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ynscrazylife · 4 years ago

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I was thinking maybe a oneshot where B!D gets poisoned by Cadmus?

Sisterly Instincts

Summary: Y/N is Kryptonian who landed on Earth a few years after Kara. When CADMUS kidnaps her, they inject her with a poison made out of their version of Kryptonite, which is very harmful to her.

Authors Note: Thank you for requesting!

Request to be on a Taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

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PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/mundodeseriess

Image ID: Alex and Kara sitting together. Alex has her eyes closed, head on Kara’s shoulder, arm wrapped around her, and is looking upset. Kara is wearing her glasses and is looking down, crying. End ID.

“Alex, have you heard from Y/N yet today?” Kara asked as she entered the DEO, a slight frown on her face still evident from the morning.

Alex shook her head no. “Not since last night, why?” She asked, coming down the stairs and joining her sister in her walk.

Kara shrugged it off. “She just didn’t send me her usual good morning text . . . She’s probably fine, right?” The blonde answered, now feeling silly as she voiced the worry that had been slowly eating at her.

Alex’s warm chuckle calmed her almost instantly. “Yeah, it’s nothing. We’ll see her soon as she’s coming into the DEO anyway,” she reasoned, assuming their younger sister had just overslept.

They reached the main room where J’onn and the other DEO agents sat at their desks and immediately the Danvers’ sisters got to work.

However, when it was ten minutes past the time Y/N was supposed to arrive, Alex decided to give her a call, biting her lip. She discreetly pressed her phone to her ear, turning away so she wouldn’t cause her sister unnecessary worry.

It ringed.

And ringed.

“Hey! You’ve reached Y/N Danvers. Sorry I couldn’t answer! Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you.” Alex cursed quietly when it rang so long it went to voicemail and huffed to clear her mind and steady herself.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s Alex. I’m sure you just overslept or are rushing to work,” she said, pausing to chuckle when the image of her younger sister running around the city popped into her mind, “Just give me a call when you get this. Love you, bye!”

Despite the small worry entering the pit of her stomach, Alex reminded herself that Y/N being late and missing a phone wasn’t too uncommon, and she resumed her work.

"Alex?” Kara said, and Alex looked up from her computer to see her sister gesturing at the clock with a nod. The brunette looked over, and felt that pit sink lower when she saw that 20 minutes had passed. Getting no message from Y/N, Alex and Kara shared a look, coming to a silent decision.

“We're gonna go by Y/N’s apartment and check on her,” Alex informed J’onn as she stood up from her chair and grabbed her coat. She couldn't keep herself from remembering that Y/N should be here right now, she didn't live far away.

Kara nodded, following her older sister, and the two women left the DEO, neither of them discussing their worries in fear of distressing the other one. Great minds do think alike, though, and that’s why they both internally came to the conclusion that if nothing was wrong and they found Y/N sleeping late, they were gonna be pissed (however they hoped that was what they found instead of the scary alternatives brewing and stirring in their minds).

When they reached Y/N’s apartment, Kara knocked on the door. They waited almost a minute and when the door didn't open and they didn’t hear anything, Alex fished the key Y/N had given to her out of her pocket and unlocked the door.

Stepping inside, the women were prepared to search the house like they were on a mission, when a paper on the floor, having been slipped under the door, caught their attention. Sharing a look, Kara grabbed the paper and unfolded it. It read:

“Hello, Supergirl,

I won’t lie. I don’t know your ‘secret identity’. However, I was able to find out Y/S/N’s, so it’s only a matter of time before I find yours, too. Come to these coordinates: [pretend there’s random coordinates] by 12:00 alone and allow us to experiment and test on you. If you fail to do that, I won’t give Y/N the cure to the Kryptonite poison that’s in her system and I’ll reveal her identity to the world.

-- CADMUS.”

For a couple moments, Kara and Alex stood, glued to the spot. Thoughts and emotions washed over their bodies: concern for their sister, anger at CADMUS, and an utter helplessness since they didn’t know what to do.

It was a little past 10:00 now and when the two got back to the DEO, they made a plan with J’onn. He’d disguise himself as Kara and would do as the letter said and they’d have DEO agents - including Alex and Kara - stationed around the building with cloaking devices, which would make them invisible to CADMUS and their tech. Winn would hack into CADMUS’ tech and after Y/N was given the cure, the DEO agents would act.

At 10:30, the DEO agents were stationed around the base, invisible, and J’onn had walked into the base itself, disguised as Kara. He noticed the Kryptonite around the room, there to weaken Kara, so he put on an act: pretending that it was hurting him. He barley refrained from rushing over to Y/N when he saw the woman who was like a daughter to him siting on a chair, weak and only half-conscious, sweat shining on her face with Lillian Luthor standing beside her.

��Good, you came,” Lillian said with a sadistic smile.

“Yes. Now give Y/S/N the cure,” J’onn said, putting on his best Supergirl face.

The corners of Lillian’s mouth turned into a smirk and she walked over to another chair a few feet away, which had Kryptonite restraints. “Sit,” she said calmly, although the way she stood, her hands delicately placed on the chair, brought power to the lonely word.

J’onn complied, frowning as he walked over to the chair and sat down, letting Lillian put the restraints on his wrists and ankles that she thought would weaken him. For extra effect, J’onn sucked in a breath and faked pain.

Lillian smugly turned around and walked back to Y/N, who didn’t seem to realize what was going on. The older woman gestured to one of her minions and they promptly injected a serum into Y/N’s neck, making the youngest Danvers’ gasp just the slightest before her eyes fluttered close.

“The antidote is taking its affect in her system,” Lillian informed J’onn before turning back to her minion. “Take the girl outside. She can find her way back.”

The man nodded and picked Y/N up, slinging her over his shoulder and walked out. The second J’onn heard a smash and knew that his team had acted, he gave Lillian no time to be on alert before he ripped off the restraints and knocked all of the CADMUS agents out.

. . . . . . . . .

Alex and Kara had been standing outside, listening to Lillian and J’onn’s interaction through their earpieces. The women were both racked with worry over their little sister and when they saw the man carrying her, it took everything in them both to wait until he carelessly dropped her on the floor. When he did, Kara revealed herself and knocking him unconscious into a wall. Alex then revealed herself as well, hearing J’onn fighting, and ran to Y/N while the rest of the DEO agents went inside to erase CADMUS’ memory of Y/N’s identity and to make arrests.

“Y/N, Y/N! Come on, wake up,” Alex said, slightly panicked as she gently rolled Y/N from where she was laying on her side to be on her back. Kara, after making sure the guy was unconscious, sped over.

Kara knitted her brown together and drew her lips into a line, silently gathering her sister into her arms. Alex glanced up at her, tears in her eyes, for she knew Kara was only silent when she was very worried.

“I’ll meet you back at the DEO,” Kara said quietly, her tone almost emotionless, before lifting off and flying into the air. Alex swallowed and took a breath, getting to her feet.

. . . . . . . . .

As she flew through the air, Kara battled to keep distracting thoughts about the clouds and the breeze away, as she knew she had to focus on her unconscious sister. Y/N was the priority. Once she landed at the DEO, she immediately headed to the med bay, where doctors took over and Kara informed him that Y/N had supposedly been given the antidote.

After almost ten minutes of Kara pacing just outside the door and Winn doing his best to comfort her, the doctors informed them that the antidote was indeed in Y/N’s system and it was fighting off the poison. They didn’t know when she would wake up but when she did, she would need to rest a lot as she’d be weak. They were also unsure if CADMUS had done anything else to her, so she’d need to stay at the DEO overnight if she didn’t wake up soon.

The doctors allowed Kara to see her so the blonde sat by her sister’s side, holding her hand until Alex burst in, looking out-of-breath.

“How is she?” Alex asked, sitting on Y/N’s other side and taking her free hand.

Kara told her what the doctors said and they collectively let out a breath, relieved that she was going to be alright. They stayed with Y/N for another hour, silent except for the occasional comment, when Y/N started blinking her eyes open.

The agent and the superhero both sat up, patiently waiting for Y/N to wake up and adjust herself.

“Alex? Kara?” Y/N croaked out, looking at her sisters in a haze of confusion.

Both women smiled and let out happy tears, helping her to sit up before wrapping their arms around her. Y/N smiled, leaning her head against Kara’s neck.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Alex whispered.

“It’ll never happen again,” Kara promised.

Y/N nodded. She didn’t say anything in response, finding herself too tired after the day’s events. Kara and Alex stayed until she fell asleep and then they reluctantly left her under the watchful eye of Winn, since they needed to debrief with J’onn and prepare for when Y/N would come home.

Permanent Taglist: @natasharomanoffismywife @hehehehannahthings @paulawand @blackbat2020 @sybil-moon-is-a-mess @cerberus-spectre @marrymemcgrath @celestialbarnes

DCEU Taglist: @stephanieromanoff @basiclesbianbitch @extraordinary-fangrl @hi-i-1 @mmmmokdok @harrypottercumslut

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my-tin-can-mans · 3 years ago

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Time to Yourselves (Captain Rex x Reader)

warnings: oh boy there are none but this is tooth rotting fluff ya'll i couldn't help myself with this soft boy, he deserves so much love.

PSA: I know a lot of people are expecting a Part two to the Crosshair Fic i posted awhile back but some unexpected work came up and it might be awhile before I get a chance to actually sit down and write it sorry:/ i will tag everyone thats asked to be tagged in it tho!

But for now enjoy the fluff that is this! I need to write a good fluff fic.

When the ship had finally landed on Coruscant you heaved a sigh of relief. The 501st had just finished a gruesome battle which meant as a medic you had spent the way back to base in the medical wing bay treating patients aboard the Resolute. You’d seen just about every solider aboard helping them with injuries that ranged from a minor concussion to blaster wounds.

It had been a long couple of days and the one solider you really wanted to see was the one you had yet to have the pleasure of. The doors to the ship opened and you walked out, now that the battalion was on world, you would hand over your patients to the nurses that worked here instead while you got some much-needed time off like the rest of the 501st. You met up with the head medics on ground and passed off your paperwork filling them in on the more important injuries you happened to come across while working so they were prepared.

Once you had finished up with the medical bay you went off to look for the man you hadn’t seen in days. While it upset you that you hadn’t been able to speak a word to you, it also comforted you in knowing that he hadn’t shown up in the medical bay at any point in time which meant he was better off than most of the men on board at the time. You were busy enough as it was, and he probably was too trying to write up reports on what all had gone down.

You walked back towards the landing hanger knowing him and the general usually lingered around to talk before they went their separate ways for the remainder of their time off. Sure enough there you spotted him, the back of his buzzed cut blonde hair, bucket it hand placed on his hip, talking it up with General Skywalker. Skywalker caught you walking towards them and focused his gaze on you, making Rex finally turn around to look at you.

It had felt like forever since you had seen his face. His gaze immediately softened upon seeing you. You finished the brief couple of steps you had left and planted yourself right at his side. “Captain Rex, General Skywalker.” They both nodded at you, a hint of a smirk showing on Skywalker's face.

Relationships were forbidden within the GAR and certainly that of a clone trooper. They were meant as property and therefore weren’t allowed the same free will as others. But after a while you and Rex couldn’t stay away from each other. Your relationship remained a secret but that didn’t stop the rumors from going around the 501st. Most of the men actually encouraged you two to get together but to play it safe, you and Rex hadn’t officially mentioned it to anyone.

At this point you were sure Anakin knew though. Rex would deny telling you he spilled his guts to him, but they were close and recently the General had been giving you smug glances whenever he laid eyes on you. If Rex trusted him though, you guess you would have to as well. Rex was a smart man; he knew what he was doing.

You turned to the general and spoke, “Do you mind if I steal your Captain for a few words?”

“He’s all yours.” He winked at Rex which made you narrow your eyes at the both of them causing Rex to blush and rub the back of his neck, something he had a habit of doing when he was uncomfortable or nervous.

The General turned and started to walk away, once he was far enough out of hearing range you scanned to make sure no one else would be able to hear you before whispering, “Alright that’s it Captain he definitely knows something so you might as well spill your guts to me about spilling your guts to him,” you told him while crossing your arms.

“Okay fine I told him I’m sorry but General Skywalker is the one person I can always trust beside you. He wouldn’t tell a soul. And besides if he did I’d have some pretty rough dirt on him.” The last part he said under his breath and you were sure you weren’t supposed to hear it, hell it didn’t even make sense so you just brushed it off. He looked back up to you, “is that what you came here to talk to me about?”

You sighed and softened. “No, I just missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He went to raise a hand to your face but retreated it when he realized where you two still were, looking around to see if anyone had caught one. Fortunately, everyone else was either gone or fully immersed in whatever they were doing to care.

“How many days did the General say we had off?” you questioned. Rex was always the first of the men to know how long they’d be staying on world for.

“Not long, none of our ships have been fatally damaged and there were only a few serious injuries, so we have the rest of today and tomorrow, were stationed to be back on board at 2100 tomorrow night.”

You hummed in response. This didn’t warrant enough time for the two of you to settle on world for a while, but you didn’t take kindly to spending another night in the barracks.

“What have you got on that mind of yours?” Rex asked while raising an eyebrow in your direction.

“Well, I was just thinking about how I missed you, and we haven’t been able to spend some time together in a while...” you trailed off, pondering on your descions.

“Yes”

“And I've been saving up some credits for a while now, with nothing to spend it on…” you trailed off again making him raise his eyebrow at you for the second time in reaction. “And I'm tired of sleeping on that maker awful cot in the barracks.”

“Get to your point” he rolled his eyes amused

“How about we rent a hotel for the night? Just me and you? We’ll finally get some alone time.”

“You’ve already decided on this didn’t you?”

“I’ve missed you Rex, I just want some alone time where we don’t have to hide our relationship.”

He sighed. “I know cyar'ika, I know. Tell you what, I've got a few things I need to finish up here, but send me the location of the hotel and I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay” excitement started to bubble up in your stomach, finally a night in a warm comfy bed, with a fresher that had decent water pressure and Rex all to yourself.

Rex turned his head, looking around to make sure no one was paying attention before he leaned in and gave you a quick kiss. When he pulled away he winked at you and just like that he turned around and was walking off.

****

You’d decided to splurge on the hotel. You had plenty of credits, working as a medic in the GAR didn’t pay well but then again when did you ever have the time to spend it?

The hotel room was a dark blue, one side of the wall, opposite to the door was covered in glass windows, ceiling to floor with sheer ivory drapes hung throughout.

The bed was placed against the wall between the two doors, where Rex was currently fast asleep and had been from some time now.

You on the other hand stood beside one of the large drapes watching the late traffic speed by. After the events of the night occurred, Rex had fallen asleep peacefully but you were still restless. He had spent days on the battlefield while you simply cared for the couple of people still stuck in the med bay from the previous battle.

You let out a sigh, the lights of Coruscant were very entrancing, so much so that you hadn’t realized Rex had awoken from his sleep and groggily made his way over to you till his arm was wrapping around your waist and his head was leaning on your shoulder.

When you initially got up from bed, you put on your underwear and the top of Rex’s blacks, not finding your shirt, where ever it had landed when he first arrived, in the low-lit room. The shirt hung just below your waist and Rex took this as an opportunity to slide his hand up it. After behind touch starved for so long, he took every opportunity he could to feel skin on skin contact with you, and you certainly weren’t complaining.

He kissed your neck once and his thumb rubbed circles over your hip. “Come back to bed”

“mmmm convince me,” you smirked.

His grip on your waist tightened and he brought his other arm around to wrap around you as well and pull you closer to him, he placed a trail on slow, lazy kisses on your neck while he hummed, “please.”

“Ok, but only since you asked so nicely,” his grip on you loosened and you turned in his arms to look at him.

Sleep covered his face, he must not have gotten much on the way back here you thought. Skywalker’s battles seemed to cause a lot of paperwork.

You pecked him once on the lips and let him lead you back to bed. When you got under the covers and situated Rex came in behind you. But instead of lying beside you he decided to lay himself directly on top of you.

“What is this?” you chucked as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t want you getting away from me this time,” he mumbled.

