his hands travelled down your sides to the hem of your shirt. You could feel him getting hard between your thighs. You rolled yours to get a bit of friction.

“Y/N” he moaned, before ripping your shirt off over your head and threw it somewhere to your right, before standing up straight and ripping his off as well. As he came back down to your face he pushed you further back on the table. Until you were lying on your back with him on top of you.

He trailed kisses down your throat until he was between your breasts. With a snap he tore your bra away and took one of your breasts in his mouth while palming the other. You threw your head back and moaned his name.

“Steve” you dug your nails into his back the more suckled.

He moved away from your breasts and trailed down to your belly button, before he slid out of the grasp of your legs.

“Hold on to the table” he said, and so you grabbed the sides of the table as he hooked his fingers into the belt loops of your pants and tugged. He ripped your pants and panties straight off, until you were lying there, in all your glory.

“Please Steve” you whispered looking up at him, before sliding back to the edge of the table. He took one look at your pleading face. You started on his button and zip, pulling his pants down until they were around his ankles. He sprang free, and was already rock hard.

“Y/N are you sure about this?” Steve whispered.

Instead of answering with words, you wrapped your hand around his length and slowly started pumping, rubbing the pre-cum around the tip with your thumb. He moaned and took a step towards you.

His mouth crashed into yours. Your hands moved from his length, to his hair and you wrapped your legs around him again. He lined himself up with your entrance, and slowly he entered you. It was agonizingly slow at first, so you could adjust to his size. He filled you entirely.

He started rocking his hips and you rocked yours in time with him. He moved his lips from yours to your neck, where he gave you a light nibble, which would definitely leave a mark tomorrow. Your hands traced his spine and his muscles. He rocked into you harder, and moved one of his hands between the two of you and started tracing circles on your clit; you dugs your fingers into his back leaving red scratches.

“Steve” you moaned as he took your breast back in his mouth, “Steve, please” you begged.

“Y/N”

You were close; you could feel the coil tighten in your stomach, the throbbing between your legs. With each rock. With each circle his thumb made. You were about to lose control.

“I’m close” you panted, your legs feeling weak. He thrusted harder into you, and you cried out his name.

“STEVE”

That was enough encouragement for him, his thrusting became faster and sloppier, and he came inside you. You rode out the end of your orgasm as he rode out his.

“Y/N” he panted against your ear, before pulling out and half collapsing on you. Your legs still hooked around his hips. Your hands were still rubbing up and down his back and you nibbled on his neck. He hoisted himself up onto his elbows until he was above you.

“I’ve been in love with you since the day you arrived at the tower.” He whispered, trailing kisses up and down your neck, “I fell more in love with you the first time you sassed Bucky and he had no idea how to respond, except stand there with his mouth open” he snickered, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine.

“And I fell more in love with you tonight, and I didn’t know that was even possible”

And with that, you half judo flipped him until you were straddling him on the table.

“How about now?” you whispered against his neck as you nibbled. He growled and grabbed your hips. Just as you were about to go for round two, you heard the rumble of the Quinjet engines above, and you knew the Avengers wouldn’t be far behind.

“Oh shit” Steve said as you both jumped up and gathered your clothes.

“Language. Captain” you smirked. He slapped your ass before pulling on his shirt.

You two were just finished getting dressed when doors to the cabin flung open, Bucky, Nat and Sam stood there. Clint was in the cock pit of the jet and the other Avengers were on guard duty.

“Come on you two, we don’t have time for hugs and welcome backs, and all that crap” Stark yelled over the comms. As Steve walked away with Nat and Sam, they explained the situation; Bucky fell into step beside you, a smirk on his face. He held up your panties.

“You ah, left these behind doll face” he threw them at you and sprinted up the ramp. You quickly thrust them into your pocket, before climbing up and taking your seat, opposite Steve.

  End…

[callonb]

GYBurst of Inspiration/Motivation

Where does inspiration come from? - Snacks I recorded a song with Samuel Hawkins recently and that was the first line of his verse. Lately thats been on my mind more and more. Where does my inspiration come from and why cant I always bask in its motivational energies? Seems that my drive comes and goes with the moon phases or as planets enter and leave our orbit. Could be the skys dictating my moods and movements (which i think it does have an effect) or it could be the mass amount of coffee and tea i drink a day. Definitely important factors but not quite the source. My mom definitely motivates me, she believes in everything Im doing and helps every way that she can. Its not financially but sometimes emotional support is more important. Shouts out to Momma B you the realist. Same for my homies and not homies as in people i force myself to be around, cuz having friends is what you do. Actual family that i grew up with and have developed a relationship with, the GYB family. The ones who sat me down years ago and was like dude...... you need to take this rap shit seriously. The ones who are now getting more and more involved with the movement every day, pushing everything to the side and riding along with my dream and making them their own. Everyday the homies are pushing to help me create this vision for you guys as they've adopted it as their own. Like minds on the prize, Shouts out the Layer homies. That only seems to be half of it tho, and Ive never felt this type of fire burning inside me before so what is it? Magazine drama and BS doesn't motivate me, Music doesn't seem to hit me the same way anymore. I used to listen to music constantly, new rap definitely doesn't do it for me.....makes me feel lower. New tv shows dont do it for me im bored with most of the popular shows out. Same for games or just typical activities that people partake in. Partys, drugs, random hook ups...It all seems so blah to me and im completely uninterested. I learned I have to stop feeding my lower self and focus on my higher self and what that part of my being truly wants and thats to CREATE!!! Whenever im around an environment that drives me to create and push myself i perform better. So i guess i just realized what really inspires me, and thats a creative environment. Who is responsible for this? Well I saw the Rotunda Project last weekend at Maiden Alley, a collaborative piece by Fairseas. The Fairseas are a group of musicians named Jeran Simmons, Bobby Dowell, Codie Franklin and Shanden Simmons. I watched them plant this seed years ago and now its a giant tree that you can sit back and marvel in its greatness. The main theme of the film was collaborating with your community. I cant lie ive had many many thoughts of leaving my community to collaborate elsewhere but ive came to a realization recently that it isnt necessary. To my surprise and probably a lot of people around here, there is a bubbling hip hop scene around here that is about to explode. Ive started to invest my time and efforts into this scene now and received nothing but results. Shanden has been a major influence in my artistry because he is always honest, encouraging and persistent....three very important characteristics to have in a creative environment and on top of that has become one of what i would consider my best friends. I look at him as one of my GYBrothers. On to the hip hop scene around here tho..... mysterious person named "A" aka the Hollow Man and he is one of the most promising producers/writers around. His solo stuff is outstanding and the collaboration effort we are working on "A & B: The Empire" is next level. Its been well over a year in the making and will shock most people when they hear the new styles i bring to the tape compared to my previous work. A always challenges me to be very intelligent when I piece together my verses and I like that. He makes me want to grab a dictionary and start reading so I can match his extensive vocabulary.....and maybe I have done that lol. Im the ONLY artist that the mystery man works with at the moment and that hits me now in a way it never has before. Like why me, do I really have something in my music that would make this beyond talented artist spend his time and efforts to make beats for us to collab on and want to include me in