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caiuscassiuss · 5 years ago

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Birched⎮D. Sicheng (M) P.2

Description: There was something that lurked beneath that pretty boy smile of Dong Sicheng— something dark, something dangerous�� something you knew you would get pulled into once you got too curious. (Or, your ill-tempered coworker turns out to be your dominant.)

Part One is HERE

Genre: BDSM/ enemies to lovers winwin! smut | romance | angst WC: 11k+ Warnings: graphic smut (dom! sicheng + sub! reader, BDSM (Bondage, Dominance, Submission, and Masochism) choking, rough sex), taboo relationship, blatant sexism, TW: mentions of an abusive relationship

(A/N: Thank you to my amazing beta @won-markiepooh-woo for helping me. This wouldn’t have been possible without you!)

Saturday February 1st, 2020

Y/N’s Apartment

10 AM HKT

The little jingle of a FaceTime call echoed through your silent apartment, and you snuggled into the sheets of your bed.

“Hello? Kun huang?”

A flash black hair and a sweet smile appeared within the view of the camera.

“Huang Gua!” you exclaimed.

Instantly, the happy smile slipped off his face and transformed into an annoyed expression.

“Can you not? We’ve been over this,” he complained.

“Oh come on! It’s so funny,” you jibed.

“It’s not.”

“You only used to eat cucumbers for years. You earned that name yourself.”

“So?” he snorted. “You used to eat shrimp chips as a kid. I don’t call you shrimp, do I?” A devious expression flashed over his face.

“Kun Huang…” you warned.

“Maybe I should start now. Right, shrimp?”

“Oh my god, stop!”

“No, shrimp. I can keep going, you know.”

“Okay, fine, fine. I submit!” You laughed.

He chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”

“So how are you now, Hendery? How’s your mom and dad? Oh my gosh, Hengwai!”

“I’m doing fine, as are mom and dad. Hengwai misses her little sister. They all want you to call them more. Sometimes I think they miss you more than me.” He pouted.

“Awww, poor baby. But give them my well wishes too! I miss everyone so much,” you said. For some reason, tears welled in your eyes.

Obviously, Hendery could tell you were about to start crying and started to panic.

“Y/N? Talk to me. Oh, you know I can’t take it if you start crying!”

He never really could. Even after many years spent together in your childhood, he was still awkward as hell around your tears.

You waved him off, swiping the tears. “I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just so lonely around here.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m fine! I swear!”

“Literally, one word and I’m on a flight to Hong Kong. I’m not playing,” he said gravely.

“Hendery, no. Besides, don’t you have some farms to run? I would never expect you to do that.”

“One word, Y/N. Just one.” He looked you dead in the eye.

You looked away. “Anyways, how are your farms going?”

A smile split his face and his eyes sparked. “Guess who just got their hundredth farm?”

Your jaw dropped. “No way, you’re fucking joking! One hundred?! I’m so proud of you! Kun Huang!” you squealed.

“Yeah, I know right? It’s so weird knowing so many people depend on me for their livelihoods now. I get sort of scared when I sit back and think about it…”

As Kun Huang went on about his day to day troubles in agriculture, a small, wistful smile played upon your lips. Why didn’t you just stay back and fall in love with Kun Huang? It would have been so easy. Being with Kun Huang was like breathing, and you could’ve spent the rest of your life like this. No Minghao, no BDSM, and most importantly, no… him.

Dolos.

Master?

Sicheng.

You hated how smoothly the puzzle pieces fit together. Sicheng always left early on Fridays, even though he always stayed late. At office parties, he lacked a significant other by his side, even when many would drop everything if he so much as winked at them.

It was hard not to think about him. You had started to feel an increase in your heartbeat whenever you thought of Dolos before Wednesday. You had originally wanted to know who was behind Dolos’ mask and if he returned those feelings. But, fuck, he would be so mad if he found out who you were.

Not to mention, how humiliating it would be if he knew. You had staked everything on being a cold-hearted bitch when Sicheng took particular pleasure in sneering at “the inherent submissiveness” of her gender. So if he found out Dove, who liked to be slapped during sex, and her, the la dame sans merci of the company, were the same person, it would destroy any chance of credibility you may have had in his eyes.

This was all one big mess. One big, gigantic and catastrophic mess. For so long you had rigorously kept your professional and personal lives apart, but the universe had conspired against you: to make the best dominant you ever had to also be your work nemesis.

Some higher being was laughing at you, you knew it.

Sunday February 2nd, 2020

The Dong Family Villa on the Shek O Peninsula, Hong Kong

1 PM HKT

A curl of disgust twisted his lips as he looked down on the lawn party going down below him.

“Don’t you look happy, Sicheng.”

Sicheng acknowledged ChengCheng out of the corner of his eye and went back to glaring at the party in contempt.

“This is not how I wanted today to go.”

His childhood friend snorted and plopped himself down in a lawn chair, contemplating the blond haired man.

Sicheng spun around and picked up his glass of wine, downing the drink in one gulp. He settled himself next to ChengCheng with a frown.

“I just wanted to come here and fucking relax, but, no, my parents just had to use it for the fucking party. Fete. What-fucking-ever.” He exhaled loudly and ran his hands through his hair.

Chengcheng looked over the balcony railing curiously. “Looks like a luncheon to me.”

“Fuck off.”

“Christ, what’s up your ass?”

“Just some work stuff. It’s nothing.”

The brown-haired man frowned. “Then why aren’t you at Black’s then? Nothing can’t be resolved by a good fuck.”

At the mention of the club, a pained expression flashed over Sicheng’s face and his knuckles inadvertently tightened around the stem of his glass. The tension that had been in shoulders wounded itself up even more and this clued ChengCheng in.

Something other than work had Sicheng in knots. Very rarely did the blond man ever show he was angry—not even when his father lashed him as a child, nor when the family forced him to work for the company—so he was evidently very troubled by this ‘something’.

Sicheng’s phone rang and broke the silence. The man himself fished it out of his back pocket irritatedly.

“Excuse me for a moment, ChengCheng. I need to take this phone call.”

“Sicheng speaking,” he spoke as he stalked into the study.

“Hello sir, how are you—”

“Did you get the information or not?” Sicheng asked, cutting off the family’s retainer. His leg bounced, as he sat against the desk and he ran a weary hand through his hair.

“A-ah, unfortunately, Black’s doesn’t record pseudonyms digitally or on paper…”

“Fuck!” Sicheng yelled. Mr. Lau just had to be fucking careful, he thought irritably.

“... However, sir, I was able to obtain a membership list since the club was digitally updating their monthly list. I then compared it to the list from the previous month and found several missing names, indicative of them terminating their membership. I have compiled a dossier of several females that match your description of Dove and forwarded it to you.”

Sicheng quickly logged into his laptop, his blood rushing through his ears. The identity of the most perfect submissive he’s ever had could literally be sitting in his inbox right now.

With trembling fingers, he opened the attachment.

Wang Fang, age 25—

“Sir?”

The blond man glared at his phone. “Thank you for your service, Liu Wei. Goodbye.”

Wang Fang was a tall, spindly woman with a face like a horse. The policy of privacy by masks was kind to her at Black’s. However, the jaw was all wrong and he knew in his gut she was not his Dove.

He scrolled to the next page. Leila Williams, age 27—British expat, was absolutely gorgeous. But, even through the screen, she exuded an unshakable aura of self-assurance. A dominatrix, probably, so that excluded her from his search.

He went through 2 or 3 more documents; each one too plain or too ordinary to be Dove.

Y/N L/N, age XX.

Sicheng blinked rapidly, sagging into his office chair.

Y/N is—was—a member at Black’s?

The picture provided was the one from her LinkedIn profile: a professional headshot with a grey background. She was smiling tightly, coldly—just as she was in the office. The other image provided instantly tented his pants.

It was her, clearly on a night out. She was in attire that flattered her body and he could easily see himself running his hands over her. Y/N looked fucking fantastic with her unbound hair, so unlike her tight updos at the office. However, what drew his eyes was the most vibrant shade of red painted on her lips, which was parted slightly as she was laughing.

He recognized that lipstick. The same shade of firetruck red had been smeared across Dove’s cheeks many, many times. YSL Rouge Satin Lipstick—the one he told her he liked and she, like a good girl, had religiously worn.

Could that mean…?

Glancing at the side bar, he noticed there was one more page left in the dossier. Please let the next one be Dove…

His hopes were instantly deflated. Kwon Myunghee was too old and too artificial to be his gorgeous submissive.

With his heart in his throat, he scrolled back to Y/N’s page. Enlarging the picture of her laughing, he put a hand over her eyes and leaned back to observe.

Sicheng would be an absolute fool if he did not recognize that mouth. Red fuck me! lipstick on an equally fuckable mouth parted in pleasure, or screaming his name while strung up on a cross. He would be an absolute fool if he did not recognize that neck, covered in purple and red hickies or his fingermarks. An absolute damn fool.

Yet, at this moment, he would’ve given anything to be one.

He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Y/N was… Dove? And Dove… was Y/N?

So why did she leave? How did she end up at Black’s? Did she know? Did she end up there on purpose? Why—

Eventually, all the questions piled up in his head until he was left winded. Sicheng buried his head in his hands, pulling at his blond locks and breathing heavily. Something was bubbling in his chest and—

He started to laugh. He cackled, howled, at his shitstorm of misfortune, luck, and confusion until he was sprawled undignified on the Oriental carpet, staring up at the intricate wood carvings on the ceiling.

Monday February 3rd, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

6 PM HKT

Shutting the door to your office, you collapsed into your chair and massaged your temples.

Today was the day Mr. Lee had left the office, leaving his official resignation. The top sales officials (including an off-color, brooding Sicheng) gathered in his office to congratulate him and give him an official goodbye. What was supposed to be a quick meet-up turned into afternoon drinking when Mr. Lee pulled out the good liquor from a secret cabinet underneath his desk. You accepted a drink with a grimace, but Sicheng declined and remained uncharacteristically detached the entire time. Granted, you too were detached from the conversation, uncomfortable with the lewd retirement and mistress jeers spouted by the older sales officials as they steadily got drunker and less inhibited.

As the time ended and a consensus to leave had been reached, you thought you could escape and actually work... that was until Mr. Lee walked alongside you and stuck himself in the elevator with you.

The bastard had the audacity to grope your ass in the crowded elevator. You shivered, remembering the awful and grimy feeling as his hot breath whispered in your ear that he was available any time for a “catch-up”.

This day was a mess. You had a shit-ton of work to catch up due to that fucking meeting and you had been sexually harrassed; you were also anxious about the promotion and, on top of that, you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Sicheng.

Huffing, you ate some red-bean bread as you powered up your desktop. This was fucking ridiculous. You knew Sicheng had noticed your odd, reticent behavior around him and this skittishness was impeding your ability to work. Well, no better way to forget about your problems was to solve other ones at work.

For the next two hours, you slogged through work emails and analytics as the sun set over Kowloon Bay. Your hair had been unbound and your blazer had been messily thrown over the back of your chair as your work progressed. Since most of the office had left by now, you figured it was safe to relax in your office.

It was night time by the time you had finished your last project and you sat back in your chair, staring at the skyline. Was this how your life destined to be? At the top, surrounded by the comforts of life, but alone?

A knock sounded at the door, jolting you out of your thoughts.

Who the fuck would be at the office at 8 PM?

“Come in.”

You caught sight of a golden head of hair slipping inside of your office and you sighed. Of course, it was Sicheng.

He took a seat unbidden and stared at you with an indecipherable expression on his face. His eyes roamed the contours and curves of your features.

You arched an eyebrow. “Can I help you with anything, Sicheng? I’m about to leave the office.”

He fought with himself inwardly, his mouth opened and closed several times before he finally settled on what he wanted to say. “I’d like to ask a question.”

You adjusted yourself in the chair. “Feel free.”

From his blazer’s pocket, he pulled out an aged sheet of paper and slowly opened it, before setting it in front of you. Sicheng settled back in his chair and steepled his fingers over his lap, the lights of the Hong Kong skyline playing across his face and making his sharp features stand out.

“Do you recognize this?”

The blood literally froze in your veins as your eyes caught sight of your handwriting in the letter, along with the tear-stains that blotched the paper and the text. Your heartbeat rose to your throat and all you felt was the blood rushing in your ears.

“Y/N?” he prodded.

You gulped and straightened out your top, your fingers trembling as you did so.

“No, I don’t. W-who’s Dolos? Why does this concern me?” you lied, stumbling a bit.

He watched you, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed.

“Don’t lie to me, Dove.”

“I-Dove? My name is Y/N,” you replied shakily. Grabbing your purse, you hurriedly stuffed all your personal belongings in while avoiding catching his seething stare. “Excuse me, I’d really like to get home.”

His jaw clenched and his palm twitched as he saw you had no desire to come clean.

“Look at me.”

Unthinking, you ceased all movements, put your trembling hands in your lap and looked up at him. “Sir?”

Your eyes widened and you slapped a hand over your mouth; your eyes darted around the room in search for an escape. You felt akin to a caged animal as he grinned meanly, incongruous on his cherubic features.

“That’s what I thought.”

“No—”

“You thought you could get away with this? You thought you could fucking play me?!”

You were aghast at seeing Dolos and Sicheng finally merging together in front of your eyes, and the result was grotesquely beautiful. His grin slipped off his face and twisted into a malevolent sneer. The naked fire in Dolos' gaze was finally unveiled in Sicheng’s eyes and, for the first time, you could see who Sicheng really was.

“Answer me, Dove—Y/N! Fuck, I don’t even know who you are anymore!” Sicheng shouted, running his hands through his hair while he paced around your office.

You stared unblinkingly at the bookshelf at the corner of the room. Fuck, this was all your nightmares coming true. You were going to be ruined and he was going to laugh on and on now that he knew you and Dove were the same.

“It was never supposed to end up like this,” you whispered hoarsely, tears welling up underneath your lashes.

“How was it supposed to end, huh? Fuck, you strung me along for six months—half a fucking year—”

“I didn’t fucking know, you ass! I wouldn’t have touched you with a ten foot pole if I knew who you were!” you hissed.

He laughed harshly. “You did a hell of a lot more than touch me, Dove. But after you got your fix, you pretended that this never happened.”

“You would’ve done the same, so this never did happen. Walk out right now and this will have never happened and we can go back to our normal, spiteful dynamic—”

“You’re out of your fucking mind, if you think—”

“You don’t understand, Sicheng! Can’t you see I’ll be ruined by this? That we’ll both be ruined by this? I can’t afford that!”

“So you thought to just leave me? With just a fucking letter and nothing else?”

“I didn’t know, okay! I didn’t know what to do!”

“You lied to me, Y/N. Fucking lied to my face!”

“I had to! Because you and I were never supposed to find out!”

Sicheng moved to yell, but clamped his jaw shut. “You lying, cheating, slut,” he seethed.

Your mouth trembled for a moment at the sheer vitriol that sprouted from his lips, but you stood tall. “You know what? Maybe I am. But I can live with that if you’d just fucking let it go!”

“You think I’d be able to let go of this?!” He cupped your jaw roughly and pulled you into a hungry kiss.

It wasn’t a smooth kiss—not one with even a hint of finesse. Lips smashed into lips, with tongue and teeth grappling against each other as his hands bruised your wrists.

Your back hit your desk and he swept your belongings off the desk haphazardly, letting go of your chin to lift you onto the desk with no effort.

“Forget my tongue on your skin? Forget my hands in between your thighs?” he murmured between hungry dips of his tongue. “I’ll fucking show you.”

He kissed down your neck, stopping to nip at your collarbone, and left a trail of stinging lovebites all over your shoulders. Sicheng’s hips pinned you into the desk as he popped each button of your blouse, hurriedly ripping it to the side to leave more hickies upon your chest and breasts.

You moaned as he pushed the cups of your bra down, using his wicked tone to swipe complicated patterns but never once touching your tips. Finally, he nipped at them hard causing you to squeal embarrassingly.

“S-sicheng,” you whimpered, gripping his hair as he pushed up your skirt.

The blond man carelessly pulled your underwear aside and thrusted two fingers in.

“Fuck!” you gasped, as you buried your red face in the crook of his neck.

You couldn’t see it, but you knew he was smirking smugly so your hands drifted down to his tented trousers and gripped his erection hard.

“You wanna fucking play? Let’s play, baby,” he grunted and hastily unbuckled his belt. His glorious cock sprung up in the space between your thighs.

Sicheng pushed your back down onto the desk, leaving him to tower over you. Without warning, he roughly pushed his cock into your slit.

You both groaned at the pleasurable friction. Fuck, how could you forget this? His length stretching you out deliciously? His broad shoulders heaving in exertion?

He bottomed out slowly, stilling as his hips pressed into yours. A sly smile glanced over his face as his hand drifted over your neck.

“Sicheng! You asshole, fucking move!” you said to him, thrusting your own hips weakly for effect.

His devilish smile split his angelic features, and he shook his head. “Wrong name, Dove.”

His hips pushed into yours roughly and you whined, scratching at the edges of your desk. Sicheng withdrew just as quickly and thrusted in again, watching the lust ripple upon your expression. He had missed the way your left eyebrow ticked when he brushed against your G-Spot, your nose scrunching as you clasped his shoulders. Finally seeing your full expressions fulfilled something in him that he didn’t care to reflect upon.

After deep, staccato thrusts that had you gasping for breath, he settled into a smooth rhythm. You slapped a hand over your mouth as your back bowed, thrusting your breasts up to his hungry perusal. Unable to resist temptation—the godless Tantalus he was—he settled his plump lips over your nipples, raised his eyes to yours, and sucked.

Even with your palm practically stuffed in your lips, your keen echoed around the room loudly and slick dripped down your thighs, making the desk underneath your bottom sticky and wet.

He tsked, lifting his head up and looked deeply into your eyes. A slight grin settled over his lips and Sicheng tilted his head mockingly. “Oh sweet girl, haven’t you forgotten we’re in an office?” His eyes darkened even more. “I’ll have to keep you quiet, then, whore.”

His featherlight touches on your rib cage was replaced with a bruising grasp to your throat, stealing the air out of you. His wrist settled into your collar bone and his slender fingers mimicked playing the piano, placing pressure on different parts on your throat to an unheard rhythm. The blood rushed to your ears, the dizzying sensation of it blurring your sight and distorting your thoughts. The veins on his forehand, twisting and rippling in the light, caught your vision and he moved—ever so roughly—into you.

Sicheng set a new pace, stretching your legs even wider and your head fell back onto the desk with a thunk. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe; you just felt the numbing sort of pleasure that radiated from your pussy.

“Fucking slut,” he gasped. “You’ve bewitched me, haven’t you? Wrapped yourself around my brain and haven’t let me so much as breathe without thinking about you.” His grip tightened around your neck. “I’ll show you.”

Suddenly, your phone on the floor rang and you both froze. He released the grip on your neck and bent down.

His back was like one of those old sketches the masters of the age practiced with, the light played upon his back and his muscles rippled under his skin—belying the power hidden within him.

“Who the fuck is Kunhuang,” he said flatly, wrath bubbling in his words.

You sat up. “H-he’s a friend. Nobody. No one.”

“See you soon, love,” he read mockingly. “Call me when you have time.”

Sicheng crowded into your space, your eyes jumping around to avoid looking at his incensed face.

“Kunhuang.” He spat like it was filth upon his lips. “You left me for him?”

Feeling his constrained fierceness and his frantic gaze, you pushed harshly at his chest and bared your teeth at him. “It’s not like that. He’s my childhood friend!”

His rage bubbled to the surface and his nostrils flared. It was all the warning you had before he suddenly took your hips and flipped, forcing a scream out of you.

