#still hits the same beats its just that that portion of her life happens at sea. it works way better honestly

[pavlikbuonarroti]

also. had to retcon maevis's backstory to match her fashion sense. could have i have just changed her outfits? well yes. but i didn't want to.

[destinygoldenstar]

Ninjago Dragons Rising Season 2 - Is It Good Or Nah?

So, I'm late to the party, aren't I?

Well I've had so much work that I think I'm having an existential crisis. So I had to wait till I had a free day to watch this season because I wanted to watch it with my GF.

We got to Episode 6, and then what did my boss do?

Slap me in the face with long work hours several days of the week.

I feel like I'm in a spiral of work after work after work with no purpose to life besides failure cause I can't trust myself to be capable at anything-

ANYWAY. We finished it now.

You know what the insane part about the season is? That it got the show trending on Tumblr.

That's an INSANE level of hype right there.

So I seriously had to ask myself "What the actual f**k happened in the show that caused THIS much hype?!"

So... here are my thoughts on the season.

SPOILER WARNING

Okay, so this may be a factor of my judgement, but due to my schedule, I was forced to watch only 6 Episodes one day, and then the last 4 Episodes today. Keep that in mind.

When it came to the first half of the season, was it good?

Yes. Obviously.

Was it living up to the insane level of hype?

Uh... not really for me??

Now, don't take that as a negative. This season is still REALLY good.

After the first season took awhile to get started as it needed to set up its characters and this new world, it makes sense for this season to throw the punches immediately.

The season gets started with its main plot right away with Ras immediately putting his plan into action, and by Episode 2, it's very clear the threat level he opposes and it's believable that we should be intimidated by what he wants.

Even though in Episode 2's fight, while AMAZINGLY choreographed, I was just screaming at the screen "HIT THE PERSON HOLDING THE GONG."

Like seriously, more than one of the characters in this fight can use projectiles with their powers AND they have a blaster in the Bounty, and the show never says that Ras has some sort of armor defense preventing him from getting blasted. He's literally standing out in the open. And the gong is clearly what's giving Cinder power. So HIT THE PERSON WITH THE GONG.

GOSH.

Anyway, that's not important. What's important is that this season's fight choreo is genuinely AMAZING. I am obsessed with the way the camera moves with the characters in these fights you have no idea. I was genuinely blown away by the last episode's fight in particular. But more on the ending later.

What also shocked me was how BRUTAL some of the stuff that happens here is, which caught me off guard.

I mean, Episode 2 has Euphrasia getting ambushed and crashed off the Cloud Kingdom with clear injuries, and Wyldfyre getting her leg SHATTERED. Like, WHAT?! HOW OFTEN DOES THAT HAPPEN?!! (Even though the latter's healing was unrealistic. Like, it would realistically take months for an injury like that to heal. Not a critique, just saying.)

Ras body slams Jordanna at one point. He puts Arin in a CHOKEHOLD. And also beats him up so brutally... like OMG this guy does not mess around.

The Fear Cave Trial also REALLY got me tripping. Not only was it such a visually appealing moment, but it also, as the same suggests, showed several character psyches that were insane.

Except Kai for some reason. That's gonna drive me NUTS until I get an answer. WHAT DID HE SEE-?!

Then we get to the dragon mentors, and...

Yeah the season kinda loses me in the middle.

Don't get me wrong, I love the character bits here as much as anyone. But with how dyer they made the threat of Ras before, Ras and his forces take a backseat in the middle portion of the season and we're mostly just sitting at these training grounds talking. And for four episodes of it? It's a little grating, even if it is important.

The middle is mostly where most of my issues with the season stand. And here's where I get all my negatives out of the way:

Like I said, because this season is so long, there's an awkward pause in the conflict on the dragons plotline to learn this Rising Dragon Technique. Which I wouldn't mind if it wasn't FOUR EPISODES of it.

With the exception of the attack at the Land of Lost Things ONCE, Ras's army doesn't go after the ninja at all. I can kinda get the dragons group since they didn't have Bonzle, but he has to know that they ARE a threat, right? They're obviously trying to figure out how to stop you.

And even with the group that has Bonzle, what they NEED, the forces that go after that group is the Administration and the one off magician man villain, the former really didn't need to be in this season even if it was for a compelling Jay cameo, and the latter has overstayed his welcome at this point and I just rolled my eyes when he showed up on screen.

I'm all for Cole being a badass as much as the next guy, but WHY this magician man, who at this point, is so disconnected with the main antagonistic forces that he serves no purpose?

Why not, I don't know, use this screen time instead to explain what in the world happened with Cole when he left?

Seriously, the first season had this huge cliffhanger with Cole's character and him going after Wu's ghost. I wonder what's gonna happen to him and what he's gonna find out-

Oh. He's just back.

That to me is a huge disappointment. What was the point of him leaving the Lost Family in the first place if this journey was basically nothing? He doesn't even talk about it! COME ON NOW.

Also I think Zane should get slay pass on the Administration guy that called him equipment. What do y'all think?

I don't like Egot. Or whatever his name was. He's very condescending and cryptic and talks down to his only hope of the world being saved. But I think I'm supposed to dislike him for it, and there's gonna be more of his characterization revealed later, so don't take this one as a critique. The female one is great though.

The sorceress lady was... a choice in the narrative. My one critique for the ending was the potion shenanigans. Not because they were bad, but because they just felt so out of place among everything else. Like, "Oh, this finale is too dark and intense! We need to occasionally cut to wacky shenanigans with this sorceress's magic to prevent kids from feeling too much dread!"

I don't know, for me, I would've placed this stuff with the Administration instead, and instead have the group fight Jordanna, lose, and have her get away and flow that to Arin getting to her. Especially since the Administration posed such little threat to them and they even say such.

(I also have a theory that this sorceress is Wyldfyre's birth mom. I have no evidence to back this up besides "They both have red hair and similar facial structure")

With Cloud Kingdom getting taken over and Euphrasia captured, I thought she would have more of a role to play in this since this is, you know, her HOME and she's their guardian.

But nope. She does next to nothing up until the very end and plays prisoner and waits for the ninja to save her.

For gosh sake girl, you're the master of wind. FLY.

And finally, my last critique, Cinder.

Yeah I'm sorry, I'm not buying this character so far. Not that I don't think he'll have anything to do in the second part, but for how threatening he was in Episode 2, that threat level kinda vanishes in the middle and only comes back at the end. He does next to nothing and we learn nothing about him other than "He likes power". Jordanna is probably more unlikeable, but at least she has conflict going on with Ras and her magic, and she still serves more of a role in the plan besides being a foot soldier.

And... yep. That's all my critiques for this season. Which all seem pretty minor.

You know what this season is real good at? Characters.

As though that wasn't obvious already.

I did NOT expect Bonzle to play any major role at all, I thought she was just gonna be the dry and cynical side character. But no. She has a history. She has a life. She has emotions. All of which REALLY shine through at the end when you hear her voice have more range in it. The VA killed it. I ended up feeling so bad for her.

Especially considering what happens to her.

They're also not even hiding it anymore with Geo x Cole. They're just NOT. I love them and I hope we see more of their relationship in the future.

I genuinely don't understand the critique of "Geo is so selfish referring to him as Cole's family when it's obvious Cole has other people in his life."

Well no shit, you ever heard of a character flaw?

But it's also a completely understandable flaw. You guys aren't forgetting the part where Geo was abandoned for being a mixed race, right? Of course he's gonna cling to someone as compassionate and encouraging as Cole.

The Jay cameo was nice. I expect him to play no role in this season, but it's really compelling what they showed and I was satisfied with it.

Lloyd's conflict was handled very well in my opinion.

What's it called when it's PTSD, but it's about future events rather than past events? Foresight Traumatic Stress Disorder? FTSD? Yeah let's go with that.

For a kids show that glosses over trauma, (That's not a Ninjago problem, that's a kids show problem), it was really refreshing for them to not do that for once. It's actually explored and talked about and Lloyd is given advice on how to cope with it, and he freezes up in panic attacks when these visions happen and-THANK YOU. THANK YOU FOR NOT IGNORING HOW HARD SOMETHING LIKE THIS IS.

Seriously, as someone who is going through stuff like this, minus the magic element, it spoke to me a lot. It really shows that this show grew up with me, and I both love and hate that.

I do think this sort of arc is going to hit hard for adults much more than kids.

Are kids constantly terrified of the future and getting paralyzed with these fears and finding it difficult to cope with the traumas that is time and human life?

No?

Kai is also a standout in this, especially towards the end. This is by far the best Kai has been in a long time in terms of quality. I love how one of his most significant flaws gets addressed here, that being his overreliance on himself and his own abilities over the others, who he feels responsible to protect.

And the way he grasps with that and learns to let loose like he did as a child back in the old days through what he loves the most, that being his family. And the flashbacks with him and his sister. And the whole sequence of him learning Rising Dragon - AUGH ITS SO GOOD.

How poetic is it that the character most devoted to family since childhood is only cocky and angry because of his own desire to be the one with power to keep them safe, gets power by letting that go, being a kid again, and joining the same roots as his own family?

AND THEN HE GIVES UP HIS LIFE FOR THEM-

And finally, Arin.

Oh you poor sweet, sweet child.

First of all, yes, I am completely subscribed to the theory that the show is building up Arin turning on the ninja and becoming a villain. It's all there. It all fits. The amount of times they say how sweet he is as though that's gonna get lost. The dragons, the creators of the world, the gods basically, telling him he's not good enough. Ras confronting him. Sora's stunt even after she's been the most encouraging of him, like the BETRAYAL there. It's all there. And I will be posting my theory scenario on this don't you worry.

BUT, I don't think that's the route they're gonna go. Kids show and all of that. They wouldn't do that to one of their main characters. Unless you're Star Wars. At most I think Arin will be tempted by Ras's master's power in an episode and even do it, but then with the power of love and friendship, it'll get fixed.

So instead I'd rather say that Arin, by far, has the BEST power crisis arc of the entire show so far.

I LOVE that he doesn't get powers. That's something the original show would've done. I LOVE that he doesn't figure anything out in the end and his inner doubts get proven correct. That's something the original show would not have the guts to do.

I liked Arin in the first season, but he didn't interest me too much. Mostly because Sora had the lion share of focus in the first season. Here though? He might just take the crown for THE most relatable character. And I both love and hate it so much.

Like, seeing everyone else succeed in mastery while you can't even figure out your own thing. You get told you have a natural talent and a lot of potential and that you're good at a lot of things, only for that to be put to the test in the real world and you end up letting everyone down. Even when your loved ones encourage you that you are good enough and you're special in your own way, you can't get those voices out of your head and you mess up again and again and again to try and meet the world's expectations. Then those in charge tell you you're not good enough and wasted potential. Then you try everything out in the real world anyway and you FAIL, and those that doubt you and your own insecurities get proven correct as you're left a broken mess of a young child who doesn't know what the hell they're doing-

I'M IN THIS SHOW AND I DON'T LIKE IT.

I probably love Sora more as a character, but I will admit I grasp towards Arin more right now. Sora's a great trans allegory in a world that hates trans people. But I'm not trans so I relate to it a bit less. Arin's a great autistic allegory in a world that doesn't know how to help autistic people. And I am autistic so I relate to it more. That's just a me situation.

I am so invested in where Arin's story goes from here. Evil or not.

So yeah, the season was good, but didn't completely live up to the insane hype, which, to be fair, is a high bar.

UNTIL THE LAST FOUR EPISODES.

And then all of a sudden, I AM SHOCKED AND SHAKEN TO MY CORE.

These last four episodes are an absolute emotional roller coaster that left me shaking and screaming the whole time.

I actually SCREAMED at multiple occasions.

I actually screamed so many times watching this that I am now HOARSE.

THAT'S how hard it hit me.

The story goes from 0 to 100 the moment the Blood Moon shows up. Which was what the whole season was building up to. And it did NOT disappoint.

The race to try and protect Bonzle. The intense visions and paralysis Lloyd suffers from. Ras and the army coming back to the plot to be absolute powerhouses. The last episode of DREAD the entire time to desperately try to stop this ritual.

HUMAN SACRIFICES?! AM I WATCHING A KIDS SHOW RIGHT NOW?!?!

I was begging for Arin to succeed at getting Bonzle to safety, even though I knew he stood no chance against Ras. "Come on Arin! You got this!! YOU GOT THIS, SWEETIE!!"

And then Ras just goes to TOWN on the poor boy and taunts his utter failure, which HURTS SO BAD MAN.

The entire fight with the army, Cinder, and Ras. The destruction of the mechs which knocks them unconscious for a bit. Kai figuring out Rising Dragon again when his family gets put in danger. The way Nya avenges her brother afterwards.

When Bonzle was getting morphed back into spell form, BEGGING, I was begging too.

But they still do it!

And KAI?!?!

I couldn't even process what happened other than me screaming. From the moment Ras alluded to sacrificing Kai against his consent, I was screaming "NO. DON'T DO IT."

AND THEN THEY SACRIFICE HIM.

LIKE HOLY GOSH THIS FINALE DID NOT MESS AROUND.

I predicted a while back, in the first season actually, that Kai was gonna get sacrificed at some point. Who's laughing now? I DID NOT WANT TO BE RIGHT.

Like, usually in Ninjago the character would be willing to sacrifice themselves for the others. But here? This is without Kai's consent at all. Ras might as well have killed him right here.

It definitely felt that way with the way the others react and BEG for his safety. The way Nya avenges him.

And Kai giving up his shot at escape for the sake of his family? BRO. WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

It hurts even more when you realize that when the Merge happened, Lloyd was ALONE thinking only he survived. He only gained hope again because of his reunion with Kai. His beloved surrogate brother!

AND NOW HE'S GONE.

NYA AND LLOYD LOST THEIR BROTHER.

WYLDFYRE LOST HER SURROGATE FATHER.

THEY THINK HE'S BASICALLY DEAD.

BRO. THAT'S SOUL CRUSHING.

And then Sora?! Why you gotta betray Arin like that?!

The most encouraging friend towards Arin, the person who held onto hope and praises for him the most, betrays that hope and doesn't trust him enough to get the winning blow himself. Then LIES about it.

GIRL. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

That's going to be SO compelling once that gets outed. Like, morally, that was messed up and she was definitely in the wrong, BUT it led to the best possible outcome for them at the moment. They WON because she did NOT believe in Arin's abilities. Which only proves that the doubts about Arin's said abilities are correct.

And I have a gut feeling she's gonna learn Spinjitsu on top of that. And once that happens... double ouch.

Again, Evil Arin Theory.

I really hate to say it, but this reminds way too much of Arcane. If you know what I'm talking about.