everything he does? His beats are above any producer Ive ever heard even in the big leagues of the rap game its crazy but he will prolly have his own GYBlog entry about him eventually. I have to move on before i make this to long lol. Next is JSkrilla, I have met the Skrilla a few times in passing but i dont think we realized what each other really could offer the other. Until i ran into him at the damn ROTUNDA PROJECT.....back around full circle. After that we decided to get together. We showed each other some of our music. I didnt know he made dope beats as well as spit hot fucking fire but he does. We shared our philosophies for our craft and talked hip hop and all sorts of other randomness. Then we picked a beat and wrote a song on the spot. Bar for bar back and forth. J stressed to me it had been a LONG time since he had been able to just sit down and write with another emcee that wasnt intimidated by his ability to write on the spot, or to match his caliber of wordplay and rhyme schemes. To both mine and his delight I delivered. Skrilla really challenged me tho, most artist get so caught up in the main stream BS or conforming to certain concepts and topics in their verses that it had been a while since I had felt pressure when writing to make sure my bars are up to par. Felt good to feel that energy again i had been missing the want to become better and that leads me to the main cause of my motivation and my improvments or just overall attitude change whatever you want to call it. the TRYBE!!!! Snacks, B. James, and Waun D. are the Cerberus of this rap shit. I have a lot to owe to them. GYB and Trybe share the same values as far as what we hope to contribute to the culture of arts and musics and how we hope to impact the hip hop community as well as the communities we all live in. I have done one show with them and have multiple other ones lined up with them. As a matter a fact i cant see myself doing a show with anyone but them from here on out. Once again them as well as JSkrilla could have their own full length blog entry but i digress for the sake of your attention lol. The Trybe challenges me to be a better emcee by making me freestyle. Which if you have been around me doing music ive never been a good freestyler.....UNTIL NOW!!! They have cracked that shell and brought me out of it. Making me partake in their cyphers everytime we get together. Soon Ill be as smooth off the top as i am with the writtens then its over for everyone! Sharpening my skills is not something that other rappers really push you to do. Rap is very competitive and braggadocios so pushing someone to improve and possible be better than you is unheard of. The Trybe doesnt see it that way though, they want us all to grow together. With a shared love for hip hop and me and Snacks shared love for Anime we can talk for hours and hours before we realize we havent done any music lol. Everytime I hear a new Trybe song i feel my artistry being challenged. The message in their music makes me want to really focus on the concepts i present in my music and start challenging my self to pretty much step my game up. Between Skrilla, "A", and TrYbe, everything new I hear makes me question my latest bars which is exactly what I need. Hip Hop is my life and my love and above any amount of money i can potentially make off this art is the desire to be the best emcee to ever grab a mic and thats the same mindset i had when i originally picked up the pen and decided i would be a rapper. Before i saw 8 mile and realized that being a white rapper wasnt necessarily accepted, before all the laughs, all the hate and just general shade i received for my dreams. Being white in this game is a roadblock but for the first time these guys made me realize that i have overcame that hurdle 100 times over. I had a long talk with the Trybe last night and they gave me a boost of confidence that finally fully ignited that fire i had lit but tried to conceal. Im no longer worried about what is cool or what people want. I just want to create and you will more than likely like it because I do have skills that i myself had been sleeping on. I hear these artist like A, Skrilla, and Trybe and i felt underneath them but now i see my self as an equal. We all have different things we bring to the table that compliment each other and its time to put it all together and make it happen. Plus we all just fucking dope and there is no denying. This is my new goal. No more time wasted on what i "think" is the right move. Im going to follow what i KNOW to be the right path and follow my heart. Thats challenging myself with these artist and like minded individuals to always be better. Also as Snacks has said before "move at LIGHT SPEED" thats just what Ill do with my light brothers here. We like some damn warriors of this rap shit waging war against a evil corrupt entity but thats also for a whole separate entry lol But no war of this caliber is complete without a general so shoutout to SirDuke. Ive also recently became friends with this crazy dude and he has shown me in just the short time ive known him more love and support than some people ive known my whole life. He also inspires me because he has dedicated his life to serve and protect (literally) and most importantly LEAD. He has an army of pretty much every hood and every rapper in each of them just waiting for his call. and he is not leading them astray, Shoutout the Kollektiv. Duke is also a talented singer and emcee. He has a show with me tomorrow at the Hangover in Murray MAKE SURE YOU COME TO THAT AND SEE MY NEW ALBUM CONSCIOUS TRAP PERFORMED LIVE starting at 9pm. but yeah Duke is dope and I can appreciate his leadership skills and what he hopes to accomplish in his community by cleaning it up through music. He is rubbing off on my and motivating me to hold that same position with my Layer army of GYB homies ive assembled. Most of them are clueless about the industry and music so its up to me to guide and lead them so they can be their own selves and make it in this world without the middle man down your neck. Im going to wrap this up because it ended up being way longer than i intended but i wanted to also say to my fellow collaborators and friends above all. Wolf, Golden Wrist Banks, Trevell, Dope, Simple, Benji and Angel Mascato. You guys have MAD SKILLS. You guys inspire me too because I hear something different in your music than i hear from most. I want you all to continue to grow and expand your creativity to new levels. Tell YOUR story. The same story is constantly told but how will you tell YOURS in the true challenge. So i encourage you guys like i have been recently, step outside of the norm and do what you truly feel in your heart that you need to, fuck what everyone else wants from you just create the way you feel appropriate. A lot of you are working with Duke regularly and I think he will tell you the same thing I am now. Even if its certain people in your lives holding you back, they gotta go. Surround yourself with positive people that want to grow with you instead of out grow you and you will see the same results. Probably why you guys were all on my latest album, except Trevell im sorry and you should have been but you know the deal homie its all love. Frank.....dammit man just rap lol but anyways ill end it on this note. Getting in touch with that child like mind state and that pureness of love in my heart again. Losing all my intentions to want to be better and out do someone but rather COLLABORATE with like minds in my community has already in return pushed me forward in a lot of ways. Seems almost as if they had been waiting on me this whole time. Its certain that my actions are now speaking louder than my words and everyone is starting to catch on. including myself finally. If you read this far thank you and I love you. Youre more than likely part of the reason why i typed this or why i even continue to do what i do. I trust you guys just as much as you trust ill deliver. Have a great day, maybe you can draw inspiration from this or some of the same people or things that i do! So put down that magazine full of empty content and read something meaningful that you are interested in, turn off the news and watch some anime, stop playing shooter games and play final fantasy, stop eating out and prepare your own meals, dont listen to music just play instrumentals and freestlye every day or just make your own, quit scrolling on facebook and take a stroll around the block, only spend time with those that help you grow rather than keep you low. So much inspiration out there sometimes we just have to break away from what we are used to in order to pull from the experience. Now im really done. and excuse my poor grammer and probably a shit load of spelling errors. That wont ever change, these blog post are run on sentences of my thoughts that pass through my head every day. Sometimes i just take the time to jot them out as they pass. PEACE LOVE AND GYB!!