Your chest and breasts now pressed against your desk. Sicheng tugged you down to his hips, lifting one of your legs to rest on your desk and exposed your core to him shamefully.

“I’ll take you from behind like the whore you are,” he stated. His rough tenor the grating upon your ears and scraping upon your skin.

He lined up and thrusted hard and you bit your lip, cheek against your deck and tears streaming down your face. It felt so good to be in his embrace, feeling every vein and ridge of his cock rub against your muscles.

Soon, you felt that feeling rising in your stomach, burning behind his eyelids as your orgasm began to build. His hands grasped your throat and he pulled, bowing your back to his chest and forcing his mouth to yours.

Teeth and tongue clashed and his cock hit this spot in you and you screamed into his mouth, tensing up beneath him as you shuddered painfully.

A grunt left him as he felt your muscles nearly strangle his cock and he only lasted a few, staccato thrusts until his vision went white.

Wednesday, February 13th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

7 AM HKT

You purposely did not look into Sicheng’s office window as you strode briskly down the hall with a coffee in your hand.

A few days ago felt like a watershed moment, but after you two had caught your breaths, the sheer amount of emotions in the room—frustration, satiation, anger, hunger—weighed upon your lips and forced them shut. He had quickly dressed himself, not saying a word, but he casted a glance in your direction that was undecipherable and left.

You, at the moment, did not know how to feel. Hurt? Angry? Sad? But you settled upon your usual solution: ignoring that anything had happened and resuming the normal.

Alas, the fates were unkind. They neatly disposed of your plans to avoid the man when the two of you were scheduled to meet with other sales heads in the afternoon. Unfortunately, when the time came to be, you and Sicheng were the first ones there.

He studiously avoided looking at you, busying himself by opening up his laptop and flipping to a new page on his legal pad. You ignored him as well, scrolling through the latest news on your webpage. However, as the seconds ticked by, you could not resist resting your eyes upon him. It felt like a damn magnet was pulling your gaze to him.

He looked good today, from the brief glances you stole at him. Freshly shaven, his hair was styled neatly and he was in a dark green, cashmere sweater. Was this your fate? To be shamefully attracted to a man that equally repelled you?

“Interesting.”

The both of you shot a look at the door, where an unrecognizable, lanky man with a proud, straight nose was peering down upon you and swinging a plastic bag in his hand.

“Chengcheng? What the hell are you doing here?”

Completely ignoring Sicheng, he settled his lidded gaze upon you before his eyes lit up in recognition.

“So you’re the one that has shaken him, then.”

Dead silence permeated the room. He looked at the two shocked faces, both ashen. “What? Are you going to tell me I’m wrong? Please. I’d have to be deaf, blind, and dumb to ignore the way you two gravitate to each other.”

Your two quick glances that were meant to be unnoticed clashed, resulting in your eyes meeting. You both turned your eyes away.

Chengcheng snorted, as if that moment confirmed everything for him, and he chucked a bag at Sicheng.

“You forgot your lunch, remember?”

Sicheng’s jaw tightened. “Thank you.”

Once again, awkward silence reigned and ChengCheng’s eyes switched back and forth between you like a particularly exciting tennis match.

“You two need to talk. You’ll both age prematurely at this rate, with the angst you two are producing. Talk.”

He left with a wave, striding down the hall casually and stealing many of your female coworkers’ gazes.

“... He’s right, you know.”

Sicheng’s eyes flicked up to yours and he focused his full attention on you. Intensely, he contemplated you, tongue poking at the sides of his mouth.

“I agree. We can meet—” he cut himself off, looking around surreptitiously. “—at Black’s.”

You sucked your lip in between your teeth. “Fine. Neutral ground.”

He took a good, long look at you, like a man seeing water after seeing nothing but sand.

“Tonight. At 8.”

Thursday, February 13th, 2020

Black’s

7:50 PM HKT

Strangely enough, you felt comfortable despite the jittery nerves under your skin as you walked into Black’s.

The receptionist had given you a knowing look as you repeated the guest password, letting you in without question. You strapped on the standard, white lace mask and steeled yourself, opening the mahogany doors.

The club was abnormally busy; the guests and members crowded the couches and loitered on the floor. The quiet string music that could usually be heard was masked by the loud chattering of the people in the room.

“Is that you, Dove?”

You spun around to see the smiling, wizened face of Mr. Liu.

A grin broke out on your face and you took his hands. “Mister Liu! It is wonderful to see you.”

“I am happy to see you as well.” He chuckled with his eyes gleaming fondly at you. “Have you decided to visit this old man?”

Playfully, you lightly smacked his shoulder.

Mr. Liu was an important figure to you. All those months ago, when you arrived at Black’s to be screened, as a potential member and straight out of a relationship with Minghao—broken, shattered, hollow—he took one look at you and said no.

Why? You remembered asking tearfully. Am I not pretty enough? Rich enough?

He searched your pale, wan face, as if seeing the emotional scars Minghao had lashed into you, before sighing.

You shouldn’t be asking me that. Are you enough for yourself?

Confused, you had asked him to elaborate. He sympathetically replied that he could see you were entering the club for the wrong reasons. You were different, he’d said. You looked so innocent that he could not morally allow you into the club, despite the depraved patrons that gained membership. He knew, at the time, entering the club would cripple you.

So, what now? You asked, confused. He said he would keep your file open until you came back ‘at the right time.’

The ‘right time?’

You will know it when it comes.

And somehow, you did. After a few months of picking the pieces of yourself together and stabilizing your life, you had grown into a physically and emotionally healthy person. The “right moment” came and you sat in his quaint little office again, opposite of a smiling Mr. Liu as he stamped his approval.

After chatting a few moments, the volume in the room increased slightly and you frowned.

“Why is it so busy today?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Do you know what today is?”

“No?”

“Today is the evening before Valentine’s day, dear girl.”

“... Oh.”

New information in hand, you looked at the scene more closely. You could see that some couples in the crowd seemed to curl into each other, the affectionate brushes and knowing glances giving you a sick, sick feeling.

And that’s when you saw Sicheng.

Even masked, he drew attention from the members—attached and non-attached. His lean, fit form struck a figure and you couldn’t turn away from him.

He looked directly into your eyes and only a few seconds passed by as you two observed each other.

“Sicheng somehow found out, hm? Clever, devious boy.” Mr. Liu observed the dynamic much like ChengCheng earlier. His gaze was enraptured how the two of you clashed yet sunk into each other, the way two tidal waves—in a rare moment of offbeat rhythm—struck each other and subsequently merged. Push, pull, push, pull.

“Listen to him and he will listen to you. You two match more than you think,” he advised, bowed, and sunk off into the backrooms.

“Sicheng.”

“Y/N.”

Frustratingly, his face was unreadable. Nevertheless, he offered you his arm (a surprising show of manners) and he led you to a place you had never seen before.

This place was much less pristine than the rest of the club. The wallpaper was older, much more faded, and the wood looked much more worn.

This was one of Mr. Liu’s apartments.

The pair of you entered a comfortable sitting room with the lights low, to which only large candles had been lit.

He made sure you were properly ensconced into an armchair before he turned his back towards you and made his way to the drink carts.

“Would you like something to drink?” Sicheng asked, voice measured.

“A gin tonic would be wonderful.”

After carefully making your drink and pouring himself a healthy 4 fingers of bourbon, he handed your glass to you and sat down in the chair opposite of you.

Silence permeated awkwardly and you turned your eyes towards the tapestry in the middle of the room, giving yourself something to do.

“Were those feelings true?” he asked, not looking at you.

“Elaborate, please.”

“The last night…” He looked quickly at you, before turning his eyes away and clenching his jaw. “The last night we were together.”

“Ah.”

Absolutely, unequivocally. Dolos was everything you had searched for in Minghao and, while your relationship was unusual, you could not deny the string between you two.

Something burned at your eyes and you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Yes. Then and now,” you stated, opening yourself up for an attack.

His eyes widened and the twitching in his fingers stopped.

“And you, Sicheng?” you enquired boldly.

“Always,” he stated without hesitation. “It was never something as trivial as pillow talk.”

Seeing as he was on the brink of closing off, due to his rare moment of vulnerableness, you wrapped your hand around his.

His eyes shot to yours, then to your linked hands, before tightening his grip.

“I don’t know where to start,” you confessed. “I… One thing that has always been on my mind—why did you dislike me so much?”

He smiled bitterly. “Sometimes, I forget that you don’t see the way I see you. You are a smart, dauntless woman, who’s pushed all my buttons. It all just built and built upon each other until I found you—Dove—here.” He pauses. “I projected my frustrations onto Dove—you—here. But never, for a moment, doubt my feelings aren’t genuine.”

You pursed your lips. “Forgive me, but I cannot accept your accusations of me being the office slut—very rude, by the way—were without malice. You constantly pushed me down, clashed with me in the workplace and you were just plain classist.”

Sicheng’s eyes were casted down, but his grip was steady. “I will not lie. Those words I spat at you were with malice. But now, in retrospect, they were nothing more but words of immature frustration that I channeled towards you. I know that I cannot take them back and they will forever linger in the air between us, but I can apologize and recognize those words were completely unacceptable.”

He angled his body fully towards you and clasped your hand in both of his. “I am sorry for my actions. My anger was misplaced and the sentiments do not represent me anymore. I am sorry and I hope you can forgive me.”

“And then what? What do you want now, Sicheng?” An edge of desperation tinged your voice.

He smiled bitterly at you. “Everyday, the smell of you lingers and I, like Pavlov’s dog, cannot help but feel an ache in the marrow of my bones when I see your crimson red lips. Every night, when I go to bed, you are seared across the back of my eyelids and I cannot escape you, even in my dreams.” He paused. “I want you, or whatever scraps you’re willing to toss me.”

A sharp exhale left you nose and you blinked rapidly. “I don’t want to get hurt. You get off on hurting people.”

“With your consent.”

“Say I want a completely vanilla relationship,” you challenged. He didn’t flinch. “What about then?”

Sicheng clenched his jaw and held your gaze fiercely. “Anything.”

“I hate that you are all I’ve wanted in a man,” you admitted unwillingly. He hummed. “Will we be each other’s destruction? Or will we be each other’s maker?” you pondered nonsensically.

“Aren’t we already both?” he retorted.

Slowly, without releasing his hand, you rose from your chair and lowered yourself into his lap. His eyes traced your every movement. For a few, brief moments, you looked into each other’s eyes without the obsurance of a mask or the encumbrance of a workplace rivalry. Your left hand cupped his cheekbone and stroked the skin underneath his eye.

“This will be interesting,” you said.

He gave no sign of reaction, but tilted his head into your palm and closed his eyes. “After us, the flood,” he recited.

Monday, March 2nd, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

7:50 PM HKT

A secret grin tugged at your lips as you looked across the table at Sicheng, who was intensely focused on the presentation your coworker was giving. Perhaps he’d felt the weight of your gaze on him as he chanced a glance at you and gave you a small smirk.

The past month in your relationship with Sicheng was equally fulfilling and frustrating. There were times where both of you deliberately looked for a fight or misinterpreted each other, but there were also times you could shed your layers and just be yourselves with the other.

Even each fight, where you or Sicheng stormed out, or broke things, you came back to each other at the end. Pushing, pulling, pushing, pulling relentlessly. The flood, indeed.

You focused back in on the meeting and contributed to the smatter of clapter for the end of your coworker’s presentation. As he turned off the projector and people stood up to leave, Xiao Daiyu—the interim head of the Sales department—stopped you and Sicheng.

“Y/N, Sicheng, please stay back for a moment. I’d like to talk to you about Mr. Lee’s replacement.”

You and Sicheng glanced at each other and you sat back down. A while ago, you had both agreed the decision wasn’t going to break the quiet relationship you had built. It was going to be sour. You knew, when someone was chosen, things could get messy and awkward. But this… this was too good.

Daiyu sat down and put her hands together. “After much decision and going through your interviews, the CEO has stepped in and we are sorry to say neither of you are getting the position.”

You jerked your head around to Sicheng and he did the same—wild confusion and anger in both of your eyes. Both your years of loyalty and dedication are being passed over?

“Instead, we have decided to hire outside the company for some fresh intake. He may be young, but it comes to us that he’s highly recommended and would fit in with our culture well.”

A sour feeling came to your stomach and you narrowed your eyes, resisting the urge to frown. They had decided to hire outside the company? This is how they decide to reward their workers? This was betrayal.

Glancing over, you could see Sicheng felt the same. His right hand grasped the arm of the chair tightly and you could see his knuckles turning white.

“I’d like to meet him and he’s coming—” She took a glance at her watch. “—right about now.”

A knock came from the door and a head of messy black hair peaked into the room.

“Daiyu laoban, great to see you.”

No. This could not be happening to you.

The wire glasses. The tall, lanky frame that filled the doorway. The almond shaped eyes hiding behind pitch-black hair, as black his shriveled little heart.

Daiyu, like the little bitch she was, giggled. “Y/N, Sicheng, please meet your new Sales Head: Xu Minghao.”

His eyes focused on you and your world suddenly felt tilted, careening sideways while the nausea hit you all at once.

“Nice to meet you,” he said cheerfully.

You could feel Sicheng’s concern radiating from him at your ashen face and look of shock, but you couldn't even think as flashes of blood and tears and pain shuddered throughout your body.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m pleased to be working with you!”

(”After us, the flood” or “Aprés nous, le deluge” is an expression from Madame Pompadour, King Louis XV’s lover.)

And it’s finished. Thank you. Please don’t forget to read, comment, and reblog. I love you all and goodbye.

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supremeuppityone · 5 years ago

Photo

Chapter 117: A Precious Vintage

Author’s note: This was written for Klaroline Bingo @klaroline-events. Prompt: Best friend’s brother.

You can read Part 2 here.

Bill Forbes died and the family fortune was lost. Now Caroline is desperate to keep her father’s charity afloat — without revealing her misfortune to Klaus, her childhood nemesis.

Warning: Some angst.

“I often think how unfairly life's good fortune is sometimes distributed.” ― Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace

The crystal goblet was cool to the touch, holding the perfectly chilled Dom Pérignon rosé. And yet it scalded Caroline’s fingers the longer she held it. Her family once owned goblets like these. Until a month ago, they used to own a lot of things. Her smile was little more than a thin blade as she politely nodded at Carol Lockwood who gleefully detailed the latest rumors about the contentious Gilbert divorce. With that vicious old gossip, she knew better than to appear as anything less than perfectly content in front of her. The last thing she needed was to have a breakdown about her father’s death in front of Mystic Falls’ elite. Or the cruel aftermath.

She murmured a few well-placed noises at Carol’s mindless recount of Miranda getting caught with Matt Donovan, a decades-younger bartender, and then allowed her gaze to sweep the grand ballroom once more. The charity auction’s glittering gold banners were crooked and if Rebekah was here, she’d scream bloody murder that polyester fabric had crossed the threshold of her ancestral manor. She loved her best friend, but her snobby side was almost as ugly as that dolphin tattoo she got on her ass cheek during that drunken weekend in Antigua.

Carol suddenly squeezed her hand, cooing insincerely, “Please accept my condolences for your father’s passing. To lose him so unexpectedly must have been just dreadful.”

Yes, dreadful. Especially the part where she and her mother learned that he’d fallen victim to a string of bad investments and now the Forbes’ fortune was almost gone. Caroline struggled to keep her face impassive, thinking back to how she’d had to comfort her mother just that morning when she broke down in hysterical sobs as they scoured meager apartments two towns over. They both knew eventually the truth would come out, and ferocious harpies like Carol would relish the news, but her mother insisted they keep up the pretense a bit longer. Especially since they were scrambling to keep Bill’s charity afloat and preserve his legacy.

“Almost as dreadful as the sight of a grown man drunkenly chatting up a dimwitted bird younger than his granddaughter,” an accented voice dryly interjected, causing Carol’s forehead to crease angrily, or at least as much as the Botox would allow. Muttering a terse goodbye, she excused herself, which normally would’ve made Caroline sigh with relief, but now she was stuck with her childhood nemesis.

She’d grown up with Klaus; affluent families like the Mikaelsons and Forbes tended to travel in the same social circles — especially in small towns like Mystic Falls. But while she and Rebekah instantly bonded to form a lasting friendship, her best friend’s brother was another matter. Blessed with a chiseled jawline and piercing intellect, add in the prestigious Mikaelson name and enviable fortune, and Klaus was one of the town’s most eligible bachelors. And a gigantic asshat.

“I hope you aren’t expecting a thank you,” she coolly told him, “The day I can’t handle Botoxed bitches like Carol Lockwood is the day I skinny dip in mashed potatoes.”

Gray eyes twinkling, he leaned in close as he hummed, “Now that I would pay to see, sweetheart. While I don’t share your odd affinity for mashed potatoes, I certainly can see the appeal now.”

“I used to love them until you dunked my head in the serving bowl at Thanksgiving.”

Klaus let out a long-suffering sigh as they settled into one of their well-worn arguments. “We were children.”

“You chipped my tooth,” Caroline hissed, snagging another champagne flute from a waiter.

He impishly clinked their crystal rims as he toasted her. “But what an enchanting smile you have now — as I’ve told you on countless occasions.”

“Usually when you have several desperate groupies hanging off your arm,” she scoffed, hating how she secretly craved their bickering. Even though he’d always been a cocky asshole, arguing with him somehow felt like home. With all of the painful drama going on in her life, it was nice to indulge in something familiar.

She rolled her eyes as she overheard Tyler Lockwood get rejected by one of the servers when he told her his yacht had a ‘bitchin’ view of the sunset’. For fuck’s sake, he’d been using that same bullshit line since they were in high school. She felt an instant connection with the girl and decided maybe that much black eyeliner could be attractive in its own way.

“Yes, well, surely you noticed I’m unaccompanied tonight,” he ventured, eyes darting anywhere but at her as though he’d suddenly grown shy. “I thought Rebekah would’ve mentioned it...” he trailed off awkwardly.

“She flew out last night. Alexander surprised her with a trip to Romania to hunt wild boar.”

He raised an eyebrow. “My sister is a vegan.”

“She thinks she’s in love,” Caroline retorted, hating her bittersweet tone.

Flashing a dimpled smirk, he mocked, “Rebekah falls in love every other week. It’s the only time she’s punctual.” He cocked his head, studying her carefully. She wasn’t sure what he saw, but his expression turned serious as he added, “Not like you, though. You’re cautious. Meticulous. Examining every possible outcome from each angle before you take a step.”

For once, she was struck speechless. Normally, interactions with her best friend’s brother were a bizarre mix of boisterous banter with thinly veiled hostility. This was new. She bought herself some time to process by taking a sip of the overpriced champagne; however, the familiar Dom tasted like ash. They used to serve it at every family celebration.

“Let’s get out of here,” Klaus said unexpectedly, gray eyes blazing with a ferocity that Caroline found intensely appealing. She blamed the champagne. “I’m thinking San Sebastián. Remember that little place overlooking the Bay? Akelaŕe, I think?”

A little half-smile touched her lips as she recalled how Rebekah’s brothers had tracked them down at the exclusive boutique hotel and convinced them to extend their stay another two weeks. In between the spectacular beaches and non-stop shopping in the local markets, they gorged themselves on Iberico carpaccio, delicate herbed soufflés and gallons of fruity txakoli and hearty crianza wines.

She also recalled the way Klaus’ curls had darkened when he emerged from swimming in the sparkling bay, water droplets trailing down his firm chest. It was a memory she reluctantly carried with her, unsure if the spark she felt when they teased each other could be something more.