I am totally imagining a situation similar to that in my head, that being a rescue mission for Kai, they decide to leave Arin out of it because of the lack of faith in him, he tags along anyway and he ruins their plan and Kai stays trapped there, Lloyd and Sora lash out on him for it, and before they can apologize they get thrusted back by something and Ras and Ras's master find Arin and take him in-

Again, I'll make a post about that.

The finale was by far the best part of this season. It has been a long time since Ninjago has made me HOARSE from being too invested.

That has not happened to me since Sons of Garmadon.

Because, yeah, I actually have NO IDEA where any of this is headed. How are they gonna save Kai and Bonzle? Why did some of Lloyd's visions not come true? What in the world is going on with Ras? Will the Administration help with that? Will the source dragons help with that?

What I probably do know is that Part 2 of this season is going to turn this into the best Ninjago Product since Tournament of Elements. Maybe even top it depending on my rewatches if my problems are still problems.

So... yeah. Good or Nah? Good. Obviously.

The hype is a little overblown to me, but it still deserves the hype.

[masterofmunson]

look after you (2)

TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary:  Sam asks you to join him and Bucky on a mission in Madripoor. When you get injured, Bucky feels the need to remind you more than once that he’s supposed to look after you now that Steve’s gone.

Warnings: tfatws spoilers, language, violence, blood, vomiting, explosions, needles, pining galore

Word Count: 4.7k+

Author’s Note: Here she is! I was originally going to post this tomorrow, but to celebrate the season finale of tfatws as well as me getting fully vaccinated, I decided to post it a day earlier! As always, comments, reblogs, and asks are highly encouraged and greatly appreciated. Enjoy and tell me what you think!

You take a day to rest and recoup before diving head first into the mission again. You slept decently and you hadn’t really thought about how exhausted you really were until you went to bed after your heart to heart with Bucky. It was a conversation that the two of you needed to have, and you wished it didn’t have to happen after you had gotten shot. You’re just glad that you’re on the same page now.

Getting out of bed, you’re careful to move around with your shoulder in mind as you wash your face and brush your teeth. You make your way to the kitchen and everyone, including Zemo, sits around the granite countertop.

“Good morning, Y/n. How’s your shoulder?” Zemo asked with a smug smirk and a cup of tea in his hands.

You glare at him and take three long strides to get to him. You slap him across the face and the smack echoes against the walls. “If you touch Bucky and I like you did last night again, I’ll kill you. Understand?” you snapped, spitting at him.

He grins and caresses the side where you hit him, messaging his fingers into the tender and red skin. “Completely.”

You walk away from him to the far side of the counter where Bucky and Sam are just staring at you with wide eyes. They hide their growing smiles behind their coffee mugs. You reach for the coffee pot and Sharon grabs a mug from the cabinet for you. You fill it with coffee and pour some creamer inside.

Bucky leans over your shoulder and mumbles in your ear, “Are you feeling okay?”

You smile softly at him and take a sip of your coffee. You nod slowly and lean against the kitchen counter. You don’t need to exchange words for Bucky to know that you’re doing okay. He knows with the small curve of your mouth.

“What’s the move now that all of Madripoor is trying to kill us? How are we going to find this Nagel guy?” you asked, looking between Sam and Sharon.

Sharon sighs, running a hand through her hair. “You should really steer clear of all of this for your own safety,” she sighed. “Especially you, now that you’re injured,” nodding over to your shoulder.

“We know it’s a risk, but we’re not going to leave until we find Nagel,” Sam interjected.

Sam and Sharon negotiate with each other as you walk towards the window. Now that the sun is up, you can see the entire skyline of High Town. It’s beautiful, all things considered since the entirety of Low Town is trying to kill you.

“You help us out, I’ll get your name cleared. Deal?”

Sharon sighs and shakes Sam’s hand. “I have a showing tonight, I’ll see what I can find. Just lay low and blend in. Stay out of trouble.”

She leaves the kitchen and disappears down the hall. You move back into the kitchen and poke around the pantry to see what kind of breakfast food she had for you to eat. To your own surprise and excitement, you see a box of Cheerios on the top shelf. You grab it and open a number of cabinets and drawers for a bowl and spoon.

“Want some, Buck? Sam?” you asked.

The two men shake their heads and Sam pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I need to make a call, I’ll be right back.”

You hum and grab the milk from the fridge. You sit at the kitchen table away from Zemo. Bucky sits in the empty chair next to you and you playfully shove a hand in his face as he watches you eat.

“Stop brooding, Buck. It’s not a good look for you, gives you wrinkles,” you teased with a grin.

“I think I’m okay with a few wrinkles, honey. I look pretty damn good for a 106 year old, don’t you think?” Bucky teased in return.

You hum with approval and a mouthful of cereal. “Mhmm. You look great, Buck.”

You finish your breakfast and put everything away. Bucky reaches for your arm and squeezes your hand. “Can I look at your shoulder? I want to make sure everything’s okay.”

You nod and Bucky grabs the abandoned first aid kit before following you into the nearest bathroom. You climb on to the bathroom counter and Bucky ruffles through the kit for the right supplies. He gathers more thread, bandages, and anticeptant and places them beside you.

“Do you need me to help you take off your sweatshirt?”

Your laughter fills the bathroom walls and you raise your brows at the ex assassin. A flirtatious smile finds its way onto your face. “Are you asking me for a strip tease, Barnes?”

His face flushes an embarrassing shade of pink and it makes you giggle even more. It makes your heart melt at his awkwardness. He stutters over his words. “N-No! I can step out if you don’t need help. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

He turns to leave and you gently grasp his arm, stopping him from leaving you. Your gentle smile and touch makes him relax. “I’m just giving you a hard time, Buck. You don’t have to leave. You might have to ask me out on a date after this, though. I don’t do this for just anyone.”

He just stares at you with a blank expression.

You laugh again, biting the inside of your cheek. It makes you feel awkward and embarrassed that he didn’t understand your teasing. “I’m joking.”

“Oh.”

You slowly pull your hoodie over your head and wince at the burning sensation. You move your bra strap to the side and Bucky carefully inspects the bandages. Blood seeps through them and he’s careful to pull the soiled bandages off your skin and into the trash. He leans forwards to get a better look at the stitching to make sure they’re still intact.

Bucky takes a clean antibacterial wipe and swipes it around the wound, picking up the dry blood and cleaning the area. You wince at the sudden stinging sensation around the sensitive area of your wound. Bucky apologizes under his breath. It sends a chill down your spine.

His fingers are soft and gentle against your skin. His touch is feather light. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s trying his best, all things considered.

He bandages both sides of the wound with incredible care. He’s silent as he works. His eyes are focused and his hands move with incredible ease.

When he’s finished bandaging you up, he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder and it makes you freeze. Your throat tightens and your heart begins to race. Bucky pulls away and your eyes meet. He scratches at the back of your neck.

“Sorry. I used to do that when my sisters got hurt when they were younger. It made them feel better,” he explained with rosy cheeks. He turns to flee the bathroom and you pull him back again.

“You don’t need to apologize. It’s sweet. Thank you,” you said, fixing your hoodie.

He smiles awkwardly at you before finally leaving the bathroom. You follow behind him and ignore the weird feeling inside your chest.

….

You didn’t know what to expect when you went downstairs to the gallery. When you arrived last night, you didn’t have the time to look at the artwork in the building. You were in too much pain to notice what kind of art Sharon dealt with. What you didn’t expect was the number of people that showed up and how it seemed like a dance club rather than an art gallery.

You’re dressed in a nice pair of black pants and matching blouse. Music thunders in your ears and the bass of the music vibrates through your chest. You push through the crowd to get to the bar. You order three tequila shots and pass two of them to Bucky and Sam. You clink the glasses together before downing the liquor. It burns your throat and sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod along to the music and make your way towards the gallery portion of the building. You walk past a number of Monet paintings, and you’re stunned that Sharon was able to get her hands on such priceless pieces. You’ve never been one to analyze paintings and artwork.

You walk around the entire gallery before returning to the bar. Sam and Bucky scowl as they watch Zemo try and dance to the music. You hide your growing smile behind your beer and reach for Sam’s hand, dragging him to the dance floor. He groans loudly but doesn’t pull away.

“C’mon Grumpy Gills, Sharon said to have fun. You don’t look like you’re having fun,” you noted with a teasing smile and a glint in your eyes as you take a sip of your drink. You move your hips along to the beat of the music and Sam rolls his eyes, taking a drink from his beer.

“Shouldn’t you be asking the same thing to Barnes? Why drag me out here instead of him?” Sam asked over the loud music. He slowly starts to nod his head to the music.

You laughed loudly and grinned at him. “I have to split my time evenly between my two children!” you joked. “I can’t make it look like I have a favorite.”

Sam laughs and shakes his head at you. A growing smirk fills his features and he spins you around on the dance floor. “You’re not fooling anyone, sweetheart, least of all me. The two of you are like two lost puppies when you’re around each other. Put the old man out of his misery and tell him how you feel!”

Embarrassment washes over you and you try to hide your face with your arm. Was it really that obvious that you had feelings for Bucky? God, did Zemo notice too? For your sake and sanity, you hope not, and you know you’re not lucky enough to get away with it. He’s a perceptive asshole. The last thing you need is Zemo of all people to mention your behavior that seems more than friendly to Bucky.

It’s the last thing Bucky needs. He’s still healing and dumping your heart out to him is not a good idea. He’s figuring out how to deal with all his trauma and to adjust to life as a Bucky Barnes he’s proud to be. You don’t need to add to it. It’s not the right time and things are too complicated.

You shake your head. You can’t. You won��t. “It’s complicated, Sam. I can’t just dump it on him. He has too much to deal with and I don’t want to add to it.”

Sam shakes his head at you. You’re not surprised that he disagrees with you. He wants to knock some sense into you, but he won’t push it. “That’s not your decision to make though. You’re taking that choice away from him, and he’s had a lifetime of choices taken away from him.”

You take a step away from Sam at his insinuation. Your brows pinch together and you glare at him. “Stop psychoanalyzing me, Sam. You’re not my therapist.”

He scratches the back of his head and you look away from him. He sighs. “Listen, I just want the two of you to be happy, but I won’t push it. I won’t say anything.”

You scoff at him and roll your eyes at him. This is what you get when you try to make Sam relax and have fun. He can’t just turn it off. You push past him and make a beeline towards the elevator. You had lost interest in the party and just wanted to be left alone. Sam ruined your mood and pissed you off.

When the elevator arrives to the top floor, you raid Sharon’s liquor cabinet and open the door to the balcony. You take a seat on the floor and your legs hang from the railing as you drink in silence. You stare out into the skyline and listen to the sounds of the city mix together. It makes you miss New York City.

Car horns blare in the distance as do the sound of the rap of bullets on the other side of town. The light in the city distorts the night sky and the neon lights mix together in perfect harmony.

You’d never admit it out loud or tell Sam, but you know that he’s right. You should give Bucky the choice, but it was so much easier to just ignore your feelings for Bucky rather than just telling him outright. If you told him and he rejected you, it would make things more complicated than they already were, and it was the last thing you wanted.

You don’t think you could handle losing Bucky, especially after Steve. Just like Bucky thought you were his last connection to Steve, you felt the same way towards him, but you’d never tell him. You don’t want him to live up to Steve’s expectations. It doesn’t matter what Steve thought and he was gone. The two of you just needed to move past it.

The balcony door slides open behind you and you don’t bother turning to see who it is that’s joining you. You know that Bucky was the one behind you. He doesn’t say anything as he sits down next to you. You wordlessly pass the bottle of tequila over to him and he takes a drink without a second thought. He passes it back to you.

“What did Sam say to you?” Bucky asked, staring at your side profile. He runs his metal hand through his hair.  

You busy yourself by taking another swig of tequila. You tear your gaze from the skyline and look over at Bucky. You sigh, shrugging your shoulders at him. “Something I’m not ready to hear,” you answered vaguely. It’s a partial truth and you know that Bucky didn’t expect such a vague answer from you. You don’t want to talk about it, and he respects you enough to not push you to tell him when it’s obviously a sensitive subject for you. You’re not ready. “I guess it’s what I get for trying to get Sam to try and relax and have fun.”

Silence falls between the two of you and you take the time in between to drink. Bucky grabs the bottle from you and sets it beside him. You huff at him and watch him stand up. You look up at him and he holds his hand out for you.

“I’ll have fun with you. Don’t let him ruin the night for you,” he said as he helps you to your feet.

You smile and shake your head at him. You know he’s trying his best and it makes you adore him even more. “There’s no music, Buck.”

He shrugs and pulls you towards him. Your uninjured arm wraps around his neck and his own hands settle on your waist. You let him lead as you sway to the sounds of the city below you. He hums quietly and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“I haven’t danced since 1943,” he hummed matter of factly against the shell of your ear.

“It doesn’t seem like it,” you whispered. “You’re a good dancer.”

He gently twirls you around the balcony and a soft gasp leaves your lips as you cling to him as you’re dipped to the floor. He grins flirtatiously and pulls you back to your feet. For a split second, you see the man he was before the war, the man that Steve spoke so fondly of before he found him in Vienna all those years ago. This is the man that was notorious with the ladies and always took women dancing and stole their hearts. It makes you dizzy just thinking about it.

You hold your breath as his eyes find yours. “It’s all about finding the right partner,” he said, holding you close. “I have one hell of a dance partner, don’t you think, doll?”

Your heart beats erratically against your chest. You feel dizzy and it’s not from the tequila or the dancing. God, does he make you feel weak in the knees. You feel like you can’t breathe with him so close to you. He’s warm and intoxicating and it makes you feel like you’re about to do something stupid.

Your eyes find his cerulean blues and you feel like you’re drowning in him. They’re soft and gentle with a hint of something more hidden behind them. The haunted look in his eyes is gone as he stares at you like you’re the only woman in the world. Is this how women felt back in the 40s when they danced with him?

You stop moving, but you don’t pull apart. You don’t think you have the will power to. You like the way his hands hold your waist and how his touch lingers, making you want more. You’re a puddle in his arms. You only whisper his name as it hangs in the air.

“Yeah, honey?”

He leans forward and rests his forehead against yours. His eyes never leave yours and your fingers grip the back of his black blazer like your life depends on it. His smile is soft and gentle. He doesn’t push or ask questions. He’s the perfect gentleman, but he wants you to make the first move. That much is obvious and you know when to take the hint.

You’re going to do it. You’re going to ask Bucky to kiss you.

He must feel the same, he has to. He wouldn’t say that to just anyone. It makes your heart race at what he’s insinuating. He wants you just as much as you want him. You tug him closer and open your mouth to respond.