“I don’t really have a choice now do I?”

“Good, I sleep better with you.”

Hearing those words hurt a little. You let out a sigh and brought your hand up to rub his scalp at the top of his neck. He hummed into you. You and Rex barely got any alone time together, only a few nights like these out of a month were spent sleeping in each other’s arms, and to know most of the time he just didn’t sleep as well was hard to hear. Your mind stuck on the thought for a while but came to the conclusion that it was a useless debate, he was fighting a war, it was far more important than the two of you. Your mind slowly started to drift back to sleep.

#captain rex #captain rex x reader #star wars x reader #star wars #star wars the clone wars #Rex #ct 7567 #rex x reader #rex x you #captain rex x you #captain rex x y/n #the clone wars #the clone wars fic #star wars fanfic #im not good at tags so lets hope i got them all #whew

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matt0044 · 4 years ago

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“Cool, cool, coolio.”

If that’s not Zayto’s victory catchphrase, we are officially lesser as a species.

We start with our opening titles upgraded to have all five Rangers present and accounted for. There wasn’t even a cold opening so you know that it’s that kind of episode. I personally would’ve left out Izzy and Javier’s faces if only to keep some kind of surprise while featuring the new Black and Green Rangers in suit.

Void Knight’s been busy creating his new general out of robotic parts, bringing us the very “creatively named” Boomtower who needs the Nephrite Orb as a means of powering up. Mucus also returns to Area 62 with a new Sporix named Draknarok. I like how the villains are a motley crew under a lone knight’s command in a rather dingy hideout. It’s like with Evox forces but more... ragtag.

Zayto comes to BuzzBlast for to apply for a job as one of their reporters and trying out catchphrases to fit in with the modern day. Amelia and Ollie urging him to not even was exactly what I was thinking. It’s the sort of “out of touch” alien shenanigans I feel they missed out on with Brody way back in Ninja Steel.

Amelia and Ollie meet Javi playing his harmonica as our future Black Ranger turns out to be the artsy one of the team. He and Zayto are given assignments by Jane to assess their skills. Javi gets the Nephrite Orb story while Zayto’s assigned to get the scoop on Izzy Garcia as a athletic protege You know it’s Power Rangers if you don’t need thirty years experience for an entry level job.

Thus we meet our first genderbent Ranger in years at the local sports field practicing her javelin throws. Zayto is reminded of his Knighthood training and even gives Izzy pointers on how to improve her trajectory. I think having her as a well-built athlete works in favor with her Ranger form being... less than dainty.

Javi is getting dirt on the Nephrite Orb when Mucus, Boomtower and Draknarok zap on it. Mucus even goes, “...and scream!” as if she’s the director. Heck, she even sits by the sidelines in battles just to enjoy the show rather than retreat. Javi rings up the Ranger Hotline and interrupts Zayto’s interview with Izzy sadly.

Warden Garcia, in his infinite wisdom, rolls up in his dinky station wagon and tries to stop the villains in their tracks. It sadly slipped his mind that he’s not allowed any sidearm in a TV-Y7 show so he ends up flat on his back. Methinks he should apply for SPD with that gumption. They could do with a Gold Ranger.

The Rangers arrive on the scene to battle in original footage that’s honestly pretty damn good with how better the choreography’s improved. They each utilize the Boost Keys in a strategic takedown while Javi grabs the Nephrite Orb and drives off in Warden Garcia’s station wagon. Mucus gets all slimy and sticks to the car. Though “It’s Morphin’ Slime” should’ve work as well as it does.

The Rangers get Warden Garcia to a medical center before J-Borg comes along as BuzzBlast’s live news coverage. In this age of Social Media, who am I to question? Jane works the teleprompter only to mess it up by spilling her coffee all over the keyboard. Credit for being a hands on boss. I feel like J-Borg would’ve been funnier if she spoke out all the gibberish with a real straight face.

Izzy rushes over to her stepfather after he’s discharged and learns that her brother, Javi, is hiding out with the Nephrite Orb. She gives the Rangers a tip about a secret place her brother goes off to when he wants to play his music, something Warden Garcia’s no fan of. I sense a parent/child difference story. :P

Javi retreats into the forest but forgets about Mucus who gets Boomtower and Draknarok to teleport in. My favorite part has to be when Draknarok teleports once again to catch a running Javi rather than the one time they do it to enter and exit a battle. Thankfully, the Rangers arrive with Izzy to keep the orb away.

Javi decides to enter the fray by using his harmonica to deal an ear-piercing attack to the villains because... Sporix are sensitive to music apparently. He gets a far better idea by smashing the orb on a rock so nobody can use it. However, the jewel is revealed to contain the Green and Black Ranger keys that the Garcia siblings pick up as if by instinct before being instantly morphed.

And then comes the scene that droves me bonkers. Javi becomes the Black Ranger while Izzy becomes the Green Ranger... with a skirt. I thought that this meant they’d be digitally adding a skirt to the Ryusoulger footage for Green... but then Izzy rips it clean off because it’s “not really her thing.” They put in an explanation for why a female Ranger does not have a skirt while another does.

They top that showstopper of a scene with Izzy and Javi kicking major Hengemen butt. They even pull a Super Megaforce with her tossing him an extra saber to dual-wield with while she uses her javelin as a lance. Once again, this is a damn good Power Rangers exclusive battle. Izzy even uses some gymnastics to get the drop on Boomtower, sticking her spear in a tree.

“Vibing?! With a teenager?! No thanks!” So that’s why he’s called Boomtower.

Draknarok grows in time for all five to try out the Megazord together. It’s mostly Ryusoulger footage but once again, I’m loving how agile and less bulky the Megazord is currently. After getting another dormant Sporix, the Garcias are introduced to the command center and Solon as well as the prospect of new Zords. I hope the two of them can pilot their own Megazord as a duo ala RPM.

Javi gets the job at BuzzBlast with a new assignment to find the best burger in Pine Ridge for Jane. Hopefully, he gets a free meal for it. Meanwhile, our intrepid robotic reporter reenacts the infamous British “Play Safe” PSA complete with hair standing up. Again, I feel her shtick should be rolling with whatever mistakes she made since she’s a robot and thinks a bit more logically.

#Power Rangers #power rangers dino fury #dino fury #super sentai #kishiryu sentai ryusoulger #ryusoulger #nick #nickelodeon #nicktoons #hasbro #hasbro studios #allspark pictures #toei #toei company #toei limited

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kaathyra-blog · 6 years ago

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tag drop.

#★｡ to boldly go where no one has gone before. ⇾ unplotted.#★｡ mr. sulu chart a course for earth. ⇾ plotted.#★｡ the illogicial logician. ⇾ ooc.#★｡ all hands to battle stations. ⇾ psa.#★｡ the needs of the many. ⇾ resources.

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breckstonevailskier · 5 years ago

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The logic of separation endings

Frozen subverted a lot of expectations with audiences. To a degree, so did Frozen II. But one thing people always need to consider is that subversions are not and should not be considered inherently good writing just for subverting expectations. We’ve seen this before with Game of Thrones in the last seasons (after D&D ran out of books), and we see it here in Frozen II.

The whole thing about Elsa being the fifth spirit is problematic. “One spirit, one person” makes intuitive sense. “One spirit, split among multiple people,” starts requiring justification for why it's those two specific people and not everybody. Within the context of Frozen II, "Iduna had two daughters" angle is a non sequitur. Northuldra genes clearly never equated to magical or spiritual ability in the film, and even if they did, Anna has the exact same amount of Northuldra heritage as Elsa, so anything that requires the invocation of said heritage should involve the both of them equally.

This extends to the separation ending. It's not that you can't have the sisters separate. It’s that if you’re gonna do it, you need it to be an organic process that feel like it grows naturally from the events that they experience. Frozen and both of the animated shorts sprinkled bits and pieces all around that show you that Elsa and Anna care about each other, but they're not particularly adept at expressing it, and while Elsa's overprotectiveness combined with Anna's impulsiveness result in those attempts going tits-up, underlying it all is their love for each other.

In Frozen II, on the other hand...what was the moment, exactly, that caused Elsa to conclude "yep, Arendelle doesn't need me to be queen, living in the woods with the Sami-in-all-but-name is my true calling"? Let's be charitable and just look for one, and if we find one then we can try to find more...

Sequels are a great means by which to explore the setting in far more depth than the original feature allowed, but they're also limited by the sensibilities established in the original entry. This problem which affects Frozen II’s writing was also present in with the ending to Ralph Breaks the Internet. In the case of Ralph and Vanellope’s separation ending, the problem with it is not that it isn't "realistic" for two people who've been friends for a while to grow apart because they're two different people with different goals and wants in life, it's that the reason introduced for Vanellope to do so doesn't make sense within the logic of the movie’s universe. No other game character in Litwak’s is shown to be bored of their own game despite being in it for far longer than she has. Vanellope should be just as freaked out as Ralph is by the fact that people can graphically die in Slaughter Race. Not to mention that Wreck-it Ralph pretty firmly established that if you die outside your game, it’s a permanent game-over for you (Sonic delivers PSAs on this in Game Central Station on a loop, while Ralph came close to dying for real in his boss battle with Cybug!King Candy/Turbo, something he was prepared to do to save Sugar Rush). So Vanellope should be like Ralph, and treating Slaughter Race as the threat it is instead of a new racetrack to play around in. There shouldn't be any "hook" for her to be attracted to it to start with, on top of the fact that Sugar Rush getting shut down is treated as nothing more than a plot obstacle (much like how Frozen II’s ending sees Anna and Elsa treating the separation not as a heartbreaking thing, but as, in the words of Scott Mendelson from Forbes, “a minor inconvenience”).

#frozen 2 #ralph breaks the internet #anna #elsa #wreck-it ralph #vanellope von schweetz #notmyfrozen

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ursoself-satisfying · 6 years ago

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Whole Lotta Love

P A T M U R R A Y (Undrafted) x F!Reader, SMUT

Warnings: smut, lots of it, language, like all the sex guys all of it guys,,, SPOILER: UNSAFE SEX THEY DISCARD THE CONDOM WRAP IT BEFORE U TAP IT BOYS N GIRLS

A/N: this is my zenic,, its 10k words n I am v tired,,,, I hope you all enjoy sorry its late lol

an accompanying playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/criceloni/playlist/5sP9FcSsFcPjFodxN1E5RY?si=dNK4SdE2RoSRcqhN99dntg

The engine of your car sputtered weakly as you turned the key for the third time. You pursed your lips and grunted as you screwed your whole arm around, twisting the key in the ignition again. The hot sun beat against the grimy, untinted windows of the old van and your skin boiled under the magnification of the glass. Drops of sweat limply slipped down the side of your face, sizzling when they hit the leather between the seats. The day was nice, but the interior of the vehicle was sweltering and stunk of burgers and sex. You groaned loudly and threw your head back tiredly. With your eyes closed, you tiredly and hopelessly went to turn the car on one last time, dreading the spitting sound that you expected to greet you. You were indeed greeted by the same annoying noise, burned into your eardrums by now, but it faded after a moment, the harsh metallic sounds blending into a solid purr as the engine started, radio turning on to the classic rock station. Shooting up out of your seat in shock, both at the sound and the unexpected success, your hands slammed against your steering wheel and your mouth hung open. “Oh my God,” you muttered, “Oh my God! Thank you, God!” You shouted at the roof of the car and you let out a dry sob. The wet lines down your face could have been sweat or tears, or both at this point. Loud thrums echoed through the cabin of the vehicle as you drummed your hands against the soft roof excitedly, shaking your head in a grateful spasm of relief. “YES! Oh my God, yes, thank you.” The soft whispers left your lips in the form of a laugh and you gripped the steering wheel tightly, taking a deep breath and smiling widely. The next thing you did was roll down the windows and sigh as the clear, blue sky blessed you with fresh air, letting The Who play you out. The gas pedal was pushed down and you made your way from the curb where you’d been sitting for the last half an hour. The VW bus bounced, “My Generation” fading as you turned a corner and made your way to the game.

Your sputtering horseless carriage shuttered to a stop and felt like it would cave in and collapse once in park. With a shake, you turned off on a ‘don’t text and drive’ PSA, the engine and rolled up the dirty windows. Manually locking the door behind you, you exited the rusted green car and headed towards the greener field. You rolled your eyes as you passed a large bus undoubtedly belonging to the opposing team. You doubted it was necessary and would have guessed it was more of a petty power move if anything. A small group of people, not yet a crowd, was gathered by the fences of the baseball field watching the game. It had already begun and you’d missed the first few innings. You searched the crowd for a familiar figure until you spotted a red shirt and jogged over to it. “Brian!”

The man turned to see you waving your hand happily above your head. He turned once he recognized you and laughed heartily with open arms. “[Y/N]!”

Once you reached him, he wrapped his strong arms around you and lightly picked you up. You did your best to return the embrace but he held you too tightly. His cotton button up smelled strongly of a flower-scented detergent and a gas station, comforting and familial. Your laughs mixed and you remained leaned against him when he put you down. “Mr. Murray,” you started playfully, “How are you on this fine day?” The older man patted your back and chuckled.

“Well, I could be doing a hell of a lot better.” Brian looked out at the game, Barone at-bat, and took a deep sigh. You scanned his face with concern, catching the glaze of sadness in his eyes. You softly placed a hand on his shoulder, unsure of what happened exactly, but having an idea.

You turned your head back and look around you for Brian’s almost other half, but seeing the older Mazzello nowhere. You felt safe enough to ask, “He didn’t get it, did he? John-” He shook his head quickly, not turning towards you. You wanted to ask how Pat was taking it but you could figure it out based on your past experiences. You weren’t sure Brian would know at this point anyway. For a moment, you just watched the game. Barone wouldn’t slide and Ty was clearly upset. All you could hear were the curse words carried to you by the light wind picking up. You squeezed Brian’s arm gently and gave him a sympathetic smile, before gulping and beginning to say something. “So then where’s-”

Joe walked up beside Brian and handing him a bottle of water from his trip to concessions. The shorter man glanced over and stopped when he caught sight of you. “Oh, [Y/N]-”

“Hey, Joe,” you replied softly. The man beside stepped back to allow you to give a quick embrace to the new arrival. You stepped back and smiled, biting your lip. “I’m sorry,” you spoke quickly, “He deserved it. John’s-” A stifled laugh interrupted your sentence, but you continued, “Not that I would know, but he’s the best, I hear. He should have gotten it. That’s- That’s so stupid-”

“He’s got some offers, but there’s not much we can do now that it’s over.” Leaning against the fence, the dark-haired man took a swig from the bottle he held and smiled faintly back at you though he kept his attention on the game before him. “Now we just play.”

Though you’d missed the first five innings at least, Brian filled you in on how the game had gone on with as many bumps and hitches as you could possibly imagine. The D-Backs were down (though you honestly wouldn’t have expected otherwise) and hoped for a comeback. Ty interrupts Barone’s play to demand he dirty his uniform, a call is unfairly continued and Ty (again) interrupts and demands his complaint be noted, which had been happening just as you’d arrived.

You were there just in time to see Pat’s second at-bat. “C’mon, baby, you got this! Hit it out of the fuckin’ park!” You were screaming and hollering encouragements at your boyfriend. His father chuckled and gave you a side-eyed glance, a glint of understanding gleaming on his face, seeing again why you and his son got on so well. “He’s not gonna get a hit,” you said quietly to the man beside you, not taking your eyes off the boy at bat.

Brian nodded, smiling. “Never does.” Both of watched as the third pitch was thrown and Pat unsurprising did not get a home run. He let out a long and frustrated scream and hit the bat against his helmet instead before heading to the dugout. The bat Pat had used broke against the fence pole as he hit it repeatedly and cursed the ‘loaded fucking bases’.

Pat then ran to his position in the outfield as he was told but it was clear he hadn’t cooled down yet by his continued yells. If you knew Pat Murray, you knew what he sounded like when he said ‘fuck’. By now, his curses were carved into your ears and you could hear them in your dreams. He yelled and yelled as the game continued, with some concern shown by his teammates and some confusion by the competition. Vinnie had attempted to diffuse the situation by engaging in a friendly game of catch between bats but Murray firmly stuck the ball in the scoreboard. He very nearly took Zapata’s head off.