He must’ve taken her silence as a rejection, because he quickly amended his offer with, “It doesn’t have to be a date; it could just be a friendly jaunt and you could plan our next adventure, sweetheart.” Right. She couldn’t afford to keep up with Klaus. Not now that they were from two different worlds. Caroline didn’t know what the future held for her, but she didn’t belong here anymore. And she couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the pity in his eyes once he learned the truth. “I can’t,” she softly told him, unable to mask her pained smile as she made her way toward the Mikaelsons’ lavish south garden where the charity auction was set to begin.

She chose a seat near the back, giving Elena and the Salvatores a wide berth when she caught part of a tiresome conversation about racing and how in an idiotic fit of one-upmanship, the brothers had purchased a pair of McLaren F1s to try out on the track that weekend. She also begrudgingly admired Elena’s bravery in showing her face tonight, knowing everyone would be gossiping about her parents’ ugly divorce. Of course, the Salvatores formed a protective cocoon around her all night, so it’s not as though Elena was truly alone.

No one would ever protect Caroline like that. Straightening her spine, she refused to give into self-pity, and instead let her gaze slide appreciatively over the impressive collections to be auctioned. Several charities had been selected by the Founders’ committee to benefit from the proceeds, and it was shaping up to be one of the most successful auctions in the town’s history. There was a Miró, several Richters, plus a giant Jackson Pollock the Mikaelsons were donating from their extensive collection. Sparkling Steuben Glassware, and even antique Baccarat with diamond stoppers rounded out the offerings, but it was the vintage Bordeaux that kept her attention.

It had been her father’s favorite bottle, purchased from the exclusive Travelers Vineyard the year she was born. It had held a place of honor in their wine cellar, and she’d burst into tears at least twice when she’d dusted it off for the auction. But she and her mother had agreed that Bill would’ve wanted them to keep the boys’ home going as long as possible. It was a cause that he was passionate about because his grandfather spent much of his youth in one, claiming it had saved his life.

The auctioneer held up the bottle, announcing to the crowd, “A precious vintage priced at just under $30,000. All proceeds will benefit Safe House, a residential boarding facility for at-risk youth. We’ll start the bidding at $35,000.”

Multiple paddles were raised, and she anxiously leaned forward, taken aback when Klaus bid an aggressive $40,000. He was sitting several rows off to the side, and gazed at her with an unreadable expression.

A few more bids were called, and Caroline bit her lip, excited that the money could fund the facility even longer than she and her mother had planned. “$100,000,” Klaus confidently shouted, flashing a dimpled smirk at the flurry of gasps around him.

She felt her heart thud in her chest as the auctioneer closed out the bidding. Klaus paid more than three times what that bottle was worth. Did he know it was her father’s? Mild panic flitted through her mind as Caroline questioned whether Klaus somehow knew about her family’s financial troubles. Was he secretly trying to help her? Or, maybe he just understood the importance of supporting charities?

It didn’t matter, she decided. Selfless generosity should be acknowledged and she was tired of fighting her growing feelings. She was ready to take that step. In a swish of black silk, her stride was decisive as she moved into his path. Her breath caught as she admired the perfect hang of his Tom Ford tuxedo. Her smile was hesitant even as she struggled to keep her tone nonchalant. “That was quite the display.” She watched his fingers toy with the old-fashioned waxed cork of the bottle, and she wondered if he’d like to hear how her father had taught her to make wax seals when she was little. Maybe on the flight to San Sebastián?

“It seems my plan to gain your attention worked,” Klaus told her with a seductive grin, flashing his dimples as her cheeks warmed. “You seemed quite fixated on this bottle, and I decided to raise the stakes just to see that lovely flush when you’re especially vexed with me.”

She nervously tucked a stray curl behind her ear, pleased that he’d been so attuned to her to notice the wine’s importance. He was someone she could confide in. Finally.

Klaus lightly wiggled the bottle in his grip, sighing dramatically as he said, “Elijah will have my head when he finds out I’ve purchased something so tawdry for our collection. These charity events are quite clever to wait until attendees are properly smashed so they’re more inclined to open their pocketbooks.”

Caroline felt her heart sink at his words. “What? I don’t...”

“No matter,” Klaus smoothly continued, “I’ll just toss the bottle in some dusty corner of the wine cellar and my dullard brother will be none the wiser.”

It was a punch to the gut, but she was proud of the way her venomous smile didn’t falter. This wasn’t her world anymore. And she’d never been more grateful to be reminded of that. “That bottle belonged to my father. He lost our fortune and we needed the money to keep his charity from going under. So, thank you for your selfless donation.”

Caroline was certain his chagrined expression would become one of her favorite memories. As she stormed off, she hissed over her shoulder, “And I hope you choke on your tawdry vintage!”

#kcbingo2020 #klaroline fanfic #uppity bitch fanfic #klaroline #kc does small-town old money #klaroline aesthetic #aesthetic

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marmolady · 4 years ago

Text

Growing Pains: Part Three

PART ONE PART TWO

Main Pairings: Estela x MC/Taylor (f)

Summary: Post-ending. For Liv and her mothers, Taylor and Estela, a turbulent period of transition is afoot. Set primarily in the distant future of 2033.

Word Count: 5678

More Liv fics here: Livita, Teething Problems, Milestones and Memories, Mutual Comfort, All That Matters

Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!

Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn, @mrsmontoya, @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @quinnkellys-wife, @greengroove

La Huerta, 2033

The sun slowly began to set, and a cool breeze came in from the sea. The reunion was in full swing, and Taylor, had found her way poolside, the traditional centre of all activity. The energy all around her was wonderfully refreshing after all the time she’d spent hiding herself away from the world; the sounds of the most familiar of voices as her friends caught up with one another, therapeutic. She was far too much of an extrovert to isolate herself; she knew that now.

Sitting down at the bar, it only took a few skilled flourishes of bottles before Raj was handing her a signature drink.

“It’s been a little while since I’ve had one of these,” she laughed. The joys of pregnancy. Worth it, but she’d be lying if she wasn’t a little relieved it was all over in time for the reunion. “Mm, that’s fruity! And just the right amount of kick to it. I say this every year, but you really do know me.”

“Another happy customer at the BhandarBar? You know there’s nothing I’d rather hear!” Raj beamed. He came around the bar and sat beside Taylor, sensing a need in her. “I feel like we haven’t hung out in ages-- last time I saw you, you had a baby on board. How has life been treating you, Taylor, my friend?”

“Oh, you know. My whole body gearing up for looking after baby, and then trying to tell it ‘no, that’s not what’s happening, here’; that’s been a bit of a challenge. My mood swings have been epic. I know she already did deserve one, but christ, Estela deserves a medal. Liv as well. I swear I’ve been like a walking hormone or something.”

“Well, if you need someone to lay it all on….”

He didn’t even get to finish. Taylor had her arms around him, hugging him tight. Where the tears were coming from now, she didn’t quite know. Maybe it was just a release of everything she’d been carrying these past months. But come they did, thick and fast.

“That’s it, bro. Let it all out. I’ve got plenty of shirts if you get boogers on this one--”

Taylor spluttered, laughing until she made herself choke and cough. “I don’t even know why I’m crying! That’s just me right now. A little bit useless.” Well, if you talk like that, you’re gonna be sobbing all night.

“You? Never. We have witnesses! You are definitely not useless. You just need a bit of Taylor Time right now. You’re allowed to take some Taylor Time.”

“For how long?” Taylor sighed. “Liv’s only nine-- sorry, nine and three-hundred-and-sixty-four days. That distinction is important to her. But she needs me. My body’s all geared up to be a mom, but with Liv I feel like I just can’t do anything. Some days I couldn’t even get out of bed.”

“Trust me. I’ve had those days. You know I’ve had those days. And listening when your mind and body need a rest isn’t a bad thing. If Liv was feeling the way you were, what would you have her do?”

Taylor pouted. “Who told you you could use my double standards to pep talk me? Fine! I’d tell her to be kind to herself. Every time.”

“So. What are you going to do?”

“Be… kind to myself,” Taylor said begrudgingly. Damn you, Raj. I can’t argue with that logic.

“We’re going to home-school Livi. For a year, use that time to reassess where we want to be in life. I’m a little nervous, but… I like that I’m going to be more proactive in her life. I’m glad I had Michael; having him was one of the best things I’ve ever done, but I want to be able to put my energy into Liv, and Estela, our little unit. Mostly, I’m excited. I am so, so ready to feel like a mom again.”

“Aw, Taylor-baby, you always were. But I getcha, sometimes you kind of lose a part of yourself in all that life throws up. And whatever life wants to throw at Liv, you guys got her back. She’s done all right for herself with you two.”

Exhaling, wiping away those stupid tears-- hadn’t she cried enough?-- Taylor nestled into a warm hug. Raj was a talented man, but no more so than in his ability to make everything feel all right. Together, her family had weathered many storms, and their bond would carry them through any still to come.

_____________________________

La Huerta, 2027

A resounding crack of lightning had Liv dive under the blankets, shaking in her Batman pyjamas. To her, it felt as though the storm had been raging for hours. Never had she heard the sky sound so angry. She burrowed under her Mama Estela’s arm.

“Mommy, it’s so loud,” she whimpered.

“I know, mija,” Estela said gently, stroking her four-year-old daughter’s hair. “But it can’t hurt us in here. Our house is strong and safe.”

The creaking of wood in the wind made Liv nervous. If the house was safe, why did it have to complain so much? Was it trying to scare her?

“It’s okay, Livi-sweetie,” Taylor soothed. “We’re all gonna sit this one out together.”

The family trio were sharing the big queen-size bed, Liv tucked up snuggly between her two mothers. There had been no talk of attempting to settle Liv in her own room; she was distressed, and that meant she could take security in the maternal bed.

As the howling wind became a frightening roar, Liv whined softly. At the foot of the bed, the little dog, Fenix, was sleeping soundly. Fenix didn’t have the best of hearing, which on this occasion struck Liv as quite lucky. The cat, Madam Mierdita, seemed more grumpy at the disturbance than frightened, growling and changing colours with every scary rumble.

“Hey, Liv,” Taylor said cheerily, hoping her easy tone would lessen the tension, “Knock, knock!”

Liv peered over the covers. Was now really the time? She’d humour her silly Mama Taylor. “Who’s there?”

“Europe.”

“Europe, who?” Liv asked, then her eyes went wide and she gave a shout of laughter. “Ha! You’re a poo, Mama Taylor!”

“No, you’re a poo!” Taylor chuckled. Saved, once again, by some good old fashioned toilet humour.

Estela rolled her eyes and shook her head exaggeratedly. “Oh, cariňa, you blow me away with your comedic wit.”

“Yeah!” Liv affirmed enthusiastically, apparently still oblivious to the art of sarcasm. “It was super funny!” She flinched at another crash of lightning, but didn’t hide under the covers.

“Well, my fan club, here comes another one!” Taylor smirked at Estela’s dramatic groaning. If it eased Liv’s fear, they could and would do this for hours. “Why did the toilet paper roll down the hill?”

“I dunno, Mommy. W-why?” Liv asked, her voice wavering as a rumble of thunder seemed to shake the very earth. But if the world was ending, it would surely wait to hear the rest of Mama Taylor’s joke first.

“To get to the bottom!”

On queue, Liv squealed with laughter. “You said ‘bottom’!”

“You know, Taylor, I’m sensing a theme here.”

“Hey-- toilet jokes aren’t my favourite, but they’re a solid number two!”

“Dios mío! Why do I feel like I’m in for a long night?” Estela reached to tickle Taylor’s belly, which served to push Liv ever deeper into her giggle fit. She could never adequately express just how grateful she was that their daughter had that gorgeous dork to see her through the scary times. Don’t you ever change, mi amor.

The storm raged on. Cocooned together in their humble sanctuary, the small family saw it out-- or at least, Taylor and Estela did. Liv nodded off amid the thunder and the lightning, the wind and the rain… safe in her mothers’ arms.

_______________________________

La Huerta, 2033

“Livi-- be careful!”

“I am careful!” Liv hollered down from a towering palm tree. She had everything under contro--

There was a thud, and the squeak of breath being forced from Liv’s lungs as she hit the ground hard.

“Ow.”

Taylor rushed over, but her view was quickly blocked by young Isla, who had gotten there first.

“Where are you hurt?”

“I’m not hurt, Isla. See?”

“Did you hit your head?”

“No.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three.”

“Can you move all your arms and legs?”

“Yes!”

“On a scale of one to ten--”

Taylor cut in, feeling simultaneously relieved and incredibly fond of her friends’ little nurse in training. “Thanks, Isla, sweetheart. I think we’re good from here. Right?”

Liv scowled and jumped to her feet as if nothing had happened. “I’m fine, Mom.”

“Oh, Livita, foiled again by your old friend, gravity?” Estela laughed from her comfortable spot on the beach. She’d seen Liv through enough bumps and scrapes to know when there was nothing to worry about.

Taylor snorted, and ruffled Liv’s short hair. “Gravity’s a bitch. Try and respect her in the future, okay?”

Gravity wasn’t just a bitch. Gravity was Liv’s nemesis. A literal pain in her ass. Someday, Liv had decided, she was going to get a pilot licence like her Uncle Jake. That would teach bloody gravity.

A yell distracted Liv from her plotting.

“Hey, Livia! Livia!” Reggie hollered as he pelted up the beach. “The big tortoise came back! Diego said we can feed him! Quick!”

That got her attention. The past two years, the mighty Shore Guardian had lumbered into their midst during the reunion, and it had been an incredible thrill. In an instant, she was off and running.

“Liv, when I say to be careful…,” Taylor started.

“I know!” she called over her shoulder, “ Actually be careful. But you know I’m not scared of some old Shore Guardian, right?”

The tortoise was colossal. Built like a tank; the peak of his pyramid-like shell reached the height of a man. It had come as an immense relief to everyone when the creature started appearing on La Huerta’s shores, that he was of a docile and placid disposition.

“Helloooo there, Shelly!” Liv called, clambering up and over the rocks, a bunch of glowing flowers in her hand. “I brought you a snack.”

“See,” Diego said from his perch, overlooking the beast, “I told you he’d come back. He’s pretty smart. He must know that the reunion happens every year, and that the reunion means kids bearing flowers. I think you’ve started something, though-- the Vaanti kids are all over this guy when he hangs near Elyys’tel.”

“He’s less scary than the yeti-bear. I like the yeti-bear, but Mom and Mom say I’m still too young to give her a pat. Do you think I should make friends with the Sea Guardian next?”

The Sea Guardian was rarely observed. It was something like a plesiosaur with scales all the colours of the rainbow, and even after more than a decade since Cetus’ demise, it seemed as though the monster was only gettng larger. Sighting the beast was something of a badge of honour for young Vaanti, with the bolder among them daring to touch its back-- some even managing to take loose scales when the beast was shedding. There had only been a few serious injuries over the years, but the practice was largely frowned upon-- especially by those old enough to remember Cetus’ wrath. If there was one thing everyone agreed upon, it was that they did not want another Cetus.

Diego chuckled nervously. “Better stick to old Shelly. He appreciates your friendship.”

“Yeah, Livia, you should look after the friendships you’ve got,” Reggie said, huffing and puffing as he came over the ledge. “It’s not like you’ve got many.”

“Hey!”

“Was I insensitive again?” he asked sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“A little,” Diego said. “Why don’t you come closer and feed Shelly with Liv?”

Reggie eyed the hulking beast. “No… no, I’m fine just watching. A good scientist never interferes with wildlife. You know Jane Goodall used to feed chimps bananas? But that was like… years and years ago. Now we know that is not the best way to science.”

“Whatever, Reggie,” Liv laughed, “but don’t cry to me when I’m Shelly’s best friend.”

Down on the sand, Liv could feel the enormous presence of the giant tortoise as he towered over her, sniffing.

“Good boy, Shelly. You wanna flower?”

Diego watched her, ready to swoop down and pull her to safety if the beast appeared bothered. “Good job, Livi. Nice and slow so you don’t freak him out. Like… like you’re Hiccup and he’s Toothless.”

Liv chuckled, and peered into Shelly’s mouth as it gaped open to take a flower. “I think he is toothless.”

“Yeah, but I bet his hard mouth could break all the bones in your hand!” Reggie piped up.

“Shelly would never,” Diego assured. “He knows better than to bite the hand that feeds him.”

The tortoise gave a rumbling grumble of pleasure as he swallowed a flower.

“How have you guys been recently?” Diego probed, keeping it light, but knowing that life had recently been a rough ride for the kids. “I heard Maia moved schools; that kind of sucks. She was pretty great.”

She was pretty pretty, Liv thought, though she kept that to herself. “I’ve been really sad and lonely. But it’s all better now-- we’re all back here! No mean dumbasses. I wish Maia didn’t have to leave though.”

“I decided I don’t like getting in fights,” Reggie said. “I am now officially a pacifist. But… I guess I’ve gotta make exceptions if people are gonna say stuff about my sisters. They’re only little. They can’t stand up for themselves.”

“Better stick to fighting with your words, Reggie,” Liv said with a little smirk. “I have never seen such a weak-ass punch in my life….”

“Hey, I did pretty good!”

“If I hadn’t jumped in, they’d still be mopping you off the floor now,” she laughed.

“Well, maybe I’m better at more important things, like actually using my brain! You should try it sometime.”

“Okay, okay,” Diego intervened. “Easy, kids! You don’t want to freak old Toothless out.”

Liv looked up at Shelly. He was calmly chewing on the last flower she’d offered him, not batting an eyelid at the raised voices.

“Tio Diego,” she murmured. “Can I tell you something? And Reggie-- you can know too.”

“Of course, you can, Liv.”

“Well… it’s kinda… embarrassing. But I know you won’t laugh. Not when it’s important. I like liked Maia. I thought everyone would laugh at me if they found out I had a crush on a girl. I know it’s not something to be ashamed of, but I was still… too scared.”

“You’re telling us now-- that takes a lot of guts,” Diego told her. “It is scary. You never know how people are going to react. Most people are pretty cool these days, but it only takes one mean person to make you feel sad and small.”

Liv climbed back up onto the rocks to sit by her uncle’s side. “Yeah. Some of the kids already teased me about my moms. I thought there would probably be at least one mean person.”

“That’s fair,” Reggie concluded. “I mean, you’re probably right. If they were jerks about Erin, probably they wouldn’t be any nicer to you. They already think you’re kinda weird.”

Diego put an arm around his niece, and she leaned close. After all these years, he could always tell when she needed a hug. “Coming out and showing yourself to the world should always be on your terms. If you didn’t feel ready, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. It means a lot that you feel comfortable enough to share with me.”

“Of course! You’re my tio. I can tell you anything. Even the things that are just silly and annoying… you listen anyway.” Liv sighed, and threw down her last flower to the great, lumbering tortoise, who scarfed it down eagerly. “I’m sad that Maia is gone. I thought eventually I’d be brave enough. I can be brave with stuff like protecting people who need help, but feelings are harder.”

“Feelings can be the absolute hardest. But we’re on your side, whenever you’re ready to share them. Me and Varyyn, and Reggie, and your moms. Your moms are so proud of you, you know? Being sensitive and caring can be tough, but those feelings are what make you strong. Your Mama Taylor told me you’ve been helping her get up every day when she’s been feeling really down. You make a difference-- a good one. You don’t have to be brave enough for everything all at once.”

“Thanks, Tio. You’re smart. No wonder you wrote like, two whole books. All teachers should be as nice as you.”

“Well, I do my best. And in the end, that’s all you really can do. Do you remember from Cinderella? ‘Have courage, and be kind.’ I’d say you’re both pretty good at that already.”

