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taeyohonic · 5 years ago

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Just a Taste – Chapter One

Summary: Being asked to take a blood test just to work at a merchandise booth should have been the first read flag for you. But you just gave them a sample of your blood in exchange for a very much needed paycheck and a summer job during BTS’ world tour. After the youngest member of the popular kpop band finds himself in a difficult situation, you come to realize that this wasn’t the last time you shed blood for your idols. or: You becomes the new donor for seven bloodthirsty idols, who seem to be way too interested in their new food source.

Pairing: OT7xfem!Reader

Genre: Fantasy, Smut, (Fluff)

Warnings: blood, they aren’t very nice to you...

Words: 2.7k

Chapters: Prologue, Chap. I, Chap. II, Chap. III, Chap. IV, Chap. V, Chap. VI, Chap. VII

“What do you mean ‘all the bags are gone’?”

Your supervisor does not look amused. The girl with an abnormal amount of glitter on her face does not look amused. Hell, even you don’t look amused. The stadium hasn’t even begun to let the fans in and your merch booth ran out of the official “speak yourself”-bag ten minutes ago.

This job is in the top three most gruesome things you had to do for money. But money was tight, and you didn’t want to survive another summer on ramen and cheap wine. The job ad was harmless at first glance. Just another sales job. But they promised good pay and international traveling, which was enough to let your eyes linger. There was no company mentioned, just a post box.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when BigHit responded to your application a week later. With Bangtan’s rising popularity and the massive size of their tour, extra staff had to be hired. Still, the ARMY in you couldn’t contain her excitement. This was a big deal for you. Touring with one of your favorite kpop bands, traveling to Japan and getting first dips on all the merchandise? This was a no brainer. Hell, you would have even paid them to tag along. So you dressed to impress when you attended the interview, keeping your giddiness locked behind a professional smile.

“You want what?”, you ask – disbelieve coloring your voice.

“A blood test”, the interviewer repeats nonchalantly without looking up from her questionnaire.

Was this normal procedure? You had only ever worked in your aunt’s bookstore during senior year of high school and at a fast food place all through undergrad. Neither asked for your freaking bloodline.

“What? Do you discriminate certain blood types?”, you say in mock humor. A laugh disguised as a cough rings through the room, as the cute guy in the back of the room tries to hide his amusement. His eyes are locked on your features.

“We just want to make sure all our employees are healthy. You’ll be travelling to a foreign country, working long hours.”, the woman in front of you replies, ignoring your bad attempt at a joke. She continues: “You don’t have to – of course.”

“But then I won’t be asked back for a second interview, am I right?”

The woman looks you in the eyes for the first time since entering the room. She doesn’t look as evil as she sounds. “No”

So, you guess you’ll leave with a bit less body fluid than you anticipated.

There wasn’t a second interview. The test results came with a pre-signed contract.

***

“What the fuck is up with this boy today?”, Joo-Won swears as his eyes are glued to the screen in front of you. Your shift is officially over. Most of the merchandise is packed up, all the sold-out item IDs are sent to the head quarter and you already got a notification that the next delivery will be arriving first thing tomorrow morning. Now you’re sitting together with some crew members, a half-finished soju bottle in your hand and an empty carton of take-out on your lap. The guy at your job interview turned out to be quite fun.

Joo-Won introduced himself during the briefing on your first day in Japan. He is responsible for the ARMY Bomb stands, which seems to be a very big deal around here. This is his third tour with Bangtan and he seems to know nearly every henchmen in this operation. So it came to no surprise when a stage assistant invited you both to watch the concert from one of the twelve monitors backstage. Of course, you didn’t look too out of place with your name badge and the Love Yourself-hoodie you may or may not have purchased with your employee discount.

The stage assistant, whose name you can’t remember, is fuzzing with screen number five as you take another sip of your afterwork drink. You stare not really focusing on anything. Just blank nothingness.

“You did see this as well, right _______?”, Joo-Won asks breathlessly.

You can only nod. The Fake Love performance just ended. And even though all seven idols were on fire, the youngest was just out of control.

“What did we just see?”, the boy continues.

“Rudeness”, you answer and empty the bottle with a hefty swing. You knew Jungkook would lift his shirt. You were prepared as you had seen their comeback stage more times than you’d be comfortable to admit. This was not news to you. But the aggression in his stare, how dark he growled his verses, the hard edges on his mouth, not even hinting a friendly smile, was making you uncomfortable.

Before your new friend can respond his headset beeped. Joo-Won answer, his eyes still on the screen.

“Yeah?” After a beat his eyes flash to you. You squirm uncomfortably in your seat.

“_________ is with me”, he says and you need a second to register your role in the conversation.

Joo-Won’s stare lingers on your face – a silent question in his eyes.

“Sure, sir. I’ll bring her to you right away.” Then he ends the call sifting, so your knees are brushing against one another.

“Care to explain, why Bangtan’s prime management wants to speak with you, _______?”, your friend asks, no judgement in his voice. What?

***

“So, I have to sign another NDA?”, you ask the manager in front of you, trying to swallow your nervousness. This is the Sejin, Bangtan’s right hand advisor. Every fan knows him from countless Bangtan Bombs and can easily recognize the fathering care in his work.

“This one… is more specific”, he explains and moves the stack of papers to you. You try to calm your excited fingers as you grab at the legal document, flipping through it.

“And it’s time sensitive”, Sejin adds and searches your eyes for attention. You give it to him.

“Time sensitive?” The papers abandoned on the table. “Is something wrong with the boys?”

There will come a time and place when you reflect on the choice of calling these men “the boys” as if they were your closest friends. But it’s not today. Today you just see a glint in his eyes.

“Yes, it’s Jungkookie”, Sejin starts and your memories flash to their concert an hour prior. How Joo-Won and you both discussed how beastly the youngest looked – how aggressive.

“Wh-what?”, you answer in question. The manager’s hands move on top of yours.

“He is ill and … you might be able to help him. We can’t transport him. And we are not sure he’ll survive an ambulance ride.”

Your brain blanks as you stand up in a swift move. This is simple: One of your most cherished idols is ill and his trustworthy manager tells you that you’ll be able to help. This is a no brainer.

“Take me to him”, you order, not even caring that Sejin’s words are not making any sense. How can a twenty-four-year-old college dropout help the golden maknae? What even is his illness?

Sejin’s smile should have been another red flag. “Slow down, _________”, he sooths and moves around the table so he is standing in front of you. “This is important. You have to sign the documents. You’ll have to transfuse blood to him.” He is handling you a pen. “There are health risks. This isn’t … the most optimal environment for a blood donation.”

Jungkook needs your blood – memories of your job interview come back.

You sign the contract, not even reading all the small-printed clauses on the pages. Before the ink is even dry, Sejin is moving you through a long corridor. His hand rests on your neck – squeezing reassuringly. A glimmer travels across your body and you try to ground yourself. Of course you are nervous. This is reasonable. You’ll donate blood to one of your favorite idols. Maybe you’ll see him, when he gets better. Hell, maybe he’ll even thank you in person! Meeting Bangtan is the closest form to aspiration you have at the moment.

“When is the nurse coming?”, you question the logistics as you move towards the farthest door labeled “BTS”.

“Which nurse?” You look at Sejin in surprise – if not a nurse, who’ll take your blood?

“Then a doctor?”, you ask and Sejin shakes his head, a humorless chuckle escaping him while you both come to a halt in front of the door.

“There is… no time I’m afraid”, he answers – with remorse in his voice. There is a sinking feeling in your stomach, some of the fog lifted. How the hell should you give Jungkook your blood if there is not even a transfusion station here?

Sejin knocks at the door, ignoring your thumbing heartbeat and opens the door, softly pushing you into the room. “I’ll explain everything; I promise.”

***

The starving vampire smells your sweet blood as soon as the door opens – Sejin a mere decoration in his vision. Jungkook’s whole body turns towards you while your eyes nervously shift across the room. Time slows down as the maknae swiftly moves straight to you. His muscles ache and he cannot even recognize his swallow breathing. His stare is fixed on the nap of your neck – deliciously soft, milky. Not even the slightest imperfection in this human before him.

You do not even sense Namjoon’s and Seokjin’s presence as your eyes take in the predator advancing towards you. The older ones seem frozen as their youngest stops just a breath away from you. You look mouthwatering – clad in one of their merchandise hoodies, hair pinned in a mess at the top of your head, some bold eye make-up, but otherwise barefaced. You look… just right.

Before Jungkook’s grin spreads across his face, Jin takes action – trying to move between the sarved vampire and this … girl. What the hell was Sejin thinking just throwing her in here? Did he want this human dead so badly?