You’re immediately cut off and interrupted by a hard knock against the glass door. It makes your heart leap inside your throat and you pull away from Bucky’s arms. Embarrassment washes over you when you realize that it’s Zemo of all people is the one that caught the two of you dancing together on the balcony. He won’t let you live it down now.

He slowly opens the sliding door and looks between the two of you. He smirks and clasps his hands together. “Terribly sorry to interrupt what you’re doing, but Sharon found the doctor. It’s time to go,” he said.

You don’t say anything. You’re too embarrassed and you just wanted Zemo to leave you alone. You don’t have a snarky retort that you’re sure that he’s anticipating. Instead, you nod without uttering a single word and push past him to reenter the building, ignoring the flush you feel.

Zemo and Bucky follow close behind you and the journey to the ground floor is silent as you stand in the elevator. The silence between you and Bucky is suffocating, but you keep your eyes forward and ignore the stares Zemo sent between the two of you.

When the elevator doors open, you race outside and join Sharon and Sam at the front of the building. You ignore the weird look Sam sends you and climb into the front seat without a word as the others trail behind you.

You’re silent the whole way to the docks. You listen to Sharon quietly and keep your gaze out the window. She parks in front of the loading zone and you step out of the car, waiting for Sharon to walk you in the right direction.

Bucky grabs your hand and pulls you behind the rest of the group. It makes your heart race and jump inside your throat. He squeezes it gently.

“You should stay behind. I don’t want you to get hurt again,” Bucky murmured.

Your brows pinch together and you drop his hand. He has another thing coming if he thinks you’re just going to stand around and do nothing. It’s not in your nature. It never has been.

You won’t let whatever’s lingering between the two of you get in the way of doing your job. You don’t care that he wants to keep you safe and look after you. You’ll be fine.

“Is this your way of telling me that I’ll just slow you down?” you snapped, walking past him with a huff, rejoining the group.

Bucky runs after you and shakes his head. “No. You’re injured. I don’t want you to get hurt again. I just want you to be safe.”

“I’ll be fine. Let it go.”

You walk away from him and enter the metal container after Sam. Sharon’s voice echoes through your ear and your hands trail against the back of the container and gently push against it. It opens under the pressure on your hand and you turn your head to look at Sam.

You pull your gun out of its holster and hold it out in front of you. You let Sam lead the way and you follow close behind. You're soft on your feet as you walk further into the building. You can hear music ahead and it grows louder as you walk through the lab and see the back of Dr. Nagel.

Sam pulls the needle of the record player off, stopping the music and the doctor spins on his heels. You aim your gun at him as he looks between the two of you. His eyes widen as he looks behind you. You know that without looking that Bucky stands just behind you like a lingering shadow. You don’t know if he’s doing it to intimidate the doctor or to protect you.

Bucky moves from behind you and stalks over to Nagel. He presses his gun against the doctor’s temple, shooting a warning shot just beside him in an effort to get him to talk. Dread washes over you when you realize that the man standing in front of you is responsible for the serum that Karli and some of her followers had taken and that there were 20 or so of them running around the world causing chaos.

“Is there more serum in this lab?” Bucky asked, pressing the gun further against his temple.

“No,” Nagel answered. “Karli took them all. She wanted me to give the serum to some woman named Donya Madani and I refused.”

You roll your eyes and glance around the lab. Sharon shouts in your ear, telling the four of you that it was time to go now that bounty hunters were here looking to kill you. You look at a number of vials that were a variety of different colors and keep a close eye on Zemo as he wanders around the lab.

You should’ve seen it coming. You should’ve kept a closer eye on Zemo as he walked around when he shot the doctor in the chest, killing him instantly. Sam knocks the gun out of his hand and pins him against the wall. You aim your gun at Zemo’s head when Sam lets him go.

“Give me one good reason not to kill him right now, Sam,” you snapped. “He killed our one and only lead!”

Bucky rests a hand on your shoulder and you brush him off, glaring at him. “We need him, Y/n.”

“The hell we do! He killed our lead!”

“We need to leave, now!” Sharon shouted, running into the lab, completely ignoring the dead doctor on the floor.

Suddenly, you’re flown from your feet as the lab bursts into flames. Your body slams against the container and it knocks the wind out of you. Your shoulder burns with pain and there’s ringing in your ears. Pain erupts against your spine and you’re in a daze. You can barely breathe. You groan and gasp loudly. You roll on your side and can barely pull yourself up. You can’t see straight and you feel like you’re about to puke.

The sounds of Bucky and Sam yelling your name feels so far away. You can barely make out Bucky’s blurry figure above you as he hauls you to your feet. You sway on your feet and Bucky’s hands grasp at your face, gently shaking you out of your daze.

You stumble out of the container and the sound of bullets fill your ears. You still can’t see straight and can barely hear Sam and Bucky yell at one another over the bullets and ringing in your ears. You duck under some shrapnel and squeeze your eyes shut.

Bucky drags you from the shrapnel you’re hiding under and you run down a number of corridors until you hide into an empty container. Your breathing is short and shallow and your head spins. Bucky holds your face in his hands and you see his mouth move, but you can’t hear anything he’s saying to you.

You pull your body away from his and stumble to the back of the shipping container. You keel over and everything you’ve eaten and drank over the last day and a half leaves your system. Your body burns with pain and you drag yourself back towards Sam and Bucky.

You stumble into Sam’s chest and he holds you up by the waist. He helps you out of the container as Zemo approaches in a sleek convertible. You blink rapidly to focus your gaze and weakly attempt to step away from the car and out of Sam’s hold.

“No. I’m not spending another second with Zemo,” you said.

“We need him,” Bucky attempted to reason with you.

You glare at him and Sam wordlessly climbs into the back with you beside him. You’re silent the whole way to the plane as you try and gain your bearings again. You know without looking that the stitches in your shoulder were torn open due to the explosion. You feel the blood soak through your shirt as the pain slowly increases.

Sam helps you up the steps to the plane and guides you to the back of the aircraft. You sit down and Bucky hurries over to your side with a first aid kit in his hands. You huff childishly and attempt to push him away.

“I’m pissed at you,” you stated matter of factly under your breath. You look out the window to keep from looking at him.

“I know,” Bucky replied, gently tearing your shirt from your body, leaving you in just your bra as he moves to inspect your wound.

Sam hands you a bottle of water and you drink it slowly. “I’m pissed at you, too.”

Sam laughs, nodding at you. “I know.”

“I should be relaxing in the mountains of Montana, but noooo, you insisted that you needed my help. Here I am with a bullet wound because you assholes can’t do anything without me. I expect full compensation when this shit is over.”

Bucky and Sam both laugh quietly at you. Bucky’s fingers are soft and nimble as he cleans the area around your wound. Sam leaves the two of you alone and sits at the front of the plane to keep an eye on Zemo.

You wince as the needle pierces your skin. Bucky apologizes under his breath as he stitches your wound closed again. You watch him carefully as he fixes you up. His eyes are razor focused and his brows are pinched together as he takes care of you.

“We really need to stop ending up like this,” you hummed teasingly at him. “You’ve seen me in just a bra far too much in the last couple of days and I haven’t even seen you without a shirt.”

Bucky grunts in response. “Maybe if you stopped hurting yourself, I wouldn’t have to see you without a shirt on,” he said. “Someone has to look after you and take care of you. You and I both know you much rather it be me instead of Bird Brain.”  

You laugh softly and grin at him. “Hmm…. maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I am, honey.”

You shove him gently and the smile he gives you makes your heart stop. You shake your head and bite the inside of your cheek. He leans back on his thighs and reaches for your abandoned duffle bag and carefully zips it open. He grabs a clean shirt from your bag and helps you into it.

You thank him quietly and he presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. You lean into his touch and he takes the seat beside you.

You fall asleep to the feeling of Bucky’s hand in yours, his fingers brushing against the back of your palm.

[legguk]

Hi!! So,

it's my ( literal ) first time writing fanfiction, so I'm pretty new at this stuff, but Lady Dimitrescu is all I was able to think about for weeks and I >needed< to do something about it.

( If you want some context, I wrote this thinking “what if Alcina survived?” - Alcina's pov )

———

The fall,

The end of everything you once loved

Ethan Winters.

You woke up... somehow, you woke up. The frigid air hitting your fresh wounds felt like a jolt send by reality, as if one says "you're still alive" -

- and oh how you were starting to hate that feeling.

Laying on the demolished floor of your castle, muscles twitching in pain, mouth open gasping for air... that's how you are, how you will remember yourself from now on. A defeated dragon, a crushed woman, a dead mother.

You should get up, you should let go of your carcass and crawl your way back into the warmth of your home, you should—

—you should be dead, actually. Resting on death's cold embrace along with your daughters.

Daughters.

God, your daughters.

The memories flood your mind with a painful, unbearable reminder; they're gone, dead, crystalized - gone. They're gone. Your lovely daughters, your pride and joy, the main reason you'd open up your eyes in the morning...

...Bela,

Cassandra,

Daniela....

Their names are long cold, not yet forgotten - no, never forgotten - but somewhere else, as they don't belong here anymore; not on your arms, tucking them to bed. Not on your hands, caressing their faces. Not on your lips, kissing their foreheads. Not on your tongue, as you say them.

A raspy scream leaves your throat, it sounds disturbing.

You sob, hot tears trailing down your cheeks and neck, small cries for help find their way into the wind, disappearing with less importance then when they materialized.

You cannot recall for how long you stayed at that very same position, perhaps some hours, perhaps a day, but you are certain that at some point you were overcame by tiredness and collapsed - probably the best to do for now.

xxx

And so, rises the moon and the stars watch upon your limp body, the night howling a merciful wind and singing a melodic song. Grunting, you push yourself up with your elbows, sitting up and facing the sky through the hole you've made on the roof... and the levels above...

A huge carcass sits besides you, it's wings bended on itself and it's big mouth open to whoever would like to have a peek; you probably changed back into your normal body while unconscious... Now that you can see it clearly, you notice the damage that man-thing did to you... by heavens, how were you still alive and...

Oh. The castle. You look forward, taking in the horizon - the stars look exclusively shiny tonight - you breath in, the dusty air causes you to chough a few times. Stretching your neck a bit to see your whole house, you tell yourself it looks.. fine, actually, ignoring the broken windows. The broken windows.

It's cold. You shiver harshly, panting as the air meets your bare back and rumbles through your lungs, making you hug yourself, - you're naked, you just realized - the winter in Romania is truly kind to no one.

Your legs tremble with just the thought of trying to stand on your feet. You don't rush to do it either, let the wintry breeze take in your wounds, make it sting, burn it, freeze it; freeze your body along.

“To die. To die is to live. To live without them, that's torture. To live without their presence, absent of their scents, to not hear them, nor see their faces again, that's worse than death; far, far worse. How could I ever walk into that damned house without the heavenly sounds of their laughs, the tapping of their feet as they walk free, the steadiness of their heartbeats, reminding me that my own still beats.

Beats for them. For them only.

And they're gone.

So who shall my heart beat for? Myself? No, that wouldn't do. I will rip it out from my chest if I must, sacrifice it to any god who may hear me, all so I could spend five more minutes with them. Then I'd die in peace and find them at my arms again at whatever comes after this poor life.

But I'm here.”

You still hold yourself as you stare at a castle's - broken - window, new warm tears hanging the same trail the old and now dry ones did, a silent cry.

Your intrusive thoughts were abruptly cut by a loud noise from the inside of the castle, making you jump up, gathering all your last strengths to stand and walk a few shaky steps closer to home. The more you walked, the louder the noises got; a little rustle became a bang, and your tiptoing became a sprint, you hold yourself as tight as you can, ignoring the bleeding, the cold air spiking your lungs, how insanely fast you heartbeat was. You need to get there, protect the last remnant of them you still have.

The gates felt heavy now, even for you, who would open them with one hand. Where is your strength now? The fearless dragon who'd do anything to protect her house? Perhaps she died on that fall, and now all there's left is a shadow of what you were one day.

With much pain, you open the big doors, leading to the comfort of your house; you don't get in, you throw yourself in. The warm atmosphere engulfed you like a summer kiss on a winter storm, all you needed to ground yourself to reality for now. Grabbing some sheets laying over an old counter, you wrap yourself in it – oh, that's gonna get soaked in blood, but that's not of your concern now – moving incredibly fast for someone as hurt as yourself, you follow the continuous sounds that could not mean something good. The main doors are open, the cellar is unlocked as well, that idiotic man-thing couldn't even close the doors once he finished slaughtering your home? Imbecile.

You stand at the library's door now, suddenly frozen; you know what happened in there... do you really want to get in? Are you truly ready to face it again? Maybe you should take a step back and walk away, it would be the most logical decision to take now.

But what is logic when the heart screams? What is the brain for once your emotions take the best of you? You can't walk away. Put some honor on your name. Save the last bit of your daughter that fate is still conceiving you. Your chest rises and falls completely out of coordination, your fists close around the fabric involving your body; get ready, you're going in; gather the last bit of courage you have inside yourself and blast these doors.

And so you do.

You bring those pieces of wood to the ground, the only barrier between you and the reality you couldn't accept; a guttural growl forms in your chest as you see a lycan approach your child's crystalized body; you're blind with ire, sorrow, protectorship - you name it - and it makes you shout at the top of your lungs as you dilacerate the filthy beasts you'd bat your eye at. A bloody trail of corpses marks your way through the castle grounds, your claws dripping with fresh sanguine fluid - which you can't tell if it's from the creatures or from yourself - the crimson path follows you all the way to the other wing of mansion like a spirit who must haunt you for eternity.

You scream like a feral animal, blood soaking the once white cloth around your form; the scream becomes a shriek, which descends to a yelp, ending as a furious cry. You can feel the anger leaving you, like the waters of a waterfall; explosive, big portions of water falling into a numb, deaden lake. Hopefully those waters will carry you with them, you shall fall and sink at a anesthetizing lagoon.

You kneel, eyes closed, eyebrows frowned; a loud sigh fills the deafening silence in the air, your mind is blank – better, your mind is red, scarlet red mixed with black, ire and grief. Slowly, your head lower itself so you're facing the floor.

The big Lady Dimitrescu,

kneeling on a pool of blood, defeated.

•

“Lady Dimitrescu!”

Who..? The voice was so far yet so close, you try your best to focus on the direction of the calls but your nerves just won't cooperate.

“Lady!”

Who would be calling for you? Is your mind playing tricks on you now? And since when you were laying on the floor? Too many questions for too little answers. You try to stand up, but a sharp pain on your side made you cry out and fall on your back, face knotted in pain – perhaps your adrenaline rush was keeping you from feeling what was really happening with your body, and now you feel like you're betraying yourself for that.