______________________________

La Huerta, 2031

Seven-year-old Liv reached out her hands to a stricken bird as it flailed in distress. The sound of it being slammed against the window of the house by a larger, more aggressive foe had made her all but jump out of her skin, but if something might be hurt, she had to get over her fright quickly and help.

“Hello birdie…,”she cooed. Her fingers gently stroked the feathers on its back. It stopped flapping, but its breathing was laboured, as if it was struggling for air. Blood had risen from its eyes and nose. “It’s okay… I’m a friend.”

Gently, Liv scooped the wounded animal into her hands and cradled it, crouching over the grass in front of her home.

“Tio Diego! Varyyn! I need help!”

Of course, her uncles came running. They were never far away when tasked with keeping an eye on her; by now they were too well aware of her propensity for wandering into mischief not to be.

“Livita, are you okay--”

“Tio, she’s hurt. I think she’s gonna die. This great big bird got her and hit her against the window.”

Diego was pretty sure Liv had heard the talk about not touching wild animals, especially if they were injured and likely to lash out, but the reminder could wait. One look at the bird told him it was not long for this world.

“She is dying,” Varyyn confirmed, sadly. He exchanged a look with Diego. “It’s very sad… but we must make sure she doesn’t suffer.”

Liv sniffed. It wasn’t fair. This little bird used to hang around their home, foraging in the garden Mama Taylor had grown. They liked hearing her singing and calling to the other birds.

Varyyn squeezed Liv’s shoulder. “We’ll give her a minute to see if she fades away on her own. Do you trust us to do what’s kind for your friend?”

“Yeah… but I don’t want to leave her. I think she’s less scared with me holding her.”

Diego put an arm around Liv. “That’s good. You’re making her feel safe. Everyone deserves that. Just keep talking to her, okay? Hopefully, she’ll go peacefully.”

“It’s okay, birdie,” Liv whispered. “You’re not alone now. You can go to sleep.”

The bird gave a few more rattling breaths, then was still.

“Tio Diego… I think she’s died.”

“Yes, she’s gone, mija. You did amazing.”

Liv wept, held by her uncles.

“Death is always hard,” Varyyn said gently, “even when it’s kind. You always feel the hole where there was once a life.”

“S-she shouldn’t have died! She wasn’t hurting anyone… o-or doing anything wrong… she was just in that other bird’s way.”

“I know. It sad, and it’s not fair at all. But you made her last moments so much better; that counts for a lot. Everyone dies sometime… all you can hope for is that you go feeling loved, and you made that happen. It’s like… the circle of life. Nature can be really cruel, but that doesn’t take away the good bits. This little bird probably helped lots of plants spread their seeds.”

“Yes. Even if your friend’s life was short; it had great value.”

Liv raised her head, eyes wide. “Her body becomes the grass, right? Like Mufasa said? She’s got to at least get to be part of the circle of life if she can’t live anymore.”

“Yeah… yeah, that’s pretty much how it works. If we leave her body somewhere nice where it won’t be bothered, she can feed the earth.”

“Okay. I wanna do that, then.”

A sombre procession carried the little broken body to the edge of the meadow. Liv laid the bird beneath a bush and draped her body with a fallen leaf. Then, she sat and looked over the resting place of her friend, tears filling her eyes. Varyyn was right; already there was a big empty hole. An echoey feeling right in her heart. Liv would miss hearing the bird’s chirruping as she played around the garden with her Mama Taylor. Hopefully, she’d remember that, not just this sad, sad feeling… of knowing she couldn’t protect an innocent, of seeing a life fade to nothing. Mama Estela told her that was important. That nothing should ever take away what was beautiful about something or someone once they’re gone.

She got to her feet, brushed off the dirt from her hands, then slipped one into Diego’s.

Bye, bye.

__________________________

La Huerta, 2033

“Penny for yours?”

Estela sat down beneath an old familiar banana tree, settling beside Taylor, who appeared to be a million miles away.

“Oh… I was off in my own world, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, it looks that way. But you looked happy.”

“I am. Just being here has been a breath of fresh air. I feel like I’m me again, and it’s been a long time coming.”

Estela gave a contented hum and rested her head on her wife’s shoulder. “I’ve missed happy Taylor.”

“Well, thanks for sticking by and waiting out for her. Happy Taylor appreciates it.” Taylor chuckled at the sound of Estela’s quiet laughter. It was infectious. Hell, just Estela’s smile was like the embodiment of sunshine, it made coming out the other side of her dark cloud all the more glorious. “I think we’ve got our Livi back. Or I think we’re on the right track.”

“I know we are. It’s been a slow decline… I don’t think I even realised how miserable she’d gotten until I saw her snap back to how she should be.” Estela shrank in on herself. What excuse did she have? She had one job; to keep that kid happy. She didn’t have a war to contend with, or the struggle to get by between pay-checks, and she still couldn’t manage it. “I should have done better. I’ve been trying… I’ve been trying so hard… but somehow I couldn’t make everything better for her. Or you.”

“Don’t you even think about it! No.” Taylor pressed a fierce kiss to Estela’s temple. “We hit a few bumps in the road, that’s all. I wasn’t counting on an intense case of the baby blues… or what might actually have been full-on post-partum depression. The timing was unfortunate; really, it sucked. But you carried us through. When Liv got suspended and I couldn’t fucking stop crying because I just couldn’t handle it, you did handle it. You’re pretty great. Ask Raj; he gave me a magic pep talk earlier, I’m sure I could rope him into a repeat performance.”

“Thank you. You’re good at putting things in perspective, I’ll give you that. I know I set my bar too high. Just because Liv has her struggles, doesn’t mean I’ve failed… it means she’s a human being. And that’s probably what we were aiming for….”

Taylor giggled. “Godammit, my otherworldly influence has been foiled!”

“Actually, while we’ve got a chance to talk… I was speaking with Aleister earlier.”

“Yeah, I thought I saw you two hanging out.”

“Well, it seems like we’ve inspired him and Grace. Reggie’s not going back to that school next year either. It sounds like Livi’s gonna have a homeschooling buddy here on La Huerta!”

“Oh, wow! Ohmygod, that’s perfect! It’ll be just like old times; almost half the gang back home again. And… and the girls? Are they waiting a year, or are they going to teach them as well?”

“You’ll have to ask them, but it sounds like they’re going to get started with Erin and Immy. It’s going to be so good for Liv.”

“Yeah. Really that’s… that’s wonderful. God, I’m so happy right now!”

Estela found herself laughing. Her dork was back. She took Taylor’s hand. “And then, moving forward, Aleister says they’re considering a permanent move to San Trobida-- obviously under the assumption that we’ll be heading in that direction ourselves.”

“Oh my… holy crap!” Taylor flung her arms around Estela and hugged her tight. Something in her knew right away… yes, that’s right. That’s where we’re all meant to be. That gut feeling overshadowed any qualms or fears. “Tio Nicolas is really not gonna know what’s hit him, hey?”

“No; and I think it will be a dream come true.” Nestled in Taylor’s embrace, the scent of her mingling with the La Huerta sea air… it was, to Estela, the very essence of happiness. The excited yells of children at play had her look up over her lover’s arms; there was her Livita, piggybacking little Erin through the shallows while the terror, Immy, sent up wild splashes of water at their faces. It was time to try something new. For them.

“Aw, ‘Stel, just look at them!” Taylor snuggled in, a giddy grin on her face. She needed a change, and she had a feeling that for her, for Estela, for Liv… it would be a step towards their best lives. The year to come, and even beyond that, was to be a thrill ride of the most exhilarating kind, and they’d take it on hand in hand. She exhaled her fears and sadness, and let the wind carry them away. “I really love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too, Taylor. Forever.”

_____________________

Midnight over the Celestial. Or rather, two minutes to midnight. The countdown to Liv’s tenth birthday was on, and the kids-- save for the two little ones who’d long been in bed-- were just about hanging onto the non-grumpy side of overtired.

Ten years. How could that even be? Taylor could see the years in her face and Estela’s, but it still could have been yesterday that they were interrupting the festivities with the announcement that… ‘uh, I think baby might be coming’. What had followed was a period of some of the most intense hours either of them had lived through, a culmination of two lives’ dreams and emotions. And at the end of it, Taylor had found herself holding in her hands the second love of her life. Her sunshine. As children do, Liv grew. She’d tested her mothers, putting pressure on their weak points and making them stronger. She’d brought them closer, something Taylor wouldn’t have believed possible… but sharing their daughter’s journey was like watching a miracle unfold; to be touched and changed was inevitable.

Michelle joined Taylor, a knowing look on face as they watched Liv’s impatient jiggling.

“Crazy night ten years ago… my one and only midwife job.”

Taylor chuckled. “Crazy, crazy night. The best night of my life. I don’t think I’m ever going to stop thanking you for getting us through.”

“Oh, you’re very welcome. Ten years on, it’s stuck with me. It’s amazing to see the young woman she’s growing into. I’m not going to lie, I’m proud of my small part in putting her in the world.”

That change was coming so fast. The transition from that rosy-faced bundle of cuddles into a bright, opinionated adolescent was going to be underway in no time at all. Even now, looking at that giggling ten-year-old, it was hard to imagine.

I’m going to embrace every moment. Every one. You, me, your Mama Estela, we’re on this adventure together. And I can’t wait to see where it takes us next.

Estela put her arms around Taylor from behind, smiling into her wife’s shoulder.

“Is it my birthday yet?” Liv asked, bounding over to them.

“One minute, mija.” She tugged Liv into the hug and covered her forehead in kisses. “Come here!”

The cake was unveiled, and the small girls, Isla, Erin and Immy, erupted into ‘ooh’s, while Liv did a dance in her mothers’ arms. Her family around her sang, all together, celebrating her milestone, and she knew belonging. She looked up to her mothers and grinned, face aglow with candlelight.

The future was bright.

#endless summer #estela x taylor #playchoices

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thiswasinevitableid · 5 years ago

Note

INDRUCK 6 PLS (sfw is prob more appropriate for this prompt but idc)

#6: their mentor just died (of natural causes don’t look at me like that). If I went to the funeral out of costume would they recognize me?

Indrid sees the obituary as he’s reading through the tiny, local paper, eggnog latte in one hand a plate of poptarts before him (his metabolism has been odd ever since he got his super powers).

Leo Tarkesian (1954-2020), passed away in his sleep. Mr. Tarkesian was a beloved figure of the Midtown Kepler community. He was dedicated to keeping the charm and friendliness of the town alive.

“And dedicated to being a pain in my ass.” Indrid grumbles.

A small funeral service will be held at Green Hills Cemetery, followed by a celebration of his life at the house of his long-time friend, Duck Newton.

The date and time follows, but Indrid keeps looking back at that name: Duck Newton. Or, as he’s known to Indrid, the Green Knight, superhero and thorn in his side.

Indrid moved to Kepler because it was a small enough city that he assumed there would be no heroes to get in the way of his villainy. Or, what everyone insists is his villainy: the disasters linked to his name were never his fault.

The thievery, art heists, and blackmailing of a few (corrupt) local politicians he takes full credit for.

Leo, AKA Lionheart, was mostly retired until Indrid appeared, at which point he took on a protege in the form of Duck Newton. Along with their friend Minerva (AKA Blue Thunder) they defended Kepler as “The Chosen Squad.”

In truth, Indrid does not bear Duck as much ill will as he should. And most of it is currently coming from the black eye he’s nursing, the result of his last fight with the hero. The man is noble, even as heroes go, never more aggressive than he needs to be, and (annoyingly) rather charming at times.

Then there’s the fact that Indrids powers of future sight have shown him glimpses of Duck’s daily life (those same powers are why he knows his foes’ secret identities, but they have no idea about his). A mild mannered park ranger, a good friend, a bachelor who talks to his cat in extremely funny voices.

He flips through timelines until he lands on what Duck Newton will likely be doing today. In each one, the hero looks worn, and when he wipes his eyes or his voice goes rough, Indrid turns his minds-eye away. Even obnoxious do-gooders deserve privacy.

Would it be strange for him to visit the funeral and offer his condolences? He’s fairly certain his secret identity would stay that way.

No, it would be ridiculous. Leo was well-liked, and no doubt Duck will have plenty of support. There’s no need for Indrid to put his identity at risk just to say “I’m sorry.”

—————————-

Indrid stands at the back of the clump of black-clad bodies. He found a black suit jacket buried in his closet, but no slacks, so he had to opt for the nicest black jeans he could locate. To be extra safe, he’s removed his trademark red glasses. He dislikes how exposed he feels without them.

The ceremony is indeed brief, Duck giving a short eulogy as the casket lowers into the ground.

Indrid waits, letting others speak with Duck in hushed, sad tones. Looks around the cemetery as he does; it’s peaceful, full of flower beds and stone benches, not overly manicured. It might be a nice place to come draw one of these days.

When next he glances back at the headstone, Duck is nowhere to be seen. He must have left for his house already.

Indrid tries not to be too disappointed, turns back towards his car. He’s nearly there when something black catches his eye through a clump of tangled rosebushes.

Duck Newton, alone on a bench, with the bearing of a man trying and failing to get himself together.

Indrid steps through the archway into the little grassy circle, at the center of which sits a fountain, barely bubbling.

“Tissue?” He produces a small packet of them from his pocket. A villain must be prepared for everything, after all.

“Oh, uh, thanks, uh.” Duck looks at him just long enough for Indrid to start worrying. Then he reaches for a tissue and wipes his eyes.

“You, uh, a friend of Leo’s?”

“Not really. But I went to his store regularly, and he was always very kind. It seemed only right to pay my respects.”

(It’s not a lie. Indrid’s loft is on the same block as Tarkesian’s General Store. So what if they were enemies, sometimes you run out of milk).

“That’s, uh, that’s real kind.” Duck keeps his eyes on the ground, and Indrid sits down beside him.

“You are the one hosting the celebration of life, right?”

“Yeah. Guess I oughta head over there, since it’s technically my house. But Minerva already went ahead with the first group of guests, and I trust her and…and well, I needed a moment of not havin to run things.”

“Quite understandable. I will leave you in peace. And I am sorry.”

“You don’t, uh, fuck, I wasn’t tryin to be rude, fuck-”

“It’s alright” Indrid holds up his hand to stop Duck continuing, “You are allowed to grieve as you need to.”

Duck looks at him again, this time more deliberately taking in his features, “Do we know each other? You seem real familiar.”

“I imagine we’ve passed each other on occasion. Kepler is small as cities go. Although I don’t get out often. I embody the reclusive artist stereotype too well at times.”

“You paint?”

“I draw, mostly.” He’s about to stand when Duck leans forward.

“Shit, someone got you good.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Your eye.” Duck taps underneath his own right eye, indicating the bruise.

Cursing himself for his oversight (his glasses normally cover the mark), he blurts out the first explanation that comes to mind, “It was the Mothman, the supervillain, I ran into him in a, uh, dark alley, and there was a fight.”

Duck frowns, “Thought he knew better than to go after random bystanders. Uh, fuck, that is, he honestly don’t strike me as the mean type. Just self-centered and hurt. Uh, that, fuck, that is ah, from what, fuck I’ve read?”

Indrid ignores the terrible lie, clears his throat, “Well, that’s certainly a kinder view than most people take of him.”

Duck shrugs, “Leo always said hero and villain shit was never as cut and dry as people wanna believe. He had the right idea. I think the Mothman might come around some day.”

“Perhaps.” Indrid murmurs, wondering if is inappropriate to ask ones nemesis if they could draw them; Duck’s face is even more striking without his mask.

“I ought to be going. My condolences again.”

“Thank you.” Duck stands with him, walks out the archway by his side before they each turn towards separate parts of the parking lot, “Uh, maybe I’ll see you around some time?”

Indrid can’t stop his grin, “Most definitely.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #prompt fills #superhero au

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lunermagick-sims4 · 4 years ago

Text

Huntress & Hunter (Part 3)

In life thing happen as they should. Zombies were meant to be here for a reason in this sim world. Was it meant to bring some sims together or tear them apart. Most hunters like to be by themselves but some need to have the company to make it more fun. But if it is with or without someone it is still the thrill of the hunt.

Blair’s POV

Blair been having a hard time holding zombies back and if she went up against someone bigger then her she would be taken out. She need to build her stamina and arm strength up. She turned her empty room she had into a work out place with a few different things. It has a yoga mat to stretch, weights to gain strength and a treadmill, well sometimes you never know when you just need to run. Even a vampire still needs to stay in shape. Blair worked hard till she was sweating like crazy.

She got into the bathtub to soak her body after that harsh workout. When she sat in that nice hot water her muscles seem to relax. She thinks she pushed herself way to far. After the nice soak to her muscles she got out and put on her sexy leather outfit and put her hair up today. She usually does not like putting her hair up but it seem to make this outfit look more fierce. She smiled in the mirror at herself she felt very sexy. She been going to the realm a lot looking for tomes with spells. She wants to learn many spell to cause mischief. She smiled wickedly causing blood is always fun but pranks and stuff even funner. She went down the stairs and looks in the fridge to have a bite. She found some fruit salad and nibble on that when she heard a buzz at the gate. She check and it was Jill Valentine, she helped her a few times when zombies got way to out of hand. She has saved her a couple times a while back. Blair buzzes her in. Blair finished up her food and made sure the place was tidy. She has not had company over in a while. Blair ran around the house fast, thank goodness for super speed. She was almost finished when she heard a knock at the door. “Coming” she yelled. She hurried around and when she thought it looked the best she could make it she went to the wooden doors and open them. “Hey Blair! Been a while how you doing?” Blair invited her in. “Been doing well. What brings you by?” Jill looked around. “I like your place. It homie” Blair thanked her. And they decided to go to the living room to sit on the couch. “I just happen to be in the neighbourhood thought I check on you.” Blair smiled. “You did not have to do that. Very sweet of you.” Jill came closer to Blair before they got to the couch. “Been thinking of you lately actually.” Jill said seductively. Blair smiled at her. “Have you now. Probably how weak I am and how you always have to save me.” Jill laughed and they sat on the couch. Jill put her hand on Blair bare leg. “You know your strong. You just were overwhelmed. It happens.” Blair felt a ting go through her. She has not been touch in so long. Blair smiled. “I don’t know. I am working harder.” Jill left her hand there on Blair leg and move a little to give Blair chills. “You will surprise us all. You are the strongest women I have ever seen. And very beautiful too.” Blair blushed. Jill started to move her nails around on Blair’s leg. “Jill.. I” all Blair could get out till Jill squeeze Blair thigh. Blair let out a small moan. Jill lean in and kissed Blair on the lips. The kisses started to get heated. Blair stopped her for a moment. “Let move this upstairs.” Jill agreed. The kissing continued in the bed and Jill pleasured Blair very much and Blair thinks she did a good job to pleasure Jill.

After a little bit of laying together talking away they decided to get dressed. “Jill that was amazing. It been a while.” Jill kissed Blair. “It has for me too” once they were dressed. They heard a roar that sounded like Nemesis, both the girls ran out with guns and weapons. Blair made the finally blow and got blood all over her. She felt satisfied having sex and making a kill made it feel amazing. Once everything was cleaned up she said goodbye to Jill. When she turns around Grim Reaper was standing there over Nemesis’s body. He looked at Blair “would you stop killing all these sims. I don’t have all day to reap souls.” Blair was pretty surprised by him. “Yea, sorry Grim but I will not be stopping anytime soon.” Grim growled. “You and Ragnar. Are such pains in my ass.” He took the soul and left. Blair thought “Ragnar? That a different name. He been killing as well. Interesting.” She went to the waterfall to clean herself off and headed to the realm after she was cleaned up.