But the oldest is too late – Jungkook growls aggressively as he snatches you against his firm chest. All the air leaves your lungs – your breasts pressed painfully against solid muscle.

“Ahh”, you groan. As soon as the noise leaves your mouth, his lips descend against the white of your neck. The maknae hisses in pleasure; and then he is biting – hard.

Your scream misses the volume and you feel tears on your cheeks as you gaze into Seokjin’s overwhelmed eyes – hands outstretched.

Blood flows freely into Jungkook’s mouth and you hear a sickening slurping sound. The pain is blazing against your skin, every fiber of your body vehemently trying to get away from the maknae. But your fingers don’t push him away. No, the curl around his biceps – acting against every rational though inside your brain. You cling to the man sucking your blood as if he’s merely leaving a love bite.

The pain in your body slowly ebbs and you feel a bright bliss surrounding you. You’re not even sure if you are still standing at the door. There is no room – just lips against your neck and whimpers in your throat… and Namjoon’s voice far, far away.

“Jungkook stop now.”

“This is an order.”

“Jin, help me.”

“Let’s lay her down.”

“Is there a pulse?”

***

“How do you take your coffee?”, Yoongi asks while starring at you with such indifference in his eyes you’re not sure your answer even matters.

“Uhm- I” His sigh interrupts you as he makes his way from the couch across form you to the kitchenette. The whole room is dimmed in a soft light, the furniture a clean white. You feel your head spin as you try to recall what happened. Weren’t you backstage? Didn’t Jun-

“Jungkook”, your voice more of an accusation than a whisper. Yoongi’s back stiffens, but he continues to brew hot water over a ceramic filter and soon a soothing smell of coffee drifts towards you on the white leather.

“Jungkook sucked m-y – he su”

“-cked your blood. Damn girl, how hard did you hit your head when you fainted?”, your favorite rapper asks – his body finally turned towards you.

Slow, leisure steps are taken and then he sits in front of you, taking you all in. You must look like a mess; grease and sweat from your shift in the booth, plus the incident with the youngest vocalist in the band. All the blood. Your stomach turns around uncomfortably.

Yoongi is looking into your eyes and for a split second you see something other than complete boredom behind his stare, but as soon as you try to pinpoint the emotion, it vanishes.

“That’s what vampire do”, he continues and you heart reacts before the triggering word even registers in your brain. Vampire. No way.

“Go-ood one, Yoongi-ssi. This… this isn’t – some romance novel for teenagers”, you scoff, disbelieve in your voice while your heart beats hard against your chest. Without missing a beat, the idol is in your face – literally just millimeters away. The air is stuck in your lungs as you try to calm yourself.

“You know what I hate, dumb human?”

His fingers draw lines across your face – just a feathering touch, barely more than an illusion. You can only shake your head; afraid your voice will give out if you try to answer verbally.

His face moves down to your neck as his hands frame your face – no longer brushing but locking your head into place. Then his mouth dives into your neck, just resting against your pulse. You can feel the sinister smile against your skin as you shiver.

“Talking to dumb people”, his lips vibrate and you feel goosebumps traveling across your body.

“You have all the proof, but your silly little brain still doesn’t – connect the pieces”, Yoongi trails small kisses across your collarbone; a stark contrast to his insulting words.

“Do you really think our little maknae just has a blood kink?”

He moves to the other side of your neck, while titling your head forcefully to the left. You can’t move your body – muscles frozen into place. You’re just passively… enduring what your favorite idol does to you. Now his teeth are grazing your right earlobe, as his voice drops another octave into a threatening growl.

“That we just hire a college dropout because of her work ethics?”

His words hurt, but you’re more concerned with the information behind them. They know about you, must have read your file. Shame colors your cheeks and Yoongi’s nose inhales deeply against the red of your skin.

“You smell fucking delicious”, he moans and places an open mouth kiss against your rosé cheek. You can feel his saliva on your skin and a whimper of your own escapes your throat.

“You like that, dumb human? Knowing I’d love… nothing more than to bite in your flesh? Drain you dry?”, he slurs. You both know that this is nothing more than a rhetorical question – your heart, your breathing and the wetness between your tights enough evidence.

But before he can act on his words, a searing pain flashes through your brain.

“Argh”, you groan pressing your head against his cold hands with virgo. The dead skin of his fingertips sooths the throbbing in your brain temporarily. But he knows that your time is nearing its end.

“Human, listen to me”, he whispers, his previously threatening tone making place for urgent whisper.

“When you wake up” What? His hands still a vise to keep you grounded, while the pain in your head expands to your whole body. “Damn human, focus!”

He searches your eyes for recognition, but your stare moves around the room – now noticing how alien the light looks, how… clean the colors are. Is this? Are you still sleeping? How?

“When you wake up”, Yoongi’s voice nothing more than a vibrating hum in your ears, “Say no to Namjoon.”

Now he is shaking you. “Say no”

***

“Good morning, sleepyhead”, Namjoon says after you open your eyes – the morning sun blinding you momentarily.

“I made you coffee”, he adds as he pushes a steaming mug in your hands. The familiar smell takes you back to your dream, to Yoongi, his words, his plea – and you gape at the leader in front of you.

“I thought we could talk?”

_______________________

A/N: What do you guys think? I am so thankful for the feedback you guys sent me. It means a lot! I hope you like this chapter as much as i do! I’d love to hear from you again! love, dana

taglist: @m0chilattae @gali-005 @fangirls94 @dinopowa @toddsgirl27 @littlemanismoon @dkck99 @slutkoo @subtlepjiminie @coffeebeanismylife @iloverubberduckiez-blog @geminidrawsstuff @olivialovemason88

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punchdrunkdoc · 4 years ago

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The King: Eternal Monarch

What follows is a stream-of-consciousness, spoiler-filled bunch of thoughts and theories about TKEM, which I can’t stop obsessing over. I knew it was a mistake to start this show instead of waiting to binge it! It’s the first K-drama I’ve watched in ‘real time’ and the wait between episodes is KILLING ME!!

Overall, though, I’m really enjoying this show. It’s right up my alley (which is why I couldn’t wait to start watching it): magical realism, parallel worlds, time travel, a dashing King and a capable, no-nonsense heroine. The plot is really intriguing and there have been some great twists and genuinely heart-pounding sequences so far. It’s also GORGEOUS to look at and there’s a great streak of humour.

I admit I found the romance a bit lacking at the start. It felt a little rushed, to be honest. I could see why Gon would be instantly smitten with Tae-eul - she’s been in his head for 25 years and when he finally found her, she was smart, spunky and treated him in a refreshingly frank and ‘real’ way - so different from all the fawning adoration he was used to in Corea.

So the fact that it was Tae-eul who was the first to say ‘I love you’ was a little jarring and it seemed to come out of the blue. But I went back and binged just their scenes together for all 12 episodes, and I could see the connection better.

She comes to realise that fate has dropped this guy in her lap - this amazing, smart, funny, handsome, rich, cool guy - and she also has the sense that it can’t end well between them. So, at first she retreats from him; when she’s in Corea the first time, she keeps asking to see her ID badge - the pretence for her being there and the only thing stopping her from leaving. It’s clear that she’s trying to protect herself. She doesn’t want to get too close to this guy when there is no future. So she leaves without giving him a sense that she returns his feelings in any deep way.

But then she can’t get him out of her head, and has weeks to think about how she left things with him and how she might never see him again (he did go off to battle after all). When he finally returns, and she sees him just standing there in her yard…she decides to go all in. “It is better to have loved and lost…” as the saying goes.

And I like that this is where the show chose to go. It’s not a story about will they/won’t they. It won’t end with them declaring their love. They’ve already done that. This is a show about two people who desperately WANT to be together - and are really great together - but the universe is trying to tear them apart. And I’ve really enjoyed the scenes of them attempting to have a normal life - they’re so easy and natural together and the show has done such a good job, with relatively little screentime, of showing how well they work as a couple. They make each other laugh, they’re impressed by each other, and they can confide and support one another.

And that’s why these last few episodes have been so heartbreaking.

Lets talk about that scene in the bamboo forest, when they briefly reconnected. Tae-eul absolutely broke my heart in this moment. I do wish the show did a better job of conveying how much time passes between Gon’s visits - is it weeks, months?? - but even without a definite timescale, the actress absolutely sold that it had been a significant period of time and she missed him so, so much. It was beautifully done. And it did nothing to advance the plot - it was just a tiny moment to show how much these two love and miss each other. I’m glad the writers have remembered that this show is about the characters as much as its about the Lee Lim/murdering dopplegangers plot.