[tyleroakley-obsessed]

Today’s Memphian To Meet is Jared “Jay B” Boyd aka DJ Bizzle Bluebland. He’ll be broadcasting live from Central Station’S lobby this Sunday at noon, just in time for a perfectly Memphis brunch playlist. Catch the stream on social media via I Love Memphis accounts on Facebook and Twitter (I’ll share the link) or on Memphis Travel’s Instagram Live. Photo provided by the artist. This set is the last of the Memphis Music Hub DJ Series —details on that here. See DJ Spanish Fly’s old school Memphis hip hop set (in 360° Smell-O-Vision Magic!) here. Read more about DJ Alpha Whiskey’s all-ladies soul set here and see her 360° broadcast here. Get to know DJ Memphi$ Jone$ here and watch his set here. I’m extra excited about this Sunday’s DJ Dance Party, because Jay B is a friend of mine, a fellow writer, and a very cool Memphian that you need to meet. Get to know him a little better with our quick Q&A below, then plan to tune in on Sunday on social media at noon. Sunday Brunch! With DJ Bizzle Bluebland! This Week! Holly: What can Memphis music fans from around the world expect during your set on Sunday 5/3 at noon? Jay B: It’ll be similar to my typical Sunday fare at Eight & Sand [the lobby bar at Central Station]. I’ll be the finale of this series, so I want to make sure I encompass all of what folks have heard throughout the series. Like the other DJs who spin at Eight & Sand, I love my records. So, you’ll hear some of the Memphis music from my collection that have become staples of my sets. Some of it is rare, and some is not necessarily hard to find but a bit off the map. You probably won’t hear your favorite Al Green or Isaac Hayes joint, but you’ll definitely hear them, their collaborators, and some other selections adjacent to the marquee Memphis music. Holly: What does your DJ set theme mean to you? Jay B: It’s a Sunday afternoon set, so the energy is soulful. It’s warm, and fulfilling, like the family meal you eat after church. That uplifting, sanctified energy is in there, but you’re unwinding and easing into your week. So, you get an excuse to indulge a bit. Jay B. with Joyce Cobb at Central Station. Photo provided by the artist. Get To Know Jay B Holly: Where are you from? How long have you lived in Memphis? Jay B: I’m a born and raised Memphian. From the Southeast area of town, but I went to school further out East at White Station. After graduation, I went to college, not too far away, at Ole Miss, before landing a job in Mobile, Alabama. I’ve been back in Memphis for almost a year-and-a-half. I’m grateful to be home, and back in my element. Holly: Tell us about your “day job”…I bet most I Love Memphis readers are familiar with your great work. Jay B: I’m a news reporter at The Daily Memphian, writing about general news, arts and culture. Anyone who might be familiar with my writing, may know me most for my features about Memphis music history and its culture. But in a very short career, I’ve covered everything from crime scenes to capital murders to naval ship christenings with Warren Buffett’s daughter to luncheons with Jimmy Buffett and all sorts of things. You never know what might come across your desk, and it never fails, the stories I never would pick for myself are always the most rewarding. I think learning on the fly has made me a well-rounded individual.  Holly: How did you get started as an artist and as DJ? Jay B: I think I started planting the seeds of becoming an emcee as a kid. I would carry around a little Fisher-Price boombox with a mic, rapping and singing. I’d perform all-the-time in preschool and elementary. In middle school, I started recording my own songs. And in high school, I had a pretty good run, as a part of a group produced by C-Major, who’s now an integral part of Memphis’ Unapologetic crew. I learned to DJ in college, as a staff member at Bridge Builders summer conferences. It was a way to keep the students energized each week. So, I brought it back on campus at Ole Miss, and flourished with the skill on my own college radio program. And I really love records, so spinning records helps me pay for that habit.  Holly: How has Memphis music inspired your artistic career? Jay B: I’ve always been one to pay homage to the creators in this city. When I was young, it was all about Memphis hip-hop. In college, my cousin Andrew Love, a seminal horn player in Memphis soul, passed away. It spurred my interest in owning all the records he played on. I’ve been buying records weekly ever since, and I’m still not close to that goal. But it has kept me deeply engrossed in Memphis soul, its labels, its producers, and its stories. Jay B. and Memphis soul producer Dan Greer. Photo provided by the artist. Memphis Inspiration  Holly: How has Memphis as a city inspired your artistic career? Jay B: Being home has been revolutionary for my morale. It’s certainly made me a better record collector. But the proximity to the artists who wrote, engineered, produced and released this music has given me perspective, care, and, in some cases, ownership over the media. I feel like an ambassador and an advocate for the artists and their material. Not only am I able to play a song, if I’m doing my job right, I’m able to tell you a bit about how it came to be. That feeds my spirit. And because Eight & Sand is all Memphis music all the time, the other DJs really push me. I get record envy. So, I can’t slip. I have to keep digging for records, relationships and stories!   Holly: Favorite Memphis music artists or genre and why? Jay B: I learned from guys like DJ Leroy, Memphis Jone$ and Witnesse, through the years, to have a deep appreciation for “boogie” music. It’s the groovy, funky, post-disco vibe that most people would never associate with Memphis. And Memphis is, by no means, a hub of the style. But like most things, particularly in the realm of music, we bring our own flavor to the party. It’s glam, it’s sometimes hokey, it’s over-produced, and can tend to be cookie-cutter, stuck in a time we’ve all moved on from. It just reminds me to hang loose and not take things so seriously.   View this post on Instagram   A post shared by Jared “Jay B.” Boyd (@jaredjaybboyd) on Mar 8, 2020 at 4:26pm PDT DJ Bizzle Bluebland at Central Station Holly: You’ve done sets at Central Station before. Tell us about that. Jay B: From the time Central Station opened, I’ve been in Eight and Sand every Sunday. That’s my home bases, as far as my DJ career is concerned. I had given up DJing after college, and was considering jumping back into it. The guys at Eight & Sand were privy to my love for Memphis records, and asked if I’d be interested in the gig. It’s been incredible. Since October, we’ve brought in Cut Chemist, Spanish Fly, Dante Ross, Case Bloom—all these guys I would’ve never been able to spin records with otherwise. The dudes who aren’t from Memphis have had an immense respect for what we’ve been building, and they love the Memphis music.  Holly: During non-pandemic times, how can Memphians enjoy the DJ Bizzle Blueband experience? Jay B: Every Sunday at Eight & Sand, I’m in the building, spinning classic Memphis records, chatting with visitors to Memphis and hanging with locals. I love the lounge atmosphere. I try to think of it like a sort of Sunday Soul Brunch.  DJing In A Pandemic Holly: How have you been coping personally and professionally during the pandemic? Jay B: I’ve been making it okay. News is still a busy business. I can’t complain, at all. My work is essential, and I’m still able to make a living. So long as that is the case, I have been clinging to the perspective that I shouldn’t allow myself to complain. As far as music goes, I’ve been recording my mixes and uploading them to the web. It’s given me an opportunity to be more creative, playing music from outside of Memphis, and more experimental styles I wouldn’t typically play with a live audience.  Holly: How can people keep up with your projects? Jay B: I’m @JaredJayBBoyd on Twitter and Instagram. My articles can be found on Daily Memphian’s homepage most every day. I’m DJ Bizzle Bluebland on MixCloud, where I host my own mix show “Nervous Wreck Radio.” I continue to co-host the “Beale St. Caravan” on NPR, which is syndicated internationally, sharing the stories and sounds of Memphis and the Mississippi Delta worldwide. And, if you need one hub to find all that, and other side projects, my website www.JaredJayBBoyd.com keeps it all under one tab. Jared and me after a press conference on May 2, 2019—exactly one year ago! Just For Fun: Meet Jay B 1. What’s always in your bag/on your person? I have to keep a phone charger, business cards, my Beats headphones, and my computer, in case any news breaks. I don’t want to get caught slipping. 2. Guilty pleasure? YouTube. I can spend hours, at a time, watching interviews, talk shows and news features about the nerdiest topics. 3. Go to outfit? Black denim pants, white Nike Cortez sneakers, an ironic vintage t-shirt promoting a band I’ve only heard once or twice. 4. How do you drink your coffee? Black, no cream, no sugar. I’m enjoying a cup of coffee right now, actually. The beans were imported from Ethiopia and roasted in Memphis by my friend Bartholomew Jones. 5. Favorite song(s) right now? My friends at Shangri-La Records laced me with a pack of records yesterday. It’s already changing the way I’m listening to music and formulating mixes. But I’m going to have to keep the titles to myself, until they hit my mix show. 6. Go-to order at Eight & Sand after a DJ set? The chicken sandwich called “The Birdie” is the best in town. But I’m vegan these days. So, I’ll grab an order of fries over at Bishop and bring them over to the bar to chill. MEMPHIS MUSIC HUB DJ SERIES Sunday Brunch SUNDAY, MAY 3 AT NOON Live on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. Rebroadcast in 360 next week. Are you a home owner in Memphis, with a broken garage door? Call ASAP garage door today at 901-461-0385 or checkout https://ift.tt/1B5z3Pc

https://ilovememphisblog.com/2020/05/memphian-to-meet-jared-boyd-aka-dj-bizzle-bluebland/

[dawnajaynes32]

James Paterson, Digital Frontiers

Developer, programmer, artist, designer. Mad scientist?

Call James Paterson what you want, but one thing’s for sure: his creativity knows no boundaries. Paterson started using Flash in early 1997, and made a career out of pushing the medium and his creations into new, exciting, and evocative territories.

He’s been a part of the web’s past and present, and will undoubtedly be a part of the digital future that’s yet to come, although it’ll happen without one of his favorite tools: Flash. In the very near future, the platform and web plugin will no longer be supported by Adobe. Like others who used Flash, Paterson has lamented the coming of the end. “I think because I grew up with it as my primary set of creative tools it was really a part of me. I had spent well over 10 years perfecting my craft with it, and had a setup that was like an extension of my mind and body. It took years to relearn everything and port as much of my world as possible to JavaScript.”

James Paterson, photo by Jonathan Chang.

Paterson’s studio, where the magic happens.

But he’s a realist too.

“Ultimately the switch to JavaScript was good and healthy… it’s a much broader medium and allowed me to take my craft to all sorts of new places.” And there’s no turning back, all for the better. Paterson has broken into new digital territories, pushing the boundaries of augmented reality (AR) with #normanvr and other digital platforms. He took time out of his busy schedule to answer some questions about AR, developer tools, the web, Flash, and a (possible) future for Flash.

VR (virtual reality) sculpting has become a major focus for Paterson. “It’s sort of a natural progression of my drawing process, popped into 3D, thanks to the hands-on-ness of VR.”

Q. Who were the Flash artists, designers, and developers you admired during the early days of Flash, and why?

In the very early days there wasn’t much going on that I could find made using Flash. There were some ultra-early Shockwave/Director sites, notably Antirom (Tomato Interactive) and Noodlebox (Danny Brown) which caught my attention in the late 90s. Then when Flash started to pick up in 1998-99 I saw a little piece of open source by praystation (Joshua Davis) that revealed how to create a “frame loop” where code could run across time. That was my very first introduction to code as a kind of living breathing thing. I’ve been thankful to Josh for that kickstart into code ever since. Some other characters from the early Flash days who influenced me hugely were Amit Pitaru, Yugo Nakamura & Erik Natzke.

Q. How would you describe what you called code as a living breathing thing and that frame loop that Joshua Davis made?

Up until that point I had only used very contained “actions” to perform a bit of control over my animations. Things like clicking buttons to stop, play and jump around through animations. The “frame loop” that I saw in Josh’s open-source showed some code sitting on frame 1, then an action on frame 2 saying “go back and play frame 1 again!” This was the first time I saw a game loop/tick/enter-frame in action and it blew my mind. Learning to code can be intimidating, and baby-stepping my way in as Flash slowly progressed to become a more full-powered development tool gave me a very comfortable on-ramp. Seeing Josh’s frame loop was where something shifted in my mind from being about simple actions triggered by discrete user events like mouse clicks, to being a fluid dynamic system that was constantly shifting and changing over time.

Q. As Flash became more and more popular, you’d see Flash used for expressive, experimental, and artistic purposes. Plenty of sites would also use Flash with the entire site needing the Flash plugin, or it would just have Flash components such as menus or images or animations. Where would you put yourself on that spectrum of Flash artwork versus Flash functional work, and why?

I primarily used flash as a personal art medium. Specifically, my area of interest was bringing drawings to life through a combination of animation and code. I would draw endlessly in my sketchbook, then pick my favorite drawings to expand into living, breathing pieces of interactive work using animation and code. This eventually matured into building custom creative tools (something I did a lot in collaboration with Amit Pitaru) and also getting into more game-like territory. The further I went down this path the more I had to study programming and take it seriously. I was continuously outgrowing my technical ability and having to pause (sometimes for years at a time) to learn more before I could continue.

The more comfortable I got with the medium and programming in general, the more I would take on contracts doing “functional” jobs as you put it. Basically I would spend as long as humanly possible making my own work, then when I was sufficiently broke I would take on commercial gigs doing more practical stuff with the skills I had developed in my personal endeavors. These commercial projects could sometimes be challenging and satisfying, but were usually just a way for me to pay the bills so I could get back to the main event: making weird personal work.

Chalk on chalkboard, from a wall in Paterson’s studio. “They are a combination of stream of consciousness/automatic drawing (a process I call psychic vomit) and plans/code for whatever I’m working on.”

A mural by Paterson in the parking lot of B-Reel Los Angeles.