“Is he like this at home?” The elder Murray let a smile tweak his lips upwards for a moment, then looked away from the comment. You leaned over the fence n suppressed a laugh at what John had said.

As the game went on, you could tell things would only get worse until it all imploded, and you were right. Brian shared a tired, knowing look with you as you could both hear him yelling from the dugout. “YOU THROW LIKE A BITCH AND YOU BAT AT .250!”

Brian rocked back and look between you and his friend, shaking his head. “Patrick, relax!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, DAD!”

He nodded and leaned back against the fence. “That’s my boy.” Laughing, you bounced against his side. John shrugged his shoulders and gave an exaggerated frown of acceptance. The game lasted a while before another notable event occurred. This time, was an unsportsmanlike fight erupting after an unfair play and a sudden injury. It all happened so quickly it was hard to comprehend.

Garvey was slammed into the ground by an opposing player and when they hit the dirt a cloud of red dust rose around them. An audible thud echoed as the crowd went silent. Your mouth hung open and the world stood still for what felt like forever as the small catcher laid there unmoving. Then Ty erupted. He grabbed the assaulter from behind and held him down, Vinnie running to leap into a punch. That was the instigator. The rest of the team, with the exception of Fotch, raced to the scene. The riot on the field got worse and once John ran out, Joe bounced off his arms on the fence and rushed just as you had to stop his son. You could hear your boyfriend shouting and mentally cursed, knowing how this would turn out.

“Pat, fuck-” You went to lift yourself over the fence and attempt to run after your lover in an effort to keep him from hurting anyone, but his father pulled you back. He gave you a stern look and shook his head.

“I don’t need you getting in any more trouble right now.” Without anymore protest, you huffed and took your place again. Brian yelled after the boys and jogged out onto the field himself, though he was sure to look back and give you a strict but caring sign to stay back.

You had been right in your earlier assumptions, as Pat charged with a battle cry and pounced on the bobbing mass of bodies, all angrily entangled with one another. More and more athletes seemed to be absorbed into the huddle the longer it went on until it's magnitude reached the crowds of onlookers, who soon after went to join. As the fathers ripped their sons from the mess, Brian stopped a member of the other team from adding a bat to the fight, but by the time the teams had been surgically separated, enough damage had been done. Garvey was in bad, bad shape and the rest of the team was covered in scrapes and bruises, uniforms in shambles and carrying expressions that could kill.

Brian remained out on the field for a few minutes, post scuffle, and Joe went to his son at Garvey’s side. With no one left to stop you from making your way to the scene, you stepped for the first time onto the sacred ground and jogged over to the pit with a wave, “Patrick!” The man turned at his name being called and you stopped in your place when he looked at you. For a moment, you thought you saw a small smile grace his shaking lips as his eyes shone with recognition and he made his way to you. Closing the distance between the two of you, he took you into his sweaty arms and held you perfectly against him. You fit like a puzzle piece together as your own arms were slung around him. He held your head tightly to the crook of his neck and you could smell on him all the events of the day. As you inhaled the scents of dirt and a bit of blood caked onto sweat-soaked skin and leftover aftershave, maybe the hints of a citrus shampoo, you pulled handfuls of his team shirt into your balled fists. Together you swayed for a moment in the middle of the field and he muttered, “Fuck, God- Fuck, I’m so glad you’re here- So fuckin-” He stopped his profane murmurs as he bit back something directly in between happiness and anger. “I’m just so glad you’re here.”

You responded with pressed whispers against the skin of his neck ignoring the previous events and focusing on the moment you were in. “Hey,” you breathed, “I wouldn’t have missed the D-Backs’ last game for the world.”

He smiled, though you couldn’t see. His muffled response was kissed into your hair. You couldn’t quite understand what he’d said but it sounded like something along the lines of, ‘God, I fucking love you,’ which you completely reciprocated.

One hand of yours strayed from his back to his head and held the hair protruding from beneath hat. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said again, softer this time, emphasizing how much your being there for him meant. “But I can’t fucking wait to get you alone.” He finished his statement quietly, in a voice that sent shivers down your spine, hot and dark, every vertebra quaking. His own hands mapped the back of your neck, threading his calloused, bloody fingers through your locks, holding you with a fear of losing you.

“I’m just glad you’re o-”

The quiet conversation was interrupted. “Get a room, Murray!” A voice yelled from the group of red behind him. It was most likely Barone or Polacco, the only two in a good enough mood after the previous events to pay enough attention to you to make any kind of crude comment like usual.

Pat pulled away, lips spread thin and eyes low. His hands moved to grip your upper arms tightly and he slowly turned his head back to look at the clever commentators. “Shut the FUCK UP ABOUT MY GODDAMN GIRLFRIEND!” Your eyes widen and a sheepish grin spread widely between your cheeks. When he turned back to you, you lifted your hand to hold his face. His eyes were tied to yours, but your gaze soon drifted down to the lightly bleeding scratches on his neck. You frowned and your fingertips dropped to trace over the red lines. The man holding you still, softer now, hissed at the raw contact and his pleading eyes twitched.

His hand rose to wipe at your left cheek, stained from his wound and your place in the crook of his neck. He didn’t move it though after placing it there. “You- There was some blood- Fuck, that’s so gross, I’m so fuckin’ sorry-” His head shook lightly as he stared at you, lip twitching with slight distress.

You responded with a soft laugh, breathed through your nostrils. “It’s ok- It’s ok! I’m sorry you got hurt,” you said as you wiped some of the blood from around the new wound. Pat looked pained, but your presence overcame any discomfort he had. “What a game, huh?”

You chuckled and he hummed near your ear, a pleased puff of air pushed through his nostrils. “I’m so fucking glad you’re here- It’s a better game now. I know it’s not gonna actually get better, but-” Pat moved back and looked at you with gleaming eyes. You could never resist those eyes. He seemed so hopeful since he’d learned of your arrival and you weren’t going to even think about how vain it might have been. “But you’re here, you know.”

You moved your hands swiftly to the sides of his face and pulled him down for a kiss. Though it took him a moment, he quickly pulled you against him and his plush lips pushed against yours. His arms around your waist were the only things keeping you upright as the two of you collided so passionately you arched against him. He pulled slightly back to turn his head and slip through your parted lips. He tasted of vanilla ice cream and blue raspberry Gatorade. Tongues pushing needily against each other, for just a moment, the field around you was lost and all you had was the sensation of Pat Murray buzzing through your lips.

“Ey, Murray-!” A sing-songy voice interrupted again and immediately Pat painfully yanked your face from his. With a clenched jaw and white knuckles still on your figure, he wiped the shared saliva from his mouth and looked like he was refraining from erupted in a trembling angry fit. One hand swept down the side of your face with a dazed expression of admiration and he made eye contact with you, sending you his concern through soft, hazel eyes. You felt the sudden sadness of his body leaving yours, the physical contact high of your love crashed down and you were left hot and alone. The player ran back to the benches spewing foul curses at his ogling teammates as they threw around playful jabs at his PDA. He turned to wave you off and that made you smile. You stepped backward, slowly at first, then turned to jog back to your spot at the fence.

The crowds grew but the sound shrunk. Spectators came from around the neighborhood as word of the fight had spread. It was silent now, in the aftermath. It felt like a sort of mourning period, perhaps for the final chances of the D-Backs at winning today’s game. Reverence was the word to describe what was emanating from the home team. The dugout looked morbid and the only eyes that weren't cast down were furrowed in anger, confusion, and concern. Sirens cut through the still, religious air as an ambulance and a police car drove onto the game dirt.

Two EMTs came barrelling from their vehicle with a gurney and lifted Garvey into the back of the ambulance. The teams cheered him on before the vehicle doors closed and the ambulance left the field. The last image of Garvey was that of him in a neck cast with a thumbs up and the biggest smile.

Two cops then got out of their car that had parked itself on the dirt and went over to the D-Back dugout. Vinnie and Ty sat against the fence as the policemen approached them after speaking with the umpires. “Tyler Delmonica and Vincent Maltzan?”

You watched with the fathers as you had before and smacked Brian’s arm with fever as you saw the lawmen approach the team. “What the fuck- What’s- What the fuck are they doing?” With a slightly irritated side-eyed glance, Brian observed the same scene you did with concern. The elder Mazzello on the other side of him grunted and spoke, “Nothing good.”

The two from the fence had gone over to the cops and were now in handcuffs. The entirety of the red team had come swarming from the shaded dugout to defend their friends. Curses were thrown back and forth and the policeman threatened to arrest Dells as well. “Dude, what the fuck-” you muttered.

“Finish the game!” Ty urged as he and Vinnie were dragged away. The other policeman countered Ty’s plea, announcing for an end to the gathering, at which time both teams emerged from their holes and agreed upon something for the first time. ‘We’re almost done!’ they said, ‘We’re winning!’ The crowd, which had grown exponentially since the scuffle, jeered and booed at the officer. He then complied to the masses as Maz promised they would go on with no further complications. The Bulldogs player that had put poor Garv in the hospital was expulsed and that was the end of it.

The game went on, not without some drama, of course, but it went on. It was an incredible sight. Dells was on fire, throwing out after out after out. Zapata gets a hit, Fotch walks with a dead arm (breaking Dell’s front car window in the process), then it was Pat at-bat, again.

He hit the first one and your breathing stopped, then it was announced a foul. You held tightly to his father’s arm, praying for the impossible as you did every game. The second ball went in slow motion as it headed towards him. The world stood still for you. The sudden smack of wood against hot leather shook you from your trance. Patrick ran with a fury you’d never seen before, sliding into first base in a red dust cloud of victory.

You could barely recognize your own voice in the scream you let loose as you watched your significant other accomplish such a rare feat. “YES, PATTY, YES! FUCKING GET IT!” You were jumping up and down, shaking the fence, hitting Brian when your hands weren’t waving excitedly in the air. Brian laughed at your reaction and held you with an arm when you settled down.

Patrick screamed and jumped just as you were. “I GOT A HIT!” The crowd was still roaring, the D-Backs yelling for him.

“Way to go, Pat!” Brian hugged you and wiped tears from eyes you hadn’t noticed falling before. The older man shook you affectionately against his side.

“I GUESSED! I FUCKING GUESSED!” The ginger was kept his yelling as the blue team called for time. “I’M NOT OUT!” He clapped and laughed, calling after his team as they prepped during the other team's timeout. Maybe it was just you but the air smelled sweet now, beside your considered family in an epic and cherished moment. It may have been bittersweet but it was worth savoring every second of.

“GO PALACCO! KILL HIM! MURDER HIM!” Pat was still screaming as his teammate took to the batting mound. It went Palacco, then David, then Maz. Having two strikeouts lead to your star didn’t seem like a good sign, but Maz was a miracle man. A home run, last bat, and they- They won. The D-Backs won. Maz hit home and the entire game, everything leading up to it erupted in the field and the crowds. The culmination of an entire season, all the stress of the game, the fight, the disappointment of the draft, the love of the team and the camaraderie and support they all show through all this exploded.

Red shirts were glued in a huddle at center field. “For Garvey!” You heard someone yell. Vinnie and Ty came running back on, leaping and whooping. The crowd roared and the cheers rolled over the hills beyond the field. You shook with pride, sure you must have been glowing like the sun looking out upon the victory. Brian looked on the verge of tears, but you couldn’t quite tell through wet eyes of your own. Sound seemed to escape the reality you existed in and all that mattered was the team. Time slowed and your focus went to tunnel vision on a very specific first-time hitter.

Patrick ran over to you the second you set foot on the beaten dirt of the outfield, ambushing you with the tightest embrace you may have ever been in. It took a second but you thrust your arms around him as well as he lifted you from your waist. Holding onto him around his neck, he spun you in tight circles as you both laughed heartily, buried in one another’s soft scents. As he put you down, you started to speak but he cut you off immediately by pushing his face into yours. You did not mind one bit as you resumed your position from earlier, curving against him, your front flat against his chest, hands tugging at his sweaty hair as his limbs slipped down your back. Tracing the dimples at the bottom of your spine, pulling at the hem of your shirt and letting his thumb kiss your skin. His other hand gripped your ass, wanting you impossibly closer. Your open-mouthed kiss was outlined by a smile as you groaned every time he found a new place on your body to caress. Pat was lost in your taste, like lemon cookies and cherry slushies and little league baseball games.

“C’mon, man! Your fucking dad’s here!” Zapata groaned and Palacco smacked his arm with a laugh as the team, those distracted by the couple, made faces and sounds to tease. Barone made a thrusting motion and mouthed ‘Get it!’ as his own girlfriend stood neglected behind him.

The pair of you separated to see the what antics the boys had come up with this time around. Though you thought Pat’s good mood after the win couldn’t be bent, this came awfully close. His grimace was incomparable yet that was just another reason you loved him. Somehow it was still adorable. “He’s right, you know,” you patted your lover’s dusty chest and smiled, “I’ve been hanging out with Mr. Murray the whole game and he probably saw all that.” Pat glanced back at you before looking behind you and quickly, guiltily, pulling his hands from your ass.

‘Perfect timing,’ you thought, as you could guess exactly who it was. Brian was kind enough not to mention anything as he approached his son. The father gave you a pat on the back before embracing his son. The moment was tender as you looked on at the scene of the father/son bonding, albeit a bit awkwardly. Brian held Pat by the shoulders for a moment and they both had shining streaks down their cheeks. You didn’t hear anything that had been said but you smiled softly, overcome with love for the both of them. The graying man approached you next, rubbing your shoulder and giving you a quick hug. “You kids have fun,” he said as he walked back to Joe, “and be safe!” He winked.

“God, your dad-”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Love him, though,” you joined the number 15 player as you followed the others to the snack shack, walking arm in arm, holding as much contact as you could while still being able to walk.

Maz ended up beside you when you all sat at the picnic tables with rainbow sprinkles on vanilla ice cream in a casual post celebration gathering. This gave you the opportunity to congratulate him and at the same time express your sympathies after the draft. “I mean, it’s alright,” he’d said to you, “‘cus this is really what it’s all about right here, you know? I mean these guys-” He laughed gently as David and Palacco ‘lovingly’ assaulted Ty with several scoops of ice cream to the face, “Dad was right. They’re what it’s about. Winning is awesome, don’t get me wrong, but I wouldn’t be here without them and- and it’s all just-” Without getting emotional, he could barely say anymore. “It’s not about me. It’s about family.” John sat back against the table and chuckled.

You patted his knee as you stood. “They wouldn’t be here without you either, Maz. Regardless of where you go from here, everything you’ve done has mattered to someone, to all of them, at least.” Your boyfriend approached you and you said one last thing to the star batter before moving out, “I mean, if you could hear the way Pat talked about you, you’d think you were his girlfriend.” He laughed at this and you grinned knowing he would appreciate it. “Be proud, no doubts, you’re loved, and all that shit.”

“Thanks, [YN],” John nodded happily at you and looked down for a moment at his melting cone dripping on the grass below him. Pat stood next to you now and whispered some suggestive suggestions in your ear. Shooting the younger Mazzello a sorry look he sent you off and waved you and your lover goodbye with a sly grin. “Go on, go have fun. I’ve had enough of the longing looks, get it out of your system.”

Pat laughed lightly and slipped an arm around your waist, furrowing a confused set of eyes at his friend’s comment, then at you. It made him wonder what type of conversation the two of you’d had. He led you towards the parking lot, flipping off the team he left behind as they wolf whistled, making a lot of correct assumptions of what the two of you intended to do in your early departure. You’d left your van parked around the side of the field in the nice shade of a small grove of trees. The keys clicked in the quieter, cooler, fresher air around you. Patrick leaned against the side of the vehicle, one arm up to support himself and the other placed on his hip, ankles crossed. He watched you a bit too intently as you unlocked the cabin of your old car.