And then what about this:

When I first saw it, I assumed Gon was crying with grief over his uncle. And I thought it was a nice way of calling back the conversation between PM Koo and Court Lady Noh - that Gon would never cry in front of Koo, proving that she is not the woman for him. But here he is shedding tears with Tae-eul, and bringing her flowers from across the universe.

But now that we know this is Gon from the future, his words and his tears have much, much more poignancy. It’s turned a sad scene into a gut-wrenching one. This felt very much like a last goodbye: bringing her the flowers he never brought, finally being able to tell her how much he loved her, and sharing one final kiss.

So what the hell has happened to this Gon? It appears that he loses Tae-eul at some point…either through her death or some other permanent separation. And why is he in that particular coat? I think it’s his wedding outfit (worn ‘at the most glorious moment’). We know he tends to get ahead of himself - she hasn’t agreed to marry him, but he’s already declared that she is the future Queen, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s already got the royal tailors working on his outfit!

But that brings me to the awful theory that he is marrying PM Koo in the future, which is why he feels the need to have a final moment of closure with Tae-eul. We know Koo has her eye on the crown, and its possible she blackmails him into marriage e.g. by threatening to expose the parallel world.

The other heartbreaking moment in this last episode was the photograph scene. Gon has already worked out that they can’t keep using the gateway between the worlds. Each time they do, time stops for longer and longer (I love that he is a mathematician, and his logical brain figures this stuff out so quickly. Its refreshing to have a lead who knows almost as much as the audience does and you’re not constantly waiting for him to catch up and clue in).

So during this latest time-freeze, he can’t help but cry. It a lovely juxtaposition with the first time he’s with a motionless Tae-eul. Back then, he was full of wonder at the beauty of the moment. Now, it’s just a reminder that their time together is limited.

Each moment they share together is now touched with bittersweetness and an air of melancholy and its bloody PAINFUL to watch. The angst in this show is tearing my heart out!!

This moment was a bit lighter, and I’m glad they’ve moved their relationship forward in this way. It was a bit ridiculous that they’re in love, finally together in the same world, they both know time is running out…and yet they’re still being so platonic! C’mon, I know this is a k-drama (which are super-PG)…but this was starting to stretch my credulity!

And…wild baseless theory coming up…could she be pregnant as a result?? The doctor made a point of saying she was on antibiotics (which stops birth control working) and there’s a tiny snippet in the trailer where she says ‘I think I’m-‘. So, my mind couldn’t help but go there! Because this show doesn’t have enough angst!!

(Extremely wild, baseless theory number 2…could yo-yo boy be their child? He belongs to both worlds, which would make sense if his parent were from both worlds too…and he has that connection with Luna…

No. I don’t like this theory at all, because he’s obviously not been raised with his parents which means a super-sad ending is coming. And he seems a bit more like a God-like character than a mortal boy, so I’m probably waaaay off track, and I really hope I am).

My last point (and, boy did this get long!) is that I struggle to see how the show can possibly tie everything up in just 4 episodes. We have Lee Lim’s plan that has barely come into play, all the dopplegangers to sort out, Shin-Jae’s background to explore, Lady Noh’s background (!), PM Koo’s ambitions, who saved 8-year old Gon, and of course, how Gon and Tae-eul will resolve their star-crossed lovers thing.

It’s either going to end tragically, or there’ll be loose ends…or they might be setting up a season 2. If that’s the case I’ll be PISSED! One of the reasons I became addicted to K-dramas is how they (usually) tell a complete story in 1 season. There’s a clear, satisfying ending and it doesn’t get dragged out for multiple years.

There’s also the risk that there won’t BE a season 2. I gather the show is popular on Netflix, but I see things on twitter about it not doing well in South Korea. For such a lavish, expensive show, is a second season even guaranteed?

UGH, I need to have a happy ending guys!

#kdrama #the king eternal monarch #TKEM #join in me in my angsty hellhole #tell me your thoughts and theories

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itsanerdlife · 5 years ago

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It’s Complicated 8/25

Pairing: Clint Barton x Fisk Niece!Reader

A/N: Reader is Wilson Fisk’s Niece. I’m tired of the same old villains so keep your eyes peeled for who just might be the one lurking in the dark.

Warning: This is very match and lighter fluid type of burn. Feels of abandonment. Talks of Psychopaths. Overprotective male. Lies. Secrets. Language. Kidnapping. Violence. I think that’s about it.

Sometimes in life there are just certain people worth breaking the rules for. No matter the hell that may rain down. Is it possible to fall in love with someone in just a matter of one conversation? To be utterly and completely obsessed with someone in a matter of weeks? But what if they aren’t who you think they are? What if one day the person you love, they just disappear? Learning to live again is a bitch. Specially just when you think you’re doing fine, he shows up on your doorstep. Wanting to explain his secrets. But now you’ve got your own secrets but do you really ever just get over that type of love? Can you really just move on and pretend it never happened? Even when you’re carrying around proof inside you?

Tag List Is Open

You finish signing in. The woman behind the desk hands you a visitor pass, you clip it to the grey cardigan you wore over your black tank top, tucked into your skinny jeans and black heels. Your hair tied up into a somewhat neat ponytail with your messy curls.

“Miss. L/N?” A tall, well built, dark skinned man walks towards you. He has a military clearance badge hanging around his neck. Resting against the pale blue button down he wore with nice khaki pants. He has a friendly smile on his mouth.

“Yes.” You smile.

“Sam Wilson.” He puts his hand out when he stops in front of you.

“Nice to meet you Sam Wilson.” You shake his hand.

“Just Sam, Ma’am.” He chuckles.

“Call me Y/N.” You smile.

“I’ll be your escort today.” He nods.

“Huh.” You smile softly, nodding.

“What?” He ushers you towards a row of elevators.

“I thought you’d be bigger.” You laugh.

“Story of my life.” Sam laughs. “Actually, I was apart of classified departments in the military. I’m also the head of a few support groups for military vets.” He nods, swiping his ID the elevator opens.

“Wow.” You smile stepping on. “So you’ve seen some shit.” You smirk.

“Understatement.” He chuckles. “I saw your interview and was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I sat in on it. Rogue CIA agent, I’m curious to why he turned on his country.” Sam nods, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“No that’s absolutely okay with me. I would like to hear your type of questioning for him as well.” You nod.

“Thank you.” He smiles. “Now he’s cuffed, he’ll be seated across from you. The table doesn’t move, it’s bolted down. You do understand he’s what we label tricky here.” He looks over at you as the elevator stops.

“Tricky?” You wonder.

“Watch your step with him Y/N, he was trained by the government to twist a conversation, to predict what you’re move is. He’s going to try to get under your skin.” He warns you.

“Weird.” You shake your head slowly. Stepping off the elevator Sam looks confused. “My boyfriend said the same thing to me.” You snort.

“Oh.” Sam swallows.

“He works for the government, something high up. He warned me about guys like Mr. Cross.” You nod.

“I won’t leave you alone, I’ll be with you the whole time.” Sam nods as you come to a stop handing over your badges to the guard.

“Door on the left.” He nods, waving you through.

“Take a moment.” Sam nods, when you stop in front of the two way mirror. The officer is shoving Cross into a metal chair, Cross looks rather … giddy. It makes your stomach flip. You press your lips together, swallowing down the nerves.

“The thing is Mr. Wilson, I have no skin to get under. I picked this career, this study, because nothing could be worse than what I’ve already seen.” You look over at him. He stares at you for a moment. “My uncle is Wilson Fisk. Psychopaths are my bread and butter.” You shrug. “I’m ready if you are.” You nod.

“Let me get the door for you.” Sam clears his throat, opening the door. You stroll in, Sam follows, the door shuts. Sealing the three of you in together.

“Mr. Cross, my name is Miss. L/N. I’ll be interviewing you today.” You smile, taking a seat.

“Call me Will.” He grins at you.

“Okay, Will.” You nod, pulling out your recorder. Sam adjusts the camera in the far corner, before taking a seat next to you.

“Who’s the shirt?” Will eyes Sam.

“Sam Wilson. US Military, Specialist.” Sam nods.

“Mmm.” Will scuffs, his eyes flick back to you.

“What would you like to start with today, Will?” You cross your legs, placing your hands in your lap. “Why did you join the military?” You ask.

“Will you be doing all the asking, or do I get to ask things too?” Will smirks. There’s a coldness in his blue eyes, but the twitch in the corners of his mouth say more than his mouth does.

“Sure. If you want to ask me something.” You nod.

“Y/N.” Sam warns you in a soft voice.

“It’s fine Sam.” You smile at him.

“Guess this might not be a waste of time after all.” Will grins, leaning back in his seat watching you.

“Why join the military Will?” You ask.