Q. When you first heard about Flash being phased out, what was your reaction?

Flash was phased out slowly over a number of years, and while I could feel it happening I was still very much invested in it as a creative tool. The final blow was dealt by Steve Jobs in 2010, in his open letter Thoughts on Flash. My reaction was split down the middle. On one side, I agreed with Jobs about how inappropriate Flash was for making websites. I didn’t like Flash sites any more than the next person and was happy that they would be going the way of the Dodo.

But on the other hand, that was not what I used Flash for. For me it was my primary art tool. So with my own creative process, my reaction was one of deep sadness and loss. I had invested well over a decade developing workflows in Flash that were perfectly suited to me. I creatively grew up alongside Flash, so much so that it felt like a part of me. Once I read that letter by Jobs I knew it was totally over, and in some ways if felt like someone had come into my beloved studio, full of all my most intimate creative tools and processes, and burned the place down.

I know that sounds dramatic, but it really did feel that way at the time. I had to completely reinvent myself technically and creatively over the following half-decade, porting as much of my process to JavaScript as possible. This was a huge growth experience for me, facing that loss and then rebuilding.

Q. Are you still developing for Flash, in any way, be it with Adobe Animate CC or something else?

I occasionally animate using Adobe Animate, then drive those animations with JavaScript, but it is somewhat rare these days. It’s still a great animation tool, but I’ve moved on to other places and broadened my horizons in terms of tools and workflows.

Q. From curators I’ve spoken with, you’ve begun to work in AR and VR spaces. How are those platforms allowing you to push your visions and experiments further, and in what ways did Flash prepare you for the spaces you’re working in today?

AR and VR have been a fascinating to me ever since reading Neuromancer by William Gibson and other cyberpunk stuff as a kid. When it finally matured enough to really work, with Vive and Rift, I jumped right in. One of the main projects I’ve done in this area was to take my favorite parts of animating in Flash and create my own open source VR animation tool from scratch, called Norman. This was an incredible experience and such a fun way to carry some of the old school flash frame-by-frame lineage forward into the present. I used JavaScript to code Norman, and it runs on the web (WebVR) for Oculus Rift.

            View this post on Instagram

                    Gonna miss you Gord #gorddownieforever

A post shared by James Paterson (@presstube) on Oct 18, 2017 at 1:05pm PDT

Q. At what point did you leave Halfempty, and when you decided to do so, what did working independently enable you to do that you had not done before?

I started Presstube in 1999 as a way to just get a fresh start after working on Halfempty for the previous few years. I had a wonderful experience working on Halfempty with Marty Spellerberg in 1997–98. He was the first person to turn me on to Flash actually! But in 1999 it felt like the right thing to do to break away and do my own thing. Halfempty was more of a magazine curating the work of many different people, and I just wanted to descend into my own creative rabbit hole.

Q. What did getting published mean to you, especially being in such great company in the book New Masters of Flash?

It was a huge honor to be invited to contribute alongside all the amazing people in that book. Also just getting to share my process with others was a thrill.

Drawings by James Paterson

Q. What (possible) future do you see for Flash after 2020, when Adobe will end support of the plugin, and how would you want to be involved with Flash when it’s outmoded?

I’m not sure that Flash has any future to be honest, except to be remembered as a platform which acted as a catalyst for a sort of Cambrian explosion of creativity at the dawn of the internet. I will continue to draw on it to inform my workflows moving into the future, and try to rebuild my favorite old school Flash workflows from scratch.

Q. When the final nail goes into the coffin, how will you remember Flash?

Flash was at the heart of an open and switched on creative community in the early days of the web. It introduced a lot of non-technical creative people to the art of programming, and did so in an accidentally perfect gradual manner. It was the source of much frustration for users when it was used to build entire websites or aggressive banner ads, but for a small group of early creative technologists it was a profoundly inspiring and mind expanding technology. Thank you, Macromedia and Adobe, for that glorious ugly duckling of a creative platform!

Keep track of what James Paterson is up to on his Instagram.

Inspired by James Paterson and want to make contact with thousands of other creatives just like you? Attend HOW Design Live and you’ll be among the best and brightest in the industry. Register now!

Edited from a series of electronic interviews.

The post James Paterson, Digital Frontiers appeared first on HOW Design.

James Paterson, Digital Frontiers syndicated post

[ilovemyarchitect]

New York, New Jersey Reginald L. Thomas, AIA has garnered over twenty years’ experience working with a diverse group of distinguished architectural/design firms in New York City.  Reginald L. Thomas Architect LLC specializes in historically based, high-end, residential projects. Recently, he has added commercial and institutional work to the firm’s diverse clientele. His work has been featured in several prestigious publications, notably The New York Times and Architectural Digest.

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ILMA INTERVIEW

When and why did you decide to become an Architect? 

I’ve wanted to be an architect since I was 10 years old. During a weekend visit to the local art store to purchase paints, a how to book on architectural rendering caught my eye.   I remember thinking that the floor plans seemed magical.

We can thank Mike Brady, of the then popular Sitcom, the Brady Bunch, for that.  My first introduction to renderings and models came from watching the episodes after school and I was hooked.

Growing up in New York City, however, I visited the Museum of Natural History and MOMA regularly.  I was fascinated by the dioramas at the Museum of Natural History and the artwork at the MOMA and so at first, I dreamt of being an artist and being able to create this kind of beauty.

What were some of the challenges of achieving your dream?    

I grew up in the South Bronx, so the first challenge was of course, money.  I fretted about how I was going to pay for college or even how I was going to apply to college.  It was stressful to think that I would have to help my siblings after college and therefore not be able to realize my own dreams.

Any memorable clients or project highlights?   

I’ve had the pleasure of working with corporate giants, entertainment and sports celebrities as well as hard working people who are interested in living in beautiful spaces. All are special to me.  Each project has its own individual story However, I have had clients that allowed me to design and build every inch of their space including the furniture. That’s amazing in today’s climate.

How does your family support what you do?    

College was a priority in my household as both my parents attended college.  My dad for his Associates Degree and my mother for her Master’s in Education.  , Although I did not have money I had an abundance of support for what I wanted to accomplish and an expectation that I get there.

How do Architects measure success?   

I believe versatility is a skill we all value as designers. We build projects that are beautiful as well as functional. Being able to create an aesthetically pleasing space to satisfy each of my client’s specific   taste and at the same time ensuring that it functions is its own reward.

What matters most to you in design?

Like Vitruvius conformitas, utilitas, venustas, which is harder than we think. But on a global scale, how important this component we create affects the fabric of the built environment fabric.

What do you hope to achieve over the next 2 years? 5 years?

To grow my business using all of the experience I’ve garnered over the last 30 years in multiple jurisdictions.

Like most artists, I also wish to push the barriers of my creativity while remaining true to the traditional and timeless nature of my designs.

Who is your favorite Architect? Why?    

Paul Rudolph for salesmanship, talent, and cultural navigation skills which were beyond belief

Frank Lloyd for his skill, as well as his ability to convince his clients to be daring and tenacious.

Julia Morgan for her dedication and ability when she was the only one, and her clients who recognized and rewarded her abilities.

Do you have a coach or mentor?

Not when I went into business no. However, for development I had two Mr. Richard Dozier and Max Bond Jr.

What is your favorite historic and modern (contemporary) project? Why?

The Great Pyramids of Giza. They are pure form, functional and beautiful.  It was once written by an early 19th century explorer who catalogued the proclivity for ornamentation throughout the known world that what we are able to see of Egyptian Architecture now is this architecture represents the last 2500 of this work in decline, what left of this 5000 year old architectural culture.

If that be the case, then how much more glorious the architectural vocabulary of this civilization must be. The elements of order including the concept of hyper style halls must be astounding. These are the elements that make an edifice “timeless.”

Notre Dame du Haut: The building teaches the intangibles of architecture as art. How does one use light as a design element?  Most people will never even notice how the intangible shapes made by light in their space let alone the effects on their psychological health.

The Mildred B Cooper Memorial Chapel: The boundaries that identify characteristics of nature and the difference from manmade structures are so blurred I this building that it is magical. I think in this design he did make his mentor proud. It is truly great work.

Where do you see the profession going over the next few decades? 

I think we are finally reaching the point where we are accepting the fact that we are part of a global community.  That means a true understanding, in real time, of the relationship and importance of urban design, architecture and interior design etc. to the human conditions.

Our use of technology will continue to grow at a rapid pace and architects will be required to leverage their expertise to benefit the world community especially in the areas of sustainability, and resilience.

I am most excited by the possibility of the profession as the lead, taking on the real-estate profession as developers

What type of technology do you see in the design and construction industries?

The digital drafting board and smart drafting solutions. The stylus is back, Instant 3d models and the expansion of BIM as a tool.

Wireless outlets

ASCII, GPS, LiDAR technology continue to advance. Assisting historic preservation giving a vision of what was formally unseen thereby assisting design and limiting errors.

3d modeling, as a tool, will advance to the point that we will grow more independent of contractors and furniture designers

Who / what has been your greatest influence in design?  

The reading of a Pattern Language. The book continues to teach me to think in layers until I get to the optimum solution.

Jean Michele Frank: The comprehensive business model that he practiced was one to be envied and to be emulated.

My mentors Max Bond and Richard Dozier.

New York City designers that I’ve work for like Peter Marino and Juan Montoya

Which building or project type would you like to work on that you haven’t been part of yet?   