“I can feel you looking at me,” you smiled, opening the passenger’s side door to manually reach around and slide open the spacious back of the bus, turning on the car battery in the process. Leaving the keys in the ignition, turning down The Damned, but leaving it loud enough to cover what sounds may come. He watched you do this every time. It came as no wonder to him why your cherished car was in such bad shape as you left the battery running to supply a soundtrack to your lovemaking. Eyes distractedly stalled on your midsection as he looked you up and down, Pat faltered as the car shuddered when the door opened and he was thrown off his balance. He caught himself, though, and shot you a slanted grin.

“You’re just-” He bit his lip, “-so fucking hot, and you’re all mine.” Settling into the cushy, creaking back part of the carriage, you grinned expectantly.

“Am I?” You cocked your head, “Maybe you should remind me again who exactly I belong to.” Dragging every word out, you purposefully teased the impatient man, unbuttoning the top of your shorts slowly.

Like a switch, something clicked in him. His entire demeanor shifted from his almost toddler-like temper to something much more mature. Sitting spread eagle on the plush blankets you kept in the back for such occasions, you waited. He stared at you darkly, a towering shadow that filled the van’s open portal to the rest of the world. He filled in the empty space, deciding what he wanted to do first, how he would defile you in so many ways and what he would start with.

The interior smelled liked fast food, rubbing alcohol, and sweaty sex. Seeing as the main things you did in this car were eat bad food, try to clean up the stains left behind from said bad food, and, of course, fuck, the medley of scents came as no surprise. Around you were an array of cushions, blankets, and pillows all extremely soft to the touch. Not an inch of the original upholstery could be seen under the collection of plush covers. This made for the ideal landing as Pat pounced on you like a starved jungle cat as you look so very appetizing against the grey of the fur throw you laid on.

With him on top of you, you grabbed his cap and threw it to the side, kicking the door closed with your foot. Already against your lips, Pat straddled you, one hand on your waist and the other your cheek. The tops of your thighs pressed against the backs of his laying sideways in the cramped space. Holding his face to yours, his stiff, sweat dried hair curling between your fingers, you moaned. He smelled hotly of dust and fire, like a childhood summer day. The intimacy of the flood of memories he reminded you of only increased the sensation for you, heightening your attraction to him in a familiar, safe emotion.

His lips moved against yours, both of you sharing the same rhythm like singing along to an old song you never really could forget the words to. Open mouths clashed, teeth hit teeth, tongues knotted with tongues. His eyelashes brushed against your cheek as his wet kisses traveled down your face hitting your chin, your neck, your collarbone. Simultaneously, his hand pushed up your top, the other lifting you to help you pull it off. You let your arms drift above your head as he peeled the first layer off your body. It was only fair you would start unbuttoning his jersey and pulling at it, signaling him to take it off.

Before you could rip his undershirt off, he attached his lips to your neck, sucking hard to leave behind a noticeable deep purple love mark high enough it couldn’t be covered. You could feel his teeth graze your skin in a proud smile as your hot and heavy breaths turned to desperate, squirming moans. You gasped, gripping the fabric over his chest. He was glowing knowing only he could leave you in such a state.

Dragging a hot trail of saliva down your body, Pat stopped at your chest. He pulled away and stared down at your breasts with a shake of his head. “So fucking gorgeous,” he whispered. With one knee on either side of you, he sat up and pulled his red top off. Then he swept back down, suctioned back to your skin. He started behind your ear and peppered bites around your jaw, hands pulling your body to arch, allowing him the opportunity to remove your bra. You threw your head back and shimmied off the upper undergarment.

Your hands skimmed Pat’s bare chest, traveling upwards to his shoulders and past. Palms pressed against the sides of his face, you wiped your thumbs at the smeared eye black on his cheeks. His gaze was tied to your exposed chest and his breathing was heavy and hungry. Lips hanging parted, he slowly looked up at you through hooded lashes.

You smiled at the man hovering above you. Neither of you moved as you established eye contact while Jimi Hendrix played in the background. The van was hot between your bodies and the setting sun shining through the front window. Sweat beaded your forehead and your boyfriend went to push your hair back from your face, damp from the growing heat. “You’re-”

“You’re beautiful,” you finished. He laughed and it was like a Baroque painting before you. In a golden haze, his hair looked soft and he was glowing in muted tones. The tapestry pinned to the ceiling gave a dusty rose background to compliment the halo you saw around him. You pushed his hair back and pulled yourself up to kiss him. He took this chance to explore your body, mapping every inch of your warm, welcoming skin.

His fingertips were calloused and grey, dirt caked in the ridges of his prints, proof of the aftermath of the game. Rough pads walked down the center of your torso, stopping at your breasts. He took one mound in his hand, pinching your nipple between his thumb and his palm, rolling it slowly. You bit your lip and tucked your fingers under the waistband of his baseball pants and briefs, pulling them back and snapping them against his hips. Your eyes hung on the happy trail leading up his stomach. You traced it with the tip of your nail and his dark gaze settled on your face.

From his perspective, you were hidden in the shadows below him, hot and vulnerable. Buds of your breasts perky and hard, the dips of your stomach like a flowing river to your hips where your shorts sat a little too low, you were buried under filters of lust. The retiring sunlight hit the dust particles between you, floating through the air in slow motion like a love scene in an early 2000s, warm-toned, rom-com, the kind you spent Friday nights watching under three different blankets on the couch. You were dreamy, always, but especially now, a hazy, golden goddess.

“I want you, Pat,” you interrupted his daze, stroking his face and pushing his loose hair behind his ear. “Now.”

He blinked at you and grinned. “Oh, let’s go.” You smiled wickedly as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, you wrapped your arms around his back and slipped your hands on his ass. He engulfed you then gripped your shorts and panties, ripping them down all at once. A guttural groan left your throat and you wiggled out of your clothes. Pat had moved to one side of you, maintaining skin on skin contact whenever he could, and kicking off his shoes. Your body arched towards him as he retracted his touch. You shook your pants off your leg and laid baring it all for your lover in the cramped space of the vintage vehicle.

Pat was awestruck as you sat up, spread out for him, back to the driver’s seat. He paused with his pants stopped just high enough not to be truly explicit. You looked on with anticipation, one finger slinking its way between your legs. “Keep going,” you nodded at him. He complied with a lopsided grin and hot, hooded eyes. You rubbed two fingers against your clit and bit your bottom lip as he yanked his pants down, cup painfully sliding over his hard erection. He sat back and pulled off his bottoms, socks included, cock slapping against his stomach as he did so.

You snorted at him, unceremoniously slouched in the back of your small van. The sight was both pleasing and amusing, and far from being unfamiliar. Every time you’ve watched him undress in these four fabric covered walls, it felt the same. It had become something of a post-game ritual, defiling the backspace of your car while the oldies stationed tuned out the lewd sounds you made together.

‘She said, hey babe, take a walk on the wild side’, your lover crawled towards you as you spread your lower lips to welcome him, ‘I said, hey honey, take a walk on the wild side.’ Patrick took in the sight of your glistening sex and licked his lips. He sat back on a plush green throw blanket and pulled you onto his lap with a soft chuckle. He hummed contently at your lips against his ear, tightening his arms around your damp skin. You were straddling him, one arm slung over his shoulder and the other reaching for his member. The pre-cum leaking from his tip spread against your stomach as you pressed onto him, limber fingers wrapped precariously around his length. You pumped him slowly, hanging off his lobe by your teeth. This pulled a whimper from deep inside him, nuzzling against you. Thumb sliding over his head, you dragged the slickness down his shaft and sucked on his neck as he had yours. You were dripping for him and he could feel it. His knuckles went white, gripping your thighs with bruising strength. He nipped at your shoulder, leaving behind wet, fading love bites.

You were jostled as your boyfriend lifted you by your waist so he could easily access your tits, supporting you against the back of the driver’s seat. Pace quickening as your hand slid up and down his cock, his mouth latched onto your nipple, teeth brushing against it as he sucked hard. His thick fingers inside you scissored with fervor and you could feel every bend of his knuckles between your walls. Your free hand held his face against your chest and you moaned. Slowly, the cabin filled with the sweet scents of both yours and his arousal and sweat. You pulled yourself towards him and pulled gently on his hair as he replaced his lips with rolling fingers and paid his attention to your other bud.

“Fuck, Pat,” your breath hitched and you could feel him smile against your breast, “Pat, I want you-”

“I fucking need you, [Y/N],” his breathing was heavy as he detached from your chest, moving to look you in the eyes, “Soon.” It was a pleading look he gave you, far different from his on-field persona. With one last soft squeeze of his erection, you let go. He moaned at the release and you were up on your knees. He looked up at you from between your breasts as you flattened against him.

One of his hands slid between your thighs and your composure faltered, his cold fingers pressing past your nerve center and straight to your hole. He watched your face carefully, one hand on the small of your back, the other letting digit after digit push into your sex easily, slick secretion assisting in his effort to stretch you before his anticipated penetration. Blinking quickly, you twitch your hips at the knuckles deep in your pussy. Patrick grabbed your ass and began going in and out and in and out of your entrance with a quiet slap. To the rhythm of the Bowie song blowing out your damaged speakers, you hump his fingers and ride your rising pleasure ut before you can peak, you’re filled with emptiness.

“You fucking ready for me, babe?” Want was dripping from every syllable of his words as you looked down just in time to see him pull his slick fingers from his mouth, appreciating your taste every chance he could.

“Let’s drag this out, baby, today we got something to celebrate.” You caressed the side of his face and smiled softly. He couldn’t resist your whims and he knew exactly how to make this special.

He laid on his back and pulled you up by your ass, sliding your wetness along his torso. He lifted your waist and you compliantly moved your knees to either side of his head. “Then let me finish you off before we start on the good stuff, hm?” His smile was sexy as he adored you from between your legs, willing to put your sexuality before his need. His arms wrapped around your pillowy thighs, on hand holding your slit open and the other stroking your clit. A shiver ran through you as he lifted his head to break your first contact.

This was his chosen place of worship, kissing your core surrounded by the satin skin of your voluptuous legs. His religion was you on your knees and him on his back, the ecstatic expression you wore his deity. The fluid stained woven rugs and fur throws that shaped the interior of your chosen mode of transportation was the altar he so admired in the temple of you. Your skin was scripture and your acts together sacred, the hard rock you left on the hymns of your love. His metaphor was worn but as the last of the daylight threaded through the fallen waves of your hair, he couldn’t think of any words more true to describe this image of you.

He dove into you, starved of your taste. You were pulled down to his face, feeling his tongue probe the space between your lower lips, sucking at the labia and fully drinking up your nectar. You ground against his tongue, utilizing what he could to maximize your pleasure, the texture of his muscle overwhelming your senses. His nose pressed against your clit as his hands moved to go from grabbing your ass, supporting your waist, then giving his hands’ attention to your breasts. Your nipples were well loved as your pussy continued to be stimulated to the point of pushing you over.

Your whole body curved forwards, gripping his hair and supporting yourself with a fistful of the blanket. Uneven breaths drifted from your open mouth, heaving chest painted with small drops of sweat. Pat’s palm was flat against your back. Your hair flipped out of your line of sight as you threw your head back, lips forming a solid ‘o’. A wave of ecstasy rushed over you in your first orgasm of the evening, a musical moan, broken by sharp breaths. The lover beneath you lapped up every release of your spasming pussy until your curses died down to soft shudders. To avoid overstimulating you, Pat moved from your sensitive mound to drop hot kisses on your inner thighs.

The pulsing of your core subdued as you spent the next minute catching your breath. The van was filled with salty, hot air and Patrick held your midsection tightly as he sucked dark hickies on every inch of your shy skin he could reach. His face was coated in your juices, which was smeared across your legs, both sets of hands, and down your boyfriend’s chest. Letting his tongue glide over a fresh bruise just left in the crux of your crotch, his melted autumn eyes stared up at you with intense lust. He threw his head back when he was satisfied with his work and snorted, “You taste like a Goddamn fucking angel.”

His smile was goofy and gross, the juvenile delinquency of your act written all over his face. It made you feel like a teenager again, sneaking around with the angry boy your parents didn’t like. God, you loved him. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the situation. There you were, sitting on your boyfriend's face in the back of your musty van by the neighborhood baseball field and you weren’t even done yet.

You grinned down at him, “Shut up and fuck me, Murray.” The man smiled and sat up, catching you as you fell off him. You grabbed his face and pressed his lips to yours for a moment, tasting your own sticky, semi-sweet love on his lips before he pulled away to reach around you. Popping open the center console compartment with a click, he grabbed a condom and ripped it open with his teeth. “Care to-”

You took the contraceptive from him without letting him finish. He could understand the eagerness in your eyes and moved back expectantly. Holding up the plastic package, you frowned. “I thought we were celebrating?” You tilted your head innocently. Recognition flashed across his face and he raised his eyebrows. For the first time, the mood was broken, a Honda commercial really solidifying it for you.

“Are you- Are you serious? Are you sure?” The sweaty athlete’s eyes were wide at your implication.

You smiled slyly and nodded at him. “I’m on birth control and,” you shrugged, “I trust you not to have any weird, contagious rashes.” He laughed at you, happily, and you joined him.

“I can promise you I have no transmittable diseases, inspect me if you want.” His arms moved out to present himself to you.

You dragged a nail across the length of one of his arms and he cocked a half smile in your direction as he eyes your movements. “I’ve seen plenty.” You grinned and put your hands back on his cheeks, pushing against him in a kiss. Pat was quick to move, but you stopped him, hand flat against his chest. “You need a little prep, first, don’t you?” Slowly, he figured it out and sat back to give you more space to do your deed. Folding over yourself, thighs spread and arousal tickled by the thick woven rug beneath you, your face reached the waiting cock.

All the man could focus on was your long, batting lashes and your ass sticking out behind you. His tip was cold and wet from being untouched, but your spit dripped down it as you kissed the slit briefly. Patrick’s breath was shaky as you licked from the base up to the tip, making eye contact as you did so. His body weight was put on his locked arms behind him, leaning away from you, but he feared one more sex filled look from you would break him and he would collapse.

He nearly did when you first took him into your hot mouth. A groan vibrated through him and you felt it in your connection. Slowly at first, sparingly, you bobbed up and down on his length, soft lips sliding over every ridge and every vein. “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck-” You picked up speed with his encouraging curses. Head thrown back, your lover focused on not cumming right then and there, doing his best to save himself for what came next, but Goddamn it, [Y/N], he thought. He’d let you know him far too well if you could break him into so many pieces so quickly. Tongue scraping at the side of the sensitive skin, balls being treated with care in your hands, and the pace leaving him a sputtering mess- You name filled the compartment like a rolling sea fog, all your senses overcome with his apparent need for you. His scent, his sounds, his taste- hot and salty. Seeing his chest rising with labored breaths, you decided he was getting too close and hilted him in your throat as best you could for a moment, teeth grazing his base and your nose buried in his happy trail, before pulling off at a painstaking pace, detaching from him with a ‘pop’, a string of saliva falling from between you.

It took a quiet moment for him to get his bearings at the disappointing cutoff. The drops of sweat sliding down the sides of his face were tinted with red from the adobe colored dirt he’d spent so much time on. Sitting back up and leaning towards him, you went to wipe the moisture away and he held your hand to his face, kissing your palm with closed eyes. He saved his high and gave you a quick, and ironically chaste, kiss before pushing aside discarded clothing articles and repositioning the two of you so he was above you once again. He took you by your middle and moved you to the side, growing increasingly impatient, seemingly recovered from his edge. Holding firmly to your ribs as he laid you down before him, he then pulled away to admire you again.

Under a young night sky, you were the only star he saw. Glowing in a post-orgasmic haze against the shadows cast by street lamps, you were a constellation of an impossible creature. Contrasting the true space you both existed in, his view of you was divine. Every beautiful thing in the heavens and the earth, he saw in you.

“Pat?” You furrowed your eyes in concern at his momentary stillness.