Ragnar’s POV

It been quiet and Ragnar finally left the criminal career he was tired of being tide down but he made some good money while doing it. He is sitting fine and now he can do whatever his cold heart pleases. Ragnar got out of his coffin and figured it was time to get going. He looked at the clock it was passed noon. Sometimes sleeping helps pass the time. Ragnar got dressed into his work out clothes and went for a short jog. For it being winter it was still a bit hot out to jog to long. He loves this place the water was so beautiful and he loved this island. There was a house that had fences up past the water fall but he has never seen no one over there before and he probably get killed if he went over to greet them. No one can be trusted now and he needs not to play nice. Once he got his jog in he went out to the bathroom to get a quick shower once he was clean and got out he heard something a little ways from the house. A scream. Ragnar flew off to find what he heard. When he changed backed into human a women passed by saying zombies! Ragnar ran where the women came from and there was a few there. He saw a axe and grabbed it and killed the first sim zombie he saw and took her in the head. Another came toward him and he stabbed it a few times till it did not move and last but not least he grab the other zombie and stabbed it in the throat. He thought he was all done when he heard the roar of Nenemis. Ragnar growled. Hate this big guy. He got his gun and started to shoot. After a few rounds of ammo he finally went down. A voice came behind Ragnar and made him jump. He turn to shot and Grim came into view. “I almost shot you!” Ragnar snapped. “Would of not done anything. But I have a bone to pick with you” Ragnar scoff “Would you stop fucking killing sims! I am tired of reaping all day. I just had a talk with another chick and she see no point in stopping maybe I can talk some sense into you!” Ragnar only heard chick in that big rant. “What chick?” Grim glared at Ragnar. “Seriously that is all you heard?” Ragnar shrugged. “Sorry but I am not planning to slow down either.” Grim took the souls and left saying no more.

Ragnar has killed a few people and he noticed people talking about him and how he is a serial killer. They keep talking about him and the blue hair cat chick being crazy and how they feeling scared to see either of them. Ragnar rolled his eyes at the people talking on the beach. Most times if I killed it been zombies but everyone just sees killing most times. Oh well do not mind being feared either. I can feed off fear it is always nice. Ragnar laughed and started down to the bar for some drinks and fun. He finally made it and went in to get a drink. It was not as good as the ale at Del Sol Valley but it be best he stay away from there for a while after he killed that jerk the other day. So the Sulani bar is just as good. There was lots of people around and there was a fire going on over at the pits, people seem to be out and about tonight. He mocked at how human sims seem to try and forget about what’s really going on in the world. He had a couple of drinks and was heading out the door when he heard them, zombies had appeared and he was not surprised. People started to scream and Ragnar grabbed a weapon and there she was the blue hair chick. She was outside and a zombie went for her. She seem to be surprised by the sim who it used to be and she struggled for a moment and she pushed off the zombie. She seem to be in shock and not paying attention so Ragnar swooped in and killed the zombie. She gasp. Ragnar stabbed the zombie into the chest and it finally stopped moving. He got up and looked at her. “Are you okay?” She still was in shock. “Um yea. I could of done it.” Ragnar smiled. “I am sure you could but when you know the sim it a shock. It would knock me off guard too.” She looked at the dead sim and nodded. “I am Ragnar. What your name?” When he said his name she looked at him quickly. “You are Ragnar?” Ragnar nodded “I am Blair Nightwing” her last name was different. “Nice to finally meet you. I have heard many rumours of you” he winked. Blair laughed. “Grim not to crazy about us.” Ragnar bursted into laughter and Blair laughed too. Ragnar smiled at her and picked a rose and gave it to her. “I am sorry about your friend.” She looked at him and gave him a sweet smile and took the rose.

Ragnar thought she was stunning. Their moment was ruined very quickly once the cops showed up. “Get out of her, I will distract them.” She nodded and took off very quickly. She was there, then she was gone in a flash. He smiled watching her go. She is also a vampire as well, he thought to himself! He was in awe of her. He finally then remembered he needed to take off so he started toward the crowd of people who were watching the fire, hoping he could blend in the crowd. It was not long and those damn cops caught up with him and cuffed him. They called for a helicopter to have him picked up and it was not long before it arrived. “Damn it I guess you guys got me.” Ragnar mocked the cop. The officer said nothing to Ragnar and once the rope come down from the helicopter, he was handcuffed to the rope and lifted into the air. As Ragnar was being pulled into the helicopter he managed to head butt the officer who was controlling the rope. Ragnar managed to get his hands back in front of him so he went to the pilot and commanded him to land. The pilot refused so Ragnar broke his neck and he jumped out of the helicopter. The helicopter crashed and caused a huge explosion. It was enough ruckus for Ragnar to turn into a bat and the cuffs fell to the ground. “Why did I not think of that before” as he took off for home.

#ts4 halloween #ts4 story #sims 4 #simblr

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noelclover · 5 years ago

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Off The Cuff 04/08/2020

I found this article and wanted to talk about the weird turn it takes along with some misrepresentation I find in it. Quotations are in italics and it’s about RE3. Article from Rock, Paper, Shotgun.

The article starts out pretty well, talking about the game as reviews should. But about midway we see it turning rather weird, starting from about here:

The star of the show though, without a doubt, is Nemesis. Nemesis is the very archetype of the Relentless Brute, and looks like what would happen if Davy Jones from Pirates of the Carribean spent all his money on protein shakes, and then only had a fiver left to make an outfit for a night out at a BDSM club. But alas, Nemesis is neither safe, sane nor consensual: he would almost certainly be thrown out of said club, after being found endgame shitfaced, strangling a teenager outside the loos in his bin bag trenchcoat.

Given that there isn’t really anything sexual about the bio-weapon unless you have rather strange fetishes best kept to yourself, it’s really strange to see this comparison. For one thing, sure, Nemesis has always had this weird look to him. Clothing wise he’s got some belts on, but it always gave the impression of a straitjacket rather than a BDSM suit. Again, unless you’ve got a fetish which you should most likely keep private given that it’s Nemesis.

I guess Nemesis wants to kill you, but it seems incidental, almost, when it happens – a regrettable side effect of his true passion, which is to choke you, hurl you through walls, and just generally physically overwhelm you. All this mauling makes his presence incredibly oppressive, where it wouldn’t necessarily be were he just a super-efficient killing machine.

It’s... rather bizarre to put the aggression Nemesis has in this game like this. We know that Nemesis is a Tyrant (as in the bio-weapon class), experimented on to a higher degree. Like all Tyrants, they’re rather brutal. Not necessarily the most efficient, but most certainly brutal and Nemesis has that dialed up. The reason why he punches Jill is because (a) we assume that Jill is putting up a fight and (b) she has HP and if the game decided to ignore the fact that Jill has HP for all his attacks, which would be the case were he a “super-efficient killing machine”, we would get players complaining that he simply isn’t fair.

I mean, let’s be honest here, most of us don’t like the idea of instant-kill attacks, and while we’re probably alright with super bosses having an instant-kill or two, imagine a boss who’s every move is an instant-kill to demonstrate that they’re “super-efficient”. My rambling aside, at this point we can see the article going the way of “violence against women in vidya”.

I do kind of want to flag the whole “violence against women” aspect of Nemesis, and of the game in general, as it’s hard to deny it’s a theme, or that it’s presented with at least a little relish.

And here we have it. It’s very strange to call it a theme of the game, or something presented with relish given that zombies and bio-weapons simply don’t care for your sex, gender, religion or whatever box you want to place yourself into, they’re, in universe, there to kill you. Nemesis happens to be beating up Jill because she’s the protagonist who happens to be a part of the unfortunate S.T.A.R.S (which is super bad ass by the way. S.T.A.R.S, not the beating.).

Given that it’s an action game with a female protagonist, I really think stating that “violence against women” as a theme is presented in the game as really, really weird and feels like it’s missing the point.

But… yeah. There were moments while playing when I just felt uncomfortable. Jill isn’t too obviously a vessel for anyone’s fetishes, but realistic as she is, she’s clearly designed to be sexy. And she spends an awful lot of time being hurled into things, slapped about, grunting in pain, being asphyxiated, and either struggling to force assailants off her, or being graphically murdered by them. There was one particularly rough bit where one of the previously mentioned spider monsters strangled her with tentacles, then rammed a bigger tentacle down her neck to pump her full of parasites. Watching back through my capture footage for screenshots, I could hear myself mutter “not cool, man” into my headset. And it doesn’t happen to Carlos.

A fit woman who some may consider sexy is... found to be sexy. Surprising.

Again Nemesis is trying to beat you up because you have a HP bar and instant-kill attacks would lead to complaints, zombies gather on everyone, Leon, Claire, Jill and Carlos. Also, bio-weapon monsters out to kill everything kill everything.

What a surprise.

I would like to note that the segments where you get to play Carlos do not have any spiders so it’s kind of hard for said spiders to ram themselves down his throat and put eggs in him. Can’t exactly do that when they don’t exist. Also, for the record, if you consider the facehugger-impregnates-person moment to be sexual, that’s really on you.

I wasn’t even kidding on Nemesis having sleazy dom energy, by the way. Jill’s ex-supercop colleague Brad mentions Nemesis having a “hard-on” for her, and when Carlos is introduced – while saving Jill from a mangling at the hands of ol’ bagfists himself – he quips that Nemesis “knows what it wants, and won’t stop till it gets it – don’t you like that in a man?” “No thanks,” replies Jill, “he’s all yours”.

Except that it’s not completely true. Brad specifically says that Nemesis has a “hard-on for the only two S.T.A.R.S. left in town: you and me”. This, coupled with the context, changes things quite a bit. Nemesis does not have a “hard-on” for Jill, it has an obsession for S.T.A.R.S., which is why it keeps going, you know, “S.T.A.R.S.” and not “JILL”.

Also Carlos has been saving people and seems to want to keep himself seeming more warm and casual. You understand this as you play the game and get to know him better, he’s not really that big on protocol and he’s more than willing to joke around and be playful, presumably because this is an epidemic, a crisis and one of the easier ways of breaking tension is to use humour, however lacking in success that may be.

I actually liked the interactions between Carlos and Jill, and they worked well to dispel some of the general miasma of yikes mentioned above. Carlos (who is also sexy, though I can’t work out whether that’s because of or despite his ridiculous hair) is a prick. He wants to play the white knight, and Jill’s just not having any of it. Her dialogue never really strays into cringey Strong Female Protagonist territory while fending it off – she’s just a total professional, who’s too busy trying to deal with her situation to pay any heed to that sort of guff. She never feels like half the victim her death animations make her seem.

Except there’s no “miasma of yikes”, it’s the reviewer looking at this with a social justice lens instead of his actual eyes and using his head, thinking of the context and such like he should. I don’t agree that Carlos is a prick, though I do agree that he does look really fine, because he doesn’t present himself as such. He’s a capable guy who wants to help and has a more easy going personality. He does not force himself on her at any time.

He “plays white knight” in the sense that he’s a damned professional in a crisis trying to help civilians, who, surprise surprise, aren’t as strong as Jill is. Also, he doesn’t even know who she is when they first meet. When she has “none of it”, he backs off, doesn’t try to calm her down as he would a civilian and acts appropriately. So again, this bit of the article seems to ignore any context and what really happens in the scenes in favour of viewing it in a very, very specific lens.

Also, I’d like to note that Jill probably looks and feels like a victim in her death scenes because she’s, you know, a victim. Of being killed.

Who’d have thunk. Next thing I know, we’ll have to remind game journalists that people die when they are killed.

The article later goes back to a more regular review, so there’s not really anything to be said about it.

In all honesty, the only “miasma of yikes” I found was the article itself with the parts I mentioned and put up here. Seriously, please, context matters.

Now, I know that I do this once in a while where I post up an article that I want to talk about because I find it ridiculously flawed and lacking in context. But I really hope that whoever reads this, for whatever reason, to remember that often times you should really check something out for yourself, preferably the source, when you read articles. Check out more sites, independent reviewers, newscasters, whatever it is.

Despite what some jackasses have stated, context really matters and without it you can spin a story that feels rather different than what is originally presented.

#Off The Cuff

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the-lady-frost · 5 years ago

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Keys

A Resident Evil One Shot

Life After Death

For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one. -Kahlil Gibran

2006

The keys to the truck were the only thing in her hand.

She waited, breathing quietly, for the things to turn hot as if she'd extracted a smoldering coal from a bed of flames and placed it in the palm of her hand. The keys were quiet. The keys were the only thing left of him.

He'd dove from a window to save his partner. Like a hero in a story he'd once read to her as a girl, he'd died to spare the love of his life from her own demise. The dark fall of all that chestnut hair hid the lowered countenance of the woman in question.

She'd always been his Valentine.

He'd died to make it clear she was his heart.

The voice of the lawyer droned. Claire studied the key ring with a numb acceptance. He'd spent his life fighting. He'd spent his life pushing. He'd spent his life driving toward the end of fear.

He'd died clutching his greatest nemesis until the moment they'd struck the ground in an epic battle of good versus evil. There was no more Wesker. There was no more lies. There was no more evil.

There was no more Chris.

The statement echoed in her head. It rolled and stung. It clung and coveted space where happiness had once lingered.

Claire ignored the hammer of a headache beating at her temples in triumphant announcement. She stared at the keys in her palm and pictured the last time she'd seen him. He'd stood in the dying sun to show her the ring.

The little wink of sapphire and starlight white diamonds. A ring made of sea and sky to compliment the eyes and the favorite shades of his partner. He'd been so nervous. She'd never seen him nervous, but he'd been so eager.

Quietly, Claire had asked, "Does she even know you love her?"

Chris had shrugged and remarked, "Does it matter? I've waited all this time. This thing with Spencer...if he's there, Claire...the answers we'll find...it could open a door to the kind of intel that might bind us all together in a fight against bioterror. It could mean support from all sides of the globe. If we can prove that the T-Virus is just one stage of it...we can finally get the battle back in our court. Maybe..."

He'd trailed off. He'd stared into the horizon and laughed softly, "Maybe she'd like to have a couple kids with me. Maybe she'd like to...see the house Dad and Mom left us in Colorado. Maybe she'd like that."

Claire had felt her throat close up as she encouraged, "Yeah...yeah, maybe she'd like that. She's a fucking idiot if she doesn't."

"I'm gonna ask her...when we get back...I'm gonna ask."

He'd never asked.

He'd taken that ring with him to the grave.

After his funeral, she'd never found it. She had to assume it was on him when he died. She had to assume he'd died with the promise of Jill Valentine in his pocket. He'd died so she could live.

It was the only way Chris Redfield knew how to be.

Claire closed her fingers over the keys and turned away from the lawyer. She was done listening. She was done hearing. She didn't want platitudes and sympathy and courtesy offers of condolences.

She was done.

She just wanted her brother.

And he was dead.

She passed by Jill and paused. Teeth clenched, she told the brunette, "...you better be worth it."

Jill shivered in grief and murmured, "I'm not. I've never been."

"He thought you were...so get your ass out there and prove it."

Claire opened the door on the big black Dodge Ram. It was littered with his things. He had a scattering of change in the ashtray. There was a half empty bottle of Mountain Dew on the floorboard. The visor was pulled down with a pair of Oakleys in black tucked over it. A pair of boots were tossed negligently in the back seat, scuffed and well loved. Dogs tagged dangled from the rear view mirror and a lighter lay uselessly on the dash.

Claire touched the button on the glove box and wasn't failed by her brother even in death. A half smoked pack of Marlboro Reds greeted her along with a wad of papers of bills that he'd left unpaid. Claire pulled one of the carcinogenic sticks and put it between her lips. She struck it up with S.T.A.R.S. zippo on the dash and inhaled sharply.

Her gaze traveled to the center console. Her hand touched it to open it up and show a wadded up B.S.A.A. t-shirt. She pulled it free, relatively sure he'd worn it before work one day before he'd changed into his uniform. She lifted it to her nose and inhaled.

The scent of him surrounded her like a ghost. The cigarette plumbed smoke into the air as she clutched the soft fabric to her face and curled her body forward around it. She hadn't cried once since they'd put him in the ground.

Not a single tear.

The smell of him made her chest seize worse than her lungs inhaling the smoke. She made a small sound of grief and loss.

She cried clinging to the scent of her brother in the cab of the only thing in the world left that she had of him.

She would mourn him for the rest of her life.

She wasn't sure how she went on without him.

It was his heart that stopped beating, but it was hers that was in the grave beside him.

.......

"If you listen...you can hear them sometimes."

He knelt beside her as the blanket of stars twinkled happily in a velvety sky. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. You don't have to use your ears, Chris. You just...you use your heart."

"My heart has ears?"

Claire giggled sweetly, "Of course it does, silly. Your heart has everything. Eyes, ears, fingers...and it remembers how they felt and how they sounded...and how they smelled...it never forgets. Your heart has a brain too."

She felt his cheek lay on the top of her head. She felt his hands tremble and his voice was hoarse as he answered, "C-Bear...you just might be the smartest girl in the world sometimes."

"I know...I get that from them too. You know what you got?"

"...black hair?"

She laughed and hugged him, "...me."

She felt the wet plop of tears on her hair as he squeezed her so tight it made her squirm a little, "Yeah, I did. Maybe they'll tell me how to make sure I never forget it."

"Just use your heart...it will always remember."

"...promise me you'll do it for me if I ever forget."

Claire lifted her head. She smiled while two pairs of the same eyes held on to each other. "...I promise. Whenever you can't...I'll always remember."

..........

The field kicked up chunks of mud and snow. She whipped the wheel and plowed through the ravaged earth. The sun peaked cleanly through the winter clouds. It watched her madness with a kind of quiet judgment.

It was the same kind shared by the man who emerged from the tree line as she jerked the truck to a halt with a squeal of tires. The engine ticked as she threw open the door and climbed out. The cold slapped her face with frigid palms as she called, "What do you want, Kennedy?! You come out here looking for a truck to wreck? This ones taken."

He tilted his head at her. The navy peacoat he wore was fashionably him. It was topped by a scarf in pretty red that made his blonde hair look gold in the dim winter light. The naked trees over his shoulder highlighted the beauty of that perfect face as he mused, "Only one of us on a path of destruction here, kid. You planning to survive the fallout?"

Claire shrugged and stuck a cigarette in her mouth. "Who cares? I'm alone right? I'm repellent for anyone who matters. My parents, men, my brother...they all die and leave me...or they betray me. So will anyone even notice?"

The corner of his mouth quirked, "You been hanging around inside my head lately, CB? Those sound suspiciously like my thoughts and not yours."

She scoffed and accepted the deft flick of the zippo he pulled from his pocket. She inhaled and let him pluck the smoke from her lips to help himself to it. They shared it in silence until she mused, "You see they made Valentine a Captain?"

"...I did." Quietly. No judgment. There seldom was with Leon. He was just that guy. He didn't judge. He just listened.

Claire laughed harshly, "And they awarded my brother a Medal of Bravery. A medal...posthumously. What fucking good is a piece of useless metal? He can't wear it. He's rotting in the ground. They think I'll pin it to his bones?"

Leon shrugged a shoulder, "You do what you want with it. It's yours. It's just an honor, Claire, not an insult to his memory."

She barked out a laugh, "Honor. He dies, she lives, and she takes his command, his company, and his fucking place. He loved her. He loved her and she never loved him back! "

Softly, Leon mused, "...that's rough stuff there."

"Yeah, it is! He was so stupid! Why did he do it!? She mattered more than me!? She's fine! She's fine! But what about me!? Huh? What about me..." Her voice trailed off as the anger hummed around them, "...what about me...you son of a bitch..."

Quietly, Leon soothed, "Redfield's are pretty stupidly stubborn sometimes."