“Personal gain.” Will grins.

“How does the military give you personal gain?”

“State, Country, Government secrets, all just waiting to be sold.” He chuckles.

“Trying to profit for yourself.” You nod.

“The training, the secrecy, the knowledge, very useful.” He shrugs.

“Is that why you joined the CIA?” Your head tips slowly to one side.

“I had bigger plans for the CIA.” He scuffs.

“Do tell.” You smile.

“My turn.” Will chuckles, folding his leg over the other, resting his hands in his lap.

“Hands on the table, Cross.” Sam warns him.

“So touchy.” Cross chuckles, slowly putting his hands back on the table. “Your boyfriend?” Cross eyes you.

“No, just met him today.” You smirk.

“But you have a boyfriend?” He grins.

“Yes, I do.” You nod.

“Why’s he so protective over you then?” Will looks at Sam, who’s glaring.

“He’s military, savior complex more than likely. I assume, abusive parent, close to his mother, always wanted to be the hero.” You shrug. Sam looks over at you, with slightly wide eyes. “What?” You smirk.

“Damn you’re good.” Sam blinks, looking away.

“So Will, did you join the CIA to profit yourself?” You turn the conversation back.

“You ever heard of black arms deals?” Will asks, his pointer finger taps on the metal table.

“More than you would guess for a nerd.” You smile.

“Nerd huh?” Will grins at you.

“Black arms deals?” You remind him.

“Do you know what the Japs and the Russians would pay for secret military grade weapons?” He chuckles.

“And the assassinations, drug trafficking and extortion, were just side businesses?” You wonder.

“How did you,” Will squints at you.

“You’d be surprised what I can find out.” You smile. Sam is staring at you, a little confused and little nervous.

“Do you have family?” Will wonders.

“Nope.” You reply.

“Liar.” Will grins at you.

“Guess that makes two of us.” You smirk.

“Your boyfriend is extremely important to you.” He watches you. Sam shifts, eyes flicking between the two of you.

“Is your wife very important to you?” You wonder. Will’s brow jumps, and Sam swallows.

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

Everything Peaches 2/6/19: @xmtd5 @mo320 @all1e23 @courtmr @avxgers @eliza-kat @izzy--lee @irepeldirt @dumblani @crist1216 @a--1--1--3 @alyssaj23 @allyp1023 @joannie95 @nishanki1 @bugalouie @kolakube9 @rileyloves5 @sarahp879 @sea040561 @sexyvixen7 @pcterpvrker @pigwidgexn @doctoranon @tomhardy41 @abschaffer2 @justrae9903 @bookluver01 @teller258316 @callie-bear15 @nickimarie94 @wandressfox @amandab-ftw @carostar2020 @henrietteoaks @nea90sweetie @circusofchaos @itsagalaxystar @bettercallsabs @miraclesoflove @lucifersnipnips @queenkrissy11 @this-is-mycrisis @sadyoungadult @destiel-artemis @xrosegoldwolfx @paintballkid711 @isabelcrichards @iwillbeinmynest @sweet-honey15 @chanelmadrid13 @mellxander1993 @killerbumblebee @spookygrantaire @geeksareunique @supernatural508 @sammysgirl1997 @itzmegaaaaaaan @booksbeforebois @optimistic-babes @childishhoebinoo @elizabethaellison @aspiringtranslator @mariekoukie6661 @pure-princess-97 @capsheadquaters @samanthasmileys @nerdypinupcrystal @atlas-of-the-world @youclickedthislink @futuremrsb-r-main @lovemarvelousfics @notyourtypicalrose @petersunderoos96 @loving-life-my-way @buckystolemyheart @booktvmoviefangirl @supernatural-girl97 @thefridgeismybestie @dumbbitchenergytm @abbypalmer14-blog @fanfictionjunkie1112 @meganlikesfandoms @awkwardfangirl2014 @supernaturaldean67 @xqueenofthecraziesx @queenoftheunderdark @writingaworldofmyown @supernaturallover2002 @daughterofthenight117 @mustbeaweasleyginger @mcuwillbethedeathofme @sprinklesandsugarcubes @whothehellisbucky-1930 @verymuchclosetedfangirl @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan @wonderlandfandomkingdom @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @stupendoussciencenaturepanda @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @supernatural-strangerthings-1980

Marvel Tag List 2/6/19: @lumelgy @dottirose @jcc04220 @rockagurl @mizzzpink @jade-taillia @coley0823 @widowsfics @bookluver01 @thelostallycat @shield-agent78 @dtftheavengers @ilovetvshowsblog @capsheadquaters @iamwarrenspeace @thefridgeismybestie @whenallsaidanddone @deanwinchestersrifle @fandomsstolemylife00 @daughterofthenight117 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect

Clint ‘Destory Me, I’ll Thank You’ Barton: @ml7010 @coley0823 @yavanna80 @lakamaa12 @boltsgirl919 @feelmyroarrrr @what-a-fantasy @mrsseizetheday @honey-bee-holly @marvelfansworld @mybarnesmyhero @the-real-mary-jane @dumbbitchenergytm @agentsinstorybrooke @stuckyandsciencebros @x-whyareyoureadingthis-x @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

It's Complicated: @capandbuckylvr @optimistic-babes @jennmurawski13 @marvelfansworld @bradfordbantams @natromanoffsboys @thosesexytexasboys @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth

#Marvel #Clint Barton x Reader #Avengers #Clint x Reader #It's Complicated #Marvel Fanfiction #Clint Barton Series #Avengers Fanfiction #Hawkeye Series

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isopale · 6 years ago

Text

Here is my entry for @covered-byroses turning 1 writing challenge!

This is my first time writing anything for others to see, and it kinda got away from me... Had to cut it off where i did for now because it juat kept going and going and going..... And next thing i know wow.

Summary: You have a secret you've kept hidden all this time. Until something kills your husband and threatens to expose everything. Just so happens a couple hunters get more than the case they signed up for.

Pairing: none (yet 😘)

Warnings: character death (vaguely/generally discribed)

A quiet normal life was obviously too much to ask for. The past few years had been a lot of running around from place to place, ducking monsters and hunters. Was there nowhere that didn't have some kind of monster in it? How hard was it really?

The monsters never bothered you, they all seemed to know something was off and to stay away. You don't bother them, they don't bother you, simple as that. But some the hunters that came after them were different, these humans that have made it their duty to protect the clueless ones could be dangerous. Some of them have let the jobs get into their heads, and it's changed them. That's why you always left any town they came to, just to be safe.

Angels and demons on the other hand were absolute nightmares. You had spent more than your fair share with them and fighting them. If an angel was in a town, it was drop everything and run before they see you. Demon, leave before a hunter comes since most demons topside were too young go recognize you.

With all the constant moving, you were alone.

Until you met your (murdered) husband. He was a self proclaimed free spirit. Loved to move from place to place and rarely stayed anywhere for more than a few months. You had been hesitant but eventually warmed up to him and before long married, and fell in love. Since he just sooo happened to show up in the same places as you, he was a risk you wanted to take. He was your guilty pleasure, and his death was your fault.

He never knew what hit him. But obviously some demon went looking for the legend not even your dear old dad believed.

After your husband was murdered, you made it your obsession to find and kill it. Someone was talking and it wasn't going to end well.

You had been looking around and discovered that there was apparently a pack of wolves living in town. Small pack, looks to be exclusively family unit. Mother, father, and 2 girls (possibly nearing their 20s) and a teenage boy.

Of course… never a dull moment.

Not too surprising being in the middle of nowhere texas, but in the weeks you had been watching them they only fed on their livestock.

Which makes other murders in town very strange. What ever was responsible made sure to make it look like a werewolf attack.

…

Sam and Dean had been interviewing the investigators and witnesses all day for these “animal attacks”.

“Sounds like a werewolf Sammy,” Dean said opening a beer from the mini fridge.

“Yeah. Where is it hiding though?” Sam mused leaning back in the ratty bedside chair. “No one i touched was bothered by the silver ring today.”

“Good idea of Bobby's by the way. I might have to go check the local talent with it,” Dean said with a smirk lounging on one of the two small beds in the motel room.

“Dude,”

“oh Lighten up Sammy. I was gonna let you go first this time”

“Do whatever you want. I'm going to bed.” Sam rolled his eyes before moving to the other bed, that was a few inches too short for him “Remember we have to talk to the widows tomorrow so try not to have hooker glitter on you this time.”

“That only happened once.”

…

You didn't like to make a habit of being near hunters but you couldn't leave town now. It had only been a few months since you were married and less than a year since you and your husband had known each other. But that didn't make it hurt any less. It had been so long since you had had someone close to you.