He blinked the clouds from his eyes. “God, sorry, fuck-” Shaking his head, he smiled slightly, “I got so fucking lucky. I may not be able to get a hit but, uh-” He chuckled before completing his favorite line, “You sure are a catch.” He winked and you gently kicked him in the shoulder. Catching your ankle, he held your leg up and held it over his shoulder as he moved to position himself at your open hips. “C’mon, it’s my best line.”

You impatiently rolled your eyes. “Are you gonna fuck me or not?” You motioned to your waiting sex, ready and slick for him. “I’m waiting-”

“-And I’m ready!” Patrick held up his free hand defensively before grabbing your hip with bruising strength. His dripping, neglected tip sat waiting at your entrance. His tone turned serious, “Are you?”

His genuine asking was comforting and you nodded quickly. His position over you turned you on even more, if possible, loving that he could see you melt in his hand and drip between his fingers. With one hand holding your leg up and the other stroking his excited cock, preparing to enter you. The sparkling space between your welcoming thighs glistened in the little bit of moonlight making its way into the vehicle. He slid his thumb through the wetness and you groaned in need. He chuckled at your response and you squirmed against the soft fabrics you’d been set on.

It was the moment of final satisfaction that you’d been building to all afternoon in the back of your sex-soaked bus. Your eyes were trained on his focused downward gaze and you could feel him press into you. It was a pleasant stretch you looked forward to but it was different this time, void of the protection you’d so cautiously used. You felt unequivocally full, natural, and satisfying like you were made to fit together like this. Scary, but exciting, this new sensation left you unable to control your breathing. Sharp inhalations were a sign to him he was doing something good. Pushing into you was easy with how much arousal dripped your sex, all the fluids of the night mixing together for a pleasurable experience. In and out, he took his time deepening the contact, holding tight to your hips, a nice pain shooting through you when he squeezed the old yellowed bruises he’d left behind from past rendezvous. Your eyes focused on him when they were closed in ecstasy, hands swiping furiously at your clit or alternating between your breast. Pat was in awe at the bolts of hot pleasure that traveled up his body at the raw feeling of you around him, tight, wet, and warm. He thought sex couldn’t get any better, especially not with you, but he was wrong. He felt every dip and fold of your tunnels against the ridges of his own skin.

You were sleeved around him as he picked up speed. Grunts fell from his pouting lips every time his hips slapped against yours. The sound could be heard over the still playing radio in the front seat. It seemed the amount of teasing the two of you subjected each other to left little resilience to the sudden relief of penetration as your boyfriend’s rate jumped from calculated, appreciative thrusts to messy, needy, heavy ones in a matter of minutes. “You feel-” He groaned as he hilted in you again, balls deep to the pleasure of both of you, “So fucking amazing-” The words barely came out. You tried to formulate a response but the heat filling your abdomen stopped you. What came out instead was a gurgled moan of agreement. Smiling at the sights and the sounds you produced, Pat was absolutely enamored by you in this new sensation. Tits bouncing as you shook with his slamming thrusts, your eyes rolling back with guttural groans from deep inside you.

Drawing from that pit of white-hot pleasure, you neared your peak and a higher pitched plead cam as a warning to your partner, “Can’t- Fuck, Pat- Almost there-” He got the message and the two of you shook together, his whispers of ‘me too, me too’ barely heard through the whimpers. No longer could sounds be differentiated from one source or the other as your bodies melted together in a moment of bliss. For the first time, the vehicle noticeably shook in your passionate lovemaking. His hands slipped down your legs, attention drifted from your clit to your navel to your hair as he doubled over to float parallel above you. Sweat from his tiring body rained on you and you pulled him closer. His face was buried between your ear and shoulder, biting away curses as he humped through his high.

“Fuck, that’s it-” The sliding stopped as his back arched first, pressing so hard into your crux, you were sure your entire lower half would be purple by the next morning. His member pulsed inside you and you could feel it swell with anticipation before your own pussy milked him for all he was worth. Streams and streams of hot, white pleasure flowed into you and you swallowed a scream. The sound that managed to escape was otherworldly and Pat loved it. You’d never felt this before, his love directly inside you, hot sloshing, liquid driving you past your point of return. You thought maybe it hadn’t been the physical sensation but the idea of how intimate the action was that had really given you your final orgasm. Either way, you had simultaneously arched against him and he held you up by your back as you squeezed with every muscle. Nails dragging down his spine, no doubt leaving red territorial marks down his sides as you rode out the ocean of intensity that washed over you. It made you curl your toes and tense your appendages around your lover like a boa constrictor and their prey.

Love came gushing from your connection and pooled beneath the small of your back, sinking into the layers of covers that cushioned the two of you from the hard vehicle floor. You didn’t think about the mess you’d made or the unfortunate task of cleaning it up and instead focused on the weight on top of you. Still, inside you, Patrick’s cock twitched as he’d nearly collapsed over you. The rhythm of your breathing synced with his and your pussy pulsed sorely, your entire body sensitive and raw. A shiver ran through your bones as you felt the hot mouth of the body blanketing your’s suction onto your neck one last time, licking over its handy work with a weak laugh. Your fingers laced through his damp hair and you turned your cheek to kiss his.

Your eyes were watering, maybe from the tense situation or the exhaustion that suddenly overwhelmed you now that the wire strings of arousal no longer hold you up. Pat felt the same way as he slowly pulled out of you and you winced. On his side next to you, you felt him pull you closer, nestling into your equally wet and disgusting hair. The entire car smelled awful and hot, the windows were grey and fogged up, blankets beneath you covered in God knows what. Closing your legs and turning towards the warmth beside you, you nestled into him, the feeling of your post-coital calmness was immortalized in the music you’d left on. ‘Goodbye stranger, it’s been nice. Hope you find your paradise.’

Maybe the lyrics weren’t a perfect fit, but somehow the melody found it’s way beneath your hot skin and soothed you. You remained this way for, you weren’t sure how long. Time seemed lost to the two of you then. Engulfed in his arms, you felt safe. The scene was grimy and explicit, your nakedness blending together, the leftover ejaculate dripping from your slit without care, the stained and discarded undergarments left unnoticed and hanging off the steering wheel. It wasn’t clean or safe, but for the two of you, it was nice. What that said about your situation, you didn’t care. This was your heaven.

“Good morning, Orange County! And what a lovely morning it is! We’d like to start the day with a little Springsteen, huh?” A hard drum intro led into a twangy guitar and the sonorous voice of Bruce Springsteen, ‘In the day we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream. At night we ride through the mansions of glory in suicide machines.’

“Is it weird,” you’d said, “knowing all the boys are well aware of what we do? Including your dad?” You laughed a bit, leaning against him, still bare, under a furry quilt. The carriage of the vehicle creaked at your movements, audible now that it wasn’t masked by the heavy breathing of your fucking. The bohemian tapestry behind you shrouded the rising sun from your sensitive eyes, half open in a dream-like state.

Patrick planted a quick kiss in your hair, “I like they know you’re mine.” He took a deep breath, “And my dad can fuck off.”

After a pause, you looked at him and erupted in laughter. “He’s pretty cool, you know, for having to deal with a kid like you.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

‘Wendy let me in I wanna be your friend, I want to guard your dreams and visions. Just wrap your legs 'round these velvet rims and strap your hands 'cross my engines.’

Brian glanced at the phone as he prepared his breakfast. He was sure his son was fine, he’d gone nights without calling before, but by morning he usually had a message waiting for him. He tried not to think about what may have distracted him in order to keep down his first meal of the day. The radio played in the background.

‘Girls comb their hair in rearview mirrors and the boys try to look so hard. The amusement park rises bold and stark, kids are huddled on the beach in a mist. I wanna die with you Wendy on the street tonight in an everlasting kiss.’

The groundskeeper stared on worriedly at the shaking VW bus that had been parked behind the trees since before he’d gotten there in the small hours of the morning. “Fucking teenagers, disgusting,” he shook his head and turned away, earphones back in as he started up the lawnmower.

‘Oh honey, tramps like us, baby, we were born to run.’

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an-upset-librarian · 8 years ago

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Stardust and Fire -- Chapter 5

I’ve finally finished! I have plenty of sorry excuses for why I’m so late updating this fic, but you guys don’t really care about that. SO, as an apology, here’s a 6200+ word chapter. We’re finally getting to the good stuff, folks.

As always, please reblog and spread the word about this story, and leave nice comments and reviews! PSA, this particular chapter is unbeta’d so please forgive any awkward sentences or simple mistakes!

AO3 FFN

“Natsu! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Lucy screamed, her throat scratchy and hoarse from the screams that already crawled out. The drakon was laughing maniacally, his hands encased in hot red flames as he leapt from building to building chasing after a dark figure weaving through the crowded streets ahead.

Lucy bit back a frustrated scream and stomped her foot. She steeled her nerves and coaxed the threads of her magic up from their slumber deep inside her chest and pushed the fibers of power out and into her skin. She relied on the instincts burning inside her and listened to their whispers, the whispers of the stars and the heavens telling her how to draw on her strength. She closed her eyes, imagining a net of power draping over her skin, enhancing her physical abilities. When she opened them, her skin was crisscrossed with golden veins of power and she squatted as she summoned her strength into her legs. She pushed off the cement sidewalk, wincing when she saw the cracks left in the concrete, and leapt up onto the nearest rooftop to chase after the wild drakon. She followed the trail of smoldering ashes, swearing to any higher power that the moment she returned to the guild he would be dead meat.

***

The duo had arrived at the address listed on the job flier easily enough, and the instructions from the mustached man that greeted them were simple: take this case, which contained a priceless vase that happened to be haunted by a spirit from the Victorian age, and deliver it to his colleague in Hargeon, who would exorcise the spirit. He told them to never open the case, lest the wards and spells working against the spirit’s deadly intent be nullified.

Since Hargeon was only a couple of hours away by train, Lucy decided it would be the easiest option. The job was quick and easy, and she couldn’t see how it could possibly go wrong. She’d know better in the future to never even think such a phrase if Natsu was around.

When she learned of his motion sickness, she had to bite back a snicker. Of course, such a powerful mage would have motion sickness. He told her it was a part of his draconic heritage, and that every drakon- even Wendy- had trouble with transportation. While a tiny dark part of her relished in Natsu’s discomfort on the train for all the annoyances he’d forced upon her since her arrival at Fairy Tail, she mostly felt sorry for him as he slumped over in his seat, blubbering and gagging the whole way to Hargeon. He’d moved so fast once the train finally stopped moving as they arrived in Hargeon that Lucy almost lost him in the crowd, were it not for the fact that he was kneeling in the middle of the station kissing the ground.

“Natsu, come on. It wasn’t that bad. We’re almost done,” She said, poking his shoulder with the corner of the case, “I’ll even buy you a reasonable amount of food once we’re finished.”

His head shot up at her offer, a wide and bright smile on his face. Her gaze dropped to the predatory canines poking his lips. She hadn’t noticed how long and sharp his canines were before, and she wondered if he ever cut his lip on the serrated teeth. She’d learned- the hard way- that part of being a drakon was having enhanced senses, even by Fae standards. She shook her head of the embarrassing memories of conversations overheard and rolled her eyes when the pink-haired drakon pulled her out of the train station and into the familiar streets of Hargeon.

Lucy hadn’t pictured being back in the small port city so soon, but the universe worked in mysterious ways. Everything was going perfectly fine until someone ran into Lucy’s shoulder, causing her grip on the case to loosen the tiniest amount, opening a small opportunity for the stranger to quickly snatch the handle away from her and run off into the streets.

***

Lucy snarled at the drakon when she finally caught up to him, ready to scold him for using his very noticeable magic out in the open. Erza and Mira had quickly lectured Lucy on the importance of keeping her powers and identity hidden from the human world, and Lucy had never been the type of student to forget or disregard her teacher’s instructions.

“Relax, I put an illusion spell up before I left,” Natsu said, giving Lucy a quick glance. She puffed out a frustrated sigh but the muscles knotted in her back relaxed when she focused on their auras to see the wisps of his illusion spell encasing the two of them and hiding their presence from the humans below.

“That still doesn’t make running off all on your own okay.” She huffed. Her magic thrummed in time with her heartbeat, the threads of light pulsing on her skin as they ran. She could see the dark figure that had run into her earlier just a few blocks ahead and she felt a well of hot anger boil within her. Natsu gave her a concerned glance, feeling the fury writhing inside her through her aura.

“Take a deep breath,” He muttered, channeling the rare feeling of peace he achieved during battle from his aura to hers. He relaxed when he felt her anger simmer down and her magic return to her body. “Man, you really gotta learn how to keep those emotions in check.”

“I’m trying my best,” She snapped back. She felt a twinge of regret when she saw how Natsu’s gaze hardened and his jaw clench. A part of her knew that he was only speaking from experience. She’d seen enough of his friendly brawls in the guild to know that Natsu’s magic was heavily influenced by his emotions, just like hers. She could only imagine the destructive power he could wield if his temper got out of control. Lucy could almost see the inferno in her mind’s eye.

Natsu’s power was not something to be trifled with.

“Alright, you can just stay back and I’ll get the case,” Natsu ordered. His gaze was locked on the man running from them, and she swore she saw a predatory light in those dark eyes of his, and a curl at the edge of his lip. He was enjoying this, she realized. The hunt, the chase. Lucy bit back a smile, his excitement contagious.

“Sounds good to me,” She replied smoothly. Lucy had no desire to try and fight the man, despite what the primal instincts inside her said otherwise. Natsu’s lips parted in a devious smile and soon Lucy’s face mirrored his own.

The wind running through her hair, the sounds of the humans below fading into the background, and the feeling of empty air under her feet as she leapt from building to building was addicting. An ancient part of her hummed in pleasure, relishing in the chase. Lucy made a mental note to ask Levy about the history of the Fae, and if they happened to be a hunting race.

She tossed aside her wandering thoughts the moment Natsu leaped from the edge of the roof and out onto the empty street. The thief had mistakenly strayed from the crowd, believing he could outrun the two chasing him if he could get to a more open area.

Lucy followed her partner, but kept to the shadows. Her eyes tracked every movement the thief made, from the way his knuckles tightened on the handle of the case, to the muscles that tensed in preparation for a fight.

Natsu stalked towards the thief with a snarl. Flames licked up his arms and his eyes narrowed. He stopped a few feet from the thief and waited. He was too still, Lucy thought. Natsu was uncharacteristically silent and his body was eerily still. The only movement came from the fire caressing his skin. Lucy watched, enraptured, as the thief made his second, and possibly last, mistake.

The thief ran towards the drakon with his free hand outstretched. A purple energy pulsed around the hand, and Lucy stepped forwards. Natsu only laughed, and sidestepped the thief’s wide swing. The thief was relentless, and kept jabbing and slashing that magical energy blade, but Natsu easily dodged and evaded every attack. It was almost as if he could foresee the thief’s attacks. Natsu’s smile soon faded, and a bored expression took its place. He sighed, and thrust a flaming right uppercut into the thief’s jaw, sending the man sprawling across the street. Natsu cracked his knuckles, and slowly walked towards the collapsed figure. Lucy let loose a breath she hadn’t known she was holding as the drakon kicked the thief and grabbed the case from where it had landed a few feet away.

“Aww, I thought that when he stole this I’d get a good fight,” Natsu whined, walking to where Lucy stood. He kicked the thief again as he strolled past, ignoring the grunt of pain from the unconscious man. He tossed the case towards her, and Lucy caught it with ease. Before, she would have never been able to catch a toss like that, but she wasn’t a feeble human anymore.

The coils of magic rolling under her skin faded away and she stepped out into the street to meet Natsu halfway. “Aren’t we going to arrest him or something?”

“I’ll notify the council and they’ll come take care of him.” Natsu pushed back the stray hairs that had dropped into his face and pulled out his phone. Lucy shot a nervous glance at the crumpled form of the thief. She squeaked in surprise when one of Natsu’s warm arms landed on her shoulders. She jabbed her elbow into the drakon’s stomach- which he ignored as he spoke into the phone. Despite her surprise at Natsu’s easily shared affection, Lucy was grateful for his nearness. The adrenaline of the chase was fading, and with it came the familiar aches of magical depletion.