A Place of worship on an island site

How do you hope to inspire / mentor the next generation of Architects?   

I hope to inspire the next generation through visibility. African-American descent represents a very small part of the architectural demographics.

I hope to write treatise and guides thereby leaving a guide to others to build on.

My suggestion always is to be assiduous; to be relentless, recognizing that  this is a lifelong area of study, one that requires . “long distance runners.”

What advice would you give aspiring architects (K-12)? College students? Graduates?

The best advice for K-12 is to engage with architects when they come in to your schools on career days.  It is important as this stage to really get a clear understanding of what an architect does and the value of architects’ play in their daily lives.

College students: Provide information and honest dialogue on expectations after graduation; how to set reasonable and attainable goals, and lastly the many ways to measure success.

Financial guidance on how to plan for a secure retirement.

Explain what it means to own one’s own firm.

What does Architecture mean to you? 

Architecture is life.  It is the culmination of the aspirations of the human condition at different time periods.

Architecture means being conscious of the places and spaces we occupy as humans.  It’s being in the unique position of being able to effect change in the communities welive in a way that is unique to no other profession

What is your design process? 

Client interview: Do more listening than writing.

Who or what community am I designing for.

Identify client particulars not just in program but culturally. How does the client perceive and use space. What is the corporate or family dynamic?

Where am I being asked to design?

What are the constraints of the site or space?

How do I make it function perfectly and at the same time be beautiful?

If you could not be an Architect, what would you be?  

Apart from very early on when I wanted to be an artist I have never given thought to being anything else, however, if you were to ask my father, a surgeon would have been his preference.

What is your dream project?  

One that encompasses urban planning, landscape architecture, architecture as sculpture, interior design and furniture design; the complete package in the vernacular of the local culture.

What advice do you have for future Executive leaders?  

Seek out and work with like-minded people who share your vision and whom you can trust to honestly evaluate, and counsel you.  Also, do not be afraid to delegate or share responsibility giving you the time and space you need as the leader to imagine and create.

What are three key challenges you face as a leader in business today and one trend you see in your industry?    

The challenge of finding curious and willing junior staff who are willing to put in the long hours needed to really learn the ins and outs of the profession.

Loyalty

Finding staff that is willing to learn how to build, even, by drawing the components rather than by cutting and pasting.

My hope is that with the advances in Wacom Tablet technology we will have monitors as drafting boards and stylus as pencils causing the young architect to unconsciously pay more attention to what and how the building is being created.

What one thing must an executive leader be able to do to be successful in the next 3 years?

The executive leader must to be able to leverage the power of the internet and especially social media

What are some executive insights you have gained since you have been sitting in the executive leadership seat – or what is one surprise you have encountered as the world of business continues to morph as we speak?    

I have been surprised at how much television, social media and the internet have impacted the decisions we now make as leaders.

Final Thoughts on How to Be Successful?   

Improving and adapting are keys to longevity and to success.   Be relentless in your desire to grow and learn recognizing that learning is a lifelong pursuit.

For more exclusive ILMA interviews click here.

We would love to hear from you on what you think about this post. We sincerely appreciate all your comments – and – if you like this post please share it with friends. And feel free to contact us if you would like to discuss ideas for your next project!

Sincerely, FRANK CUNHA III I Love My Architect �� Facebook

Our Exclusive ILMA Interview with Reginald Thomas New York, New Jersey Reginald L. Thomas, AIA has garnered over twenty years’ experience working with a diverse group of distinguished architectural/design firms in New York City. 

[euphemeria]

Eren Jaeger, Auror-extraordinaire—in-training though

It was suppose to be like any other night after a day at the Ministry. Eren would finish late after being enslaved by his superior, so the darkest hours would be upon him when he stepped back onto the streets of Eldia. He’d make his way towards his cramped studio on the other side of town, too tired to apparate in case he found himself in some dank alleyway like the last time he attempted when exhaustion was upon him. However, when Eren caught a Dark Wizard’s trail half-way home, sleep and fatigue were far from his mind now.

Gypsy Wrimple had been on the run for awhile now, and Eren wasn’t talking about him tailing her from Maria back to Rose. Gypsy’s first crime could be dated back to several years ago when she first cursed her friend, Laylum, unsuccessfully. Investigations afterwards concluded that Gypsy was inexperienced in the dark arts and her intention to harm or kill was at most, hesitant. However, the deed had been done and Gypsy knew it herself. It would’ve been fine if her crimes ended there, at least her sentence might’ve been light, but over the years she partook in many dark arts activity that ranged from harming innocent muggles to killing Ministry members.

She couldn’t fly under the radar from the Auror’s anymore now.

“Damn.” Eren cursed softly, when he realized Gypsy knew she wasn’t alone anymore because of that split second where he heard her heels stutter longer than usual. So much for a surprise attack.

Gypsy moved quick. If Eren didn’t notice he was exposed, she might’ve harmed him significantly. However, he countered her spell successfully with a protego charm, evidently revealing himself to the Dark Witch.

“I was wondering when the Ministry would finally send their lackey’s to dig up my tracks, though, I’m surprised. I wasn’t expecting a confrontation.” Gypsy commented, her stance relaxed but wand ready in case Eren pulled any tricks.

Sad to say the least, he didn’t have any tricks up his sleeves. Eren was as unprepared as Gypsy was. He hadn’t meant to confront her. He knew she was on the Hit List, but didn’t plan on taking her down himself. Just a bit of spying and investigating to help the process along, really. Now, it looks like he got himself into an even deeper trouble than what he already had on his plate with the Ministry.

“For a criminal, you’re pretty lax about your surroundings.” Eren joked, implying how easy it was to track and trail her without her fakes.

Gypsy narrowed her dark orbs, not taking the comment amicably.

Eren saw her hand flick before the action probably even registered for Gypsy, dodging out of the attack successfully. “Teneo!” Eren’s wand released a force, enveloping Gypsy in it. The Dark Witch shrugged it off easily with a delicate motion from her wand hand.

“So straight-forward. How cute.” Gypsy laughed. That irked Eren. Granted that wasn’t the best spell to be using on a B-level Dark Wizard, but Eren needed her alive. The Ministry needed her alive. There was a high probability she had valuable information.

“However, you’re going to need more than that to catch me. Though, that’s if I don’t kill you first.” Gypsy continued, all pleasantries gone from her as her aura turned fierce. Gypsy moved like her name. All movements fluid and graceful. Her wand propelled spell after spell towards Eren, pushing the young wizard back further into the alleyway he followed her into as he struggled to keep up with her magical dueling prowess.

Eren tried to keep up with Gypsy, blocking any spells that ended up to close for comfort towards him and retaliating back with as much force when her attacks let up. He tried looking for any opening as they continued to share blows that neither landed nor broke any defenses. At this rate, Gypsy would tire him out first and then finish him in one move.

“Confringo!”

The spell was unexpected, forcing Eren to dive away and abandon his defensive position, leaving him wide open for a split second. However, it was enough time for Gypsy to strike, “Crucio!”

Eren attempted to brace himself, willing his body to remain defensive. He couldn’t resist for long though and was forced to drop his wand as he writhed on the cold pavement from the curse. The pain excruciating and taxing on his overworked mind and body.

“You know what’s different between you and me?” Gypsy inquired as she approached Eren’s thrashing form, contorting her wand hand to make Eren’s suffering greater. “Unlike you, who lacks the intent and resolve to kill, I have no trouble with either.”

Gypsy prepared to deliver the finishing blow, raising her wand in an intimidating fashion to stare upon Eren in a mocking manner. ‘Damn. Jean’s going to hate me for this,’ was Eren’s last thoughts before a strong invisible force erupted from around him, removing the curse on Eren, but sending a shock wave that not only blasted his opponent off her feet but the outer walls of the buildings encasing the alleyway.

Freed, Eren reached for his wand as quickly as he could given the damage Gypsy inflicted on him. Most of his wounds were minor scraps from tumbling on to the cement ground and groveling on it. They weren’t painful, or they didn’t feel like it at least, but Eren couldn’t be sure since the dust was obscuring his vision.

Before Eren could fully gather his bearings though, a light blue projectile cut through the cloud of broken rubble. Eren reflexively blocked the attack with a non-verbal shield. More magical missiles followed afterwards, forcing Eren to keep his shield up.

‘Damn. She has good aim.’ Eren noted. Most of Gypsy’s attacks were on point even as the dust hid him from her view. Eren didn’t know how long he could keep his shield up before she ambushed him again. He wasn’t confident that he could pull off another retaliation like that.

“Ventum maxima!” Eren exclaimed when Gypsy’s attacks stopped briefly, pointing his wand in front of him in a rigid motion to direct the air movement. The wind around him began to push forwards upon his command, clearing up the smoke from the broken rubble of the nearby buildings.

As soon as the smog cleared, a jagged emerald jet of light pierced through the clearing veil, coming straight for Eren. The young wizard responded to the attack instantaneously, sending his own jet of light to clash with Gypsy’s. The interlocking of their spells caused the surrounding area around them to once again fog up, but neither of them faltered as they held steady their clash of magic.