A small figure approaches you in a fast pace, causing you to unleash your claws one more time and snarl at the not-so-possible threat; you were hurt. Vulnerable. Letting someone close was the last thing you wanted now. The humanoid thing backs away a few steps with your aggressive reaction, hands on their chest, visibly afraid – even though your vision is quite blurry, you identify their expression: scared, desperate, sorrowful – they call out once more, almost shouting.

“Please, Lady Dimitrescu, let me help!”

Ah... Help... The now clearer feminine voice washes over you - a wave of compassion - as if hope has found its way to your house again. Well, it better go away again, or you'll drag it out yourself.

“Out.” was all that left your lips, your intense gaze locking with hers, a silent yet not so discrete warning; although you had only said one word, it was well understood by the woman, who stepped away, eyes still meeting yours, a dreadful cast hang on her face.

Still, she didn't left.

Is that girl testing her luck? It can only be. Once again you warn her: “Leave. I will not repeat myself.”

Her posture stiffens, after a moment of silence she looks at the door, truly wondering about leaving or not; her body turns around, her knuckles going white from how hard she was grabbing the fabric on her chest – she's conflicted. But why? Who is she, after all? – A long, defeated sigh leaves her, as if she knows there is no choice left.

“Allow me to help.” A failed effort on trying to sound confident; her voice is full of tears and her tone is oscillating – it makes you wonder if she has been crying – The human walks towards you, trying not to make any eye contact; you can't stand on your feet, you left hand is pressed on your injured side, the other is open and directing your now extended nails towards her.

Oh how funny it is, no?

The predator being cornered by the prey. The dragon being trapped by the rabbit. How ridiculous it is.

Her extremely shaky hands hang in front of her, trying to say she won't hurt you – oh if she only knew it's going to be the other way round. – One step closer.. Her lips and chin tremble; Another. Your claws grow bigger, eyes peering through her soul; another step, your eyebrows frown, her eyes are teary. The last step - your blood is boiling hot, your nerves on edge; you are still the predator. - a slicing sound and a half-scream saturate the air for a millisecond, just for silence to overfill it once more. Red splashes over the room again, on your face, on your chest, but mostly on the floor, where the girl was thrown at.

An agonizing scream leaves her throat - what a miracle, she remains alive - both of her hands cover her face, blood spilling all over her; what a sight, you would most definitely enjoy this very much on another situation. She cries out in despair, making you face the ceiling and close your eyes, a tired look on your face – you just want all this to end, you don't have any more patience for this. You want to crawl back into your bed and starve, you want to destroy this place, make it abandoned ruins of what one day was a home; you want to kill that damned sickening man-thing, kill this foolish girl for perturbing your grieving, and then yourself.

The woman captures your attention once again, she is kneeling, her body facing yours, her right hand presses her ripped face, the other makes its slow way up to you, although she is trembling, she manages to keep her hand steady enough to hand you a little green flask with a yellow-y label; You look closer, 'treatment disinfectant' it says... Oh you can only be joking. You feel like slaughtering the girl right this instant, but takes in a deep breath and holds the flask, her hand immediately falling along with her body. Is she dead? No, her slow yet consistent breathing exclaims that she is still alive – you honestly find it a bit offensive – You should, but you cannot bring yourself to finish the human; you should end her suffering, but now she caught your attention; and besides, she wants to help, doesn't she? then the price she'll pay is staying alive.

———

hahaaa I'm so nervous about posting this,,, ,

and yes! It is a alcina x maiden fic! I do plan it to be slow burn, and if some you liked it and read it till here, please like and/or reblog and I'll post chapter 2!

( posted on Ao3! Name: “The woman in your castle” )

( chapter 2 posted!! )

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 10)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 4154 Warnings: fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: You guys... this is fluff central plus I expect some screaming... A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira​​​​​​​​​ Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 9 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

It was already dark as you headed up the steps from the subway station, shrugging your jacket a little closer to your body to keep out the chill. It wasn’t even officially winter but the cold weather had decided to make itself at home in New York.

Although you were exhausted from a long day at the hospital you were meeting up with your friends straight from work for an early get together. Someone had the bright idea that you should all go ice skating. It wasn’t your first choice considering you’re not that great at it but the promise of hot chocolate and sweets curbed your protests. 

You walked with purpose through the massive crowds in Bryant Park, everyone with the same idea on a Saturday evening; wander through the shops and food stands set up for the holidays and ice skate in a place only slightly less crowded than Rockefeller Center.

A bluish white star shines high above the large tree, sparkling with its own multicolored lights. Beneath it is where you find your friends, huddled together to keep warm.

“Hey!” you shout approaching them. 

Your arms wrap around puffy jackets, cold cheeks pressing together for kisses. A new person has joined your group’s hangout for the first time and you welcome her with open arms. Steve was head over heels for Peggy and although you were kind of sad he hasn’t been around much to hang out you wouldn’t trade his happiness for yours. Besides, Bucky’s sort of taken his place to come over and binge TV. 

Sam took charge to lead everyone towards the skate rentals. With all the couples paired together you found yourself beside Bucky, trying to not get separated with everyone through the crowds.

“How was work today?” he asked, shouting over the mix of chatter and holiday music.

Your cheeks became tight with an uneasy frown and you didn’t have to explain further. Bucky knew how taxing social work could be. Not every day ends with positive results. Sometimes people refuse help and there’s nothing you can do about it, other times you see the end result of a situation that should have had an intervention years ago. But the system is flawed, so all you can do is your best. 

His arm wraps around you and Bucky stops to pull you closer to him. The gesture of his embrace is met with scoffs by those he made stop short but Bucky ignores the angry stares. He squeezes a little tighter, an unspoken signal to let you know things will be okay; exhaling a sigh you know it will be.

No one noticed how the two of you lagged behind but you found your way to the booth, picking up ice skates and making your way to the locker area. 

“Have you ever done this before?” you asked Bucky as you began tightening your laces. 

Hair fell in front of his eyes as he tipped his head down to laugh. “I played hockey when I was twelve, so I’m hopin’ I’m not too bad. You?”

“I’m alright.”

Wanda whipped her head around immediately after hearing your words. “You’re such a liar!” She locked eyes with Bucky continuing, “Remember how Bambi was on ice?” He chuckled, nodding. “Well Y/N is a thousand times worse.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that fell from your lips. “Wanda you are so dramatic! I am not that bad.”

“Just watch out Barnes, when she falls– and she will– she grabs the nearest person and takes them down with her.”

Your eyes rolled back as you laughed again, telling Bucky to ignore Wanda. It had been a few years since you had gone ice skating and sure, you might be a little rusty but you were still feeling pretty confident. 

By the time you got on the ice you had lost any shred of hope in your abilities. You were clinging to the rail trying to hold your balance despite your legs wanting to splay outwards, yelping every time someone swooshed by you gracefully. 

“Hey Bambi,” Bucky teased, gliding towards you. “Take my hand.” He extended both hands to you, his soft smile doing its best to push aside your nerves.

Your grip on the railing strengthened as you let one hand go, taking his gloved hand with yours. Bucky held your gaze, blue eyes that spoke only trust as he encouraged you to let go. Your face scrunched tightly as you felt the nerves built up, but with one final push you released your hand and found his.

“Don’t let go of me,” you pleaded, shakily as Bucky skated backwards, pulling you towards the center of the rink.

“Never,” he practically purred, which was dangerous considering your knees already felt weak from the position they were in.

Bucky attempted to teach you how to skate because, as he suspected maybe there was some truth in what Wanda said about your abilities, or lack thereof. From the corner of your eye you spotted Natasha, slim fit leggings hugged her curves as she glided gracefully on the ice. She became a blur of red hair as she spun in place, with Clint smiling in awe at her. 

“She and her sister used to do ballet,” he remarked towards you both as he waited for her to come out of the spin, her arms finding the familiar dancers pose above her head. 

Your brows furrowed. “Sister?” You thought Natasha didn’t have a family; in fact you definitely remember her telling you her parents died a long time ago. She never once mentioned having a sister.

Reading the confusion on your face Clint filled in the rest. “Not her real sister but close enough like family. It’s another reason we’re having a hard time with the wedding. She’s in Russia, has a job that keeps her as busy as Nat so it’s hard to coordinate and Tash would definitely want her there.”

Clint left to join Natasha at her side and they skated together, as did Wanda and Sam. His distinct laugh stood out from the distance as they coasted along the outer portion of the rink. Even Steve who was always a little clumsy somehow became a near professional as he and Peggy skated by.

“How is everyone so good at this?” you huffed. The aggravation you felt with yourself made you lose focus for a moment, your legs nearly slipping on the ice but Bucky caught you. 

Bucky’s voice was smoother than paved ice as he assured you, “You’ve got this. Just follow me.”

It was a slow start to learn how to actually skate, you still held one of Bucky’s hands as you marched on the ice and slowly you trusted his encouragement enough to let go. He skated right beside you as you turned your marching into tiny glides.

“You’re doing it!” he proudly cheered.

You smiled widely as you traveled along the ice, slow and steady. Bucky was showing off a bit, winking at you before he spun around, looking over his shoulder to skate backwards. He glided beautifully across the ice, effortless and full of fun. Your small strides were good but not as freeing as the way he moved.

Maybe it was the confidence you felt in accomplishing a very basic move but you wanted to make Bucky proud, step it up and really go for it. Without instruction you took off, pushing your blades harder into the ice to take longer strides.

Liberated was not the word you would use to describe your current mood. It was fear that settled deep within your bones. The fear of your legs shaking with unease, wobbling with every stride as you picked up speed. The fear of wanting to stop but realizing you never learned how. The fear that you were about to collide into– 

“Bucky!” you shrieked just before you slammed into him.

It happened so fast. Bucky was thrown off guard by the way you knocked into him. He tried to regain his balance and keep himself from falling but you weren’t helping. Panicked by the fear of hitting the ice, you grabbed onto him, legs flailing wildly– like Bambi, as you tried to regain your footing on the slippery surface. 

Your frantic grabs were a little too forceful, thwarting any of Bucky’s attempts to keep you both upright and within seconds you slammed to the ice pulling Bucky down with you. 

After the initial shock of falling on the cold hard surface, panic washed over your body and you looked over at Bucky hoping you hadn’t hurt him. His legs were out as he sat hunched over, his hair had come apart from the neat bun it was previously in and worst of all, he was silent.

“B-Bucky...” you spoke hesitantly, “You okay?” 

Your muscles ached as you pushed yourself to your knees. Bucky still hasn’t said anything. It felt like the ice cracked beneath you, with anxiety wrapping its claw around your leg and pulling you underwater. 

You swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath before you began extending your hand towards him. A sudden roar of laughter startled you, your heart skipped a beat as your arm snapped back beside you. 

A deep rumble came from the bottom of his stomach as Bucky’s entire face lit up bright red with laughter. Bucky couldn’t stop laughing, even as he slowly stood up, assisting you to your feet as well.

You were still holding hands, giggling about what happened when Wanda skated over. 

“I warned you,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her.

You and Bucky looked at each other, not even trying to stop the way your lips were pulling into smiles, your eyes crinkling as you both burst out with laughter.

It was decided that ice skating was over for you. You let the group know you’d be grabbing something to eat while they continued to enjoy the rink and not crash into each other.

“Do you want food food or snacks?” you asked, looking at the options of the various places within the glass atrium.

“How about both?” he answered, chuckling. 

There were a lot of things to choose from so you decided to split a few things to try a bit of everything. You paid, insisting you had to after knocking into him on the ice. 

Bucky carried the food to a table that was cramped in between other seats. You apologized as you elbowed him while trying to take off your jacket. It was warm inside thanks to all of the kitchens, a wonderful contrast to the weather outside. You sat underneath a canopy of lights with a perfect view of the rink and Christmas tree enjoying each other’s company.

“Are you excited?” Bucky asked about your upcoming trip as he took a swig of his spiced ale.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to go home. I haven’t been back since June.” Seeing your parents just a few times a year is not what you envisioned but you knew living in New York meant making sacrifices.

“How are you going to survive a week without me?” Bucky teased, leaning closer to you as he grabbed some fries.

You smiled, teasing back, “I’ll have to blast some music through the walls to remember you by.”

Bucky playfully nudged your shoulder and you both laughed, unaware you had company. Clint and Natasha stood in front of your table asking if they could join you. It had gotten a lot more crowded since you first got there and that felt like something you should have noticed but you and Bucky were so lost within your conversation you hadn’t paid attention.

“Mmmm this is so good,” Bucky said, with his mouthful of food, rolling his eyes back as he savored his s’mores doughnut. “Have some.”

He broke apart a large piece for you but your hands were still sticky from the caramel buns. You opened your mouth as a joke for him to feed you and unexpectedly he did, which led to more laughter as you asked for a napkin to wipe away the gooey marshmallow from the corner of your mouth.

Natasha and Clint shared a look with each other, and she smirked, raising her brow towards him. Clint signed something towards you that you didn’t quite understand. Something about you and Bucky with “sugar” possibly? You were still learning ASL so you weren’t really sure.

“Did you want some?” you pointed to your plate of desserts, in case that’s what they were talking about. 

Clint declined and Natasha spoke up, repeating the word he was signing before with her hands. “It means cute.” 

Your brows furrowed for a moment as you watched Clint sign again, “You look cute with Bucky.”

The realization hit you making you roll your eyes and chuckle. You brought your hand up to your mouth, closing your fingers against your thumb as you signed for him to “shut up.” This time you caught Natasha’s smirk and promptly ignored it, all while Bucky was clueless to the conversation happening in front of him. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassured him, staring back at Clint and Natasha.

Being back at home was a nice reprieve from constantly being on the go in New York. Here you could stop and take a breath, your mind quiet and at peace instead of hearing noise– all day there was noise. Jackhammers, car horns, people shouting, music playing. It was the music you missed the most ironically. 

You had grown accustomed to Bucky as your neighbor, and even though he no longer blasted the music through the walls you were always privy to hear what he was working on.

Kicking off your comforter, you got up from the bed to grab your phone that had been charging across the room. Since you left home your parents rearranged your old bedroom into a guest room, not taking into consideration the location of outlets. You tried not to be on your phone too much considering you had been away from them for months but now as they’ve gone to sleep you’re up and kind of bored, so you decided to check in on your friends.

You scroll through notifications, watching Instagram stories of Steve teasing Sam at the gym, Wanda posted a photo with her mom and another at Pietro’s grave which made your heart feel heavy in your chest. And then there was Bucky.