“Man, that was boring, let’s go and drop off this stupid case so we can get something to eat,” Natsu drawled after hanging up on whoever he’d been talking to. Lucy let out a breathy laugh at his behavior.

“Sure, let’s go,” She said, unconsciously wrapping her free arm around Natsu’s waist. She felt him tense when her hand touched his side, but soon he relaxed with another one of his dark chuckles. His grip around her shoulders tightened, almost too small for Lucy to notice. While the drakon was a pain in the ass, Lucy felt her friendship with him developing rapidly. Something about him called to her, as if he was meant to be by her side.

Ah, there you are. I’ve missed you, her mind seemed to whisper.

***

“I’ve found it!” Lucy exclaimed, throwing the doors of the guild open with reckless abandon. The wood creaked in protest to her unrestrained glee and the strength that came with it. At the sound of Lucy’s giddy laughs, most of the guild turned to face the demi-fae with wry smiles. Natsu turned from his moping at the bar and shot the blonde a weary smile.

“I found an apartment!” Lucy said with a laugh. She hopped onto her stool next to Natsu, ignoring his sour mood, and chatted with Mira about her new home. With the award money from the job she and Natsu finished a few days ago, Lucy could afford a small, but lavish, apartment on Strawberry Street. It was a bit farther from the guild than she would have liked, but the place was too perfect to pass on for just being a few blocks farther away. She squealed about the bathtub and overall cleanliness. Mira was happy to ooh and ahh at Lucy’s gleeful description of the amenities.

“Lucy, that sounds great!” Levy said, popping up at her elbow. Lucy, not bothered by the demi-fae’s sudden appearance smiled over at her friend and gushed about the window nook, which was perfect for reading. Her attention was drawn away, however, when she heard a dejected sigh from her left. She looked over at the depressed drakon, and playfully poked his shoulder.

“Maybe you could help me move in, since you’re always bragging about those muscles of yours,” Lucy teased. The drakon barely even lifted his head in response to her teasing jabs, and only sunk deeper into his chair with another depressed sigh.

“Ignore him, he’s just moping because Happy and Charle were supposed to be back yesterday,” Mira said, flicking her long white hair over her shoulder. Lucy bit her lip. From what she heard of the Exceed from Natsu, the two seemed to basically be family. Natsu talked about his friend like he was a brother, and Lucy sympathized with him. She’d been an only child growing up, but her mother’s spirits- Leo and Virgo and the others- had become the closest thing to family she’d ever really known. Her father, Jude, was always a distant man but he became cold and harsh after her mother’s death. Lucy knew what it was like to miss the one family member she’d ever had.

“Oh, be nice, Mira. If I had to be parted from you guys here at the guild for as long as Happy and Charle have been away, I’d be just as sad, if not more morose-” her smile widened when she saw Natsu’s head perk up, “-besides, I really want to meet Happy. From what you all have told me, he seems like he could be a wonderful friend.” Lucy’s voice softened on the word friend. She had friends now, real, loving friends. While she’d only been at the guild for barely three weeks, her affection towards the mages of Fairy Tail had grown exponentially. Levy and Mira, and even Erza, were the closest things to sisters Lucy had ever known, and Gray was quickly becoming a dear friend. Even Natsu, with his gross eating habits and annoying tendencies towards violence, had worked his way into her heart.

“Aw, Luce, keep talkin’ like that and you’ll get cavities from all that sweetness,” Natsu said teasingly, poking at her side. Lucy swatted his hand away, but without her usual determination. She felt pride swell in her chest. Natsu was coming out of his quiet depressed mindset and becoming his usual, cheerful self again.

“Lucy, have you made contracts with those new spirits yet?” Levy asked, her brown eyes glittering with curiosity. Lucy smiled even wider, if it was possible.

***

After Levy had disappeared for two days on a mysterious job request, she returned with a new silver key in hand. She’d explained to Lucy that she’d taken a job to translate a manuscript from Ancient Fiorean, and the reward was a silver key. Levy said it was Lucy’s welcome home present, and the blonde was at a loss for words when she held the silver key in her fingers. It had the imprint of a clock, and the name of the spirit floated in whispers through the air, Horologium.

Lucy had summoned the spirit the moment she got up to her room, and quickly made a contract with the clock-like creature.

In addition to the 10,000 Jewels for her first job with Natsu, they were rewarded a pristine silver key as thanks for their extra trouble with the thief. This key had a cross emblazoned on the edge, and she knew the spirit to be Crux. She’d summoned the older spirit the moment she returned to Fairy Tail and thankfully he too wanted a contract with her. From him, she’d been learning even more about Celestial Spirit magic. Crux could search for information on celestial spirits and celestial magic, and Lucy had plenty of questions for her newest friend.

He’d told her of the mystical Twelve Zodiac, which Leo was the head of, and the power of the Stardress that could harness the Zodiac’s power directly into the Celestial Mage’s body. Lucy was thrilled, and couldn’t wait to find more of the Zodiac keys. Sadly, that meant she would have to return to Heartfilia Manor, where Leo told her three more Zodiac keys were hidden.

Lucy hadn’t shared her secret plans to return to Crocus with anyone else in the guild, too afraid they would try to come with her. She knew she had to face her father on her own. He hadn’t searched for her in the two years since she ran away, so she hoped the trip wouldn’t be as grueling as it could be.

As though sensing the change in Lucy’s mood, Natsu’s dark eyes turned to her, a question in his gaze. She shrugged away his concern, turning back to Levy to talk about her discoveries with Crux. Natsu was strangely in-tune with her moods and her magic. Most times he would know when she was about to have a glowing meltdown before she did. While Lucy’s magical outbursts were now few and far between, decreasing over time, she still had some minor magical explosions when her emotions got carried away. Whenever one of those moods struck, Natsu was already at her side, his very presence calming her down.

Perhaps it was because he was the one to bring her to Fairy Tail, and the one to break her cursed locket- which she was still quietly fuming about- but Natsu and Lucy were becoming closer and closer with each passing day.

Suddenly, the drakon shot up out of his seat, startling the gaggling girls next to him, his nostrils flared and he stared over at the guild doors with such an intense look in his eyes Lucy swore the wood would start smoking at any minute. His nostrils flared, and a bright smile parted his lips. Soft white light shone from under the guild doors, and then they slammed open, the light blinding those inside. Her ears popped and the hairs at the nape of her neck stood on end as the portal opened.

“Happy!” Natsu shouted, tossing aside chairs and tables and running towards the front doors the minute they closed and the light faded. Lucy was still blinking away the spots in her vision, but she could see flashes of blue and white darting in the air above the tables.

“Charle!” Wendy’s soft voice called, and the wind drakon shot past the bar and leapt up to catch a floating orb of white fur into a tight embrace.

“Natsu! I’m back!” The blue cat said. The cat spoke. Lucy’s brain took a moment to put the voice of the blue, the blue, cat with his body. She quickly shook away her disbelief. She knew Happy and Charle were talking, flying cats, but seeing it in person was a different story.

Happy was nuzzling into Natsu’s chest, relaying his adventures with his family, and Wendy questioned her own Exceed about her journey. Lucy noted that the female Exceed was not as elaborate and excited with her responses, but the blonde saw love for the air drakon twinkling in her blue eyes.

“Finally, I thought we’d have to deal with a moody fire drakon forever,” Levy muttered. Mira giggled and disappeared into the kitchens to get some fish for the cats. Lucy stared at the tender scene with warmth blooming in her chest. She hadn’t seen either of the drakons look so happy before, and she hoped she would see more of their happiness.

The whole guild relaxed after the Exceeds flew through the portal, and Lucy noticed Wakaba staring over at Natsu, his normally tense shoulders relaxed. Puzzled, Lucy turned to Levy and asked, “Why is everyone so scared of Natsu?”

Unbeknownst to the blonde, Natsu stopped listening to Happy when he heard her question and his focus instead turned to Lucy.

“Well, as you know, Natsu has a bad habit of losing his temper and wreaking destruction. He’s always had trouble controlling his fire, sometimes he’ll accidentally burn someone pretty bad. The last time Happy was gone he almost destroyed the entire guild and no one could get close to him without his fuse going off,” The demi-fae whispered. Lucy pursed her lips and glanced back over at the fire drakon, neither noticing how his ears were tuned to their conversation.

“Although, since you’ve gotten here, he hasn’t been as temperamental. I wonder if that’s cause he has someone else to tease,” Levy trailed off. Lucy huffed. “I don’t see what the big deal is. He’s perfectly normal to me. Sure, he has a habit of burning things and tends to be more violent, but when I first got here I kept destroying things and accidentally hurting people and Natsu was the only one that didn’t give me a pitying look or coddle me.”

“Hmm, yea you two do see pretty close,” Levy said, the corner of her mouth curling up. Lucy was too busy staring over at Natsu and Happy to notice the gleam in the demi-fae’s eyes. He was bouncing with energy as he whispered to his Exceed, then he bounded over to Lucy with Happy floating on magical white wings behind him.

“Luce, I want you to meet Happy!” He said brightly. Lucy rose from her stool and extended a hand towards the floating Exceed, who looked at her warily. “Happy, this is Lucy. She’s new, and she’s gonna be our partner.”

The Exceed relaxed a bit and flew into Lucy’s arms and nuzzled into her chest. Lucy giggled at the shock on Natsu’s face.

“Hi Lusheee!” Happy said, his voice muffled by her breasts. Lucy felt a blush dust her cheeks and she pushed him away and took a step back. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“So, you’re gonna be a part of our team?” Happy asked, floating between her and Natsu. Natsu’s eyes narrowed slightly and his nostrils flared at Happy’s question, Levy sucked in a harsh breath, and even Erza appeared to stiffen. Lucy, who didn’t know why everyone was looking at her so intensely, automatically replied, “Of course, I’d love to be on a team with you and Natsu.”

The drakon stared down at Lucy with wide eyes, his mouth agape. Levy was the first to start laughing. It started as a quiet giggle, then a loud echoing laugh. Soon even Erza was giggling along with the roaring laughter echoing in the guild hall. Lucy’s lips parted in shock at the guild’s reaction and she turned to Natsu, who was sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck with a light blush flushing his cheeks.

“Why is everyone laughing?” She asked, edging closer to the fire drakon. Even Happy looked amused from his perch above the crowd.

“Well, in guilds makin’ a team is super important. Cause your teammates go on jobs with you and you have to trust and rely on each other,” Natsu said, continuing with a sad smile. “And I’ve never had a teammate before cause everyone thinks I’m too destructive and out of control.”

“That’s terrible! I loved going on a job with you,” Lucy whispered, drawing a shrug from the man beside her. “That’s how it is. I can’t say I blame ‘em.”

Lucy tittered her disapproval. She nudged Natsu with her elbow and smiled up at him as she said, “I’d honestly love to be on a team with you and Happy. I think it’d be fun. After all, it’s always more fun when we’re together.”

Natsu gazed down into her golden-brown eyes, an untraceable emotion welling in his deep green eyes. Soon a bright grin lit his face and he threw an arm over her shoulder with a laugh that shook his whole body.

***

“Oi, aren’t we gonna kill some fairies tonight?” A deep voice rumbled in the darkness of the bar. A man glared over at his partner and rolled his eyes.

“’Course we are. Just be patient,” He said, taking a long swig from his pint. The man reclined in his seat, tossing his long black hair over his shoulder and away from his eyes. He tightened the bandana around his forehead and glared over at his companion once again.

“I’m just sayin’ that the Master personally gave us this job. I’ve been itchin’ to go out and spill some dirty fairy blood.” The partner growled. The long-haired man bared his teeth and snarled at his partner and leaned closer to growl, “I know damn well what the Master wants, don’t you question me you maggot. The girl will be ours and we’ll have our war.”

The cloaked partner lowered his hooded head and the long-haired man leaned back once again and said,“Don’t ya worry. Tonight’s the night. I’ve got the perfect targets. Small, weak, easy pickin’.”

The partner peeled back his black hood, revealing a heavily scarred face that would send any sane man running. The man smiled, but the lack of the right side of his lips made it look like he was scowling. The long-haired man grimaced, then downed the rest of his beer, a trickle of the golden liquid spilling down his chin and dripping his shirt.

“Come on now, we’ve got some fairies to hunt,” He said with a dark smile.

***

The long-haired man waited patiently with his companion in the darkened alley way. He looked at the watch on his wrist and smiled.

“Any minute now. The target’s three fairies, two males and one female. The chick’s got blue hair. We beat em, take em to the square and string em up. Got it?” The man said to the cloaked companion.

“Master said to kill em.” He protested. The long-haired man growled and slammed his partner into the hard brick wall.

“I said, we string em up. If they’re dead when the fairies finally find them, doesn’t make a difference. But if that bastard finds em while they’re still breathing? He’ll be furious. And that makes for a damn good fight,” He said through gritted teeth. The partner nodded, and the leader tossed him to the side.

“Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

***

Lucy was sitting peacefully before the broad dark wooden desk, staring so intensely at the shining screen of her laptop she swore her gaze would burn holes through the glass and metal. She’d been sitting in the uncomfortable desk chair for hours now, determined to write more in her novel and so far, she’d only written barely half a page. She’d finished moving into her new home a few days ago, thanks to help from Natsu and Gray, and decided to spend her free time working on a new novel idea. At the time, it seemed like a wonderful idea. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

Her phone buzzed loudly from its spot next to her computer, and Lucy welcomed the distraction. She picked it up and saw a text from Natsu asking if she was coming to the guild in the morning so they could pick another job to take now that Happy was back. A small smile crossed her lips at his question. Now that she and Natsu decided to officially become a team, he’d been itching to take another job, not that she was opposed. The downside of her fancy new flat was the steep monthly fare. Lucy quickly typed that yes, she was going to the guild in the morning and yes, they could take another job. She set the phone aside again and turned her attention back to the blank screen in front of her.

Cursing, the blonde violently pushed against the desk, sending the rolling chair- with her still sitting inside of it- hurtling across the smooth hardwood floors of her apartment. A wheel of the chair caught on the foot of her rug causing the chair to tip and sending Lucy toppling across the floor. Another foul string of curses fell from her lips as she pushed up and pulled the desk chair upright. Ignoring the flickering cursor on her laptop, she stomped into her kitchenette and pulled down one of her cream-colored ceramic mugs. Tea. Tea would calm her down. Whenever she felt sad or angry as a child, her mother would take her down to the estate kitchens and make her a pot of soothing chamomile tea with honey herself. Unfortunately, the once happy memory with her mother was now tainted by the truth of her father’s cruelty and betrayal.

Lucy slammed the mug down onto the counter, accidentally breaking the stoneware and sending sharp shards flying across the kitchen. Sighing, she swept the sharp pieces aside and pulled down another mug. One thing she’d learned since changing into a demi-fae was to have plenty of backups for everything. She never knew when she’d lose control of her strength and shatter something. Today it happened to be one of the cheap mugs from the dollar store down the street. She put the kettle on the stove to boil and quickly swept up the broken pieces of the mug while she waited.

The sound of her phone ringing interrupted the blonde’s cleanup and caused Lucy to put the dustpan to the side and hurry over to her desk, where the device was laying. She darted down the hallway, into her makeshift office and answered it just in the nick of time with a breathy greeting.

“Hey Luce, I’m on my way to your place right now. I need you to stop whatever you’re doing and summon Loke.” Natsu’s voice crackled, his tone strangely serious.

“Natsu? Is something wrong?” She asked, a cold trickle of fear dripping down her spine. She heard him growl angrily on the other side of the phone. “Natsu, tell me what’s going on.”

“Levy and her team were attacked. By a rival guild. It’s bad.” He stated, his voice clipped and on edge. Lucy sucked in a breath and stumbled, catching herself on the corner of the desk.

“Is Levy okay? Where are they? Who did this? Should I head over to the guild and-“ She started, only to have him interrupt her, “No! Lucy, I need you to stay where you are. You’re too far from the guild now, but I’ll be there in a few minutes. I need you to wait for me,” His voice demanded.