Claire laughed angrily, "No shit. Blind as he was brave."

"Hmm. I think he thought what we all do."

She turned her ravaged gaze to him, imploring, "What? What was he thinking?"

"...that you're the strongest woman he's ever known. That he'd made sure of that. That you took what he taught you and became a warrior. He knew you'd survive him, Claire, because he knew you'd never forget him."

She was so quiet watching him, that he finally added, "He knew you'd keep on living...because that's what we do."

"It's not enough. I need more than that."

His head tilted, "...what do you need?"

The wind rolled around them. It was cold and painful. It was bitter. Like she was.

Leon watched her so gently that she kinda hated him. She envied his tranquility. She wanted it. She wanted anything to alleviate the rage and the loss that ate around her belly with teeth made of regret.

She'd heard the whispers about Leon. She knew what people said. He was cold. He was cut off. He didn't get involved. He didn't date women.

But he sure did fuck them.

She'd steered clear of him all these years because she'd felt something that first night in Raccoon. She'd felt it and she'd gone after Chris and made her choice. She knew she'd burned that bridge back to him. He'd remained her friend, but the idea of lover had been crossed off the moment she'd picked family over him.

She'd heard he was a guy who was really, really good at the one night stand.

She needed anything to take the edge off the misery pooled in her heart. So, she just threw it at him like a bullet, "Take me home."

He studied her. The wind kicked up. It curled up snow around their boots. He could have said no. She had no clue where his car was. She had no idea how he'd gotten there. He could have said no.

Instead, he said, "Give me the keys."

And she gave those keys of her brother's to the only other man in her world she trusted to drive his truck.

He had a reputation for wrecking things.

She was hoping he'd wreck her.

She figured he'd come to his senses before he went through with it. After all, all these years and they'd never touched each other like that. He'd tell her no and talk her down.

He didn't.

She tossed Chris' keys on the table in the living room and backed into her bedroom. He followed her, a predator, shedding clothes as he walked. Her heart, aching like it had been, started to pound painfully behind her breast.

She whispered, "Where do you want me?"

He tilted his head. She licked her dry lips and cleared her throat. She tossed her clothing as she turned on the shower and joined him again in the bedroom. All she wore now was her undershirt and panties.

Naked, he was somehow more beautiful than clothed. She warned, hoarsely, "You aren't gonna tell me I'm grieving?"

"...no."

"You think this is a mistake?"

His head tilted again, "Do you?"

"...fuck no."

"Then tell me how you want it."

Claire felt her breath hitch and her body go wet just waiting for him. "...take me."

"...and?"

"Make it hurt."

"My pleasure."

He came toward her like a lion stalking a gazelle.

The shower was pumping steam into the quiet room. His hands tossed her over his shoulder like she was nothing. He walked them both into it while quaked above him.

What words were there in this moment?

He almost threw her against the wall to kiss her. She grabbed handfuls of his ass to rub him against her belly like a pervert.

He grunted with pleasure and ripped the tiny shirt she wore. He ripped it, right down the middle like it was nothing, it came apart in his hands like flimsy paper. She started to bicycle her legs to get her panties off and he didn't bother to wait for her to finish, he speared his hand into her panties and crudely thrust two fingers into her. She was ready but not ready. Her body clamped around his invading digits even after a cry ripped from her throat in surprise.

He didn't give her a chance to say no, to fight him off, to do anything. He finger fucked her so mercilessly as she tried to get her panties off her lower legs but they were wet and stuck to her ankles like glue. She grabbed at his arms to try to hold herself up? To try to make him wait until she was ready? She had no fucking idea what was happening. She knew only that he drove those fingers into her, cupping his palm against her groin, his thumb shifting to sweep between the damp lips of her sex and brush back and forth over the apex of her body.

His free hand lifted to settle around her throat, his thumb driving against the soft underside of her chin, angling her face back to take more of his tongue. She couldn't get her eyes to close, they were rapturously fastened to his face as he slammed her against the tiled wall and forced himself on her. Forced? No. Force implied a lack of want on her part. She'd not only wanted him, she was dying with it. He simple poured that desperate passion over the top of the both of them until they were drowning.

He ruthlessly drove her body to the peak of pleasure and just when she was about to go over, he shifted. His hand grabbed at her hips and jerked. Her lower body humped forward from the force of it.

He dropped to his knees in the humid, heated, wonderful water. She couldn't think, didn't think. He put his mouth to her and she tried to fall down. He didn't let her, he shifted both her thighs until they were over his shoulders. Her hands scrambled to find something to grab above her and settled on the shelf where the shampoo set.

It fell with a clatter to the ground as she knocked it down in her haste. He jerked her groin to him and feasted on her. Undone she could do nothing but hold on to that shelf and cum. She came, bowing, bucking against his face. His left hand was at her breasts, mounding and taunting, pulling and teasing and taking. His mouth was merciless; it joined his right hand in thrusting into her, over her, through her. Her thighs quivered, pressed against the sides of his head while he ripped her apart one clever, wonderful thrust and bite at a time.

She came screaming while he drowned them both in need.

She could barely stand as he rose. Her thighs tried to snap together and he turned her, roughly, forcing her hands to splay on the wet tile. Her clothes were ripped and useless on her skin. The undershirt still around her shoulders like some kind of flimsy jacket. Her hand snapped back behind her to join his on the length of his dick as he smeared it over her back almost playfully.

He set his teeth into her shoulder as he moved behind her and ran the hard, aching length of himself over the curve of her ass. She shuddered, threw the other hand back and drove her nails into his flank, encouraging him.

His voice was rough, "Condom?"

She shook her head desperately, "No. No. God, no. Just like that. I wanna feel it."

He grunted, "Put me in you, Claire."

She obeyed, angling him into the needy oval of her body as the thunderous spill of water cocooned them.

Christ..how long had they waited?

Too long.

Why hadn't she fucked him after Raccoon? She couldn't think. She couldn't feel anything but the want he shoved into her like he'd shove his dick.

She made a small sound of want and gasped, "Use me. Ok? Use me."

Bracing both hands on the wall beside her, he pushed himself into her body. She gasped, bowed against him, and he sheathed himself into the heat of her to the hilt. He held himself there, spitting her on his body while he gained enough control to not pound her to death against the wall.

She felt him put his forehead against the place where her neck and shoulder met, felt him gather his resolve. Claire turned her head, nuzzled at his face, and took his mouth in a long, wet, tongue thrusting kiss. She rocked back against him, encouraging. She didn't think she'd ever know anything more wonderful than what it felt to feel him thick and deep inside her.

She moved her hips and pulled herself nearly off before pushing herself back on him. His hands moved down and jerked her hips back. He lifted her to her tip toes, angled himself better, and rode her. It was slow and torturous. He went out, he rode in, he caused them both to nearly die with the aching slowness of it.

She humped back against him, desperate. He shook his head and kept the pace slow and steady. She was nearly undone when she pulled away from him. She turned and leaped on him. He caught her, easily, and she took his face and raped his mouth with hers. He was laughing delightedly at her as he pressed her back against the wall and speared her with himself.

They clashed together now, desperate and fast. They ended up across the floor of the shower with her atop him and the water trying to drown them both. She stole his sanity, blanketed them both in that humbling, skin stealing, soul raping rush of greed she felt for him. She held him down now with his arms over his head as she fucked him, forcing his body into hers fast and deep and constant. He was making some sound in his throat, trapped beneath her; a willing victim. He felt her tighten, felt her orgasm as it ripped through her body, and out of her mouth in a desperate cry.

He lifted his upper body off the ground and wrapped his arms around her waist. He surged twice more against her and pressed their mouths together hard enough to bruise if she didn't open for him. She did and his tongue surged inside. He filled her mouth with his desperate gasp and jerked her hard down on him. The slap of skin was musical in the pounding water.

Her wet clothing slapped obscenely.

It felt like they'd waited a life time for a handful of moments together.

It felt like her heart could hear the life inside of both of them.

She wasn't dead. She was just dying and Kennedy was a hero. He saved girls.

He was saving her by fucking her back to life.

........

The keys in her hand were heavy. She clenched her palm around them as the nurse gave her a beautiful smile.

"Is that to your truck?"

Quietly, Claire whispered, "My brother's...my brother's truck...well...I guess it's mine now."

The nurse smiled happily, "Well, I sure hope it has a back seat."

Claire nodded numbly, "...I-yes. Yes it does...yes."

"Good. It's not safe to put a baby seat in the front...the air bags, ya know? Dangerous."

Claire stared at the thing in her other hand beside the keys. The little blob of white on a black background. The nurse leaned over and touched the picture, "See that? That's the heart. You can see it beating."

The heart. The heart beating.

The heart of her baby.

She touched the tiny white blob and clutched the keys.

She'd always wanted children. Always. The timing had never been right. The world...it hadn't allowed it. She'd always wanted them. She'd nursed baby dolls while other girls had planned their weddings.

She'd never needed a man...but she'd always wanted a child. She'd tell Leon. If he didn't want...well...that didn't matter either. She wanted. She wanted him and this baby...but she'd survive if he didn't feel the same.

She'd carry her child in her brother's truck. The only thing in the world that mattered inside the only thing in the world she had left of the man who'd been her world once. Her world inside her world...inside her womb.

Jesus.

The heart never forgot.

And neither would the baby she'd raise to remember.

She paused on the steps of the hospital with the truck waiting for her to drive it and remember.

Leon Kennedy waited in that coat in the cold. He tilted his head at the picture in her hand. "...what do you need, kid?"

Claire clutched the keys in her fist and smiled, shakily, "...I don't wanna be blind anymore. You sure you wanna take me on?"

His teeth flashed, "You're the one who left that night...all you had to do was look back once..."

"And?"

"...and I'd have gone out a window for you."

Her heart stuttered. She felt her eyes swim with tears. "I wanna name him Chris."

Leon heaved out a heavy breath and a laugh, "...god help us all. The Redfield lineage continues."

She clutched her keys so tight she was afraid they'd pierce her palm. "Yeah...it and never forgets."

She came down the stairs. She climbed into her brother's truck beside the man who'd climbed into a nightmare beside her. She took his hand to place it on her belly as she drove.

Chris' shirt was folded in the back seat. His dog tags jingled on the rearview mirror. He was all around her. Him, their parents, their love...it was all pieces of her she'd never forget.

With the man beside her and that hope inside her, it was the first time since Raccoon City she knew there was life after death.

All because he'd given her the keys to his truck...and allowed her drive into her future.

#cleon #claire redfield #residentevil #leonskennedy #biohazard #theladyfrost #oneshot

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somuchtowrite · 6 years ago

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27 for the short stories?

27. write about two twins, onewho’s a superhero and one who’s a super villain.

this one was wayyy too much fun. first of all, i love writing twins because sibling dynamics, and second of all, superheroes?? sign me up!! also, sorry if there are a bunch of combined words?? apparently when you copy and paste from microsoft word it gets all weird on mobile://

(looking back at this i definitely use italics way too muck skskksk)

words: 1367

“Ow! Jesus, watch it!” Red Lightning yelled as a piece of stray glass sliced her arm. The blood soaked into her sleeve, blending into the crimson fabric as if it wasn’t there at all. It was just a tiny cut, sure, but even if she couldn’t see it, she could certainly feel it.

“I did watch it, and as usual, I hit right on target,” her nemesis said as she pranced out of reach, narrowly missing a punch right in the gut.

Red Lightning rolled her eyes. “You weren’t even aiming! Did you even mean to break the window, or was it an accident like you?”

“What? You were the accident!”

“I’m the older twin, how could I be the accident?”

“Even if you’re not the accident, you were still the mistake.”

Red Lightning’s jaw dropped. “God, you suck. I’m telling mom.”

“’I’m telling mom,’” Aquakill mocked.

“Do you know how heartbreaking it is to see my own face making fun of me? This is insecurity personified and I can’t say I’m a fan.”

Aquakill narrowed her eyes disbelievingly before going back to wreaking havoc.

Red Lighting—Abigail Zhao, as her friends knew her—sighed. She always knew she was the better twin, but this was just too much.

“Chrissy! Stop!” she called after her, breaking into a sprint.

Christine looked over her shoulder and shot Abigail a glare. “Stop calling me that! It’s Aquakill!”

“That’s the lamest supervillain name you could have come up with and you know it! God, you’re so embarrassing.”

“Shut up! I literally watched you google cool superhero names at one in the morning, so you can’t talk.”

Abigail scowled. She held up her hands, palms crackling with scarlet electricity waiting to be unleashed. Not that Christine was paying her any mind. She was too busy causing traffic delays on her way to the park, where they were scheduled to reveal the city’s tribute to Red Lightning in less than twenty minutes.

Abigail didn’t particularly want a tribute dedicated to her. But she still wasn’t about to let her idiot sister destroy it and half the park if she could help it.

Wishing that she had signed up for cross country freshman year instead of advanced drama, Abigail pumped her legs in a struggle to keep up. Christine had always been more athletic than she was, even when they were kids, which in Abigail’s opinion was an unfair advantage. How was she supposed to know they would end up with superpowers on opposing sides?

One thing was for sure: drama nerds got winded easily. And Abigail didn’t exactly have time to catch her breath.

Christine cackled as two cars almost collided in her wake, forcing Abigail to vault over them with a quick, apologetic shrug to the drivers. Her breaths came out in short pants and her calves screamed—she wasn’t sure how long she could keep running and Christine wasn’t showing any signs of waiting up.

Remembering the electricity still crackling in her hands, she hurled them at her sister, praying they would hit their mark while at the same time knowing they wouldn’t. On top of never doing any sports with running, she also couldn’t throw a ball to save her life.

“Missed me!” she heard, the voice getting steadily farther away.

Abigail cursed under her breath and willed herself to go faster, ignoring the way her lungs screamed at her to stop. The park was in view, the soon to be unveiled statue standing right near the front gates.

By the time she made it from asphalt to grass, Christine was already causing a panic. People screamed, parents desperately trying to herd their children away from the threat. Abigail grimaced at the amount of little Red Lightning costumes there were, knowing it was partly her fault they were in danger in the first place.

After all, what was a villain without a hero?

But it wasn’t as if she could just duck out at that point. When her sister put her mind to something, she wasn’t one to let it go until she saw it done. Apparently, today she wanted to be as much of a pain in the ass as she could manage. And she was doing a splendid job at it.

Christine rose up on a pillar of water, towering over the trees lining the path and looking down at the crowd. “I’d make a run for it if I was you,” she called out to a nearby college student, who stumbled back in terror before bolting in the opposite direction.

Abigail huffed. If there were any perks to living with your mortal nemesis, it was that they knew each other inside out. So she knew that Christine was all talk.

“Come down here and face me! Or are you too scared?”

Unfortunately, that also meant Christine knew all of Abigail’s tricks. “Nice try, idiot.”

“Coward!”

“Try hard!”

“Aquaman wannabe!”

Christine gasped. “How dare you!”

Abigail snickered, the memory of watching that movie together still vivid in her mind. Christine had cried—actually cried—because it was so stupid. Just like her.

The massive wave subsided a bit, bringing Christine that much closer to the ground. Abigail tried to reign in her grin.

“You’re right. Aquaman’s way cooler than you are. At least he can breathe underwater. Remember that time you almost drowned in the kiddie pool in second grade?”

Christine’s cheeks reddened and the pillar of water lowered even further.

“Or that time you accidentally spit water on that boy in middle school? Henry, was it? He’s cute, isn’t he?” she asked, knowing full well that she had—and still had, three years later—a massive crush on him.

“Stop!” At that point, Christine was so flustered that she couldn’t keep her grip on her powers anymore. The water flowed out of her control in a mini tsunami, leaving Abigail and the rest of the crowd soaked but unharmed.

Christine stumbled as soon as she hit solid ground, trying to straighten and fight back, but Abigail was already ahead of her. She lashed her sister’s wrists and ankles together with tendrils of lightning, watching as she stumbled onto the grass in a pouty heap.

A man broke away from the crowd. Abigail recognized him as the governor from their few encounters and straightened up in shock. She hadn’t known he would be attending the tribute’s reveal; she hadn’t thought it was that big of a deal.

“Red Lightning. On the day that’s supposed to be all about you, you’ve gone and saved us once again. How can we repay you?”

Abigail rubbed the back of her neck and offered him a sheepish smile. “I wouldn’t say saved you. I don’t think she was actually going to do any—”

“You’re too humble!” the governor interrupted. A few people cheered behind him in agreement, and she blushed.

“Uh, thanks,” she said, wondering how she could be so idolized but so awkward at the same time. “And thank you for the statue. It’s, um, really cool.”

“Will you be staying for the unveiling?” he asked.

She glanced at the structure, the cloth covering now soaked all the way through and clinging to what she guessed was metal underneath.

She hesitated to make it seem like she was considering the offer before shaking her head. “I would love to, but I think I should do something about her.” She nodded at Christine, who had given up struggling and resorted to shooting seething glares at anyone who dared to look her way.

The governor nodded. “That’s a good idea. Are you sure you don’t want us to lock her away? Prison’s the best place for people like her.” he asked.

“I can handle her,” she said, a knowing smile dancing on her lips when she looked back at her sister. Christine rolled her eyes and scowled, but couldn’t do anything more.

With the snap of her fingers, the restraints keeping her sister in place dissolved. Before she could run away, Abigail grabbed her arm in an iron grip and muttered straight into her ear.

“Don’t even try it. Or family dinner tonight’s going to be even more awkward than usual.”

#prompts #my writing #this was too fun to write #thank you anon!!

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raendown · 6 years ago

Link

I was matched with @mantykora14 (whom I can not tag still) for the @madatobiremix challenge! Fun! I did a remix of their story What Not To Do In The Office.

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 3223 Rating: T+ Summary: Madara has a habit of looking without properly seeing - although he does really like what he's seeing.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KOFI

Blind Observations

There wasn’t really anything out of the ordinary about Tobirama’s ass – if you left aside the fact that it looked as though it had been sculpted by the gods themselves. All things considered, however, it was still attached to the most annoying and stuck-up prick that Madara had ever had the displeasure of knowing so it wasn’t as though he planned to do anything with this attraction he had. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t shamelessly check out Tobirama’s posterior so long as the idiot was going to flaunt it so easily around the work place. After all, a man had to take his pleasures where he could find them in this world.

Sliding a little lower in his chair, Madara tilted his head to one side and let his eyes roam down the natural path laid out for him by the seam of Tobirama’s deliciously tight pants. Bent over the Hokage’s desk to mark something on the map spread across the top, he was in perfect position to give the rest of the room a little show. Izuna was much too busy inspecting his nails with boredom and Mito had given her attention to the folder of intel they were all discussing. Neither of them seemed particularly distracted by Tobirama’s ass, which Madara could understand; it was a little disappointing that his favorite eye candy wasn’t worth the trouble of bedding at least once. It would have been nice to sink his teeth in to those perfectly sculpted muscles but the screaming protests it would take to get there turned him off the idea every time he revisited it.

When Tobirama straightened at last just to berate his sibling for some ridiculous statement or another Madara mourned the loss of his wonderful distraction as the younger man’s shirt slid back down in to place. Then he made sure to rearrange his expression so that by the time the object of his gaze turned around there was no hint that he had spent the last ten minutes fantasizing about what he could do with those pale cheeks.

“Mito, my sweet, where did the file say they were first spotted?” Hashirama asked. His wife flicked back a page to check before looking up with a small smile.

“Your brother is right. They were spotted closer to the eastern outpost, not down by the ravines.”

“Hmph.” Sitting back with a pout for having been proved wrong, Hashirama crossed his arms to glare at the map.