He brought the smile back to your face with the latest photo he texted you. The day after you went ice skating you woke up to a surprise, a selfie of him in the mirror. His shirt was lifted up slightly revealing a very toned stomach. He faced the side mostly as one hand was pulling down the fabric of his sweatpants revealing a large deep purple bruise that seemed to spread across his hip and backside. The overly exaggerated expression of pain on his face really sold the picture and you burst out laughing.

Every few days you were sent new photos as Bucky continued to tease you about the fall and today’s was no different. His bruise faded into a greenish splotch on his skin and Bucky crudely drew the outline of a tree around it with a messy yellow star on top.

You: Cute

Bucky: You think my butt is cute? 

You chuckled at the gif that followed, Milhouse suggestively raising his eyes, and promptly responded.

You: It looked better when it was purple

The rest of the night was spent texting back and forth until your eyes became too heavy and you fell asleep. A few days later you wished Bucky a Merry Christmas, bursting out with laughter during breakfast with your family as you saw his latest picture.

Bucky smiled through the white shaving cream that was spread across his face in the shape of a beard. He even coated his eyebrows with it; the perfect touch to go with his red Santa hat. 

Your mom asked what was so funny but you shrugged it off saying it was nothing. You’re not exactly sure why but you supposed it was easier to dismiss it than hear a speech about dating. Besides, you and Bucky were just friends.

Finishing the final touches of your makeup you took a moment to check everything in your bathroom mirror. Makeup done, hair perfect, earrings… Now where did you put those? Oh right! Your heels clacked along your floor as you strode towards your dresser, picking up the sparkling drop earrings that went perfectly with your outfit. 

Standing in front of your floor length mirror, you put them on, admiring your outfit. You were going to Clint and Natasha’s New Years Eve party and the invitation stated to dress in cocktail attire. 

You picked out a beautiful dress, shimmering in blush pink sequins that fell just above your knees. The collar was high and the sleeves were long, perfect for the bitter winter of New York; though you hoped you wouldn’t be too hot considering the amount of people that were going to be packed in a small apartment. 

Turning around you admired the rhinestones that decorated the heels of your champagne colored pumps. A knock at your door pulled you out of the sparkly trance and you knew it was Bucky. You agreed to be ready at this time so you could head upstairs together.

Opening the door you greeted Bucky with a big smile, taking in the way he wore the hell out of a slate blue suit. You had never seen him this dressed up before but he looked great. His shirt was a darker blue and the contrast between both really brought out his eyes.

You were so preoccupied by Bucky’s suit you completely missed the way he stood there frozen in silence. His mouth was agape, heart pounding a little harder against his chest as he just looked at you.

Realizing he had been staring for too long Bucky forced words to come out of his mouth. “Y/N… Y-you look incredible.”

Heat crept on your cheeks after hearing his comments, turning away to smile a little too awkwardly. 

“I need like half a minute if that’s okay.”

“Take your time. It’s not like we have far to travel.”

Bucky made himself comfortable on your couch. Although you had music playing he couldn’t pay attention to it. His eyes were drawn to you and he felt… well truthfully he felt a bit like a creep, staring at your bare legs and those sexy heels. 

Exhaling a deep breath, Bucky pulled out his phone trying to distract himself as you finished getting ready. He’s not sure what else you needed to do since you already looked perfect. Beyond perfect, you were stunning, beautiful… and there his mind goes again.

“Hey, would it be too much to ask if you can hold my keys?” you asked, pulling Bucky out of his thoughts. “My bag is small and I don’t want it scratching up my phone.”

“Yeah, ‘f course.” He smiled, standing up now that you seemed ready to go.

After locking your door Bucky secured your keys in his pocket and you walked to the elevators. His eyes were glued to your back, staring at your skin through the open cut out of the dress. 

The quick ride felt awkward as Bucky forced himself to look straight ahead but it was difficult, your dress sparkled in the hazy reflection of the elevator doors. It was impossible to not look at you, shining like the brightest star against the backdrop of night. 

“Wanda said Sam has to work tonight.”

He’s thankful for the small talk to focus his thoughts. “Oh really? That sucks. Is she still coming?”

The doors open and Bucky extends his arm for you to walk out first. “Yeah she’s on her way.”

You walked down the hall to Clint and Natasha’s apartment, with their front door being above Bucky’s but that’s where the similarities ended. As Natasha welcomed you inside you were in shock.

Their apartment was double the size, with a bright open space made brighter by the white walls and sleek black furniture. To the left was their kitchen with a marble island that looked wider than your bathroom. To the right was a closet and a giant bathroom complete with an enviable washer and dryer. The modern fixtures made everything look incredibly high end. Their bedroom was smaller but still they had a bedroom, unlike the studio apartments you and Bucky rented.

Natasha introduced you to some of the other guests. Some were Clint’s friends and coworkers and some were her own. She introduced her bosses, Matt and Franklin, and their dates Karen and Marci who were also her coworkers. Despite her collected exterior you knew she was nervous, this was the first time she was hosting them and she was eager to make a good impression.

Clint greeted you and Bucky offering to get you drinks. You made polite conversation with them until Steve and Peggy arrived, excusing yourself to say hello. Wanda was right behind them, pouting deeply as she sighed about not being able to kiss Sam when the ball drops.

“Foggy Bear, I’ll be right back,” Marci cooed, kissing him on the cheek, walking away with Karen following her.

He blushed, as a goofy smile spread across his face. “Heh, you know how it is.” He turned towards Bucky to ask, “How long have you and Y/N been dating?”

Bucky choked on his drink, coughing and turning a little red. “Y/N? Oh no, no, we’re just friends.” He felt a little embarrassed for making a scene, half wondering if the thoughts he had about you earlier were written all over his face.

Matt cocked his head, clasping his hands on the handle of his long cane. He wondered if he should tell Bucky he could hear the way his heart raced when Y/N was by his side. Instead he smiled in a way that said more than words could and Foggy seemed to understand. 

Bucky excused himself to mingle, finally saying hello to the rest of his friends that he spent most of the night with.

“One minute until midnight!” Clint shouted, raising the volume of the television that showed shots of a crowded Times Square filled with people as frozen as they were excited to be ringing in the new year. 

All of the couples quickly got together leaving you, Wanda and Bucky awkwardly standing beside each other.

“I’m gonna call Sam,” she said, heading to the bathroom for a better chance at hearing him through the noise.

The clock was ticking by and you chuckled awkwardly, not knowing what to say.  

“So…” 

“We don’t have to kiss,” he reassured you with a smile.   

It was nice to not feel the pressure, although as you looked around the room seeing everyone together you felt out of place. 

“We could though,” you said, meekly. “It’s tradition… to start the year with good fortune.”

Ten! Nine! Eight! ...

Bucky’s heart was racing quickly. “O-only if you want.” 

You nodded, smiling and he swallowed a thick lump.

Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!

Cheers erupted all around you followed by only the sounds coming from the announcers on TV as everyone paired together, heads tilting to lock lips.

You smiled coyly at Bucky, looking down and chewing on your lip. He took a step closer, and you lifted your head towards his. It was all too fast and yet agonizingly slow at once as his hand raised to cup your jaw.

Your eyes locked, and you were entranced by the way his pupils grew wider the closer he got. Bucky’s gaze went down to your lips, perfectly painted lips that fell slightly open awaiting his kiss.

Bucky leaned in, his eyes beginning to close until he felt the press of your hands against his chest. A small smile tugged on his lips and Bucky closed the gap between you. Your lips were soft against his as you kissed him, parting your mouth just enough for him to feel a slip of your tongue that sent sparks flying across his body. 

He kissed back, his soft lips caressing yours skillfully and unlike anything you had felt before. Your mind wandered briefly to the amount of women he’s kissed before. Have they all been like this? You push aside those thoughts to enjoy the moment, reveling in the magic of his lips. Bucky has stolen your breath away and you let him. 

A soft hum fell from your lips as you let go, your foreheads pressed together now as you try and catch your breath. As the TV showed fireworks erupting over the Hudson you felt your own, exploding in the pit of your stomach, unsure if this means good fortune or something else entirely. 

PART 11

[detectivesvu]

Another Round

—

Rafael Barba x Fem. Reader

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2,454

“Moral of the story, take a chance in life. You never know what might happen.”

—

The bar was rather uninhabited compared to usual. Even for a Wednesday night the crowd was scarce and things were quiet. The smell of liquor and bodily fragrances wasn’t as thick in the air as it normally was. There were a few patrons seated at the various booths around the establishment. Most of them were office coworkers attempting to blow off some steam to ensure that they could push through to Friday where they could look forward to a couple of days off before having to prepare to do it all again the next week. 

There were only two customers actually sitting at the bar. One was an older woman that you had the pleasure of seeing every Wednesday evening for about an hour or two. She was a lovely lady who worked in accounting at a private establishment. She had actually found the bar you bartended at by accident. She had been caught in a torrential downpour and ducked into the nearest building to let the rain pass. That building just so happened to be your little bar that you offered as a temporary home to those who needed it. You convinced her to at least stick around for a drink, to which she ordered a dry martini. Ever since that day, she now came every week. She was convinced that you made the best dry martini (with extra olives) in the whole city. In a general sense, she was great company and an even better tipper.

“Wonderful as usual, [Y/N],” She called to you from the opposite side of the bar; “I’ll see you next time!”

She tapped the money she had left on the bar to make sure that you noted to take your tip. You flashed her your warmest and most genuine smile, waving at her once she made it to the door;

“Thanks, see you later!” You called back. 

Once she left, you were sure to clean off the bar where she sat, taking your tip, and setting her empty martini glass aside to be washed after hours. That left the only other person sitting at the bar. You had seen him about three times over the last few weeks and not once had he seemed interested in conversing with you. You had impeccable customer service as well as having a talent for reading people. You knew nothing about him, not even his name. However, you knew that whatever he did for a living was a killer on his mental health and overall being. Every time he had come in during your shift, he looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He would sit in the same seat and very quietly order his usual drink of choice: a glass of scotch served straight. 

He usually would nurse his first drink for a little while before eventually loosening his tie and pulling some sort of work out of his bag. You were never nosy enough to try and figure out what it was, but it seemed to be important based off of the way he usually never took his eyes off of it. Most people would just look at him as being busy, but you looked deeper and identified that he was lonely. 

You knew that some people weren’t as talkative as others. There was a portion of bar-goers that would rather order their drink and not say a single word the entire time. As a bartender, you craved to talk to those people to give your best job performance. As a good hearted human being, you craved to talk to those people because you knew that they desperately needed to. You wanted to be a listening ear to anyone who needed it. No questions asked or judgements given.

You had a rag in one hand and a highball glass in the other as you gently stood in front of the man. He was extremely focused in on whatever he was working on, so you softly spoke to get his attention and not break his stride;

“Can I get you another scotch, sir?” You asked.

A little startled, his head snapped up and his eyes trained on you. He processed your question before sighing and rubbing his forehead stressfully. He leaned back into his chair and set his shiny pen down next to his papers. Poor guy. He was beat.

“Yes, please.” He replied simply.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You apologized sincerely, but with a slight smile. 

You turned to the array of bottles behind you, selecting the same bottle of scotch you had served him before. He chuckled at your statement and exhaled deeply;

“No, no. Don’t be sorry. I got a little lost there for a minute.” He said briefly motioning towards his work. 

You refilled his glass, returned the bottle to its proper place, and leaned forward against the bar just a little ways off to the side as he began to sip his second drink of the night. 

“I can see that. You always seem to bring work to the place where work is supposed to be left behind.” You astutely noted.

He shrugged and cocked his head to the side shortly;

“You’re observant. I like that.” He responded rather coyly. 

Now it was your turn to shrug;

“It’s in the job description,” You joked; “This might make me a bad bartender, but I’ve seen you in here more than once and never caught your name.” 

He smiled tenderly. It was now that you realized just how charming he was when he wasn’t tied down to his paperwork. 

“Rafael Barba. You’re [Y/N], right?” He introduced himself.

You nodded, but your head was hard at work. That name sounded so familiar. Where had you heard that name? Surely you hadn’t ever met him outside of work. Then it hit you.

“Barba...oh, you’re the prosecutor on the Lindsey Darien case!” You announced.

His smile changed into a surprised expression;

“I am. Not many people remember my name,” He admitted; “Usually I’m just the lawyer that people happened to catch on the morning news.”

You laughed gingerly at that. You couldn’t even imagine being a criminal prosecutor. It all made sense now. The late night arrival at the bar, the tense posture, the constant attention being on his work. He might as well have the weight of the world on him. It was no wonder he always looks so uptight. You couldn’t comprehend the things he probably saw everyday. The stories he had to hear on the regular would keep you up at night for weeks. You were just fine slinging bottles and cleaning up crushed pretzels off of the floor. 

“That case is...an intense one, yeah?” You questioned, being careful not to pry.

He shot you a look that read ‘finally someone gets it’ and ‘you don’t even know the half of it’. You knew he couldn’t tell you any specifics and honestly you didn’t want to know. Again, you were behind a bar for a reason. You weren’t cut out for that kind of work. 

“To say the least. One of the hardest of my career.” He confessed, finishing off his drink.

You wondered if there was anyone outside of work that he was able to talk to about his job. You hoped he wasn’t confined to only speaking to people involved with the cases he dealt with. That was a lot of bottled up feelings to carry around all the time. 

“Well, in that case,” You proclaimed; “The next one’s on me.”

You refilled his glass once more, knowing this would be his last one for the night. He never drank more than three. He thanked you and proposed a new topic, wanting to continue speaking with you. He was beginning to find himself intrigued by you. He had met lots of bartenders in his life, but none of them seemed to have the same kind of energy that you did. He found it refreshing.

“What about you? I bet you’ve got some stories.” He remarked.

Oh, you definitely had stories. You learned very quickly that bartending was going to allow you to see the absolute best and worst of people. In a weird way, that’s what made your job so beautiful to you. It was a relief to know that it was okay to not be your best all the time.

“Sure I do. All bartenders do,” You agreed; “Are you asking for the craziest, funniest, or scariest thing I’ve ever encountered, counselor?”

He groaned with a modest guttural sound;

“Please. Call me Rafael. I don’t need my favorite bartender calling me by my job title too,” He said with a smirk; “But how about your favorite story?”

You felt your cheeks get hot at his nonchalant compliment. Many of your regulars were adamant about you being their preferred bar technician, but for some reason it felt different coming from Rafael. Something strange was brewing inside you and you could feel it in your chest...almost like a weird flutter. He was feeling it too, but he brushed it off as the alcohol settling in. 