Lucy nodded, mumbling her assent. Natsu was right. She should stay in her apartment and wait for him. After all, the only key she had that could be used to fight was Loke and he drained her magic power too much to be summoned for too long.

“Okay. I’ll wait,” She said. Natsu’s sigh of relief was loud enough for her to hear. He started to speak again when Lucy heard a noise in her kitchen, a high-pitched grinding most likely due to someone stepping on a piece of her broken mug. Her body tensed and she looked out at the dark doorway and towards the kitchen. She shakily walked away from the open door, her breath coming out in panicked pants. She collapsed against her bookshelf and pulled the largest book she had in her collection, an old Classic Literature textbook, and held it up above her head. She tucked the phone in between her cheek and her shoulder and reached into her pocket with her other hand but cursed when her fingers met only dust mites and lint. Her keys were in her damned bedroom halfway down the main hall, lying on her nightstand.

“Lucy? Lucy what’s wrong?” Natsu’s voice called, snapping her back to reality.

“There’s someone in my apartment,” She whispered, her voice barely audible even to her own ears. She heard him cursing over the phone and she summoned her courage and slowly crept over to the doorway, her book still held above her, ready to strike at the intruder at any moment. She sucked in a breath and leaned over to peer past the doorway and down the dark hallway. But before she could look, she heard soft footsteps entering the hallway and she quickly slammed the door closed and clicked the lock shut. Natsu’s voice yelled at her through her phone, but Lucy dropped the device in favor of having both of her hands free to fight.

She still vaguely heard Natsu’s muffled voice calling her name from the other line and it helped calm her racing heart. She took a deep calming breath and reached down for her magic. She summoned the same power she’d used on her first job last week, the golden threads of light wrapping around her body. Her gaze sharpened and she tightened her grip on the book in her hands. Adrenaline mixed with the trickle of magic flowing through her veins, gifting her with even more strength and focus. She saw the shadow of someone’s feet stop in front of the door, and Lucy felt a snarl building in her chest. The rumbling growl caught in her throat when she heard three polite knocks on the door.

“Miss Heartfilia? I’ve been sent to fetch you,” A lilting feminine voice called through the door. Lucy bared her teeth, determined not to say anything to the intruder. The voice called her name again, but she remained rooted to the spot. Her magic swirled inside her and bubbled in anger, as if it knew she was in danger. The power seeped through her pores and the soft golden glow she knew to be her magic filled the room, lighting the darkened corners the light from her small desk lamp couldn’t reach.

“You give me no choice then,” The voice said again. Lucy prepared herself, her eyes locked on the doorknob and the lock. The sound of rushing water filled the air and Lucy’s brow wrinkled in confusion. Slowly, water seeped under the door and pooled in the office as if the liquid had a mind of its own.

Where was the water coming from?

She realized it was magic too late. She realized she was trapped too late. She realized she’d never said goodbye to Natsu or her friends at Fairy Tail until it was too late. She realized she should’ve tried to break her window and escape unscathed too late.

The pool of water swirled up in a vortex and formed into the body of a heavily clothed woman with curling blue hair. She wore a thick blue coat lined with white fur and heavy boots. Lucy decided she would question the woman’s odd wardrobe choices later, when she wasn’t being attacked or possibly kidnapped. With a wild war cry that even Natsu would be proud of, she threw the book at the woman with all of her newfound strength, pouring her magic into the muscles of her arm.

The paper and leather passed through the woman’s body-which turned to water the moment the object came hurtling towards her, and smashed through the closed door behind the intruder. She heard the loud thud as the book few across the hall and smacked uselessly against her front door. Lucy felt the blood drain from her face, but she lowered into a fighting stance anyway. She snarled at the woman, who looked at her with a bored expression.

“Juvia was sent to get two things: the Heartfilia girl and her keys.” The woman lifted a gloved hand, and pinched between two fingers was Lucy’s keyring. Pure unadulterated hatred swarmed her thoughts, her vision turned red and Lucy screamed at the woman and charged forwards, one hand thrusting out for her keys and the other formed a fist to punch the intruder in the face. She was inches away from grabbing the keyring, her fingertips brushing against the cool metal, before she was slammed back by a wall of cold water.

Sputtering, she readied to charge again when the water pooled around her feet started climbing up her body. Lucy cursed and screamed as more and more water surrounded her. She thrashed and fought against the chilling waves, but it conformed tightly against her body until she could no longer move.

Nevertheless, she persisted.

She thrashed as the water reached her chest, writhed when it reached her neck, and screamed when it tickled her chin. Panicked, she quickly drew in a large breath as the magical water wrapped around her head, trapping her in a floating orb.

Lucy grimaced and tried to swim up towards the edge of the orb, but couldn’t breach the surface. She smacked her hands against the invisible barrier blocking her from escape to no avail. Her lungs burned and her muscles shook with effort as she tried to push out of the water. The network of golden threads crisscrossing her skin flickered and faded along with the power dwelling in her veins. With a sob, she sank to the middle of the orb and clutched at her throat.

The hot burning in her lungs was growing too much to bear. She fought against the urge to breathe, but her body ultimately gave in to the temptation. She needed air, she had to breathe. She gasped and opened her mouth, desperate for any air, but all that filled her lungs was that damned water. Gaping, Lucy choked and shuddered as her body began to shut down from the lack of oxygen. Black spots littered her vision and soon her world went to black, the whistle of her kettle starting to boil ringing in her ears.

#nalu #nalu fanfic #nalu fanfiction #fairy tail #fairy tail fanfic #stardust and fire #my writing #my fanfic #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #au #magic au #modern au

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egyptiansquash · 6 years ago

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PSA World Champs Released

The draws for the 2018/19 PSA World Champs have been announced today, and will take place between February 23 - March 2.

128 of the world’s greatest male and female squash players will descend on Chicago for the most prestigious title in squash as they battle for a record prize purse of $1 million, which is the highest in the sport’s history.

Defending men’s champion and current World No.1 Mohamed ElShorbagy has been drawn against England’s Joshua Masters in round one and is featured on the same side of the draw as three-time winner Ramy Ashour.

ElShorbagy and Ashour contested both the 2012 and 2014 finals - both of which are regarded as two of the greatest squash matches of all time - and could potentially meet in the semi-finals.

Ashour - who is yet to play this season due to a knee injury - will play Australia’s Ryan Cuskelly in round one. The Egyptian is unseeded for the first time since the 2006 World Champs.

World No.2 Ali Farag is seeded on the opposite side of the draw and he will take on England’s Daryl Selby in round one. Farag has the likes of Peru’s Diego Elias and New Zealand’s Paul Coll in his path to the final, while he is predicted to play World No.3 Simon Rösner in the semi-finals. The Ladies

Reigning women’s World Champion and world number 1 Raneem El Welily begins her tournament against South Africa’s Alexandra Fuller as she bids to continue her strong start to the season, which has seen her take two PSA titles so far.

The 30-year-old was thwarted in the final of this tournament in 2014 and 2016, but finally got her hands on the trophy in December 2017 courtesy of a 3-1 victory against two-time winner Nour El Sherbini in Manchester. They are seeded to do battle in the title decider once again.

El Welily is predicted to meet World No.3 Nour El Tayeb in the semi-finals, but El Tayeb must come through a difficult draw which contains 2013 World Champion Laura Massaro if she is to play to her seeding.

Meanwhile, El Sherbini begins her tournament against Satomi Watanabe of Japan and is predicted to play United States No.1 Amanda Sobhy in a mouthwatering third round fixture.

In addition to prize winnings totalling over $72,000, the winner of the World Championships will also qualify for the season-ending PSA World Tour Finals, which pits together the reigning World Champions and all seven PSA World Tour Platinum winners.

The 2018/19 PSA World Championships will take place at Chicago’s Union Station, while matches from rounds one and two will also be held at MetroSquash and the University Club of Chicago.

2018/19 PSA World Champs Men’s Draw

[1] Mohamed ElShorbagy (EGY) v Joshua Masters (ENG) Cesar Salazar (MEX) v Arturo Salazar (MEX) Campbell Grayson (NZL) v Nathan Lake (ENG) Leo Au (HKG) v [15] Raphael Kandra (GER) [16] James Willstrop (ENG) v Ivan Yuen (MAS) Tayyab Aslam (PAK) v Victor Crouin (FRA) Alan Clyne (SCO) v Daniel Mekbib (CZE) [Pre-Qualifier] v [6] Miguel Rodriguez (COL) [8] Marwan ElShorbagy (EGY) v Mathieu Castagnet (FRA) Grégoire Marche (FRA) v Greg Lobban (SCO) Youssef Ibrahim (EGY) v Nicolas Mueller (SUI) Ramy Ashour (EGY) v [14] Ryan Cuskelly (AUS) [9] Mohamed Abouelghar (EGY) v Declan James (ENG)

Shahjahan Khan (PAK) v Chris Simpson (ENG) Tom Richards (ENG) v George Parker (ENG) Todd Harrity (USA) v [4] Tarek Momen (EGY) [3] Simon Rösner (GER) v Omar Mosaad (EGY) Vikram Malhotra (IND) v Richie Fallows (ENG) Borja Golan (ESP) v Rex Hedrick (AUS) Ben Coleman (ENG) v [12] Max Lee (HKG) [11] Saurav Ghosal (IND) v Dimitri Steinmann (SUI) Karim El Hammamy (EGY) v Lucas Serme (FRA) Joel Makin (WAL) v Tsz Fung Yip (HKG) Youssef Soliman (EGY) v [5] Karim Abdel Gawad (EGY) [7] Paul Coll (NZL) v Karim Ali Fathi (EGY) Christopher Binnie (JAM) v Cameron Pilley (AUS) Mohamed Reda (EGY) v Nafiizwan Adnan (MAS) Eain Yow Ng (MAS) v [13] Fares Dessouky (EGY) [10] Diego Elias (PER) v Adrian Waller (ENG) Zahed Salem (EGY) v Mazen Hesham (EGY) Abdulla Mohd Al Tamimi (QAT) v Mostafa Asal (EGY) Daryl Selby (ENG) v [2] Ali Farag (EGY)

2018/19 PSA World Champs Women’s Draw

[1] Raneem El Welily (EGY) v Alexandra Fuller (RSA) Lee Ka Yi (HKG) v [17] Hania El Hammamy (EGY) [26] Nadine Shahin (EGY) v Low Wee Wern (MAS) Tinne Gilis (BEL) v [9] Alison Waters (ENG) [15] Victoria Lust (ENG) v Danielle Letourneau (CAN) Anna Serme (CZE) v [21] Emily Whitlock (ENG) [25] Fiona Moverley (ENG) v Lucy Turmel (ENG) Menna Hamed (EGY) v [8] Nouran Gohar (EGY) [7] Laura Massaro (ENG) v Amanda Landers-Murphy (NZL) Coline Aumard (FRA) v [28] Nele Gilis (BEL) [30] Rowan Elaraby (EGY) v Nicole Bunyan (CAN) Nikki Todd (CAN) v [12] Annie Au (HKG)

[16] Salma Hany (EGY) v Tsz-Wing Tong (HKG) Melissa Alves (FRA) v [29] Samantha Cornett (CAN) [31] Zeina Mickawy (EGY) v Haley Mendez (USA) Rachel Arnold (MAS) v [3] Nour El Tayeb (EGY) [4] Joelle King (NZL) v Heba El Torky (EGY) Ho Tze-Lok (HKG) v [23] Mayar Hany (EGY) [18] Joey Chan (HKG) v Sarah Cardwell (AUS) Ineta Mackevica (LAT) v [14] Joshna Chinappa (IND) [13] Nicol David (MAS) v [Pre-Qualifier] Olivia Fiechter (USA) v [24] Millie Tomlinson (ENG) [27] Rachael Grinham (AUS) v Lisa Aitken (SCO) Jenny Duncalf (ENG) v [5] Camille Serme (FRA) [6] Sarah-Jane Perry (ENG) v Vanessa Chu (HKG) Enora Villard (FRA) v [20] Yathreb Adel (EGY) [32] Nada Abbas (EGY) v Liu Tsz-Ling (HKG) Milou van der Heijden (NED) v [10] Tesni Evans (WAL) [11] Amanda Sobhy (USA) v Julianne Courtice (ENG) Hollie Naughton (CAN) v [19] Olivia Blatchford Clyne (USA) [22] Mariam Metwally (EGY) v Christine Nunn (AUS) Satomi Watanabe (JPN) v [2] Nour El Sherbini (EGY)

#World Champs #Chicago

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androidangel · 4 years ago

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Tag dump~

#★ . ° ╰ queue ⊱ awaiting orders #★ . ° ╰ ooc ⊱ out of this world #★ . ° ╰ meme ⊱ initiating warp drive #★ . ° ╰ save tag ⊱ filing into database #★ . ° ╰ musings ⊱ i may be machine but i still feel #★ . ° ╰ about/headcanons ⊱ me the machine can dream #★ . ° ╰ answered ⊱ mission accepted #★ . ° ╰ open ⊱ all hands; battle stations #★ . ° ╰ aesthetic ⊱ some day when galaxies collide #★ . ° ╰ promo ⊱ I support you!#★ . ° ╰ self promo ⊱ support my brand?#★ . ° ╰ psa ⊱ this is important #★ . ° ╰ ic update ⊱ all systems are fully operational

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boldly-fxcking-go-bitches · 5 years ago

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Tag Dump- General

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dailychapel · 4 years ago

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Lord, I ask that You protect our minds. Father, the mindset on the flesh is death, but the mindset on the Spirit is life and peace. (Romans 8:6) O God, set our minds on You. Let us not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of our minds that we may prove what Your will is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect. (Romans 12:2) Help us by the power of Your Spirit to think on whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything is worthy of praise, let our minds dwell on these things.

[Psa 119:137-144 NLT] 137 [Tsadhe] O LORD, you are righteous, and your regulations are fair. 138 Your laws are perfect and completely trustworthy. 139 I am overwhelmed with indignation, for my enemies have disregarded your words. 140 Your promises have been thoroughly tested; that is why I love them so much. 141 I am insignificant and despised, but I don't forget your commandments. 142 Your justice is eternal, and your instructions are perfectly true. 143 As pressure and stress bear down on me, I find joy in your commands. 144 Your laws are always right; help me to understand them so I may live.

[2Sa 11:1-27 NLT] 1 In the spring of the year, when kings normally go out to war, David sent Joab and the Israelite army to fight the Ammonites. They destroyed the Ammonite army and laid siege to the city of Rabbah. However, David stayed behind in Jerusalem. 2 Late one afternoon, after his midday rest, David got out of bed and was walking on the roof of the palace. As he looked out over the city, he noticed a woman of unusual beauty taking a bath. 3 He sent someone to find out who she was, and he was told, "She is Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam and the wife of Uriah the Hittite." 4 Then David sent messengers to get her; and when she came to the palace, he slept with her. She had just completed the purification rites after having her menstrual period. Then she returned home. 5 Later, when Bathsheba discovered that she was pregnant, she sent David a message, saying, "I'm pregnant." 6 Then David sent word to Joab: "Send me Uriah the Hittite." So Joab sent him to David. 7 When Uriah arrived, David asked him how Joab and the army were getting along and how the war was progressing. 8 Then he told Uriah, "Go on home and relax." David even sent a gift to Uriah after he had left the palace. 9 But Uriah didn't go home. He slept that night at the palace entrance with the king's palace guard. 10 When David heard that Uriah had not gone home, he summoned him and asked, "What's the matter? Why didn't you go home last night after being away for so long?" 11 Uriah replied, "The Ark and the armies of Israel and Judah are living in tents, and Joab and my master's men are camping in the open fields. How could I go home to wine and dine and sleep with my wife? I swear that I would never do such a thing." 12 "Well, stay here today," David told him, "and tomorrow you may return to the army." So Uriah stayed in Jerusalem that day and the next. 13 Then David invited him to dinner and got him drunk. But even then he couldn't get Uriah to go home to his wife. Again he slept at the palace entrance with the king's palace guard. 14 So the next morning David wrote a letter to Joab and gave it to Uriah to deliver. 15 The letter instructed Joab, "Station Uriah on the front lines where the battle is fiercest. Then pull back so that he will be killed." 16 So Joab assigned Uriah to a spot close to the city wall where he knew the enemy's strongest men were fighting. 17 And when the enemy soldiers came out of the city to fight, Uriah the Hittite was killed along with several other Israelite soldiers. 18 Then Joab sent a battle report to David. 19 He told his messenger, "Report all the news of the battle to the king. 20 But he might get angry and ask, 'Why did the troops go so close to the city? Didn't they know there would be shooting from the walls? 21 Wasn't Abimelech son of Gideon killed at Thebez by a woman who threw a millstone down on him from the wall? Why would you get so close to the wall?' Then tell him, 'Uriah the Hittite was killed, too.'" 22 So the messenger went to Jerusalem and gave a complete report to David. 23 "The enemy came out against us in the open fields," he said. "And as we chased them back to the city gate, 24 the archers on the wall shot arrows at us. Some of the king's men were killed, including Uriah the Hittite." 25 "Well, tell Joab not to be discouraged," David said. "The sword devours this one today and that one tomorrow! Fight harder next time, and conquer the city!" 26 When Uriah's wife heard that her husband was dead, she mourned for him. 27 When the period of mourning was over, David sent for her and brought her to the palace, and she became one of his wives. Then she gave birth to a son. But the LORD was displeased with what David had done.