You had visited the wolfs farm, this time to talk instead of spy, this morning before work at the small second hand clothes shop downtown. The Hensen's, you should probably remember their name. They were nice and accommodating once convinced you weren't there to harm them. Josh, the husband, wide and sturdy man was willing and ready to end any threat to his family. (Oh those hunters are going to have fun with this one) Amelia, the mother, tall woman towering over you although extremely soft spoken due to then she was turned her throat had very nearly been ripped out leaving a large angry scar. (You wondered if the big one of the two hunters was taller than her) The girls were twins, Anna and Marie, simple small town girls. And the son, Rich, solid country muscle farm boy.

They had been living there for years, long enough to build up that farm and to have the stock numbers to cover their feeding habits. They always sold or gave away what they didn't need. Most of the town thought they ran a home butcher shop and over the years that's what it turned into. But now with the murders and the hunters in town they were all on high alert.

Those hunters were going around town talking to the other 3 widows. Now you could see them through the store window across the street parking that vintage beauty. Both of them were way too sexy to be whatever government agents they were pretending to be. Sex with your husband (the few times it did happen) was great it was meaningful, but he would rather sleep under the stars or not leave the couch unless absolutely necessary to binge on something. But these two hunters made you think sinful thoughts.

Oh if only boys.

Putting on your customer service voice “Good afternoon gentleman. How can I help you?”

“We're federal agents in town working the recent animal attack cases,” the shorter of the two stated as they flash very nice but very fake FBI badges. “We were wondering if there was a (y/n y/l/n) here.”

“That would be me.” not even trying to remember the names on the ids, they wouldn't be real anyway. “Are you going to find out what happened to my husband?”

“Yes ma'am, we are very sorry for your loss,” now it's the taller ones turn “but we were hoping we could ask you a few questions?”

Giving them a sad smile before turning back to arrange new rack of clothes “Sure but i'm the only one here until closing at 6. You can ask here or wait until then.”

The tall one narrowed his eyes slightly. He seemed to want to say something else.

I don't even know what I'm not supposed to know. Normal people don't think werewolf right?

“How 'bout you meet us at the diner down the street when you get off? You can help us out over a quick bite,” he stepped around the small rolling rack of new clothes to make you look at him.

“Sure,” you try your best to hold back fake tears “I'll be there about 15 after.”

…

Too bad you didn't have time to creep on them before the diner, you have to admit they were nice to look at.

They're waiting in a booth in the back, both on one side with backs against the wall to watch everyone else. The tall one with long hair politely waves his hand when you enter. The shorter one has beautiful green eyes, he stands and helps you into the benchseat across from them. The had already ordered you a coffee and a glass of water.

“Thank you for coming Ms (y/l/n),” says the tall one

“How long were you and your husband living here before he was attacked?” Asks the green eyed hunter

“We only came here about a month ago. We didn't plan on staying, we wanted to travel around the country. You know live on the road,” You say not entirely lying “we just pick somewhere to go and get some small jobs around to hold us over for a bit.”

“Wait you don't live here?” Asked the tall one, he was trying to hide his suspicion with empathy.

Hunters…

“No, I'm still staying in the little motel,” you say “I was going to switch rooms but… i couldn't bring myself to…” you say fake holding back tears, you've shed all the tears you needed. Now you want the thing that killed him to suffer.

“We're sorry.” Says the tall one, his features soften and he gives you a look of genuine sympathy. “Why did you stay? Couldn't you have gone back home?”

“Neither of us have any family anywhere, we’re alone.” Now you hold back real tears, suddenly very interested in that coffee.

Taking a sip you realize why it was there before you were. Holy water. It stings some now when it usually doesn't, but you hold your composure. These two aren't playing around, they legitimately think you're the killer.

When green eyes shifts his hands on the table you notice why he helped you into the seat.

Holy water and silver rings, these two are a lot more interesting than i thought.

You sigh and decide to tell them what they want to know… sort of.

“I'm not the one who killed those people or my husband.” you whisper. They glance at each other and some unspoken thing goes between them but before they can feed you more BS you continue. “It wasn't a werewolf either. I know it looks bad but the bodies should have been more tore up, when has a wolf ever ripped out a heart without leaving any other marks?”

“Ma'am werewolves don't exist. We know traumatic experiences like this ca--” the long haired giant begins but green eyes stops him.

“Sam she knows.” He whispers to him “I guess we can cut the act for you then.” He directs to you this time. “What do you know?”

Mmm like to be incharge do ya not-sam.

“I'll tell you what I know but it's not much, and not here. I'm leaving in the morning,” You say “meet me at the butchers farm outside town in an hour.” You get up to leave not waiting for an answer.

…

After the 15 minute walk back to the motel you enter your room. You spare one last glance at the first bed and your heart clenches. You just need to pack the few clothes you have in your backpack and the essentials and be on your way to the farm. You plan on staying with the wolves until the hunters leave and your mind is too preoccupied with things to take and things to leave you didn't notice the rug was moved. Then you bumped the barrier reaching for the moon necklace your husband had given you. You had been so hurt and angry lately you hadn't been careful enough.

“Told you Sammy.” You heard from the doorway

You had not been pissed before but you were now. Hunters, always shoot first and ask questions after. Between angels, demons, and hunters you couldn't catch a break.

“Why'd you do it? Was he even your husband or just some poor sap that happened to be passing through town at the same time?” Sam asked accusingly

“It's not what you think” you say taking a breath to calm down and try and get out of the circle. But green eyes cuts you off.

“Why do you demons think you can just kill whenever you want and we won't find you,” he opens a small leather book “ now were going to save that poor girl you're wearin--”

“I LOVED HIM! LOOK AROUND YOU IDIOT!” So much for calm. You raise your hand and they both are flung against the headboards. You shut your eyes and take another breath.

You feel the darkness fading and with it the circles hold as you step over the barrier, careful to keep your hold on the men before you. You open your eyes to see them staring wide eyed and speechless. Their eyes locked on yours, you know they see the black they are used to but yours also have the familiar blue-white glow as well.

“What are you?” Sam breathes

Striding to the nightstand between the beds you slowly take your necklace before answering “I WILL find out who killed my husband, with or without your help. You have 20 minutes to be at the butchers now and I'll tell you what i know.” You say firmly making your way to the door making sure to walk through the circle again for them to see.

You spare one last look at them. “You know if i was into being on this end of things you two might be in trouble like that”

You release your hold on them as you slip out the door on the last word.

…

Something was different about the boy when you had ran into him that morning before the hunters came to the shop and you were hoping you were wrong.

Even if I'm right I can just fix him when I'm done.

You had been running since you left the motel, you're not going back to that little car you had since someone probably will recognize it again.

“(Y/N)!”

You skid to a stop in front of the Hensen's gate, trying to slow your breathing and heart rate after the 2 mile run.

“(Y/N)!” It must be one of the twins running up the drive yelling for you.

“Please. There's something wrong with Rich.”

Just then you hear the roar of the hunters car coming up the road.

“Get the rest of your family and hide. DO NOT come out until i come get you.” You grab her shoulders and make her look at you “Where is he?”

“He- he's in the barn. Mom is went after him, please don't let them hurt them.” She sobs

You shove her toward the house “GO!” Then tear off to the barn in the light of the hunters impala.

Just before you reach the barn a body is thrown through the doors, you manage to stop it in the air before it smashes into you. It's the mother, you lay her gently at your feet never touching her. It's been so long since you've used your powers it feels good to do it again.

“Don't you touch her!” The green eyed hunter yells gun drawn on you.

You hover your hand over the mother and let the healing white light do its job. Both men stand above you guns at the ready.when When you're done you snap your fingers and send her to her own bed far away from the hunters, still unsure if they will leave this family alone.

…

Dean and I argued the whole way to the farm about (y/n). He thinks it's some kind of demon trick that she got out of the devils trap, that she must have broke the circle before stepping in it. But i saw her run into it, it stopped her from reaching the nightstand when she reached out.

Then her still using her powers on us while trapped shouldn't be possible. And those eyes. Cas’ eyes only glow blue-white in the iris’, and no other angel has black around them. Whatever she is we've never seen anything like her.

'Into being on this end of things…’ more arousing than it should be coming from a possible demon.

Before we could act she snapped away the wife.

“You people are always shoot first and answers later.” She stood us to her full height, barely coming to the middle of my chest before swinging around to face Dean.

“MOVE” she shoves past my brother and i have to hide a laugh

“Wait! We don't know what's in there.” I try to stop her but she's already opening the doors before either of us can stop her.

“Ugh. Just stand still and I do everything. hunters…”

What must be the farmers son is standing in the middle of the loft above us cocky smile and black eyes.