“My favorite story...” You repeated; “Well, I do have one in particular.” You declared.

He was very tuned in now. He was not the same man you had just been in contact with when he first walked in. 

“I’ve been at this bar for a long time. Like, almost 15 years. I’ve had a lot of regulars come and go,” You began; “I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve forgotten a good many of them. But there’s this one guy that I’ll never forget.”

Rafael was watching you from over the rim of his glass, sipping slowly to savor his drink. He wasn’t sure where this was going yet.

“He came in every week when I was working and each time he looked more defeated than the last. After he had been coming for awhile, I finally asked him what was going on in his life,” You recalled; “It turned out that there was this woman that he had been friends with since elementary school. He was head over heels for her and always had been.”

You smiled brightly as you continued telling the story. It still gave you chills to this day;

“He was worried because he didn’t want her to reject him. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship. They were both getting close to their forties and he had convinced himself it was too late to get married and start a family. On top of that, he was scared that if they did get together then he’d always regret the times they could’ve had together but didn’t because he waited too long,” You told; “I told him that there was a reason she was still in his life. There was a reason that she never committed to anybody else. They had been tip-toeing around one another for decades. I knew they were meant to be together.”

Rafael was an extremely good listener. He wasn’t one to overly enjoy cheesy romantic stories, but this one was awfully captivating. For the first time in weeks, he wasn’t thinking about work.

“We talked for a long time, up until closing time. I convinced him to go for it. I told him that it wasn’t worth never taking his chance and then always wondering what could’ve been. The next time I saw him, he had a woman with him. Sure enough, it was her,” You recounted; “Turns out, they had been waiting on the other to make a move. They’ve been married for...13 years now.” You said doing the math in your head.

Rafael’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened. Turns out you were quite the persuasive speaker.

“They’ve got two kids. One biological and one adopted. Even after they got together, he didn’t stop coming here every week. She would just always come with him.” You continued.

He leaned his face into his hand. He was positively amazed.

“Wow. Do they still come around?” He asked curiously.

You shook your head;

“Sadly, no. They moved out west a couple of years ago. Although, he still has family here so anytime he visits the city he’ll come by. So we somewhat keep in touch,” You answered; “Every time I see him, he thanks me for giving him a push. He never would’ve taken a chance if I hadn’t.” 

You took Rafael’s finished glass from the bar counter, setting it aside as well. He was speechless.

“Moral of the story, take a chance in life. You never know what might happen.” You advised.

“I’ll say. That’s incredible.” He exclaimed. 

You smiled, happy that he thought so.

“Does that satisfy your story telling request?” You asked.

“Very much so. I appreciate it.” He expressed his gratitude.

Just as you were about to offer him a different story, his cell phone rang. Oh, well. There was always next Wednesday. He fished his phone from his pants’ pocket, read the caller ID, and groaned. He began packing his things up and you took that as he had to leave;

“Duty calls?” You asked.

“Yep. I’m sorry to cut this short.” He apologized,

“No worries. You know where to find me. It was nice to finally talk with you.” You said sweetly. 

He smiled a bright, happy smile. It warmed your heart.

“You too. I’ll see you next week for sure.” He returned the sentiment.

He was in a rush to get back to his office, but you ducked under the bar to grab one of your business cards that had your number on it. With all this talk about taking chances, you found it appropriate to take one yourself. In the split seconds it took you to grab a card, he had already dashed out of the bar and down the street. You laughed in amusement, shoving the card in your pocket. You saw that he had also left a healthy tip, but with a small piece of paper on it as well. 

Looks like you weren’t the only one wanting to take chances tonight.

He had left his office phone number as well as his cell phone number. With a small note that read; 

Consider this as me taking a chance of my own. Call me sometime. 

You grinned, making sure you didn’t lose the piece of paper. You wondered how he was able to scribble out a note and make it out of the bar in the few short moments that you weren’t paying attention. But it didn’t really matter. You had a new favorite customer.

One that was going to have a bigger impact on your life than you would ever dream of.

[novantinuum]

Intake, Ch. 2

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences 

Words: 3600~

Summary: While waiting in the van, Greg reflects on the current state of his son’s mental health, and his many questionable parenting decisions.

This is set multiple months pre The Future, and is a bonus Greg-POV follow up to a previous one-shot I wrote. No context of that is needed to understand this.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. AO3 link will be provided in the reblogs. Thank you! <3

____

Animated fireworks flash on Greg Universe’s phone screen, virtual fanfare for the virtual victor, as he clears the last king from the tableau. His brows shoot upwards in delight when he sees the final count of the timer. Wow, under three minutes. That’s close to a personal record. Not too shabby for a man who swears he finds a new strand of grey each and every week.

Another day, another successful round of solitaire in the bag.

Sighing, he almost clicks for a new deal, but then realizes it’s almost noon, and that his son is set to finish his first session any minute now. With that in mind, he switches off his phone and nestles it in the empty cup holder at his side, making sure it doesn’t touch the sticky soda stain covering a portion of the plastic. He’d kinda like to be paying attention when Steven exits the therapist’s office, rather than lose himself in a mindless distraction only to be startlingly yanked back to reality by timid knocks on the van door.

Timid.

If any word could be used to describe the way Steven dances around interactions with him these days, this one fits the bill. The boy will sometimes talk to him, sure, but it’s all small talk, short and curt responses, half-hearted shrugs. He’s positive there has to be more to his reluctance to fully engage, to even embrace him, but if so he’s not seeing it. At this point, the last time they had a true heart-to-heart conversation was on their road trip, before the crash. What on Earth happened? They used to be close. They used to share everything with each other, before he moved in with the Gems. Years later, he assumed they still did. And yet, after Dr. Maheswaran showed him the blunt reality of the X-rays on Steven’s chart... those dozens of healed-over fractures, speaking to a litany of injuries sustained throughout childhood, injuries he never knew about, all leading to trauma he never saw the signs of... he realized that, at some point, the two of them had drifted apart. When he was younger he thought he was correcting from his parents’ iron rule, letting his son have all the freedom he wanted. But was it too much? Was he that neglectful a father?

When did he stop paying attention to Steven’s emotional needs enough to miss his steep slip into mental distress?

He sighs, guilt lining the inside of his stomach like the burn of hard liquor coating one’s throat.

It’s not about me, he reminds himself. I can’t make it about me.

It’s the same mantra that kept him stubbornly pushing forward through waves of anguish and remorse weeks back, when his poor boy was roaring, slashing his claws at anyone that dared edge close, years of buried anger and pain thrown to the forefront in a veritable explosion of scales and thorns.

He glides his hand across the faux wood paneling on the dashboard as he consigns himself to recent memory, letting both his fingertips and his mind trace every dip and ridge of its grain. That was probably the most terrifying thing he’d ever witnessed in his life. His own son, disappearing in seconds into this... this monstrous thing, like all the corrupted Gems he used to see them fight from a distance but so, so much bigger. So much rawer. He genuinely thought he’d lost him forever that day. His own panic aside, he can’t even imagine what that experience must have been like for Steven. Remembering those heartbreaking three words he said before it happened, though, glowing pink on hands and knees, he’s not sure he wants to.

“Greg,” Dr. Priyanka Maheswaran says sternly as he exits the thrashed examination room, toting a clipboard under her arm. Her gaze, while undoubtedly sympathetic to the plight of the boy who’s currently changing back into his clothes in privacy, regards him with a fiery sort of reproval the likes he hasn’t squirmed under since he was a child himself. “We need to have a frank conversation about your son’s wellbeing.”

From the corner of his eyes he catches a blur of pink and faded denim blue pushing through the small office’s exterior door. Greg jolts to action, wiping what he fears is a self-pitying look off his face and attempting to replace it with something that looks halfway encouraging. Part of him’s terrified that no matter what he changes, it‘ll never be enough. He’s admittedly still at a loss for how to most helpfully interact with someone struggling with, erm... well, let’s be blunt— with long-untreated mental illness— but he’d do anything for his son’s sake at this point, even if that involves the hard work of addressing his own habits and convictions. He unlocks the van just as Steven walks up alongside.

He can’t help but briefly hold his breath the moment the passenger door opens.

The teen appears no different than he did when Greg left the office to sit in the van an hour and a half ago— his eyes are downcast, drawn with exhaustion, expression unreadable— but to be fair he supposes it’s silly to expect any drastic shift in mood after only one session. Right?

“Now, to be clear, I’m not licensed to diagnose mental disorders,” she explains, glancing up from her notes, “but from everything I’ve witnessed, tested, and heard from him today I have a strong suspicion that he’s dealing with post-traumatic stress.” Mouth pinched, she drops her clipboard on the counter beside them, its dull clap as it hits the laminate punctuating the sheer gravity of her words. “There’s my prognosis,” she says bluntly, palms spread wide. “This looks like textbook PTSD, ignored and overlooked for months.”

Greg lets the bitter reality of those four letters sink in, his eyes burning, throat dry, his heart cracking with despair at the very thought of— he only barely holds back what he’s sure in this circumstance, host to the scolding of a medical practitioner, is a pathetic sob— of his Steven, suffering through all these turbulent emotions for goodness knows how long, no one the wiser, no one noticing his silent cries for help, no one—

He... god, he didn’t know. He didn’t know! How could he have been so stupid to not have noticed?

“You do understand how serious this situation is, yes?” she continues when he doesn’t vocally respond. “How- how irresponsible it is to have never taken your sixteen-year-old son in for even, what? A simple check up? And, and—“ she holds her hands up before he can blurt out a response. “I know what you’re about to say. I know he’s half-Gem, I know he’s different than anyone else on this planet. But he has human needs, too, Greg! I just—!” Priyanka inhales deep, pressing her thumb against her temple as she pauses to catch her cool. “Pardon me. I’m sorry for snapping. I know you love him, and mean well with him, but at this point, we need to face the truth. That boy is hurting, badly. And if he’s going to have any chance of recovering from this, he needs your full support now more than ever.”

The passenger seatbelt clicks, the door already closed. Steven sighs under his breath, sinking into the time-worn, faded seat back. Greg studies his son’s face for a moment, noting with concern the lines of stress creased under his eyes.

“Hey, bud,” he says, his hands shifting to the wheel, nervously fidgeting as he waits for a response, any response.

“Hey,” he mutters, already pulling out his phone. (Probably to text Connie, if he has to guess. Greg counts himself thankful that he has this solid friendship to help anchor him at such a difficult point in his life. Simultaneously, his heart aches knowing the stress that girl’s surely gone through by choosing to be a support for him.)

“How... erm, how’d it go?”

He gives him a big shrug, his fingertips blazing across the screen in an almost dizzying display of dexterity. “It went.”

Greg’s fingers rap against the sun-stained leather. “You still game for gettin’ some food?”

“Yeah. That’s fine.”

Okay. Good. Lunchtime is a go, then, he thinks, diverting his notice to the keys in the ignition. Despite this, there’s a shade of disappointment that tints the atmosphere within this space. Unable to shake the harrowing feeling that he failed some sort of unspoken test with his son, he starts the van and— mentally plotting a course to that good Thai place Steven discovered a few months back— carefully pulls out of the cramped parking lot onto the main road, hoping that this extension to their time together may eventually chip away at the ice that’s formed between them.

Some classic rock plays on the radio as he drives, a band Greg distantly recalls hearing via his classmates in high school but can’t remember the name of. The singer’s mellow tenor effortlessly fills the gaps left behind in their timid silence. Briefly glancing away from the road, he catches Steven’s fingers tapping against his phone to the beat as he waits for a reply to his text, lips drawn. It’s an almost minuscule display, so subtle that any untrained eye might miss it, but witnessing this proof that his son is still very much capable of finding pleasure in music, however small said source of pleasure may be, he can’t help but smile. Soon enough, he passes the crooked street lamp on the corner of Glover and 4th that he always uses as a mental marker when navigating around the small town of Seaside, and takes a quick left at the next stoplight. It’s funny... this place is only twenty or so miles away from home, but given gas costs and his habitual frugalness, he hasn’t explored this county enough over the years to form a good internal map beyond Beach City. Perhaps now, with his son coming to this town every week for therapy, that will change.

The song ends on a sleek guitar riff, and quickly transitions back to the station’s upbeat radio personality.

“You’re listening to Dragon’s Hoard FM, your home for all of music’s greatest treasures! Next up, a trip down memory lane... to a fan favorite from the 1971 best-selling artist... welcome to the party, Kerry Moonbeam.”

Static pours through his nerves as the next number begins to play, (why now, why now, what cruel cosmic timing is this??), robbing all sensation from his fingers. His knuckles grow uncharacteristically pale as he clutches at the wheel, wrestling for dominance.

“Looking for your place in the universe...”

He doesn’t dare shift his gaze from traffic this time, but all he can see in his mind’s eye is that glowing, nauseatingly bright pink. The unwavering tension hanging over them, thick as smog, as their conversation grows terse and grim. His son at the helm, the demons of their past steering their trajectory far out of anyone’s control, as— angered and upset over what he now accepts are entirely rational things— he openly calls out his failures, his lack of structure, lack of attention, his—

“Don’t you know the universe is looking too~ Looking for its place in yo—“

And with the twist of a knob, it’s over. Some local station replaces those tense airwaves, bringing him relief from tainted memory in an instant. His hand quivers as it returns to command of the wheel. In the passenger seat, Steven glances up from his text conversation with that instinctual concern he’s so prone to, eyes blown wide and colored with equal parts confusion and sympathy.

Notably, there’s not a sign of pink.

Swallowing hard, Greg considers saying something in explanation, but in the tangled complexity of their current relationship he can’t think of anything worth saying. Eventually, his throat runs dry in his own silence. His son stops gawking at him like another problem to be fixed, attention drifting back to his phone. His muscles loosen in sheer relief.

He sighs under his breath as he slows for a pedestrian at the crosswalk. Willfully, he buries himself in the mindless drivel of the local talk show he switched to for the rest of the drive, allowing their distant voices to cover the aching, lonely gap torn in his heart.

____

They put in their order when the waitress arrives, Steven settling on pad thai with egg and tofu, and Greg falling back on an old favorite with fried rice and pork. She jots this down on her notepad in a jiffy, pours them some water, then hurriedly scuttles behind the curtain that separates the kitchen from the remainder of the restaurant. It is the lunch rush, after all.