“Containment and dispatch needed at Karanes District in Rose. Containment and dispatch needed at Karanes District in Rose.” The announcement was like a broken record across the Ministry as everyone rushed to their positions. Jean followed his Captain, Mitabi Jarnach, to fulfill their duties. As the Accidental Magic Reversal Squadron on-duty, they were responsible for the on-site repairs that were apparently needed according to the reports that came in.

“Tch. On my only overnight shift too.” Jean cursed, as he readily apparated to keep up with his squad. The travel wouldn’t be far with their apparition, but Karanes District was still a ways from Sheena. With the way Sheena’s architecture was built too, there would most likely be a lot of repairs. It was going to be a long night.

“Just in. Jaeger and Gypsy on-site, locked in battle.” Mitabi announced to his squadron after he stopped apparating to relay the incoming information. After the news, every one seemed to have grim looks. If Eren was involved, that meant twice the amount of work for Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.

“Fuckin’ Jaeger.” Jean quipped. Jean was going to make good on his promise about revoking Eren’s wand. The last time Jean had to clean up the auror’s mess, Jean got an earful from his captain and the head commander about doing something about his friend’s destructive tendencies. So, tonight, Jean was going to make it clear how far his friendship extended to fuck-ups on Eren’s part.

As soon as the announcement finished sounding, Levi knew who was involved without any relaying information.

“I told that brat to go home and sleep.” Levi muttered angrily as he rushed out of the Ministry with Petra in toll.

“You know how Eren is, sir. Easily distracted and hardworking.” Petra commented lightheartedly.

Indeed. Unlike most auror’s who got into the job with perfect N.E.W.T’s and outstanding skills, Eren was especially referred into the department by the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry despite his poor N.E.W.T’s and mediocre skills. However, the kid made up for his shortcomings with dedication and passion. So Levi tolerates him, plus he likes the look in those eyes.

“We’re moving out, Petra.” Levi informed the hit wizard accompanying him to pick up their newest and troublesome member.

“Yes sir!” Petra replied, apparating seamlessly into the dark night of Eldia.

Gypsy was surprised the kid could keep up with her, though not by much when it came down to skills and experience. She’ll commend him for his will and endurance, but he was still no match for her. The young wizard was all reflex and defensive, lacking any will to harm or turn the tide except for that one point when she had him writhing before her.

Albeit, the unseen force that propelled her away from his body and rendered her curse useless was unexpected since she had never heard or seen anything that could defend against the Cruciatus Curse, Gypsy quickly recovered from the recoil to finish off her opponent. No doubt the Ministry would be on there way soon after all that noise they made.

“Expulso!” Eren pointed his wand at Gypsy. His wand, sensing his fervor, directed its magic towards the Dark Witch with an intense light that nearly blinded her.

Gypsy was forced to dodge out of the way, unable to conjure a charm quick enough that would block such a tenacious attack. She recovered quickly from her evasion to spin around and meet Eren head to head in another sparking clash of magic that tested who could hold their ground better.

Unable to follow through with her intentions, Gypsy reluctantly decided that she would have to end the battle soon in order to evade capture from the Ministry. So with one small, but precise flick of her wand hand, she allowed herself to be impaled by Eren’s spell and in turn return the same favor to him.

Caught of guard from Gypsy’s bold move and the shock inflicted by her magic and his deep wounds, Eren carelessly allowed Gypsy to apparate before him. “Wait!” Eren called out in an attempt to follow her. Before he could chase after the Dark Witch though, a hand firmly stopped him by the shoulders. The weight of the painful grip was familiar and Eren gulped, turning slowly to face his superior, Head of Auror Levi Ackerman.

“Stop right there, brat, before you make any more trouble for me and our department.” Levi gritted out as he glared at Eren and squeezed his shoulder even more for emphasis. “Petra.” Levi called, still keeping eye contact with Eren.

“Yes sir!”

“Follow that witch.” Petra gave a sound of affirmative before departing in a whirl of apparating motion.

Levi’s stone cold stare never left Eren’s nervous ones as he addressed him with calculating contempt, “Care to explain what you’re doing here in Karanes causing mayhem instead of sleeping like I told you to in Shiganshima, where your bed is, which, is on the other side of Eldia?” Eren felt his superior’s grip tighten ever so slightly as he continued to question him.

“I’m bleeding out right now,” Eren replied hesitantly, “Sir.” Eren added the title hastily when he saw Levi’s brows twitch ever so slightly in regards to Eren’s impudence. “And I really was going home like I promised, but then the Gypsy herself, not her fakes, was there so I fol—”

The head auror kicked Eren’s legs to silence the brat’s ranting, sending him into a sputtering and ungraceful mess on the ground. “I’ve heard enough.” Levi concluded as he loomed dangerously over Eren’s bleeding form.

“I didn’t even plan on confronting her, honestly!” Eren continued, “I was just going to trail her for a bit, do a bit of intel gathering like you said I should consider before jumping head first into things. But then—”

“Precisely,” Levi interjected, voice hard and clear, “You jumped head first into this with using that empty head of yours to consider the situation and future prospective. So now, the rest of the ministry has to clean up the shit that you shat irresponsibly and uncontrollably.” Levi lost count of how many times he had to reprimand Eren about the most trivial and stupidest things. The auror-in-training tested his patience in so many ways, letting him bleed out a bit was no comparison to what Levi wanted to do to him right now and all other times.

“Magic Reversal Squad 2, reporting in!” Mitabi interrupted, the rest of his squadron right behind him. Eren groaned, surrendering himself to become like the broken asphalt underneath him.

“Jean Kirschtein of Magic Reversal Squad 2 present. Permission to proceed with Eren Jaeger.” Mitabi and Jean met Levi’s gaze. The three held a brief conversation with eyes alone, before Levi looked back down at Eren. “Permission denied. I’ll discipline the brat.” Mitabi and Jean looked to one another as Levi bent down to grab Eren’s shirt collar, “And I’ll make sure he can’t even walk for a month. I’ll apparate him home myself if I have to.” Levi threatened, eyes glinting like steel cobalt.

And, Eren was pretty sure Jean was going to find any seconds he could if Levi wasn’t done with him.

The Eldian Ministry of Magic is located just outside of Sheena, within the Utopia district of Rose. The building itself isn’t the grandest of cathedrals, but rather modest in size and architecture. In the non-magic community, or non-Eldics, the cathedral is simply an event venue, but in reality hiding the Eldian magical headquarters underneath it.

Below the cathedral, the Eldian Ministry of Magic is divided into nine levels, each level housing an entire department of their own. The first level is the main entrance which comprises of a large atrium made to resemble a large ballroom in case a non-Eldic infiltrated their headquarters by accident. It was usually populated by many Eldics and Eldic securities so those that stumbled their way in were typically escorted effortlessly off the Ministry premises and obliviated.

To reach any other levels from the first level, a series of elevators can be accessed within the hidden walls of the atrium. Usually, one wouldn’t need to go far though, since the second level is the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There isn’t a day the second level isn’t busy with magical business and activity since the Ministry’s most famous members were worked here, as well as their most recently acquired troublemaker, Eren Jaeger.

“What’s the damage?” Erwin finally asked, after stalling for as long as he could before the Head Commander of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, Dot Pixis, could start his speech he most likely prepared for this orderly Merlin question.

“Not his most greatest of feats, but Eren collapsed most of the buildings around that alleyway with a single retaliation. Luckily, no one was in the area with the Gypsy’s clever handling of the situation. The repairs took no longer than changing a toddler’s diaper, and at least we didn’t have to call in the Obliviators this time, but with how often Eren’s been getting himself into trouble, I’d like to consider a lock-down.” Pixis reported smoothly, handing the report to Mitabi after he finished so he could level Erwin with a serious look.

“Levi. Eren’s state, please.” Erwin sighed as he propped his forehead in his hand to look at the details of the reports Mitabi handed to him from Pixis.

“Tch. Bled for a good hour before we patched him up. By sunrise his wounds closed by themselves, and now I’m letting Jean have his way with him. Other than that, he’s as oblivious and dandy as a newborn that had his diaper changed.” Levi intoned bitterly in a mocking fashion at Pixis’ jab, somewhat sulking for having to be reprimanded when it wasn’t even his fault.

“And Hanji, any changes lately?” Erwin looked hopefully to Hanji, Head Commander of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and secretly the Department of Mysteries.

“Not on my end, no.” Hanji replied sadly.

Shortly before passing, the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry specifically made a request for Eren Jaeger to be accepted as an auror despite his poor performance in his N.E.W.T’s and magical capabilities. The request detailed that it was Eren’s prophecy, but when Hanji attempted to confirm this, they could not locate any records of the prophecy the headmaster spoke of—Eren’s orb was evidently missing.

In fact, anything within the Department of Mystery related to Eren Jaeger was missing or destroyed. To say Hanji was furious when they found out was an understatement. They went on a rampage to re-order the entire department and Keith Shadis’ investigative team sent to help didn’t sleep for an entire week. Afterwards, Shadis swore never to allow a single one of his investigative members near the department of mysteries ever again because of that.

“As puzzling,” Erwin’s eyes flickered to Hanji, “and chaotic as all this is,” and between Pixis and Levi, “keeping Eren on lock down is probably the safest decision we can make at the moment. If he gets out of control or anything unpredictable happens, it could mean exposure and we cannot let that happen. I would prefer to avoid catching the attention of the Wizengamot too, if possible. Their involvement could cause a stir in the magical community.” Erwin concluded, gaze stern and serious.