"I didnt think you were real little one"

#writing #spn #spnfandom #spnfamily #firstfic #first time #first

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downthetubes · 6 years ago

Text

Comics artist John Tucker reflect on his first Thought Bubble Festival experience, the culmination of his busy year as a creator…

Well, here we are then. Our first Thought Bubble is in the bag. The show I’ve wanted to do for the best part of a decade, over in the blink of an eye. I am now back in my house, near Swansea, with a cup of tea and the biggest convention of my “career” thus far in the rear view mirror. Let’s try our best to make sense of the show, the year that preceded it, and what it all means. Easy.

Thought Bubble 2018

What can I say about Thought Bubble that somebody else won’t have already said? It’s the big leagues of indie comics; small press tastemaker and impresario Sarah Harris (of Swindon’s Incredible Comics) once said that Thought Bubble is where you go to “arrive”; to announce your presence on the scene. A lot of people were making that announcement this year, including us (me and my wife, who is my salesperson and spokesperson while I’m busy drawing or scowling).

Thought Bubble looks, superficially, like other conventions, but it is not like other conventions. On its face, the process of getting to Thought Bubble was identical to the Cardiff Independent Comic Expo and True Believers processes – we applied early, sent in some JPGs and text, then we turned up with comics and a roulette wheel. There was a folding table and some chairs, and nearby people were putting up those wire print holders that you clip together. Same old. But, as we soon learned, Thought Bubble is unlike anything else we’d encountered previously.

I knew Thought Bubble was big, but I had no real concept of its breadth and scale until I saw it all laid out, taking over a large portion of the city centre. The marquee we were in, alone, would have been the largest comic convention I’ve ever exhibited at, before you consider it was one of four venues. Thought Bubble is almost too much, but of course if you’re into comics there’s probably no such thing as too much. I had grand plans to see so many people, almost all of which were lost to the blur of the event (except for Tony Esmond, Todd Oliver, and Sarah Millman, and even then I didn’t even get to see at her at her actual table; I bumped into her purely by chance in the street).

If you want to experience Thought Bubble, don’t get a table. You can either be at it or in it, and never the twain shall meet.

Image: Thought Bubble Festival

The mid-con party was a godsend in that regard, and it was a real pleasure to talk shop with other exhibitors while watching a flamboyant German attempting pistol squats to Boney M’s “Rasputin” in full cosplay.

In fact, of all the things that happened in Leeds this weekend, I think I enjoyed the mid-con get-together more than anything. It’s so rare you get to really talk to other people doing this sort of thing – comics is, by nature, an isolationist pursuit, and even if you’re tabling next to good people (as we, fortunately, have done every time so far – this time with Paul Moore, a true gent and a talented man) you never really get to talk.

I also managed to get some good conversations in with Jon Laight, fellow weird comic producer Todd Oliver, and Andy Barron (whose work is so unique it looks like it was produced off-planet, a distant civilisation’s take on sequential art). And I saw the pistol squats. Great party, cheers lads.

In regard to the actual show itself, I’m probably one of the worst people to write about Thought Bubble, because I saw very little of the actual show. We had so much fun – we met lots of great people, saw friends from shows past, Lauren met somebody off the Bake Off (I don’t watch it but she seemed very nice) – but it was just so hectic we couldn’t get a sense of what the punters experienced.

Image: Thought Bubble Festival

All I can really tell you is how we did as exhibitors, as rookie exhibitors with a half-table in a marquee large enough to accommodate several hundred of the most talented indie comic artists in the country.

How Did We Do?

I went to Thought Bubble feeling relatively conflicted in regards to expectations. What would low sales mean? What would high sales mean? Would we sell anything at all? Would we be kicked ceremoniously in the arse with a big pointed boot if we didn’t meet quota? No way to know. Had to just go there and see what happened. I had advantages here that I hadn’t had at our first show at True Believers – we’d had some experience, and some success, and we had the roller banner, at once repulsing and attracting, a cursed beacon luring punters towards it against their will.

It’s impossible to deduce your standing in comics from any one show, but if there’s one thing I learned from Thought Bubble, it is that any lessons you have learned from other shows do not apply there. Thought Bubble is a different animal; the punters look the same as the punters elsewhere, but they are not the same. They will do what other punters do – look at the roller banner with either amusement or disgust, pick up a comic to a gruesome page before sidling away, the usual – but these are not the people we encountered in Cardiff, Cheltenham, or Swindon.

At smaller shows, we sold a lot of bumper packs (complete sets of my entire back catalogue, with a sketch, for a tenner). We offered a very similar package at Thought Bubble, and we priced competitively as we always do (or at least I feel we do). But the vast majority of money that came over the table was either for a Death Roulette on its own (£5, and fine by me – it’s the highest margin item on the table, considering I’m going to be at the table anyway and I genuinely love doing them) or a single issue, typically Adrift or one of the other shorter minis (Hell – my £1 mini-comic – was the breakout star).

We put this down to the sheer crushing weight of the competition; whereas a £10 pack of comics may seem like a good deal at a smaller show, at a show the size of Thought Bubble the smart play is to get a little taste off everybody. We’ll be making sure we’ve got more little things for sale next time, and I would definitely recommend anybody thinking about Thought Bubble to make sure you have plenty of “easy pickups” – badges, short comics for cheap etc. It also helps if you have something unique, which we will come to shortly.

We didn’t quite break even – nor, frankly, did I expect to; how could we? We’d driven from Swansea and spent two nights in a hotel, and then there was the cost of the table on top.

But we came closer to breaking even than I would have imagined; very close indeed. Especially considering:

– I’m still a no-name, in the grand scheme of things (though some people did seek me out to pick up Adrift based on good reviews they’d read, and I signed my first few honest-to-goodness autographs for people who don’t realise my comics are actually worth lessif they’re signed).

– What an honour it is for anybody to spend anything at your table at an event like that. Considering the exhibitor list was essentially a who’s who of UK indie talent, I know how lucky we were to have made one red penny. I wouldn’t have bought anything from me if I’d been a visitor at that show, for fuck’s sake.

If you bought from us this weekend, even if it was just a badge, or you just took a business card or talked to us for a minute, I’m very grateful. I’m especially grateful if you joined the 2018 class of Death Roulette.

Death Roulette

For those who aren’t aware, Death Roulette is my signature convention sketch game; we bring a small toy roulette wheel, and each of the 37 numbers corresponds to an improbable mode of death that I keep hidden under the table. You pay £5, spin the wheel, I take a good look at you, and you come back in 10 minutes to find out how you died.

We welcomed an all-time record number of people to the Death Roulette hall of fame at Thought Bubble; nearly 30 people elected to be mangled, crushed, decapitated, stabbed, shot, frozen, impaled, or otherwise maimed. I love doing Death Roulette portraits, and thankfully everybody so far has seemed happy with the grim vision of their own demise they’ve received. Here’s some of my favourites from Thought Bubble.

Death Roulette has been a godsend at conventions; it’s gotten conversations started and it’s driven comic sales (either from people “upgrading” to a bumper pack that includes the portrait and all the comics, or people getting a sense of what’s inside the comics from their portrait).

Out of respect to those brave enough to take a blind punt on their own demise this year, I’ve decided to draw a line under the 2018 class of Death Roulette, in that any deaths that were drawn this year will never be repeated. If you took part in Leeds, or Cardiff, Cheltenham, or Swindon, thank you so much. You are more handsome than god and braver than the troops.

In Conclusion…

Thought Bubble has been a long time coming for me; I may have had the highest ratio of “years planning on exhibiting” to “years exhibiting” of any attendee this year. When I moved to Manchester for university (in – ugh – 2008), myself and my good friend Paul Capewell arrived a little older than our contemporaries and unenthused about the idea of chugging beer through a funnel or playing soggy biscuit on a flag frisbee team.

We were hugely fortunate, then, to have found a poorly-advertised “society” – the ragtag group of misfits responsible for running PULP Magazine, the student union publication. We signed up in the afternoon one day, and joined the editorial board that evening. I would spend my every waking hour that year writing print and video content for the magazine and the website, and Paul became its defacto web lead, building its website and churning out videos that looked far better than they had any right to considering the equipment on which they were made.

PULP Magazine had no money, no time, and no oversight beyond its perennially overworked editor. Paul and I were not the best-qualified people on campus for the jobs we did at PULP, but we were available, and willing, and if we didn’t do things, nobody else would. The editorial team of PULP 2008/09 spun straw into gold in a way I’ve not really experienced since (and would do anything to experience again).