Thankfully though, even amongst the rush the two of them were lucky enough to be seated at a cozy table nestled against the back wall, affording them a decent amount of privacy. There’s enough ambient chit-chat bouncing around the room that Greg doesn’t feel eaten alive by that aching isolation he endured on the almost silent drive over, but not enough that these people’s presence feels suffocating. Steven slowly sips at his water as he politely listens to his updates on Sadie and Shep’s blossoming music career. He’s not saying much in response beyond asking the appropriate follow-up questions and then nodding his head at his answers, but in the end, that’s fine. Even if the recent lack of depth to their conversations bothers him, even if his son’s silence shatters his heart, in his mind it’s not fair to pressure him to interact in a manner he‘s not ready for yet. Greg just needs to be patient. He’ll open up to him when the time is right. There’s no need to push so hard that the remaining threads stringing their relationship together snap altogether, which is— if he’s honest— the future he fears the most.

The one where he becomes no better than his own over-controlling parents.

With his fingers obsessively rapping alongside the side of his glass, he continues to make substance-less small talk, anything to aid in the illusion that the two of them can still carry a conversation together.

“So yeah, that’s where they’re at right now,” he says. “They said they’re gonna put a pause on the touring, and start working on a full album.”

“Nice. Good for them,” Steven responds, the lines under his eyes betraying his underlying exhaustion, even if it appears he’s trying his hardest to mask it. (But for who’s sake?) “And you, you’re still gonna...?”

“Be their manager, yes. That’s still the plan.”

“Cool, cool.“

Their words fade amongst the ambient chatter, neither immediately leaping to comment further.

He softly clears his throat. “And, uh... in the end, I’ll be there whenever they need me, y’know? They might decide they want someone else supportin’ them along some day, and that’s fine.” He wrings his hands together atop the table, watching his son closely. “I only want the best for them.”

The teen’s hollow glance flits across the restaurant, landing from person to person, his leg bouncing nervously under the table all the while. Upon sensing this, it suddenly hits Greg that this is the first time Steven’s been out in busy public beyond the familiar faces of Beach City. For a second he can’t help but fret that all this activity— therapist’s waiting room, awkward car ride, going out to a busy restaurant at noon— will only serve to stress the poor kid out, but then again... pressing his silent worries onto the situation won’t help anyone. The only thing that’s important right now is for his son to know he’s always loved. Always heard, always seen, from this moment on.

After all his failures as a guardian in the years prior, it’s the least he can do.

And then, as Steven’s gaze shifts back into focus, Greg can wholeheartedly sense that he’s mentally engaged, delicate machinery in his mind whirring away as he processes every facet of this conversation, this moment, this place. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and then opens his mouth to speak.

“With Sadie and Shep, well...” He scratches at the back of his neck, not quite sustaining eye contact. “I’m sure that... no matter what the future holds, they’ll always appreciate the support you did give them. Even if some of that support maaaybe wasn’t exactly what they needed at the time,” he adds as an afterthought, voice falling soft.

Something within his chest unshackles upon hearing these words, their double meaning more than clear to him. He blinks hard, desperately trying not to utterly break down in front of his own kid. “Steven, I—“

His attempt to piece together a heartfelt response is interrupted by the arrival of their lunch, steam wafting off each plate as the waitress sets them both on the table. They both offer their thanks, and unwind their utensils from their napkins. He’s quick to dig in to his fried rice and pork, having not eaten a full meal since last night. Steven, on the other hand, picks and prods at his entrée, something he’s noticed has become a concerningly common occurrence in recent weeks. He still eats, thank the stars, but not with zeal.

Greg is already midway through his plate before by the time his son‘s just started to put a dent into his own. The teen twirls his chopsticks around a clump of noodles and bean sprouts, seeming more lost in thought than usual. A moment passes, and he opens his mouth as if he’s about to speak up, but quickly shuts it again.

His brow creases with equal parts worry and curiosity. “You got somethin’ on your mind, bud?”

Steven frowns, abandoning his otherwise proficient chopstick skills to stab the tip of one of them into a hunk of tofu. “I guess it’s just that... well... nothing about that appointment was what I expected,” he says, and lifts his utensil to take a bite.

“Oh, yeah?” he prompts, and leans into the table with a surplus of attentiveness. All the while, he’s waging a desperate internal battle not to seem like he’s clinging to his each and every word. (Just let him open up at his own pace, Greg. Don’t be suffocating. Encourage him, but give him time.)

“It wasn’t like, bad,” he murmurs softly, his blank gaze drifting across the ornaments and framed art strewn across the restaurant walls. “But we barely even talked about the last few months? I thought we would, but we didn’t. Instead, he just asked a lot of questions about you, the Gems, Beach City, what it was like growing up. Some clarification on the history of the Diamonds, and the war. I dunno,” he shrugs, and twirls his chopsticks through his pad thai again. “It was kinda strange.”

Greg reflects for a moment on his son’s words, recalling with a slight grimace the first conversation he and the Gems had with Steven about considering therapy. At first he was strongly resistant to the idea, almost indignantly so, claiming that he could “sort this all out by himself” given time, that no one could ever relate to his exact problems enough to be of any help, and that he didn’t want to make his stupid life someone else’s burden in the first place. And even when they managed to convince him to give it a try, he still admitted worry about finding someone who knew enough about Gems to be qualified to treat him. So in that case, he can understand if the teen feels a little nervous, being asked so many questions about his complex lineage.

“Yeah, I hear ya’,” he nods, and then— catching the inside of his cheek between his teeth, rapidly weighing the pros and cons of risking a more in-depth comment— “With what Dr. Maheswaran’s told me about therapy, though, that sounds about normal for a first session, for anyone.”

Steven visibly perks up, perhaps in relief that for once his experience isn’t a unique exception like many other things in his childhood... schooling, housing situation, etc. etc... have been.

“Really? What- what did she say about it?”

“Mostly that it’s important for therapists to build context so they can better understand their client’s current state, or something like that.”

“Huh,” he says thoughtfully, sitting back in his chair. “Well, I guess that makes sense.”

“In the end, you’re definitely not the only one in this boat, Schtu-ball. And that‘s gotta be a little reassuring, yeah?”

He smiles in response. It’s small, merely a slight upward tilt of his lip, but it’s there. “Yeah. I suppose it is.”

____

Their conversation fades back into small-talk after that, but by that point Greg doesn’t feel so bothered. Instead, he feels as if a colossal weight’s been lifted from his chest. He’s not sure Steven fully understands the gift he’s given him today, opening up a little about his inner life after so many long weeks of self imposed silence, but the reassurance it’s offered about the state of their bond is astronomical. It promises healing, a brand new chance to listen and understand.

To change and grow in relationship together, father and son.

“Hey, Dad?” he asks hesitantly as he climbs into the passenger seat.

“Yeah, bud?”

He diverts his attention from the dashboard for just a moment, just long enough to catch a glimpse of the teenager. Clutching their leftovers in his lap, Steven’s eyes land on the stack of CDs tucked into the door pocket.

“D’ya think we can listen to one of your albums on the way back?”

With a watery smile, he switches the van’s radio to disk mode.

“Take your pick.”

[welllpthisishappening]

Newbie here for all the hockey and Captain Swan nonsense (and pretty much everything else on your blog!) Can I request either "bloody kiss" or "a hoarse whisper “kiss me”"? Also, I definitely am interested in what Big Bang you just completed!

Hi, hello, welcome to this nonsense! You can absolutely request both of those things and I can semi fill those prompts with far more words than I was planning on writing. Eventually, maybe these prompts won’t all be canon, but that’s apparently the vibe we’re riding right now. Everyone else is welcome to partake in the aforementioned nonsense of this blog and the kiss prompts extravaganza so I don’t keep shouting about the book I finished this morning. It was real dumb. Like, super dumb. Anyway, here’s some making out. 

“You know I could hear you?”

He doesn’t hear. Her. Emma. Almost hears. Words filter through a haze that appears to finally be catching up with Killian, eyelids fluttering and pulse steadying and he imagines a lot of that has to do with the placement of her fingers. Trailing across his forehead and just above one of his eyebrows, studying him with a sort of intensity that he knows only she has. 

Fiancée. She’s his fiancée, again. 

Even the thought makes his heart feel as if it’s going to beat its way out of his chest. Explode, possibly. That would be rather violent though. Could ruin the moment, as it were. 

“When was that, exactly?” 

He mumbles. Barely moves his lips. Can only manage to crack open one of his eyes and it’s not the one with the eyebrow Emma appears so intent on memorizing. Not that he’s especially opposed to the memorization. Of his eyebrow or any other part of him, not after another involuntary and far too long separation and he hopes Blackbeard drowns. 

Somewhere off the coast of Neverland. 

None of those mermaids are particularly merciful. In Killian’s experience, at least. 

“Couple days ago,” Emma says, “the chest started talking.”

He opens the other eye. “Be more specific.”

“You’ve got an exceptionally dirty mind.”

“Chose your words more carefully then,” he challenges, but there’s no real heat behind his words. Not that way, at least. “Do you think we’re winning now?”

“In the non-existent True Love race?”

Smiling as widely and as suddenly as Killian does threatens the structural integrity of his cheeks. Both of them. Muscles strain from lack of use and recent frown-like tendencies, and furrowing his brow even a little bit sends a flash of pain through all of him. Gods, but he’s tired. And strangely comfortable. Stretched across sheets that apparently boast a rather high thread count, though he’s still a little shaky as to what, exactly that is, and even less sure it really matters, not when her fingers are so soft and his heart continues to do that erratic beating thing and—“Last I heard your mind-reading powers were a little suspect, witch.”

“I don’t think we’ve reached the insult portion of the evening.”

He chuckles. Keeps smiling. Doesn’t even consider pulling her fingers down. Despite the growing need to kiss directly beneath her ring for as long as she’ll allow. “Let me know when we get there, aye? And yes, I do believe we are. Winning, that is. Underworld challenges, magical doors fueled by magical flowers. Am I missing anything?’

“Sucks we didn’t get a rainbow kiss.”

“Perhaps that’s waiting in the wings. Of romance and whatnot.”

Listening to her laugh is his favorite thing in the world. Bar none. The way it flutters out of her occasionally, like she’s still a little surprised that it happens and Killian used to worry about that. Not anymore; not now, certainly. Now, he wants to keep surprising Emma. Wants to be surprised. To never grow entirely complacent or completely content. Although, he’s awfully close to content now. If he’s being honest. 

Piracy often frowns upon complete honesty. 

“Maybe,” Emma concedes, “and you’re not letting me tell my story.” “You’ve got very distracting fingers, that’s why.”

She rolls her eyes. Keeps tracing and it’s wonderful and comforting and—

Killian hisses. Grits his teeth before he can completely school his features, which makes Emma’s expression twist almost immediately and he’s not interested in that. Unless the twist is coming from the precise way her hips tend to buck when she’s beneath him. As it is, her eyes widen and his breath catches and she pulls her fingers away. From the gash he’d almost forgotten was on his forehead. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she chants, but he’s already moving, and using the hook he’d removed hours ago to tear off a corner of the shirt he also should have taken off is not quite as simple as he’d like. Takes a moment for him to get any worthwhile fabric off, dragging it immediately across Emma’s blood-stained fingertips. 

“Stop that. Apologizing does not become you, Your Highness.”

“That’s stupid.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

Her eyes widen. More. To an almost comical size, catching Killian off guard because he means those words as well. The syllables, too. Down to each letter and each sound that rolls off his tongue and he’d like to use his tongue for a variety of other things, but this feels important and a line they can’t come back from, and Emma’s magic surges. Jumps over him in a way that feels as much like a blanket as a semi-aggressive wave and he supposes there’s something in that contradiction. To the way he feels and the way they are and a True Love competition that absolutely does not exist. 

He knows he’s not bleeding anymore. Neither one of them move the fabric from her fingers. 

“I’m sorry,” Emma repeats on a whisper, shaking her head before Killian can so much as open his mouth to object, “for not thinking and not trusting and I—well, maybe the shell phone was another True Love sign. That puts us at three, at least. Definitely winning.”

Heart explosion does not hurt nearly as much as Killian expects. And his heart’s been yanked and squeezed and used against him, more often than he thinks is average. Even in this realm. So he’s got plenty to compare it to. Only now—well, he doesn’t think his heart is actually bursting and he cares less about the realm than the people in. About the flash of golden hair he noticed well before his eyes met hers and he knows he’ll think about the way she stumbled over her own feet in a magical doorway every single night for the rest of his already far-too-long life.  

He only cares about her. That’s the point, he supposes. 

“I love you too,” Emma says, answering a message from several days earlier. “How did you hit your head, by the way?”

“Blackbeard is a noted bastard.”

“God, fuck that guy.”

Scoffing is not laughing, but weariness is creeping back beneath his skin and Emma’s lips quirk up all the same. He’s staring, that’s how he notices. Unabashedly, so. And it’s entirely possible she’s blushing. “That’s the spirit, aye. You really could hear me?”

“Yeah. It’s, uh—there was tear magic involved, apparently, so I guess you couldn’t hear me?” She doesn’t mean for it to come out as a question. Killian knows. Shakes his head anyway. “Right, right, yeah, I figured, and I...well, I knew you wouldn’t leave, too. Even when I wanted you to have left.”

“You wanted me to have left?”

“That sounds shit, that’s not—” Emma’s nose bumps his. There’s not much room between them. So, he kisses her fingers. Makes sense. Plus, he doesn’t have much space to do anything else. “That’s not what I mean, not really. If you left, then it was just...another failure, you know. Would have made it easier to shove into the corner, try not to think about it because I could say I always knew it would happen, or I expected it. But that’s as shit as advertised and I know you’d never do that and I don’t want you to do that, don’t want you to leave, not again or ever and—”

“I think you should kiss me,” Killian interrupts. Gruffer than he’d like, and he’s not capable of magic anymore. Can’t rip hearts out of chests or threaten them with anything more than this realm’s poor food options, but he’s fairly certain the golden-haired woman lying impossibly close to him on these ridiculously soft sheets is all too aware that she already holds his heart in both her hands. And he can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather it be. 

She moves. All arms and feet, fingers in his hair and mouth slamming into him, catching his gasp and his groan in equal measure while he tosses the goddamn hook on the floor. It falls with a clatter that draws laughter out of both of them and makes it easier to pull Emma against his chest, Killian already shifting onto his back while his tongue manages to accomplish at least a few of the things it would like to. 

Nails scratch and hips do, in fact, buck. Desperately searching for a rhythm and tearing a bit more at clothes he’s willing to burn eventually. There’s no rainbow. No swelling or invisible orchestra, save for the roar between Killian’s ears, but he can’t bring himself to worry and finds it ridiculous to care. 

He knows. Emma knows. The goddamn magical door knew. And his message got back, even if it wasn’t perfect. To her, just like he did. 

For as long as they both should live.

[suwya]

Till the Stars Had Run Away - Chapter 5

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Summary: Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."