[Rom 10:1-13 NLT] 1 Dear brothers and sisters, the longing of my heart and my prayer to God is for the people of Israel to be saved. 2 I know what enthusiasm they have for God, but it is misdirected zeal. 3 For they don't understand God's way of making people right with himself. Refusing to accept God's way, they cling to their own way of getting right with God by trying to keep the law. 4 For Christ has already accomplished the purpose for which the law was given. As a result, all who believe in him are made right with God. 5 For Moses writes that the law's way of making a person right with God requires obedience to all of its commands. 6 But faith's way of getting right with God says, "Don't say in your heart, 'Who will go up to heaven?' (to bring Christ down to earth). 7 And don't say, 'Who will go down to the place of the dead?' (to bring Christ back to life again)." 8 In fact, it says, "The message is very close at hand; it is on your lips and in your heart." And that message is the very message about faith that we preach: 9 If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. 10 For it is by believing in your heart that you are made right with God, and it is by confessing with your mouth that you are saved. 11 As the Scriptures tell us, "Anyone who trusts in him will never be disgraced." 12 Jew and Gentile are the same in this respect. They have the same Lord, who gives generously to all who call on him. 13 For "Everyone who calls on the name of the LORD will be saved."

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.

“May the God of peace, who through the blood of the eternal covenant brought back from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, equip you with everything good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.” (Heb. 13:20-21)

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caveartfair · 6 years ago

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10 Artists Who Defined Chinese Contemporary Art

Ai Weiwei’s willingness to confront the Chinese government over censorship, shoddy building practices, and even his own detention—along with his mastery of Twitter and Instagram—has helped him hoover up news headlines outside China. Inside China, he is less well-known, and even in the art world there, it can be hard to find people who wholeheartedly admire his work.

As Ai’s art has turned outwards, focusing on the plight of refugees and the stateless all over the world, other artists have played a bigger role in shaping contemporary art in China, in part by skilfully juggling the competing needs of commercial galleries, international institutions, and government officials.

These are the 10 artists who have shaped the landscape of contemporary art in China over the last several decades, and continue to have an outsize influence. While this time period has been admittedly male-heavy (Cao Fei is the only woman represented on this list), fellow female tech-enthusiasts Miao Ying and Lu Yang can be counted as leaders among China’s generation of emerging artists.

Qiu Zhijie

B. 1969, Zhangzhou. Lives and works in Beijing and Hangzhou.

A one-thousand-time copy of Lantingxu, 1990-1997. Qiu Zhijie Tianrenheyi Art Center

Writing the “Orchid Pavilion Preface” One Thousand Times 书写兰亭序一千遍, 1990-1995. Qiu Zhijie Ink Art: Past as Present in Contemporary China, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

If Qiu Zhijie sleeps at all, it can’t be for long. In the past year, he has made a massive new piece for the Guggenheim Museum survey “Art and China after 1989”; curated the Chinese pavilion at the 2017 Venice Biennale; and continued to head up the School of Experimental Art at the elite Central Academy of Fine Art (CAFA) in Beijing. He was also instrumental in launching China’s national contemporary art museum, The Power Station of Art (PSA), curating its inaugural show, the 2012 Shanghai Biennale, and giving the institution its English name, the acronym of which is a riff on New York’s MoMA PS1.

Qiu’s embrace of all aspects of the art world is matched by a practice he describes as “Total Art,” which encompasses everything from conceptual calligraphy in works such as Writing the “Orchid Pavilion Preface” One Thousand Times (1990–95) to the investigation of a Nanjing bridge infamous for suicides. A big part of his practice has become idea maps, one of the few forms expansive enough for the breadth of his vision.

Huang Yong Ping

B. 1954, Xiamen. Lives and works in Paris, France.

Installation view of Huang Yong Ping,Tower Snake, at Gladstone Gallery, New York, 2009. Photo by David Regen. Courtesy of Gladstone Gallery, New York and Brussels.

The oldest artist on this list, and the one who has lived outside China the longest, Huang Yong Ping nevertheless continues to make waves in Chinese contemporary art. His Theater of the World (1993), a reptile and insect battle royale that requires exhibitors to replenish the supply of live insects and reptiles, was removed from a show at the Guggenheim after protests that it was cruel to animals—a bank-shot success, given the work’s intention to depict brutality and chaos.

Huang was among the first generation of art students to attend the Zhejiang Academy of Fine Arts (now the China Academy of Art) when universities reopened after the Cultural Revolution. When unable to purchase his own copy of Pierre Cabanne’s Dialogues with Marcel Duchamp (1971), Huang copied a Chinese translation to take back to friends in Xiamen, Fujian Province, where he helped found Xiamen Dada, a blend of ideas from Marcel Duchamp and Chan Buddhism. After his inclusion in the ambitious “Magiciens de la Terre”exhibition at Paris’s Centre Pompidou in 1989, Huang later moved to France, representing the country at the Venice Biennale in 1999. He continues to occupy a distinct niche in Chinese art, often using found objects and animal imagery to comment on modern society.

Yang Fudong

B. 1971, Beijing. Lives and works in Shanghai.

Seven Intellectuals in a Bamboo Forest, Part I, 2003. Yang Fudong Asia Society

The godfather of video art in China may be OCAT Shanghai museum director Zhang Peili, but its leading proponent right now is Yang Fudong. Whereas Zhang’s early, career-making videos document difficult, arduous performances—painstakingly re-gluing a shattered mirror, for instance—Yang’s sumptuous multi-channel works are light on narrative but look cinematic, shot with a large crew and with careful attention paid to sets, wardrobe, and styling.

Lately, Yang’s aesthetic has lingered in Shanghai’s belle époque era, an international, hedonistic jazz age that preceded the Communist Revolution. Earlier works present a more minimal aesthetic. The five-part series “Seven Intellectuals in a Bamboo Forest” (2003–07), shot in black-and-white 35mm film, references the legendary Seven Sages, a group of Daoist intellectuals from the 3rd century, as commentary on the new generation’s struggles to define their roles in modern China.

Yang is also known for his still photography, often of the same subjects that appear in his video works. Among his most famous early photographs is the triptych The First Intellectual (2000), which shows a bloody, battered businessman holding a briefcase and, even more ominously, wielding a brick.

Zeng Fanzhi

B. 1964, Wuhan. Lives and works in Beijing.

7月22日/ On 22 July , 2016. Zeng Fanzhi "Studio" at Qiao Space, Shanghai

Few contemporary Chinese artists fetch as much at auction as Zeng Fanzhi. A member of the Cynical Realism movement, which formed in Beijing in the early 1990s, Zeng’s angst-ridden portraits—like the work of peers Yue Minjun, Zhang Xiaogang, and Fang Lijun—address sociopolitical issues in China with humor and irony. The intensity of his work is influenced by artists including Francis Bacon, Willem de Kooning, and Max Beckmann.

Zeng has continually taken his practice in surprising directions, moving away from his successful and recognizable paintings of masked figures to landscapes inspired by the Northern Wei, Song, and Yuan Dynasties, which he obscures with thick black bracken. He has also experimented with expressionistic techniques such as multi-brush painting, where he paints with two hands at once: The first brush is controlled, while the second makes unguided strokes. This integration of the unconscious in his technique is itself a wry commentary on China’s asymmetric, oft-interrupted liberalization over the past 20 years.

Xu Zhen

B. 1977, Shanghai. Lives and works in Shanghai.

Eternity-Painted Terracotta Statue of Heavenly Guardian, Sleeping Muse, 2016. Xu Zhen 徐震 James Cohan

Under Heaven - 20130503, 2013. Xu Zhen 徐震 Tianrenheyi Art Center

The great ironist of Chinese contemporary art calls everything into question, including his identity, country, and the art industry at large. Xu’s 2005 mockumentary 8848-1.86—which is about seizing the top 1.86 meters of Mount Everest and carting it back to Shanghai—satirizes world governments’ Realpolitik ethos.

In 2009, Xu founded the “art creation company” MadeIn, subsuming his artistic identity as the CEO and producing artworks (“products”) that celebrated their commodification. His sumptuously textural “Under Heaven” paintings (2014–18), for instance, are sold by the square meter, and he has exhibited several editions of his works side by side, obliterating the conventional pretense that each work is unique.

Xu also has a gleeful antipathy for gallery-goers’ photography, painting glaring camera flashes directly onto perfect replicas of famous artworks in his “Light Source”series (2013), and spearing cameras through the lens in his “Focus”installations (2016). Recent mashups of different cultures are occasionally brilliant, such as the European Thousand-Arms Classical Sculpture (2014), where multi-limbed Buddhist figures are suggested by lineups of classical Western sculptures.

Liu Xiaodong

B. 1963, Liaoning. Lives and works in Beijing.

Xiaojun and Xiuling, 2015. Liu Xiaodong Faurschou Foundation

Liu Xiaodong may be China’s greatest living painter, an especial achievement given how popular the medium remains there. Working either en plein air or from snapshots, his portraits, loosely built in thick paint with a wonderful eye for color, draw directly from life. While his style is influenced by Lucian Freud, Liu’s subjects are the lao bai xing (common people), often portrayed wearing unglamorous fashions and viewed under harsh fluorescent lights, in front of smoggy skies and semi-demolished buildings, or in overgrown fields.

Liu’s brand of social realism—painting people as they are—is a powerful counter to the socialist realism perpetrated by Chairman Mao Zedong, which encouraged idealized, ideological renderings for use as propaganda. Liu’s work has a much broader embrace, reflecting the dignity of uncelebrated lives rocked by massive political and economic transformation. Coming from a small industrial town in the northeast of China, Liu received both his undergraduate and master’s degrees at CAFA, where he is now a tenured professor in the painting department.

Cao Fei

B. 1978, Guangzhou. Lives and works in Beijing.

Whose Utopia, 2006. Cao Fei "Cao Fei" at MoMA PS1, Long Island City

Being the youngest—and the only Chinese—artist commissioned to create a BMW Art Car is among the most prosaic ways Cao Fei is exceptional, but the approach she took to the project in 2017 is telling. Leaving the carbon-black paint job untouched, her design is visible only via an augmented reality app. Making the fantastical visible is a recurring theme in Cao’s practice. Notably, she made use of the online world Second Life to create the utopian RMB City (2008–11), a carnivalesque megalopolis inspired by the heady development of China’s rich east coast cities.

Cao also explores the disconnect between people’s fantasy and real lives in video and photography works such as Whose Utopia? (2006), where she asked factory workers to act out expressions of individuality (dancing ballet, playing guitar, and so on), and COSPlayers (2004), where she photographed fantasy roleplayers in the grim, over-industrialized landscapes of southern China. Now, Cao is perfectly positioned to comment on the emerging techno-authoritarian China enabled by ubiquitous e-commerce, oppressive social credit systems, and new identification technologies.

Zhang Huan

B. 1965, Anyang. Lives and works in Shanghai and New York, New York.

To Add One Meter to an Anonymous Mountain, 1995. Zhang Huan Galerie Loft

Zhang Huan is one of the most radical artists in contemporary art. After graduating from CAFA in 1993, he helped form the East Village movement, which staged provocative shows often shut down by police. In his performance 12 Square Meters (1994), Zhang covered himself in honey and fish oil and sat naked in a public toilet, allowing himself to be covered in flies—an expression of the poverty and overcrowding prevalent in the country.

As abject as that work is, others are sublime and empowering. Zhang and nine other artists piled their naked bodies atop a mountain to increase its elevation in To Add One Metre to an Anonymous Mountain (1995), effortlessly re-engineering the world. Other outstanding performances include his literal efforts to pull down museums, and the muscular meat suit he made—long before Lady Gaga—for the 2002 Whitney Biennial, a comment on the U.S.’s role as a world power and the political climate of the War on Terror.

Zhang has since shifted his focus from performance to production, creating paintings made with incense ash collected from temples; engaging taxidermists to imprint Buddha figures on cattle skins; and making huge copper sculptures of Buddha body parts reassembled almost at random—a reference to the way Buddha sculptures have been blown up, decapitated, and dismembered across East Asia.

Xu Bing

B. 1955, Chongqing. Lives and works in Beijing.

Book from the Sky 1987–91, 1987-1991. Xu Bing 徐冰 "Xu Bing: Book from the Sky" ay Blanton Museum of Art, Austin

Trained as a printmaker, MacArthur fellow Xu Bing’s greatest preoccupation is language. One of his best-known works is Book From the Sky (1987–91), an audacious text created using 4,000 characters that adhere to the fundamentals of Chinese pictographic composition, but don’t exist in the Chinese language. It’s a work that echoes China’s abrupt transition from traditional to simplified characters beginning in the 1940s. Xu also made a bridge language—a kind of Esperanto of the East—by arranging English words in the style of Chinese pictographs, and later made Book From the Ground: From Point to Point (2012), a complex narrative told entirely using emojis and public signage.

Other great works include his Tobacco Project (1999–ongoing). Here, tiger pelt installations—whose stripes are formed from 500,000 cigarettes—are arranged with either their orange filters or white papers exposed. Xu’s father died of lung cancer, so the piece is hardly a “thank you for smoking.” But considering how frequently conversation in China is accompanied by smoking, the piece also functions as a metaphor for language, which represents a ritual or bond.

Cai Guo-Qiang

B. 1957, Quanzhou. Lives and works in New York, New York.

Cai Guo-Qiang,Sky Ladder, 2015. Photo by Wen-You Cai. Courtesy of Cai Studio.

Installation view of Cai Guo-Qiang: Da Vincis do Povo, Centro Cultural Banco do Brasil, Rio de Janeiro, 2013. Cai Guo-Qiang Cai Studio

The most bombastic Chinese artist is too big for the art world alone—and now there’s a Netflix documentary about him, too. Sky Ladder: The Art of Cai Guo-Qiang was released in 2016, long after a leaked video of the events at its center garnered 30 million views online in just two days. After several stymied attempts to realize Sky Ladder (2015)—a 1,650-foot chain of fireworks suspended by a helium balloon—Cai did it in secret, without getting the necessary permissions from Chinese officials and skipping the country immediately afterwards in case of repercussions. Equally audacious, he suspended “exploding” cars (using neon lights arranged to resemble sparks) from the ceiling of the Guggenheim for his solo show there in 2008, and used four barges to fire off daytime fireworks for the opening of a solo show at the PSA in 2014.

Cai also curated the superb inaugural show at the Rockbund Art Museum in Shanghai. Entitled “Peasant Da Vincis,” the exhibition displayed the inventions of everyday tinkerers from around China making wonderful, weird work—from flying saucers to robots—outside of the market. Long after Zhang Huan and Xu Bing returned to China, Cai continues to live in New York, and he has a canny sense of how Chinese art is perceived both inside and outside of the country.

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