“Indeed. Brat is a walking bomb just waiting to go off.” Levi commented off-offhandedly, signaling the end of the meeting as he got up from his chair.

Pixis and Hanji followed after Levi, prepared to return to their department duties. “Levi, wait.” Erwin commanded, stopping the shorter man from leaving.

The doors closing from Pixis and Hanji’s departure resounded in the spacious study. Now that they were alone, Erwin motioned for Levi to take a seat again, this time in front of his desk instead of the armchairs in the middle of the room. Levi complied without a word.

“Eren most likely won’t like the news, but—” Levi scoffed at the understatement, “but, make sure he follows it. The Gypsy has never let a target or witness live without some sort of consequence, so the fact that Eren survived will mean—

“That she’ll come looking for his blood. Yeah. I know. I’ve got Petra and Oluo on guard duty should that happen.” Levi finished for Erwin, already aware of the situation.

“Yes. I know I don’t have to tell you to break the news differently to Eren, but if he resists, restrain him if you have to.” Erwin instructed seriously, gaze dark.

Levi’s face remained impassive as the two shared a long look. “Am I dismissed now?” Levi deadpanned.

Erwin nodded without another look, returning to his paperwork.

“You little shit!” Jean shouted before he attacked Eren, wrestling the auror-in-training.

“I told you I was sorry!” Eren exclaimed in defense, fending off the horse-face as best he could in his vulnerable position.

Level eight in The Eldian Ministry of Magic doesn’t have any significance since it lacks a department. However, for some reason it limited ones magical abilities so it is mostly used as an infirmary for the sick, injured, or recovering. And Eren was all three at this point.

“Enough, you two.” Mikasa interrupted as she pulled the two of them apart from one another. She fixed Jean with a stern look when she saw him try to dart forward again towards Eren, and that was enough to silence him. Eren smirked ever so slightly, but it lost its effect when Mikasa smacked him hard over the head. The impact was bruising enough that Eren literally felt a bump raise on the top of his head.

“And you, are suppose to stay out of trouble. At this rate, you’ll be put on lock down.” Mikasa reprimanded harshly, Jean long-forgotten now as she turned to face Eren fully, still dressed in her Hit Wizard uniform. She must’ve just finished a mission, or abandoned it if anything to come to Eren’s demise.

“It didn’t mean it to get out of control...” Eren muttered, eyebrows creasing in a sulking manner as his body turned away from Mikasa unconsciously to block out her nagging.

“Mikasa’s right, dumbass. My commander already requested your detainment.” Jean snickered.

Eren and Mikasa’s attention focused on Jean, “What?” they said in unison. Jean nonchalantly met both their gazes, “What? You both knew it was coming? It’s not like this is Eren’s first time. This is the seventh one this month, maybe even more if you count the times when he almost ousted the Ministry itself in its own headquarters.”

Jean’s evaluations weren’t off. However, lock down was only used in certain circumstances, particularly when the Ministry believed a wizard to be a criminal. Detaining him for information and trial usually followed afterwards. So for it to be used to contain someone’s instability was an unimaginable outcome, especially, considering Eren’s complicated circumstances.

“Kirschtein. Your commander wants to see you.” Levi’s interjected the trio’s conversation. Jean stood and saluted to Levi in acknowledgment, fist remaining over his heart until Levi allowed him to be at ease. Before departing, Jean glanced at Eren pitifully. Even though they didn’t particularly get along at Hogwarts and even more so now in the Ministry, Jean still wouldn’t wish lock down on his frenemy. Jean couldn’t imagine having his magic contained, reduced to a non-Eldic, that is, if the Ministry could even contain what Eren had.

Mikasa saluted Levi without being addressed, quick to leave before she was caught off-duty again. “Hit Wizard, Ackerman. Don’t make me report to your client about being off-duty again.” Levi threatened without fully acknowledging Mikasa. “Yes sir.” The ravenette replied tersely before striding out of the infirmary like Jean.

After Eren’s visitor’s left, Levi motioned non-verbally for a chair across the room to slide over next to Eren’s bed. As expected of the head of auror, even without words and under pressure from a magical force that restrained magic, Levi was still able to use magic with ease as if it was innate. Eren was somewhat envious.

“You heard Kirschtein, you’re on lock down as of now.” Levi informed bluntly as he crossed his arms comfortably like usual.

Eren’s hands tightened, clutching the blanket in a vice grip to contain his anger and disappointment at himself. “When?” The younger wizard uttered softly. He wanted to know when they would strip him of his magic, prepare himself to part with a piece of himself that had always been there since he was a little boy.

“Eren.” Levi whispered softly, as if telling a secret. Eren looked up from his lap, undivided attention given to his superior. “You already know there is nothing that can contain your magic. When we say lock down, we mean that we’ll be monitoring your every move, whereabouts, and magic.” The head auror explained, trying to give his pupil some sort of good news. When he saw Eren visibly relax, he jokingly added that if it was up to him though, he would’ve personally locomotor mortis Eren instead.

Eren blanched at the remark.

The truth as to why the ninth level within the Eldian Ministry of Magic suppresses magic is partly due to the ninth level’s Department of Mysteries. Many of the chambers and enigmas in the Department of Mysteries causes an imbalance force to disrupt the flow and functioning of magic. Hanji liked to akin this analogy to something like God and the Devil being in the same room together. Their presence alone would spark unimaginable changes to that around them, so together they could have so much more influence.

The Department of Mysteries was precisely like that. Having such complex entities such as the brain, love, death, space and time in such close perimeters would obviously distort reality and physics. So luckily, the eighth level only suffered repercussions of magical distortion.

“Armin. What do you know about your friend, Eren Jaeger?” Hanji asked their assistant, Armin Arlert, childhood friend of their most recent study and fascination.

Armin was caught off guard by the question. Hanji asked a lot of personal and invasive questions, so this wasn’t anything new, but the fact that she almost always came back to Eren in some way sent alarm bells ringing in the blonde’s head.

“Eren?” Armin repeated nonchalantly as he continued to inspect the brains floating in the glass tank, scribbling down relevant notes every once in awhile when they spat out incomprehensible thoughts.

“Yes. Him. I heard he got himself into some trouble again.” Hanji replied as they rearranged the new brain jars she received last week.

Armin dropped his clipboard of notes in shock, “Again?!”

Hanji cackled uncontrollably at Armin’s reaction. The young boy was a great addition to her team in the Department of Mysteries. He made new discoveries and worked fervently with dedicated passion unrivaled by none by themself. However, because of that Armin didn’t get out a lot. He probably hadn’t left the department in days, which meant news tends to reached him last.

“He barely survived a battle with the Gypsy. But knowing Eren, he’s already healed by now. He was pretty torn up when I patched him up though. Rougher than usual.” Hanji explained to Armin as he made his way toward them.

“...That’s good, but, what do you want to know, Hanji?” Armin implored as he handed his notes to them. Hanji nodded in gratitude for Armin’s hard work, “As his childhood friend, you ever, notice anything? Eren’s has infinite magical powers, but he lacks the ability to utilize it properly. I’m wondering if it’s always been like that or maybe after he attempted to harness it.”

Now that was a serious question Armin never contemplated before.

Eren had always known magic since Armin could remember, but that was no surprise since he was the son of the renown Auror, Grisha Jaeger. Grisha could’ve easily taught Eren all those things he did as a child. There was nothing different about Eren that was speculative in any sense. Granted his best friend could focus his magic to a significant degree that he didn’t need wand, but that was it. That was all his magical prowess allowed him.

A wand is typically used as an instrument to amplify and channel one’s magic, and usually without one a witch or wizard was powerless. Magic could still be down without a wand, but it was very limited. However, there were those who could perform magic effortlessly without a wand, but there were very few records of selected individuals that accomplished this feat. Eren was the first to be recorded again in a century.

TERMS Eldia: setting of the story, Paradis was too cliche Sheena: inner city Rose: middle city Karanes: eastern district located in Rose, least inhabited part of Rose Utopia: northern district located in Rose, known for its elaborate architecture Maria: outer city Shiganshina: southern district located in Maria, over-populated and diverse diffindo: to cut or sever, cuts the target protego: to protect, magically blocks spells and physical entities teneo: to contain, envelopes the target in a confined magical force field confringo: to destroy, magical explosion upon contact crucio: to torture, inflicts intense and excruciating pain upon the target ventum maxima: powerful wind, summons intense winds that can blow up to 120mph expulso: to expel, blows object up upon contact (usually sends a person flying instead of blowing them up) locomotor mortis: to kill off motion, binds targets legs together Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes: responsible for repairing accidental magical damage. Level Three. Accidental Magic Reversal Squad: involved in the reversal and repairal of magical accidents Department of Magical Law Enforcement: combination of police and justice facilities. Level Two. Auror: protects against those affiliated with the Dark Arts and those who practice them Hit Wizard: typically tasked with arresting dangerous criminals, job is less demanding and requires less qualifications than an Auror hit list: Dark Wizards or Witches who pose an extreme threat are added to the list, they are usually killed on site by Hit Wizards and Aurors unless stated otherwise A-level: Dark Wizards or Witches whose crimes are unforgivable and only punishable by death, extremely dangerous and not to be handled alone B-level: Wizards or Witches whose intentions are evil or unknown, dangerous and volatile C-level: Wizards or Witches have assisted in dark arts activity D-level: Wizards or Witches whose loyalties to the magical community are questionable Wizengamot: Legislative and Judicial branch of wizarding Eldia Department of Mysteries: carries out confidential research regarding particular enigmas (death, time, space, thought, and love) and stores copies of prophecies. Most of its operations are carried out in total secrecy from the general wizard populace. Level Nine. apparate: form of magical transportation typically used in the magical world N.E.W.T: Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test Eldics: Eldian wizards and witches Non-Eldics: non-magical humans orderly merlin: play on words on Order of Merlin; to score an award with the Order of Merlin; equivalent to “award-winning” in the wizarding world

[dawnajaynes32]

James Paterson, Digital Frontiers

Developer, programmer, artist, designer. Mad scientist?