I think everyone who worked on PULP that year got something out of it, but the main thing I got out of it is that you don’t have to ask permission to make things, and you can’t afford to wait. PULP changed hands the following year and folded shortly after due to perennial mismanagement on the part of the student union (leaving Manchester Met – a university that so prides itself on its art and design faculty – as the largest university in the world without an official print outlet for its students’ work), and shortly after it died, I began producing photocopier comics under an assumed name. I think I just needed something to fill the void that PULP had left behind. They weren’t the best work I’ve ever done, but that doesn’t matter.

Manchester had a vibrant, healthy culture of weirdo small-press bullshit where the only thing that mattered was the willingness to make something; be it zines full of emetic-grade poetry, or – in my case – self-produced compendiums of the worst comics ever made. I had experienced a late-stage conversion to comics after becoming intoxicated by the beguiling work being put out by Kate Beaton and KC Green, whose work seemed to single-handedly wash away the ungodly stench brought on by the mid-2000s webcomic “boom” (many people think the 90s was comics’ nadir, but all the foil covers in the world cannot touch the sheer volume of excruciatingly poor content produced by the supposed champions of webcomics in the early-to-mid 2000s). And PULP had taught me that nobody��s going to tap you on the shoulder to let you know it’s time – you just have to crack on with what you’ve got and hope you eventually land somewhere you want to be, knowing that even if you don’t you’ll probably feel better for having done something.

I had heard, through regional channels, of Thought Bubble, which was growing each year. I swore I would, one day, when I was ready, fill out an application, set up a table, and do it. Just do it, f*** it, see what happened. That was 2010.

A lot happened between those first photocopier comics and my Thought Bubble debut – I graduated, got a job, got married. Got a kitten, called it Potato. Life happened. I stalled on comics, but the idea of comics never really went away; I dabbled with it the whole time, aimlessly, never sure what exactly I ought to do with it. Just over a year ago, I decided to actually make a proper go at it for the first time; really put all my effort into it, and see what happens. I didn’t know what success looked like, but I thought I’d know it when I saw it.

Looking back over the past year, I think I have had a successful rookie year in comics. I’ve had profitable showings at good comic conventions, my work has had good reviews from established critics, and I finally held my own at the convention that has been my white whale, taunting me from afar, for eight years. It’s hard for anything to live up to eight years of hype, especially when that hype is entirely self-generated.

But I think the past year, and Thought Bubble with it, was a bigger success than I could have reasonably hoped for. And I believe now, perhaps more than ever before, in the ethos I learned at PULP Magazine – if you don’t make whatever it is you have the urge to make, nobody else will, and there’s never a good time. You just have to get on with it. It took me a while, but I’m just glad I finally got on with it.

Thanks for making my first year in comics a success, and hopefully I’ll see you at next year’s Thought Bubble.

John Tucker

John Tucker is an independent illustrator and writer from Cardiff, South Wales. After spending a year on the writing staff of PULP Magazine in Manchester, he began self-publishing short-run comics.

His recent works include Adrift (reviewed here by Tony Esmond), the horror-comedies The Taxi and Night Watch, the short comics Hell and Gang Culture set in 1950s Swansea, and the critically acclaimed one-shot Bald. His first graphic novel, The Floating Hand, is set for release in late 2018

• Find John Tucker online at www.johntucker.co.uk | Follow John Tucker on Twitter @johntuckerart | Facebook | Instagram

• The Thought Bubble Festival returns in 2019: www.thoughtbubblefestival.com

Thought Bubble is a not-for-profit organisation that seeks to promote literacy and artistic skills through the medium of comic art. We see sequential storytelling as an important cultural art-form, and believe it is the most diverse artistic medium in the world.

From the Trenches: Thought Bubble 2018 and My Rookie Year Comics artist John Tucker reflect on his first Thought Bubble Festival experience, the culmination of his busy year as a creator...

#Adrift #Andy Barron #Creating Comics #John Tucker #Jon Laight #Leeds #Paul Moore #Sarah Millman #Thought Bubble Festival #Todd Oliver #Tony Esmond

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cathygeha · 7 years ago

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Wrangler’s Creek’s most eligible bad boy, Dylan Granger, has just become its most eligible single dad in this sexy new release from USA Today Bestselling Author Delores Fossen!

Rafflecopter for Lone Star Blues Blog Tour Giveaway:

Harlequin is offering one (1) lucky winner a $25 Amazon Gift Card and three (3) Runner-ups an eCopy of a Delores Fossen Backlist Title (Winner's Choice)! To enter, simply fill out the Rafflecopter below:

Direct Link:

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REVIEW:

Lone Star Blues by Delores Fossen

Wrangler’s Creek Series

Dylan Granger and Jordan Rivera were once husband and wife but it seems it was a short marriage nobody thought would work, and they were right. Jordan headed to the military and Dylan, with a broken heart, worked on the family ranch while dallying with many women. The premise for this book is that a child may bring the couple together again after fourteen years apart.

Dylan, thrust into fatherhood suddenly, takes on the challenge and is more mature and responsible than expected. Jordan, just returned from overseas, is dealing with PTSD that is not addressed as much as in other veteran novels that showcase this problem. Dylan and Jordan had chemistry before and it is still there when they meet again.

The main question, beyond whether or not there will be a HEA for Jordan and Dylan, is who the baby daddy REALLY is. Is it Dylan or could it be Theo – the man that Jordan has dated or then again…could it be someone else entirely?

There were parts of the book I really enjoyed and some where people from previous books I have not read made an appearance that were not essential to me but probably nice for those following the series. There is a set-up for a future book in the series and the HEA/HFN that Jordan and Dylan get at the end.

This was an easy pleasant sometimes silly read with an unusual bingo game, small town antics, a wedding and more. And…there was a nice friends to lovers Wrangler’s Creek short story at the end to enjoy, too.

I would like to thank NetGalley and Harlequin Books for the ARC – This is my honest review.

3-4 Stars

About Lone Star Blues:

Title: Lone Star Blues

Author: Delores Fossen

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: April 17th, 2018

Publisher: HQN

Series: Wrangler’s Creek

Format: Print

Print ISBN: 9781335631992

Digital ISBN: B075JH8W58

Synopsis:

Wrangler’s Creek’s most eligible bad boy has just become its most eligible single dad.

Dylan Granger could always count on his rebellious-cowboy charm to get his way—until the day his wife, Jordan, left him and joined the military. The realization that during a wild night he got her cousin pregnant is shocking enough. But the news that Jordan has come home to Texas to help raise the baby is the last thing he expects.

Raising a baby with Dylan in Wrangler’s Creek is a life Jordan might’ve had years ago, but she doesn’t want regrets. She wants what’s best for the child—and to find out if there’s something deeper between her and her ex than blazing-hot chemistry. Getting closer means letting down her guard to Dylan again, but will he be able to accept the emotional scars on her heart?

Add to your TBR list: Goodreads

Available at: Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Kobo | iTunes

Excerpt:

Delores Fossen

Downing some more coffee, Dylan headed off the porch and toward the large detached garage for another vehicle. However, before he could even make it there, he saw something sparkly on the stone path. A silver purse that was smaller and flatter than the palm of his hand. It had some chew marks on it and was wet, possibly from dog slobber.

Since this likely belonged to the naked woman, he opened it to see if he could find her ID. And there it was—her driver’s license along with a credit card and some lipstick. There was also one of those stupid Dylan Granger Sex Bingo cards folded up inside.

Thankfully, it was blank.

He pulled out the license and looked at her birth date first. She was twenty-six. Way too young for him but at least she was legal. Then he read the name, and his stomach went to his ankles. Because it was Misty Turley, the same last name as the judge who was pissed at him. And with the way his morning was going, Dylan seriously doubted that was a coincidence. No, this was likely another of his daughters. One younger than Melanie.

Maybe he could send Walter Ray a whole case of scotch.

Dylan didn’t know exactly how many daughters the judge actually had. Walter Ray had gotten divorced years ago, and when his ex-wife had moved away, the girls only visited Wrangler’s Creek every now and then. Or at least that had been the case until Melanie had moved back after she’d finished college.

He picked up the purse so he could take it back inside and add it to the pile of clothes. Since the identity of the naked woman was bad news number five, that had to mean he was good to go at least for the rest of the day.

Or not.

Dylan heard the sound of an engine right before he saw the cop car pull up in front of the house. It wasn’t the local cops, either. The cruiser had San Antonio Police on the door.

A tall, lanky man in uniform stepped out. “I’m looking for Dylan Granger,” he said, and he flashed his badge.

Hell. What now? Had Walter Ray sent someone to look for his daughter?

“I’m Dylan Granger.” He tucked the purse in his back pocket and walked toward the cop. “Is there a problem?”