Madara was thrilled to see Tobirama roll his eyes and bend down again to reach across and point at the spot they had just been arguing over for so long. While it was annoying that this stupid conference was apparently going to be derailed yet again for another pointless disagreement, at least he had something nice to look at while he waited for order to reassert itself.

Or for Mito to get tired of the bickering and set them all back on track with only a few sharp words.

Sparring with Tobirama had several benefits which, in Madara’s mind, far outweighed the downsides of having to spend any time in the company of someone so insufferable. He wasn’t exactly going to be thanking Hashirama for forcing them in to this stupid exercise in learning how to get along but he also wasn’t quite as upset about it as his friend might think.

For one, Tobirama’s sparring outfit left a great deal more skin exposed than his usual attire and the longer they traded blows the more the material stuck to him in a manner which left very little to the imagination. Madara could easily picture this image of a sweat soaked panting Tobirama transposed on to the image of his own bed where the flush on his cheeks would be from a very different kind of strain. He imagined the narrow-eyed look of hyper focus would probably stay the same as well and, honestly, he couldn’t say that didn’t appeal to him all the more.

He was also a fan of the treat which was watching Tobirama’s muscles shift and flow as their limbs struck out against each other. Just watching the man spin about for a roundhouse kick and getting that split second view of his flexing ass was more than worth the pain of a heel connecting solidly with his solar plexus.

Even the vicious smirk parting those pale pink lips and baring sharp teeth was attractive somehow. Madara felt his eye twitch when he finally noticed how badly he had allowed himself to be distracted by his opponent’s physical features. Clearly Tobirama wasn’t aware of his thoughts but it still wouldn’t do for Madara to allow himself to be bested, not by him. Tightening his fists with renewed determination, Madara drove forward with intent to disable, if not maim.

There might be some kind of attraction there but Hashirama was mad if he thought they could be forced to get along by being made to fight each other. Stupid backward logic, that was.

Public bathing had always been an uncomfortable experience for Madara. Prancing about naked and defenseless with so many other people around, most of whom he had never met, always left him tense during an activity which should have relaxed him. Modesty wasn’t a big problem but feeling a stranger’s eyes on him made him question whether they were admiring his figure or plotting an attack. When possible, he avoided the public baths.

He was very glad that he had not been able to avoid such an outing today. In fact, if this was to be his reward then he would need to give some serious thought to making a new habit of accepting Hashirama’s offers to go together. Madara wondered if there was a way to ask whether Tobirama usually accompanied his brother or not without arousing suspicion.

Observing without getting caught was, for once, incredibly easy. It seemed Tobirama was very used to the hungry stares that followed him as he waded in to the hot water to find a place where he could get comfortable and close his eyes. Hashirama remained as oblivious as ever while he chatted away, complete ignorant of the way Madara’s gaze had yet to leave his brother’s naked body. Miles of pale skin lay stretched out on delicious display, slowly turning pink from the heat of the water, glistening with the steam hanging in the air, and Madara drank it all in with relish.

Try though he might, he couldn’t think of a single thing he did not enjoy about Tobirama – physically at least. Everything from the angular fall of his hair to the faint scars of battle were attractive. Madara tilted his head to one side and tried to imagine what sounds the man might make it he were to sink his teeth in to one of those rosebud nipples, notably small for a man his size but perfectly bitable.

Before he could take the thought much further he jerked as one of Hashirama’s wide hand gestures splashed water in to his face. He turned to his friend with a scowl, annoyed at having his fantasies interrupted.

“Watch it!”

“Oops! Sorry Madara.” Hashirama beamed at him in apology, to which he scowled even deeper.

“I specifically put my hair up so it wouldn’t get wet. I just wanted a nice relaxing soak and now you’re splashing me!”

“But it was an accident!”

Sometime between the crocodile tears and the begging for forgiveness Madara looked over to see that Tobirama still had his eyes closed but his lips were stretched out in an amused smile as he listened to their bickering. He looked vastly different without the frown which seemed to appear by habit each time the two of them were within a dozen feet of each other. Actually it was quite a lovely effect, softening his features until he looked more amiable, almost inviting. Madara wondered idly how much effort it would take to see that smile again – solely for aesthetic purposes, of course.

Not that he had any intentions of putting in that effort. What did he care if Tobirama smiled for him or not? The thought was a distracting one, though, and Madara regretted allowing his attention to waver when Hashirama managed to splash him for a second time.

Listening to a bunch of puffed up halfwits yammer on about things that really shouldn’t require this much deliberation was boring. Madara felt absolutely no guilt in letting his mind wander away from the council meeting going on around him to instead focus on something much more interesting.

As he always did, Tobirama sat across the table with a scroll open before him and his hand dancing across the page as he recorded the minutes of their meeting. He hadn’t lifted his eyes in probably close to twenty minutes or even opened his mouth to make one of his usual sarcastic comments. Very likely he wished he could tune out of the proceedings as well and Madara smirked to know that his nemesis was also trapped listening to boring old men squabble like children.

Dressed in the boring vests Hashirama had okayed as the standard uniform, most of his body hidden under the wood of the conference table, there wasn’t a whole lot for Madara to stare at and fantasize about today. Yet somehow he still found himself captivated watching the elegant way Tobirama’s fingers manipulated his pen. For a man he had incredibly beautiful hands, long delicate fingers and smooth palms, soft despite the callouses every shinobi earned in their early years. His nails were all neatly trimmed down and cleaned and Madara blinked slowly as he imaged sucking two of those fingers in to his mouth, swirling his tongue around them and hallowing his cheeks.

Fifteen minutes later Madara was startled out of his daydreams by a fist slamming down on the table in irritation and it was hard to say what he found more disturbing: that he was still staring at nothing but Tobirama’s fingers or that the sexual nature of his thoughts had slowly cooled to become a contemplation of what they would feel like wrapped up in his own.

Ridiculous, he grumbled silently to himself as he wrenched his eyes away. No force on earth could ever make him actually want to hold hands with that beast.

The only time he could choose to be distracted that might possibly be worse than this would be if they were right in the middle of battle. Listening to Tobirama recap troop movements and known jutsu specialties less than half a mile from the targets they were about to be in battle with was also a bad choice. Not knowing this information could get him or the people around him killed.

Still he couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from the top of the man’s head. Today’s weather included a healthy breeze which entered the cave they were using as cover in fits and starts, barely reaching farther than where Tobirama stood in the entrance as he spoke to them all. Each time the wind reached him it lifted his hair and tugged at the frosted locks. He didn’t seem to notice – or if he did then he didn’t care – but Madara found himself fascinated by the effortlessly tousled look reminiscent of someone who had just gotten out of bed. Watching his hair lift and dance was mesmerizing. It made him wonder if those locks would be soft to run his fingers through.

“Uchiha do I have something on my head?” Tobirama’s drawling sneer brought his eyes back down to meet the irritated glare aimed his way. “Or are you deliberately not listening because you wish to put your comrades in danger?”

“Fuck off. I’m listening.” Madara crossed his arms and glared back, embarrassed to have been caught staring. Like hell he would admit to it.

“Go on then, repeat back to me anything of what I just said.”

“I am not a child, Senju. Just keep talking!”

Tobirama huffed and rolled his eyes, turning to face more towards the other shinobi with them in a very subtle snub. Rather than take further offense, Madara made certain that no one was looking his way before allowing his eyes to slide back up in to Tobirama’s hair, though he did make sure to keep his ears open this time.

It wasn’t his fault the stupid man was so pretty. Actually, now that he was paying attention he realized that Tobirama also had a very pleasant voice as well; it rumbled from somewhere deep in the chest, the kind of voice built for dramatic statements and momentous words.

Madara smirked to himself. No wonder their whole clan was so prone to drama.

It took several more incidents like these before Madara realized the precarious situation he had managed to get himself in to but by then it was too late. He stared shamelessly whenever Tobirama stretched before a spar, he riled the other up just to listen to the cadences of his voice while he yelled, and it wasn’t until he realized that he was spending his off duty hours seeking the other out just to stare wordlessly that he finally came to terms with what was happening.

Lingering at the edge of the field where Tobirama was currently running his students through several drills, Madara suffered a minor breakdown as the thought occurred to him at last.

“Fuck. Fuck me and fuck it and fuck everything,” he whispered frantically under his breath. “I have a crush on him!” Madara tugged at his hair and spun around to face the opposite direction in case the man he’d been observing happened to look over and wonder at the source of his panic.

Stomping away back towards the village proper, Madara wondered how the hell he’d gotten to this point without even realizing it. It was just supposed to be a healthy bout of lust, nothing more than admiration for another man’s well-shaped body, something to fuel his fantasies but certainly nothing he had ever planned to pursue. Now he realized that somewhere between staring at a fine ass and smiling at sharp dry wit he had developed actual feelings for the worst possible person.

What was he supposed to do with these feelings? Surely he couldn’t tell the man – and kami forbid Hashirama ever find out. He shuddered to think what kind of terrifying reactions his friend would have to knowing about this situation. Either he would deliver the world’s most threatening older brother speech in history or he would enthusiastically air Madara’s dirty laundry to the entire village at top volume. Both of those options sounded awful. Clearly the best thing to do would be to keep to himself, avoid as much contact as possible, and hope that this temporary madness passed quickly.

Tobirama’s laughter echoed through the trees behind him and Madara swallowed thickly when he realized he wanted nothing more than to turn around and go back just so he could listen for that sound again. He was in deeper trouble than he’d thought.

“Are you ever going to do something about that?” Tobirama’s voice sent Madara jerking upright in his chair. By the time the other turned around there were no signs he had been staring at anything but his own paperwork, certainly not the delectable rump exposed when his current project partner bent over to grab whatever he had dropped.

“What are you talking about?” he grumbled, hearing the exasperated sigh but refusing to look up.

“That thing you do where you stare at my ass. Are you ever going to do something about it or am I supposed to keep pretending I don’t notice?”

Madara’s jaw clicked painfully as it fell open with shock.

After a long wait with no response Tobirama lifted one eyebrow in a judgmental manner and turned away again, digging through the papers he’d been trying to sort out before. Madara was glad to be given time to think. He’d only just accepted the fact that he had feelings for this asshole and suddenly he was expected to know what he wanted to do with those feelings? That was way too much pressure to spring on someone without warning!

Truthfully he knew exactly what he would want to do with this unexpected crush but the option of making it disappear hadn’t exactly been working out and the option of having it returned hadn’t seemed very likely either. Until now.

“Would you let me do something about it?” he asked cautiously. Tobirama didn’t so much as glance up from the papers he was looking at as he responded, infuriatingly casual.

“I think that depends on exactly what you were to do. And how often you wish to do it.”

“Don’t be filthy! That isn’t what I meant!”

“No?” Tobirama did look up at him then with a genuinely confused expression and Madara sank down in his chair as he realized that the other man probably thought he was only interested in sex.

Grunting darkly, he averted his eyes. “Hn. Never mind. Forget it.”

“I will do no such thing. What else could you possibly be staring at me so often for? Unless you – oh.”

“Shut up!” Shoving his chair violently away from the desk, Madara stood up and scrambled towards the door. Tobirama beat him there. Just before his hand reached for the brass door handle an arm appeared to block his way and Tobirama was there in his face with a stunned expression.

“You like me,” the man said, eyes widening with surprise.

“I said shut up! Get out of my way!”

“Sage above, you do like me.” Tobirama’s face split in to a wide grin and Madara snarled. He didn’t need to be mocked for this!

A scuffle in the doorway wouldn’t exactly be his most dignified moment but Madara was more than prepared to go through with it if the other man didn’t move in the next three seconds. It was much more preferable than the idea of remaining here just to listen to Tobirama making fun of him for something he had no control over.

His half-baked schemes for escaping were foiled when the other man abruptly stopped laughing only to lean forward and pin him against the wall with a fierce kiss and the only thing Madara could think was that he’d been pining for no reason, apparently. Even worse, he had apparently somehow been obvious enough with his physical attraction to catch Tobirama’s eye while at the same time subtle enough with his developing feelings that he himself hadn’t even noticed.

“You like me too,” he accused, murmuring against Tobirama’s lips, unwilling to separate them so soon.

“I have a certain lack of hatred for your very existence. And I could probably be talked in to a date given the proper motivation.” Both of them were grinning, though Madara paused to huff in mock offense.

“Should I bend over so you can check out the goods?”

Tobirama laughed until he was hauled back down for more kisses. Madara took that to mean he would be allowed to stare at the man’s ass whenever he wanted from here on out – among other things, of course.

#rae writes #madatobiremix #madatobi #madara #tobirama #fanfiction

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katherinelhughes · 5 years ago

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A Car Accident in the Age of Impeachment

Dec. 11th—it’s becoming clear to me that I need to get some thoughts on paper before I can even hope to embrace any kind of holiday spirit. It’s been a challenging few weeks. I wrote my only other blog about a year ago, upon my return from a glorious trip to Ireland with my daughter. I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression from that blog post. No, Katherine is not all rainbows and unicorns. Though I did see an astounding number of rainbows in Ireland, and I do have a Pillow Pet that is a rainbow unicorn. But I digress…

It’s just that I’ve come to this really painful realization: IT’S US AGAINST THEM. I know that this is the antithesis of the spirit of the holiday season. But I’m going to need some kind of Scrooge-like epiphany right now to convince me otherwise. I’m hoping that writing this blog will be the exorcism that gets this dangerous and demonic idea out of my head: it’s us against them.

First, the car accident. Nov. 5th—I’m traveling west on Touhy Avenue in a little stretch of Chicago that is between Niles and Park Ridge. (…a fact that is meaningful only to Chicagoans) Ahead of me I see a car pull slowly into my lane of traffic, and almost immediately veer into the oncoming lane, and back again. Then I see the vehicle stopped on the side of the road, and as I pass, I see an elderly woman staring malevolently at me through the vehicle’s window. Actually, I probably made up that part, in which the woman becomes this almost cartoonish representation of a mean old lady. Maybe my psyche’s attempt to come to terms with what is about to happen… Anyway, I’m relieved that she seems no longer to be a present danger on the road. I come up to the next light, and as I sit there, reality suddenly shifts. I hear and feel what I take at first to be an explosion, until I realize that someone has plowed into the rear end of my car. It is of course the erratically-driving woman—my cartoon nemesis. She has pushed my car into the car in front of me, but thankfully its occupants are unharmed.

I call to report the accident, which has already been reported by an off-duty officer who happens to be on the scene. In minutes the police arrive and also, like circling vultures, a tow truck driver and the representative of the tow yard. Both the police and the towing people are very solicitous, and want to be sure I’m okay. And really, all things considered, I am. I can’t say the same for the lady who hit me. It becomes pretty clear that she is completely incapacitated, most likely by prescription med’s. She is unable to answer the questions of the police, though she seems not to have sustained physical injuries, and they take her away in an ambulance. The tow truck people are hovering around me, anxious to take my car away, but I insist on waiting until my husband arrives. As we’re waiting, they open the lady’s car door and show me a gallon plastic bag filled with pill bottles. On the passenger seat, in plain view.

And by the way, tow yards are a scam. My car sat in that lot, racking up charges, until Nov. 11th. The lot’s owner rarely answered his phone, and its hours were only 10 AM to 2 PM. Remember the Steve Goodman song “Lincoln Park Pirates” about the infamous Lincoln Towing Service? I should have been paying more attention!

Okay, I won’t draw out the details of the accident any further—you saw the picture. It has become this script I deliver anyway, and I’m frankly ready for some new material. And you’re probably wondering, it’s us against them, car accident, impeachment? Where is she going with this?

In the aftermath of the accident, I am catching bits and pieces of the Intelligence Committee impeachment hearings on my rented car’s radio. Some impressions of what I hear:

Nov. 15th—Marie Yovanovitch, ambassador to Ukraine, reminds me of Christine Blasey Ford. A very reasonable but somewhat soft-spoken woman. Just the kind of woman that Donald Trump and his ilk like to bully. Oh, I probably forgot to say how much I despise Donald Trump. As a true liberal (Come on guys, can’t we all just get along?), it’s very painful to have to admit despising someone. I give Nancy Pelosi kudos for praying for him—I’m not quite there on my journey toward enlightenment…

Nov. 20th—Gordon Sondland, ambassador to the EU: “(President Zelensky) loves your ass!” Seriously? And as journalist Ana Kasparian noted, hey, doesn’t the EU ambassador position cost at least $6 million?

Nov. 21st—My new hero, Fiona Hill! The way she squashes that ridiculous theory about Ukraine’s involvement in the 2016 election. And that northeastern-England accent—simply delightful! Yes, she’s from a coal-mining town, and her father lost his livelihood when the coal mines shut down. Other countries in the developed world are shutting down their coal operations. Not the US—our president ran on the promise of bringing back coal jobs!!! Sorry, again I digress.

But my impression overall of the hearings? It’s us against them. Democrats versus Republicans. What, did they all do debate team in high school? Decide which side you’re on, and say ANYTHING you have to say to support that side’s position? Of course I see the Republicans’ argument as completely bogus—that what Trump did doesn’t rise to high crimes and misdemeanors. I think he should be impeached and then convicted by the senate. It ain’t happening though. Why? Because it’s us against them. Democratic control of the House and Republican control of the Senate.

Until we have a multi-party system of government, we will be forever locked in this battle. And until we admit that our system of government is a money-power oligarchy, we will never change the fact that most of us in this country are without true representation. And by the way, I have to laugh at the “framers-of-the-constitution” talking point that the Democrats trot out constantly. Oh yeah, that little group of money-power oligarchs that wrote our sacred document? Donald Trump is only one in a long line of wealthy men who have wielded great power in this land. Ooh, better go hug my unicorn pillow and calm down a bit!

But it’s not just in the political sphere that I’m feeling the us-against-them dynamic. The whole car accident experience was fraught with it. I certainly felt that I was in an adversarial position with my own insurance company. Since they declared my car totaled, they had to give me an estimate of its value. To them, it was not worth much—to me, it was invaluable. Because the car was ten years old, and had about 153,000 miles on it, I didn’t even get enough to buy a lesser car—we had to fork over extra money to buy a replacement car that is two years older and not a hybrid. Thankfully, I was coached not to accept the first offer I got, or we would have received even less.

Memorable comments I got when I related my insurance woes: “Insurance companies are evil incarnate,” and “Most individuals walk away bloodied after an encounter with one.” And I do know that I should be grateful that I didn’t walk away literally bloodied. Just some bruises on my knees, and maybe some different pain in my back and shoulders. Hard to be sure since this season can be hard on us violin-players anyway…

A little aside about cars. I have always prided myself on avoiding attachment to earthly possessions—cars in particular. I’m serious about this journey-toward-enlightenment thing. But I think I actually had to mourn the loss of this car. Maybe that’s normal—I don’t know since I’ve never had a car totaled before. It was a red ’09 Toyota Camry Hybrid. I am thankful that it gave its life so that I might be saved…

We’re always reminded to drive defensively, and believe me, I have wondered if there was something I could have done to avoid the accident. But the thing that really bothers me is that this defensive posture extends to other areas beyond driving. The us-against-them conflict seems to play out in so many arenas. I feel that I’m having to relentlessly advocate for my own interests with the companies that are “providing services” for me. I don’t like this defensive stance. I resent the energy it requires—it could be used in much more creative ways. Yeah, I’m talking to you, Cigna. And you, Verizon. And—well, the list goes on.