Call James Paterson what you want, but one thing’s for sure: his creativity knows no boundaries. Paterson started using Flash in early 1997, and made a career out of pushing the medium and his creations into new, exciting, and evocative territories.

He’s been a part of the web’s past and present, and will undoubtedly be a part of the digital future that’s yet to come, although it’ll happen without one of his favorite tools: Flash. In the very near future, the platform and web plugin will no longer be supported by Adobe. Like others who used Flash, Paterson has lamented the coming of the end. “I think because I grew up with it as my primary set of creative tools it was really a part of me. I had spent well over 10 years perfecting my craft with it, and had a setup that was like an extension of my mind and body. It took years to relearn everything and port as much of my world as possible to JavaScript.”

James Paterson, photo by Jonathan Chang.

Paterson’s studio, where the magic happens.

But he’s a realist too.

“Ultimately the switch to JavaScript was good and healthy… it’s a much broader medium and allowed me to take my craft to all sorts of new places.” And there’s no turning back, all for the better. Paterson has broken into new digital territories, pushing the boundaries of augmented reality (AR) with #normanvr and other digital platforms. He took time out of his busy schedule to answer some questions about AR, developer tools, the web, Flash, and a (possible) future for Flash.

VR (virtual reality) sculpting has become a major focus for Paterson. “It’s sort of a natural progression of my drawing process, popped into 3D, thanks to the hands-on-ness of VR.”

Q. Who were the Flash artists, designers, and developers you admired during the early days of Flash, and why?

In the very early days there wasn’t much going on that I could find made using Flash. There were some ultra-early Shockwave/Director sites, notably Antirom (Tomato Interactive) and Noodlebox (Danny Brown) which caught my attention in the late 90s. Then when Flash started to pick up in 1998-99 I saw a little piece of open source by praystation (Joshua Davis) that revealed how to create a “frame loop” where code could run across time. That was my very first introduction to code as a kind of living breathing thing. I’ve been thankful to Josh for that kickstart into code ever since. Some other characters from the early Flash days who influenced me hugely were Amit Pitaru, Yugo Nakamura & Erik Natzke.

Q. How would you describe what you called code as a living breathing thing and that frame loop that Joshua Davis made?

Up until that point I had only used very contained “actions” to perform a bit of control over my animations. Things like clicking buttons to stop, play and jump around through animations. The “frame loop” that I saw in Josh’s open-source showed some code sitting on frame 1, then an action on frame 2 saying “go back and play frame 1 again!” This was the first time I saw a game loop/tick/enter-frame in action and it blew my mind. Learning to code can be intimidating, and baby-stepping my way in as Flash slowly progressed to become a more full-powered development tool gave me a very comfortable on-ramp. Seeing Josh’s frame loop was where something shifted in my mind from being about simple actions triggered by discrete user events like mouse clicks, to being a fluid dynamic system that was constantly shifting and changing over time.

Q. As Flash became more and more popular, you’d see Flash used for expressive, experimental, and artistic purposes. Plenty of sites would also use Flash with the entire site needing the Flash plugin, or it would just have Flash components such as menus or images or animations. Where would you put yourself on that spectrum of Flash artwork versus Flash functional work, and why?

I primarily used flash as a personal art medium. Specifically, my area of interest was bringing drawings to life through a combination of animation and code. I would draw endlessly in my sketchbook, then pick my favorite drawings to expand into living, breathing pieces of interactive work using animation and code. This eventually matured into building custom creative tools (something I did a lot in collaboration with Amit Pitaru) and also getting into more game-like territory. The further I went down this path the more I had to study programming and take it seriously. I was continuously outgrowing my technical ability and having to pause (sometimes for years at a time) to learn more before I could continue.

The more comfortable I got with the medium and programming in general, the more I would take on contracts doing “functional” jobs as you put it. Basically I would spend as long as humanly possible making my own work, then when I was sufficiently broke I would take on commercial gigs doing more practical stuff with the skills I had developed in my personal endeavors. These commercial projects could sometimes be challenging and satisfying, but were usually just a way for me to pay the bills so I could get back to the main event: making weird personal work.

Chalk on chalkboard, from a wall in Paterson’s studio. “They are a combination of stream of consciousness/automatic drawing (a process I call psychic vomit) and plans/code for whatever I’m working on.”

A mural by Paterson in the parking lot of B-Reel Los Angeles. Paterson works as a creative director at B-Reel.

Q. When you first heard about Flash being phased out, what was your reaction?

Flash was phased out slowly over a number of years, and while I could feel it happening I was still very much invested in it as a creative tool. The final blow was dealt by Steve Jobs in 2010, in his open letter Thoughts on Flash. My reaction was split down the middle. On one side, I agreed with Jobs about how inappropriate Flash was for making websites. I didn’t like Flash sites any more than the next person and was happy that they would be going the way of the Dodo.

But on the other hand, that was not what I used Flash for. For me it was my primary art tool. So with my own creative process, my reaction was one of deep sadness and loss. I had invested well over a decade developing workflows in Flash that were perfectly suited to me. I creatively grew up alongside Flash, so much so that it felt like a part of me. Once I read that letter by Jobs I knew it was totally over, and in some ways if felt like someone had come into my beloved studio, full of all my most intimate creative tools and processes, and burned the place down.

I know that sounds dramatic, but it really did feel that way at the time. I had to completely reinvent myself technically and creatively over the following half-decade, porting as much of my process to JavaScript as possible. This was a huge growth experience for me, facing that loss and then rebuilding.

Q. Are you still developing for Flash, in any way, be it with Adobe Animate CC or something else?

I occasionally animate using Adobe Animate, then drive those animations with JavaScript, but it is somewhat rare these days. It’s still a great animation tool, but I’ve moved on to other places and broadened my horizons in terms of tools and workflows.

Q. From curators I’ve spoken with, you’ve begun to work in AR and VR spaces. How are those platforms allowing you to push your visions and experiments further, and in what ways did Flash prepare you for the spaces you’re working in today?

AR and VR have been a fascinating to me ever since reading Neuromancer by William Gibson and other cyberpunk stuff as a kid. When it finally matured enough to really work, with Vive and Rift, I jumped right in. One of the main projects I’ve done in this area was to take my favorite parts of animating in Flash and create my own open source VR animation tool from scratch, called Norman. This was an incredible experience and such a fun way to carry some of the old school flash frame-by-frame lineage forward into the present. I used JavaScript to code Norman, and it runs on the web (WebVR) for Oculus Rift.

            View this post on Instagram

                    Gonna miss you Gord #gorddownieforever

A post shared by James Paterson (@presstube) on Oct 18, 2017 at 1:05pm PDT

Q. At what point did you leave Halfempty, and when you decided to do so, what did working independently enable you to do that you had not done before?

I started Presstube in 1999 as a way to just get a fresh start after working on Halfempty for the previous few years. I had a wonderful experience working on Halfempty with Marty Spellerberg in 1997–98. He was the first person to turn me on to Flash actually! But in 1999 it felt like the right thing to do to break away and do my own thing. Halfempty was more of a magazine curating the work of many different people, and I just wanted to descend into my own creative rabbit hole.

Q. What did getting published mean to you, especially being in such great company in the book New Masters of Flash?

It was a huge honor to be invited to contribute alongside all the amazing people in that book. Also just getting to share my process with others was a thrill.

Drawings by James Paterson

Q. What (possible) future do you see for Flash after 2020, when Adobe will end support of the plugin, and how would you want to be involved with Flash when it’s outmoded?

I’m not sure that Flash has any future to be honest, except to be remembered as a platform which acted as a catalyst for a sort of Cambrian explosion of creativity at the dawn of the internet. I will continue to draw on it to inform my workflows moving into the future, and try to rebuild my favorite old school Flash workflows from scratch.

Q. When the final nail goes into the coffin, how will you remember Flash?

Flash was at the heart of an open and switched on creative community in the early days of the web. It introduced a lot of non-technical creative people to the art of programming, and did so in an accidentally perfect gradual manner. It was the source of much frustration for users when it was used to build entire websites or aggressive banner ads, but for a small group of early creative technologists it was a profoundly inspiring and mind expanding technology. Thank you, Macromedia and Adobe, for that glorious ugly duckling of a creative platform!

Inspired by James Paterson and want to make contact with thousands of other creatives just like you? Attend HOW Design Live and you’ll be among the best and brightest in the industry. Register now!

Edited from a series of electronic interviews.

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