The cop didn’t answer. He just motioned to someone inside the cruiser, and a moment later, a gray-haired woman stepped out. She wasn’t alone. She was gripping the hand of a little boy who couldn’t have been more than two or three years old.

Dylan silently repeated that—hell, what now?

“You need to sign for him,” the woman said. She had some papers in her left hand, and she started toward Dylan, pulling the little boy with her.

Dylan shook his head. “Why do I need to sign? And who is he?”

The woman smiled as if there was something to smile about. “Well, Mr. Granger, according to this paper, this precious little boy is your son.”

About Delores Fossen:

USA Today bestselling author, Delores Fossen, is an Air Force veteran who has sold over 100 novels. She's received the Booksellers' Best Award for romantic suspense, the Romantic Times Reviewers' Choice Award and was a finalist for the prestigious Rita ®. Her books have been featured in Woman's Day and Woman’s World. In addition, she's had nearly a hundred short stories and articles published in national magazines.

http://www.barclaypublicity.com/

#Delores Fossen #Barclay Publicity #Cowboy Romance #Wrangler's Creek Series

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buildercar · 8 years ago

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New Post has been published on http://www.buildercar.com/five-cars-i-wish-id-never-sold/

Five Cars I Wish I’d Never Sold

I’m the type of person who looks forward, not back, in life. I don’t struggle with an attachment to material possessions. When I sell something, I usually have a “don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out” attitude and move on. But there are a handful of automobiles I’ve owned that I miss and I’d love to have back in my garage.

1986 Audi 5000CS Turbo Quattro

An Audi 200 Turbo Quattro won the 1987 Safari rally outright, the first time an all-wheel-drive vehicle finished on the top step of the podium at the grueling African event. Being a rally nut, when a close friend’s father decided to sell his 1986 Audi 5000CS Turbo Quattro (the U.S. version of the 200) in the early 1990s, I couldn’t say no to the opportunity.

I loved that big Audi. The off-beat five-cylinder engine had a glorious soundtrack and the addition of the optional factory Fuchs 15-by-7-inch forged wheels shod with sticky Yokohama AVS Intermediate tires meant summer dry and wet grip was enormous. For winter duty, I fitted a set of Pirelli winter tires to the stock 15-by-6-inch wheels. I felt like rally god Hannu Mikkola as I dominated the snow-covered roads of Michigan in the Audi sedan, tapping the ABS off button to fully disable the antilock brakes for maximum left-foot braking fun.

There was one particularly snowy day when a friend’s pickup couldn’t make it up a steep hill, but a flick of the rotary switch in the 5000 locked the center and rear differentials, allowing the seemingly feeble German sports sedan to claw its way effortlessly to the top. When the snow melted and the Fuchs were bolted back on, I saw nearly 140 mph on the speedometer more than once. The Audi 5000CS Turbo Quattro was a jack of all trades sedan, and I loved it.

2002 and 2003 Mini Cooper S

I put a $500 deposit down at two Mini dealerships in Chicago before there were even Mini dealerships in the U.S. Logic told me the two biggest BMW stores in the Windy City would get the Mini franchise, and I was right. As such, I secured one the first Mini Cooper S models to land in North America in the spring of 2002. What a fantastic car.

The characterful supercharged engine and slick, six-speed manual gearbox worked brilliantly together. Its large, 17-inch wheels with run-flat tires gave an extremely harsh ride, but the wonderful steering and overall grip compensated. I felt like a rock star around Grand Rapids, Michigan.

It’s easy to forget just what a crazy concept the Mini was for the U.S. some 15 years ago. It caused both enthusiasts and the car clueless to stop me for a chat about my British hatchback. I sold that first red with a white roof 2002 Mini Cooper S for a profit in the fall of 2002 and ordered a silver 2003 with a black roof to my exact OCD specs. I also binned the standard run-flat tires for more conventional performance rubber, improving the ride quality and overall handling tremendously. That second Mini stuck around for a year or so, until I decided it was time to return to my all-wheel-drive rally routes.

2002 Subaru Impreza WRX

The WRX was my first Japanese car. I was a tried and true Euro snob until I began to realize that most Audi products had become too big, heavy, and expensive for proper winter thrashing duties. I found a lightly used, adult-owned WRX just before the snow arrived in late 2003: silver exterior, five-speed manual gearbox sans the tacky rear wing. A set of Dunlop SP Winter Sport M3 performance winter tires quickly took their place on the stock 16-inch wheels, and the slippery-road fun quickly began.

The gearbox was positive, the seats fit me perfectly, and the engine made great power — well, as long as you kept at least 3,000 rpm on the tachometer. I’d jump railroad tracks and anything else I could find, but I couldn’t seem to exhaust the extensive suspension travel. A trick modification to the ratcheting mechanism on the handbrake made low-speed turns and general hooliganism easy and the all-wheel-drive system with a limited-slip center and rear differential helped WRX be far less understeer prone than my previous Audi models. The WRX was also the last car I’ve owned that lacked stability control. I’m a huge fan of the brilliant safety feature, but there is something to be said about the top-spec car control that’s needed to drive a car lacking ESP quickly in the snow.

2008 BMW 328i

When I departed my full-time duties at Automobile magazine in 2009, I needed a car. Rotating through various BMW press cars enlightened me to their overall dynamic brilliance. Yes, the German company has lost the plot to a certain degree as of late, but the E90 3 Series was a fantastic car in sedan form.

I picked up a slightly used 2008 BMW 328i to serve as my new daily driver. Of course, it had a six-speed manual gearbox, rear-wheel drive, and the sport package. The combination of run-flat tires and stiff suspension wasn’t perfect for Michigan’s crumbling roads, but at least the 328i came with 17-inch wheels versus the larger and heavier 18-inch setup. BMW’s naturally aspirated inline-six made great power and was smooth, smooth, smooth. It was also frugal, returning more than 30 mpg on 80-mph highway runs. I loved the buttery, meaty steering and the overall chassis balance. The heated seats were quick to warm my bottom on a cold winter’s morning and a set of winter tires combined with nicely judged stability control made the 328i an excellent vehicle for the coldest season of the year.

I vividly remember driving along an empty stretch of arrow-straight highway in Northern Michigan one particularly gorgeous summer’s evening with my mother-in-law riding shotgun. Eager to get home to my wife — and away from my mother-in-law — I scooted the BMW sedan up to an indicated 150 mph. It was rock solid, and I recall my passenger only piping up to ask why the wind noise seemed to have grown louder during the high-speed dash. I spent extended time in a couple of facelifted E90s, but none had the pace or overall feel of the lightly optioned 328i. When the present F30 3 Series hit the market, I quickly secured some seat time. I was disappointed. Sure, it rode better, had more torque, and offered a nice bump in interior space, but something was lost. Let’s hope BMW remembers the E90 when the next 3 Series hits the market.

2013 Scion FR-S

I sold the Scion FR-S to get a new Ford Focus RS in the spring of 2016. Now I want the FR-S back. Yes, the 350 hp, all-wheel-drive hatchback affixed with Blue Oval badges is faster and more practical, but I miss the purity and simplicity of the rear-wheel drive Japanese coupe.

I don’t do a ton of road trips in my personal car. Those are usually left for my wife’s car or various press cars. My drive to the office is short and not super exciting. The FR-S made each and every journey a pleasure. It’s not a fast car, but the lack of outright pace allows you to more regularly wring-out the engine and drive the FR-S hard without attracting the attention of Johnny Law. The low-grip Michelin summer tires and approachable chassis dynamics add to the entertaining package. A set of 16-inch steel wheels and winter tires along with aftermarket seat heaters made the Scion an impressive companion in the snow — and huge fun.

I also loved the seats, something that can’t be said for the overly bolstered Recaro setup in the Focus RS. The FR-S was also frugal on fuel. Again, not the case with the Ford. Sure, the Japanese 2+2 coupe is loud on the highway and rather basic inside, but I can live with that considering all the positives that come along with the under-$30K package. Plus, it rides better than the ultra-stiff Focus RS.

I don’t think automotive enthusiasts fully realize just how diluted modern cars have become. As more buttons and switches for various drive modes are added, something is lost. Spending time in a car like the FR-S (called the Toyota 86 for 2017) or its twin, the Subaru BRZ, clearly reminds you of this fact. Porsche seems to understand this with cars like the Cayman GT4 and 911 R, but they are expensive. My hope is that more car companies get on board offering simplistic automobiles, preferably at a reasonable price. In the meantime, I’ve missed the FR-S so much that I recently placed an order for a 2017 Toyota 86. I can’t wait for its arrival, and I hope the subtle improvements translate to an even better car for my needs in the real world.

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