Dec. 11th—the impeachment hearings have continued into the Judiciary Committee and beyond, and there is deadlock in that particular us-against-them impasse. Is the impeachment exercise also a waste of energy? It’s hard to imagine that it will do anything but ramp up the animosity between the two sides. I guess it has to be done for the sake of our democracy—oh right, I said we’re a money-power oligarchy, so never mind. Meanwhile I will bury my head in the iridescent fur of my rainbow unicorn. I want to believe that we’re all in this together. Still waiting for that ghostly visit that will turn my head around before Christmas…

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tigressaofkanjis · 8 years ago

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TLK Review (Very Minor Spoilers)

Well I saw The Last Knight and I did in fact love it like the piece of shit I am but...that cliffhanger though?

Before I go into more, I want to briefly state how I rate a movie. 50% of the rating is plot (bad plot, half of a score possibly gone). The other 50% is detail. I, unlike many, can scout out most details within the first viewing of a film including cameos, call-backs, hidden items around a shot. Most people don’t find those until they see it again on DVD or go to the theater again. It is possible for a film with poor plot to still get an average or good rating from me if details are great (rare though).

Back to The Last Knight, plot wise this movie falls short greatly though I did understand what Bay was trying to provoke. It could’ve gone a lot better had the shots not been so scrambled and worsened the presentation of the plot. I also hated the cliffhanger Bay left behind as a “Fuck You” to viewers who have no choice now but to assume he may return to finish the story or put it in the hands of another director who may have wanted to go a different angle for the sequel.

The plot was a bit too cliche and felt like a repeat of Dark of the Moon with a different take. It also added many sub-plots which were questionable to say the least as well as moments that hinder the flow, including the fact it focuses on Cade more so than Prime and Megatron. With no spoilers I will say, this drops my plot review to a 14%.

Rankings (Plot Only/Best to Worse):

1. Dark of the Moon

2. Transformers

3. Revenge of the Fallen

4. Age of Extinction

5. The Last Knight

As you can see it’s not pretty. Now if you include details, that changes the list seen above. I won’t say them on account of most being very big on spoilers.

Rankings (Plot + Detail/Best to Worse)

1. Dark of the Moon

2. Transformers

3. The Last Knight

4. Age of Extinction

5. Revenge of the Fallen

Now you’ll notice only the last three really change. The reason The Last Knight rose to third was because it had a lot of references, call-backs, and hidden items. For references (may be considered small spoilers), this film actually has several including G1, Animated, and Prime (can be considered a spoiler for those who are fans of Prime). That was not seen in most of the other films. Age of Extinction had little G1 references but seemed to lean more towards Animated. Dark of the Moon is at first for not just a great plot but also had references from G1, Animated, and even a few from Prime despite the cartoon’s new appearance on TV as well as many call-backs and such. Revenge of the Fallen and the first Transformers only had G1 references with the latter redeeming itself for a surprisingly medium plot line.

So my judgement stands as such. Was a great movie? No. Is it worth watching? Perhaps a few times to understand what is happening and why it was played out that way. I’d say go see it for yourself at least so you can say you saw it and not rely on another person’s word because you may find things you like about it.

Bonus overtime! (Skip this if you wish as it may contain minor spoilers!)

Pros of the Film (In my opinion.):

Baby Dinobots being cute and cuddly and taking my heart the second they were on screen.

Megatron and Lennox’s conversation filled with sass (I actually laughed hysterically at their ransom debate)

Lennox’s return

Funny Transformer moments

Return of Wheelie (he didn’t die apparently)

Cinematography is pretty mind-blowing in many scenes

Shockwave’s gangster twin...brother?

Hot Rod

Bumblebee dances

Izabella

“Nemesis Prime”

Dragonstorm is pretty cool

Epic sass

Epic battles

Megatron’s redesign (I ended up falling in love with him again. Don’t judge me!)

Cons of the Film (No, not the Decepticons! Also this is in my opinion too.)

Too many human moments, not enough Transformers

Barricade’s small screen time

Lennox forced to be a pain in the ass for a while

Throwaway humor and plot coincidences

Starscream is still dead, deal with it

Rushed plot and action scenes/shots skip around too frequently

Transformers (Autobots mainly) disappear randomly

Cliche humans

No Epps

Transformers being stereotypes for human racism

stupid implied sex scene (justified somewhat since Cade and Vivian are searching a study but her housemates think otherwise)

Nobody or no-bot from past films mentioned (besides Starscream)

(TV Tropes) Artistic Biology - Planets/Science

Leaves most minor plots and parts of the main plot unfinished/cliffhanger

Quintessa (personally I hated her) is a bitch

That’s it. Not the worst film in general I’ve ever seen but certainly not the best, especially out of the entire franchise. It tried though. It really did but you can’t blame the film, only the director.

#tlk spoilers #transformers the last knight #tf5 #Tigressa Reviews #movie review #megatron #optimus prime #cade yeager #barricade #starscream #william lennox #tf5 spoilers

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hereticaloracles · 8 years ago

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New Moon in Aries- Crossfire

“Nothing is given to man on earth – struggle is built into the nature of life, and conflict is possible – the hero is the man who lets no obstacle prevent him from pursuing the values he has chosen.” – Andrew Bernstein

Effective Date: March 27, 2017

Helios’ Astrological Angle on the New Moon in Aries– FINALLY! We are in Aries season and I couldn’t be more ready for it. Jesus, this is not easy astro though…. This Moon will be like we are walking on a bed of hot coals, and if we get burned we die. Of course, people firewalk all the time… the key to it is to focus on the destination, and ignore the pain you are feeling. You have to shut it out, and you have to step very quickly- not let your foot touch the coals too long. Step confidently and briskly, and you will feel no pain. Of course, the coals in this case is a plethora of underworld gods and goddesses, all waiting for you to miss your step so that they can drag you down into their depths. They will throw up all kinds of fear illusions to try and trip you up, but they cannot sweep your leg and do it themselves.

Artemis’ Tarot Take on the New Moon in Aries- Good lord, this is like an epic fantasy battle, Heretics, full of wands and swords, two kings and an Emperor with a Tower looming overhead. And those are just the tarot cards! A new Astrological year has begun, and with it we are receiving our next mission – right smack dab in the middle of a fire fight. Will you remain calm enough to fight your way through, or will you be sniped as you are fearfully taking cover?

The Sun, Moon and Venus– This Moon, and Aries season in general, is a challenge to you. You must focus your mind on the business at hand, ignoring all other illusory concerns. You cannot keep half-assing things like you have been since Sagittarius season. Just “trying your hardest” isn’t good enough anymore, regardless of the struggle going on within you- News flash, no one else cares about your internal turmoil, at least not until it affects them as well. View this past winter as a long training session: You have been training under critical condition, with the astro pushing you to what you perceived as your absolute limits, potentially putting you face to even your own death. Under those conditions, with the clarity of the knife’s edge, we are revealed; Both our strengths and our limitations. What you must come to terms with is that the reward you seek must be earned, and no- You have not already earned it yet. Your past works are not enough to earn you future rewards, so you have to stop resting on your laurels. You’re out of cosmic credit, as it were. Its time you bit the bullet and started caring about something with all of your heart and energy, but you can’t care about it fully if you’re always holding yourself back because you’re afraid of it not working out in the end. Concentrate on what is important to you and commit to it all the way; wear it like armor. Let it be the reason you take a breath or get out of bed in the morning. You have come so far, and it is not time to quit now.

This Aries season demands that you have a core of solid steel, but with Venus here the core needs to be wrapped in a soft and beautiful skin- you have to balance strength and softness. Fear is your enemy here, and that must be overcome. The best way to do that? Refuse to take it seriously! Laugh at your fears when they come up, even if it rings hollow- what your fear fears most of all is to be impotent and inconsequential to you. The fears you will be confronted with are phantoms, nothing more. These will be things that you have already faced, and whether you beat them last time or not, you know how to beat them now. What was once a level boss is now just a common monster, and you can take them in your sleep; because in keeping with video game logic, you have grown stronger- You leveled up, and they stayed the same. Swing your sword and conquer your fears for good. (Minor Planets used: Orcus, Makemake, Huya, Logos, Persephone, Hekate, Orius, Crantor, Hylonome, Eurydike, Hybris, Achilles, Panacea, Elatus, Black Moon Lilith, Nodes of the Moon)

The Sun (Emperor), Moon (4 of Wands), Venus (3 of Swords)- This is major severance right here, Heretics, and it is major severance for your own good. Venus, the moon, and the Sun will be conjunction after Venus has paid a visit to Uranus/Eris and moved backwards (meaning she will visit them again when she goes direct). She is about to retreat into Pisces again, meaning all of the worst parts of the Venus Rx are only about to begin. She goes Cazimi on the day of this New Moon, seated at the highest point of her power before she becomes the Morning Star (aka Lucifer Venus). We hope you listened to our warning and did what was necessary during the first few, easy weeks of this retrograde. The Venus in Aries energy at least let us be angry. It at least fueled us and made us make decisions that were necessary, and it gave us the bravery we needed to kill our darlings. Now that Venus is hovering only a handful of degrees from Pisces (3 degrees at the start of this new moon), you will feel the emotional backlash of the retrograde. She is dragging us back into the emotional state we were in back in Venus in Pisces season (meaning, finding the faith through the darkness), and she is going to be far more ruthless this time. This is the part of the Venus Rx that will offer us the temptations, and it is our job to choose truth no matter how painful it is (3 of Swords). Because, Heretics, what you are being offered are tests – illusions to see if you are capable of making instinctual decisions. Mirages to see if you truly realize what your life mission is. The light gods will not offer you power if they do not see you fit to wield it, and the dark gods will offer it to you just so that you learn your lesson from the pain of miss-wielding it. If you let yourself fall prey to going back to the way things were, you will suffer tremendously. This will bring you to a state where you have lost faith in yourself. You will realize you do not have the strength to overcome your own negative cycles, and you will make the choice to go back to them with open arms instead of living in the difficult present.

It’s like the Matrix when Cypher chooses to go back into the simulated reality because he doesn’t have to suffer anymore there – tempted by good food, sex, and ease. Life is good and predictable there and he isn’t forced to be a hero. This combination of planets is demanding you finally make a stand, Heretics, no matter how rough the road ahead of you may be. It wants you to make the inverse decision that Cypher did. It wants you to be tempted with all of the wonderful things, but you still make the choice to take the high road – to be the hero. You know what the right decisions are, and Aries doesn’t lie to you about the bravery necessary to move ahead. The challenges will always get harder, but you will grow stronger because of them. The moon reminds you to celebrate regardless of how painful this process has been (4 of Wands). You have completed a cycle, and you must not back down now. This is the part in the story where you come back and take charge. The 4 of Wands is also known as the little universe card, showing you that a great cycle has now come to a close. This Aries New Moon is the official closure of 2016’s cleansing by fire energy, and the intense shadow work that accompanied us since Scorpio season. What are the lessons you have learned about yourself – about your weaknesses and where you find strength? It’s time to channel those things. This is no time to rest, or you’ll be destroyed by the pressure of what’s ahead. You must let the past go, because this is the portal to the new astrological year and we have plenty coming that will need your full attention. This moon demands you to be present and to celebrate your accomplishments through the harshness of 2016 and early 2017. With Venus so intimately involved with this new moon, we are in for a fight over the things we value the most in our lives. Are you willing to fight for what you love, Heretics? For what makes you truly who you are? Or will you give up on your love – for yourself and for your deepest desires – and settle into a life of comfort and complacency?

Mercury, Saturn and Uranus– Get ready for high-speed processing of whatever old issues you still refuse to get rid of, for some insane reason. Maybe clinging to your pain makes you feel like you are paying your dues, or something, I honestly don’t know. Whatever the reasoning, Chiron is going to make sure that you get this handled NOW. It will feel as though you are being assaulted from all sides on this, but all you need to do to make it stop is just drop what you are trying to cling to, what has had its time pass. Let it go and it ends. You need to see the new path you have ahead of you, but you cannot go down it until you get off of the old one. You’ve already decided that one doesn’t head to where you want to go, so why are you fighting so hard for it? Force of habit? Run of the mill bloody-mindedness? Whatever the reason, you will get woke to it real quick with this Moon. There is a lot of adjustment to be done, so the actual cathartic moment will be swift and merciless and you will be expected to roll with these punches. Get into the new way forward, and save yourself a lot of pain. Keep pace or get left in the dust. (Minor Planets used: Pallas Athene, Ixion, Eris, Sedna, Rhadamanthus, Haumea, Chiron, Echeclus, Thereus, Rhiphonos, Damocles, Asclepius, Askalaphus, Kassandra, Itokawa, Nemesis)

Mercury (6 of Wands), Saturn (King of Swords), Uranus (7 of Swords), Chiron (Death)- Damn, ok guys! You need to be the motivator even though things may be hard as fuuuuuck all right now. You need to truly motivate yourself, tell yourself that you are fucking important, and get on with it already. Chiron (Death card) wants to finally drop some petty pain that has been holding you back from accomplishing what you truly want. All things die eventually, Heretics, and this definitely includes your pain from the past. You have been walking around with an open wound in your chest, and it’s time to let the sinew mold around your wound – creating a stronger and more durable structure. You have been through hell and back, and now it’s time for you to realize that, fuck, you are still standing (Mercury as the 6 of Wands). You have made it this far. All victories are temporary, and so are all defeats. You have clawed your way up the mountain, starved, almost lost all hope, but you are standing here now – at the Spring Equinox. If you give up now, everything – all that pain you have gone through – will be for nothing. This is the place where the magic happens, so don’t pass up this Aries energy. It wants to breathe life into you, but it cannot do that if you do not choose action and forward motion. Ride the wave, Heretics. Don’t let people bring you down when you know what you have accomplished -what you have sacrificed to get to where you are. Don’t let their dead weight carry you down. If they were worth the ilk, they wouldn’t be in the shit situations they are in. They would be at peace and in harmony with their environment. The very fact that they are lashing out at you and your accomplishments is because they are in a tremendous amount of pain about their own failures. Don’t let other people’s hate for themselves bring down your love for yourself.

Saturn is breathing down our necks to forge something useful (King of Swords). He wants you to take all of the mental bullshit you have mulled through, beaten yourself up with, and assessed like crazy and fucking deploy it. The Kings of the Tarot allow energy to be released, and he is telling you it is time to take up your sword and act. A ruler doesn’t have the chance to go hide in their room when their people are in trouble. Think of your life like your kingdom, and Saturn is demanding that you address the hoards at the door. It is time to kill the child and let the adult be born. Life is messy and hard and painful, but you will not receive the blissful, elating, ecstasy aspects unless you are willing to fight the bloody monsters. Then there is Uranus, and he wants to let you know that all the secrets are coming out (7 of Swords). If you think you can get away with taking advantage of someone, this will be the time all of that bullshit comes out. There are many energies in the micro and the macro who believe they can win out with brute strength and secrecy, but Uranus (accompanied by Eris) wants to tell them that their plans will be subverted for sure. Not very many secrets will survive the Venus Rx, and they surely wont survive the plethora of planets (including the sun) that will be illuminated with Uranus’ revolutionary light. People are getting angrier and angrier about their mistreatment. Change is knocking on our door, and change wants to tell us that the old order is about to crumble like a Jenga tower. Secrets come out sooner or later, no matter who you are. Even state secrets. Keep vigilant.

Mars and Neptune– Doooooooom. That is what you fear, anyway. Some sort of vague and undefined sense of dread is permeating your subconscious, and with it your actions. You cannot hesitate just because you cannot see how it is all going to play out- C’mon, you’re so much better than that! Doing anything in this life carries some amount of risk, and you need to have faith that taking that chance will pay off. If you don’t then, you just end up stuck in the same place forever, paralyzed by fear. You need to be willing to lose it all to play the game, but if you accept that, then you can win. Until you are willing to chance it, you will feel stuck, going through the everyday motions and your soul will die a little more each day. Take that chance, do the thing that scares you the most, and watch the magic happen. (Minor Planets used: Juno, Teharonhiawako, Chariklo, Okyrhoe, Astraea, Sisyphus)

Mars (King of Wands) and Neptune (Ace of Wands)- So we have a Mars in Taurus that has already had a fire lit under his ass. You have finally been pushed to the point where you have no choice but to act. That’s perfect, because a Taurus in motion is a Taurus you can work with. We are not only being called by Saturn to put your philosophizing to work – make it practical and usable in this world and in your life. We are also being called by Mars to channel our physical and sexual energy into creative pursuits. This is “motivate the troops and fight in the trenches” sort of energy (King of Wands). You can’t command your life from a high tower, you must immerse yourself in it and feel the grittiness of your every day. Hermit season is over, Heretics, and now we must put into action all of those creative ideas that have been incubating through the winter. You will have all the energy that is necessary, the only thing you have to do is focus is. Once Mars in Taurus is focused on a goal, it is relentless.

Neptune is helping with the cause (Ace of Wands). The divine are the match stick here, and the redemption of the last new moon in Virgo should still be burning in your gut. Neptune wants you to be motivated to do the most important things right now – the “real work.” The work that the gods put your soul on this earth to accomplish. We all play our part in the grand plan, so what is this “real work” for you? Well, Heretics, you will finally be getting that breath of fire air needed to set out on your mission. It wont be hard, but there is real redemption on the other side. If you can keep yourself zoned in on your mission, fighting off all the bullshit that slows you down and keeps that Mars in Taurus from it’s runaway train energy, you will truly come to recognize what great power you possess. Don’t let them lie to you and tell you that you are weak. There is a universe of strength inside of you – just look at all of the things you have already fought and survived from.

Jupiter and Pluto– Here is where it gets tricky. Yes, both Jupiter and Pluto both want to win, whatever contest they think they are in the running for while the rest of us are not playing anymore, but it matters how they win. You’ll notice that I’ve been talking about ethics quite a bit lately, and these two are a big part of that. The signs they are in, Libra and Capricorn, are both very concerned with The Rules and How Things Should Be Done, and their transits exemplify that- especially now that they are squaring off against each other. On one hand, there is a call to be at your absolute best at all times, and follow the rules to the letter (while letting others do your dirty work for you), sacrificing your maximum gain so that everyone is taken care of; on the other hand you have a palpable desire to ensure that your needs are met above all else, and that your survival is tantamount. There really isn’t much middle ground between the two at the moment, the call is for polarization one way or the other. You must make a choice, and take a stand for yourself, as your honor demands. (Minor Planets used: Vesta, Chaos, Sila-Nunam, Varda, Circe, Toro, Orpheus, Siwa, Tantalus)

Jupiter (The Tower) and Pluto (1o of Swords)- Love will break the chains. You must find that deep, resounding love for yourself and let the mental cage you have surrounded yourself with fall. Pluto wants you to transform even through the pain (1o of Swords). He is telling you that you have come to the end of a mental cycle, and that if you stay where you are you will only suffer. But if you choose to move forward, you will be blessed with a grand mental awakening. You must become like a phoenix, burning your body and life in the process. To become a hero, you must leave behind all of your attachments to old ideas about yourself. You can’t get where you need to go by just traveling there in your mind, Heretics. It is Aries season, you must involve your spirit to be the vehicle. You must emerge from the cocoon and spread your wings – becoming something unrecognizable. It was scary going from childhood to adulthood, knowing the demands that were waiting for you. Life is a series of these emergence, and you will only be laughing at how silly your fear was once you have made the jump. It is a natural law of the universe to continue to emerge, so fighting it will only bring you despair. You will realize that all of the things holding you back from your expansion were mere illusions. You cannot survive off of illusions. Mirage water will not keep you alive. If you do not move out and expand, your spirit does die because you become out of sync with the universal rhythm. (The Tower)

New Moon in Aries- Crossfire was originally published on Heretical Oracles

#aries new moon #aries season #become the hero #close of a cycle #fight fight fight #strength #the emperor #astrology #tarot #asteroid astrology #fuckstrology #bruja #brujeria

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