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Rating: M

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Prologue; Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

AO3

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A/N: Thank you @thisonesatellite​ for being the best beta I could ever ask for . And thank to all of you who are reading this.

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Chapter 5 . .

“Do not wait to strike

 till the iron is hot;

but make it hot

by striking.”

(W. B. Yeats)

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Everyone on the Jolly Roger was almost ready to start the journey back home and the crew was busy sorting out the last details. In the end, the little holiday had been a pleasant one; Emma was happy she had decided to embark on this adventure. But she also looked a bit worried. Wrinkles showed up on her forehead while she was chewing her bottom lip. “Henry, would you mind checking if everything is in order in our cabin?”

As soon as the kid left the main hall, Emma approached Killian. “Can I talk to you for one second?” 

Killian observed how she was acting anxiously, often checking on the door in case Henry would come back. “No need to find an excuse with your boy. If you want to spend some time alone with me, you just have to ask.” He tried to minimize the moment.

She answered him with a roll of her eyes, but it was clear that something was bothering her. “Are we leaving already?” She asked.

“Probably not before tomorrow morning. I need some more time to replace the fuel and our water supplies.”

“Oh, okay.” Was her short reply. But Killian detected apprehension.

“What’s the rush?” He inquired.

She dismissed the matter with a wave of her hand and he decided to take advantage of the moment alone with her. “Why did you accept?” He suddenly asked. “To come on this trip.” He added to her puzzled expression.

“I just want to offer Henry every possible chance to live a life full of good experiences.”

Killian hummed, but he had a feeling there was something more. He made another step towards her, invading her space, and he could now distinguish the freckles that dotted her cheeks, which he found very endearing. He tilted his head and kept his eyes connected with hers, trying to read what she was not telling him.

Emma did not step back nor she lowered her stare, but she was biting her lower lip again. "And I have a lead." She admitted eventually. 

He didn't see that coming and arched an eyebrow in question. "Come again?"

She looked briefly over her shoulder towards the door, but Henry wasn't in sight. "I may have found someone that could have information about my adoptive parents and their plan," she whispered in case Henry could hear her, "I know where this person is, but I don’t know how to reach him."

Killian was all ears even though he somehow already knew he wouldn't like what was coming next.

"I need a favor,” she started explaining. “This man, he appears to be on a planet… ahm...” She handed him a little piece of paper with some coordinates. “Here, see? Do you think we could make a stopover there on our way back home?”

Killian glanced briefly at the numbers written on the paper and nodded. An unpleasant feeling of anxiety was growing inside him. 

“I have already arranged an appointment, well sort of, with this guy.” Emma went on. “I can set the meeting at an hour when Henry should be already asleep. He doesn't usually wake up at night, but in case he does… would you distract him until I come back?"

"What kind of appointment? Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Will you?" She insisted, avoiding his questions.

Killian sighed. "On one condition.”

“Shoot."

“What’s this guy’s name?” Killian asked as if it wasn’t a big deal.

Emma stared at him for a few seconds. “Are you going to check on him?”

“Of course I will.”

“I have already done that. Thank you, but you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m the captain here, and I have to take all the possible precautions when it comes to my ship. And you meeting someone whose name I don’t even know could represent a risk.” Killian was starting to lose his patience. Everything about this appointment was screaming danger.

Emma crossed her arms in front of her defensively, but in the end, she surrendered. “Fine. His name is Sidney Glass and he’s a journalist, he’s not a criminal or anything. He travels a lot, that’s why I’m pretty sure he’s got more current information than what I have about New-Tolemac.”

“So what’s the plan, Swan? Seduce him until he speaks?” He asked sardonically. 

“Would it be any problem?” She retorted.

He swallowed hard. “I don’t like it. If he’s a journalist, it won’t be easy to make him spill any possible secret he may know.”

Emma looked behind her back again. Still no sign of her son. “Will you take care of Henry or not?”

Killian finally nodded. “I assure you, nothing will happen to the boy while he’s in my charge.” But his gut told him he was already regretting the decision.

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~·~·~·~

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Days passed quietly. Killian tried to bring up the topic from time to time, but she wasn’t keen on talking about her upcoming appointment, always avoiding his questions and rapidly changing the subject. She was also spending less and less time sitting near him in the main cabin at night, just in case he started worrying again. He suspected she knew that meeting this man could be risky, but he soon learned how stubborn she could be, especially with a goal in mind. 

That’s why he was surprised when the evening before the scheduled appointment she approached him while cooking dinner. Henry was sitting nearby, immersed in his tablet. 

“What the hell is that thing?” She asked pointing to a big hairy bug Killian was holding.

“It’s a mottled furry cockroach.” He answered as the most obvious thing.

“Yuck!” Emma scrunched her nose in disgust. “It’s huge!”

“This one? Oh, no, it’s just a baby. Grown-ups can reach even 3.5 feet length.” Killian seemed delighted.

“Is it dead?”

“Of course it is. One little bite of this creature and you’re going to pass some nasty hours of life. Its foam is poisonous.” He explained.

 “And what exactly are we going to do with it?” 

“Why, eat it!” Was his answer. “It’s our dinner.”

“You are not being serious, are you?”

“Believe me, with a nut of garlic butter and some secret spices only I know, it’s exquisite.”

She moved close to him, probably more than necessary. He shot an inquisitive look at her. She spoke as lower as she could so that Henry couldn't listen. “Are you trying to poison me, so that I can’t go to my appointment?”

He turned towards her and stared directly into her eyes, his face mere inches from hers. “Try something new, love, it’s called trust.” And he could sense a sudden shift in her behavior, even though he didn't know if it was because she was making an effort and opening her trust to him or if it was because they were standing so close he could feel her warm breath on his face. They stayed like that for a few beats of their hearts.

“Could you please stop making eyes at each other when I'm in the same room? It's gross.” Henry said behind them. 

Emma hurried back to the table “I don't do that”, she stated, while Killian tried to concentrate on the ingredients in front of him even if he couldn't suppress a smile. What the hell was with this woman that made him act like a teenager with his first crush?

As soon as the meal was prepared Killian served it on a metallic tray accompanied by some rehydrated vegetables. When all were served with their portion of food, he opened a bottle of yellow sauce and poured just the right amount on the plates. After that, he sat down waiting for his guests’ reactions.

Emma was fidgeting with her fork, moving pieces of food from one side of the plate to the other. 

Henry was the first one in giving in to it, always famished. “It's not bad at all!” He exclaimed enthusiastically. 

Killian put his right elbow on the table and rested his head on his hand. He was staring expectantly at Emma.

“Okay, let's do this!” She breathed. And then she put a piece of meat in her mouth and closed her eyes, probably for savoring it better, or maybe for just not seeing what she was eating. After a couple of seconds, she emitted a sound that Killian would describe as a moan “God. This is delicious!” She purred.

Killian’s mouth fell open. He was conscious of ogling her and his pupils were probably already dilated, but he couldn't help himself.

As soon as Emma opened her eyes and met his, a bright red color flushed her cheeks, but Killian couldn't figure out if it was because she suddenly understood what she had just done, or because his inappropriate thoughts were written all over his face like an open book. 

“Guys, you're doing it again.” Henry managed to say with his mouth full of food without averting his eyes from his plate.

The rest of the dinner passed in awkward silence.

.

.

~·~·~·~

.

.

It was already dark when Emma emerged from her door, wearing a skin-tight black dress that left little to the imagination. A dark leather jacket that she wore hanging from one shoulder and high heels of the same color completed her outfit.

Killian was just walking from the main cabin to the ship's entrance when he stopped short: jaw dropped, admiring the vision before him. "You look stunning." He breathed.

He tried to move towards her as casually as possible, adjusting his trousers to relieve the sudden unpleasant pressure and praying to the gods that she didn't notice it. But of course, she did, if her quick look down and a sudden blush on her cheeks were any indication.

"Good." She exhaled not making eye contact with him. 

"Remind me why letting you go alone is a good idea." He spoke in a low voice at a cautious distance from her, restraining the urge to put a rebellious lock behind her ear.

"I can take care of myself." She stated finally looking defiantly in his eyes.

"I’m aware of that. But that Glass man, you don't know anything about him. Just be careful."

She swayed a bit towards him, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're being jealous." She was teasing him, he didn't need to be a mind reader to know it. But that wasn't the time to play that game, so he just gave her a warning look.

"Don't fuck it up." She smiled, and then she stepped next to him, invading him with her scent. She put her mouth to his ear and whispered: “And yes, the pun was intended.” 

With that, she turned back and made her exit through the main gate.

Bloody Hell! Killian thought.

.

.

~·~·~·~

.

.

As soon as Emma left the ship, Killian sat down at his control board and switched on his computer. He inserted the name of Sidney Glass and waited until he had all the results. He had already checked on the man several times, but he hadn’t found anything conclusive yet. Maybe there wasn’t anything to find out, but something inside him was telling him to keep looking.

Not much appeared on the screen. A bunch of local prizes for articles he had written years ago. Appearances in several news conferences on various planets. He didn’t seem to have a family and he had traveled a lot. 

This was frustrating. Sidney looked clean, this should have reassured him, and yet... But then two words appeared on the screen: "Lepka Industry". The man had worked for the Industry at an early age. It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? Killian thought.

What are you getting into? The LED light started to blink. 

“Not now, Liam.” Was Killian’s short answer.

If I were you, I would go back to Althea-Seals as soon as possible, deposit that woman and her lad safe at home, and forget about them forever. 

“Well, luckily, you’re not me.”

You don't know her, brother, you have no idea what troubles she could bring. And any connection with the Industry, even the most feeble one, means danger. You, of all people, should know that. Listen to me, Killian. Forget about her, before it's too late.

A voice inside Killian whispered to listen to his older brother, always with words of wisdom. But another voice, louder, was suggesting to ignore him. “Maybe it's already too late.” He sighed. .

.

~·~·~·~

.

.    And it was late, indeed. Literally. Too much for his likes. More than three hours had passed since Emma had gone out, and she hadn’t come back yet. Killian was starting to feel anxious. What if something had happened to her? And he was stuck on his ship, taking care of her son. He went to the kitchen counter and poured a glass of his favorite liquor. He stared at it but didn’t drink it. He shouldn't indulge in its temptation. Henry was sleeping just a door down from him.

He was still pondering the option of swallowing the amber liquid or not when Emma opened the main gate with the code Killian had previously given to her.

First thing inside she took off her high heeled shoes, balancing precariously on her wobbly legs. She looked very tired. 

 “I’m exhausted” she exhaled “and I had too many drinks.”

“How was your date?” He tried to ask nonchalantly. He didn't want to show her how annoyed he was, but he couldn't help a scowl.

“It wasn't a date.” Was her dry reply.

 He released a sarcastic chuckle.

 She watched him carefully, “Are you drunk?” 

“I would never do that while in charge of your boy, Swan.” His patience was hanging by a thread.

Emma approached him. Killian straightened his back and stared into her eyes, trying to keep control of the situation, and not wanting to give her the privilege of berating him without case, but his confidence had never intimidated her. She looked at the glass he was still holding and took it from his grasp drinking it down as if it were water. He was impressed, he knew his rum should have burned her throat. 

“You still haven't answered my question.” He insisted.

“I don't know.” Was her evasive answer.

“And what does that mean?” 

She shrugged. “I had some news, but not what I expected to hear.”

Bloody infuriating woman. Killian internally cursed. “Good or bad news?”

She exchanged the glass with the bottle on the counter and drank directly from that. “I don't want to talk right now.” She had no intention of divulging more information, it was clear in her posture. She was trying hard to maintain control over the situation.

He was not one to back down from a challenge. “And what do you want to do?”

At her lack of reply, he pressed “Did he touch you?”

She took another sip without averting her eyes from his, but without answering either.

To hell with personal space, he thought. With a quick movement, he took the bottle from her and deposited it in the sink, then he cornered her between himself and the kitchen counter. “Did you have fun, Princess?” He asked, mocking her royal title.

“You don't have a right to question my actions, Jones.”

“Believe me, I'm very well aware of it!” He stated, punctuating the last consonant, his face at mere inches from hers. The first thing Killian registered was that she lowered her eyes to his mouth. The second thing was that she vehemently grabbed the lapels of his vest. The third was the distinct sensation of her burning lips on his. And he had the clear impression that in the kiss she was putting all of her frustrations, and all of her hopes, and all of her exhaustion, and whatever other feeling she was experiencing.

It was frantic and desperate and hot. And Killian’s head was swirling: because of the lack of oxygen, because everything in her was intoxicating because he was already addicted and she was his drug.

“That was…” he murmured when they had to split up to recover some air.

But she didn't let him finish. “A one-time thing.” She disentangled from him and when she reached her cabin without looking back she said “goodnight Captain,” and disappeared behind the door. .

.

~·~·~·~

.

.

When Emma got out of bed the next morning, she had a dull headache from her hangover and a feeling that something was wrong. The ship was swaying, Killian had probably taken off during night, not wanting to waste other time to get home. Her mind immediately flew to him and the last moments of the previous day. 

She had kissed him. Why? What had she been thinking? She told herself that she had probably drunk more than she could handle and she shouldn't give it any importance, but would go on behaving towards Killian exactly as she had done before. Nothing would change. They were both adults and it had been just a kiss. 

But what a hell of a kiss it was. She couldn’t avoid thinking about it. 

She couldn't fool herself either. She felt attracted to him, and he was probably aware of it, too. With his self-confidence, his lean torso, his ever unkempt dark hair, and his scruffy stubble. But Emma was not one who easily surrendered to a man's charms. She didn't want to get lost in the ocean blue of his eyes. She wanted to be found. The problem was that she didn't know if she could trust him.

But it was not just the turmoil of a morning after that was bothering her, something wasn’t right, she could sense it. A shake and a loud noise confirmed her foreboding. Henry woke up with a start and they briefly looked at each other before bursting into the main cabin. “What was that?” They asked in unison.

The ship was shaking and Killian had visible difficulties keeping it stable. The knuckles of his right hand were white with the effort and his bionic hand was in an impossible position. Through the windows, they could spot a very close planet. 

The red LED was blinking and the metallic voice resounded in the cabin: Damages on the orbital maneuvering system and the vertical stabilizer, one of the propulsion engines is offline. I’m asking permission for landing, but I’m not getting any signals back.

Something shiny passed close to the ship. 

“Was that a meteorite?” Henry asked.

“I have no idea what that was. The moment we entered the gravitational layer of this bloody planet, those bright flying things appeared out of nowhere.” 

“Are we being attacked?” Was Emma’s worried question. “And why did we go so close to land?”

“There wasn’t supposed to be a planet here!” Killian was almost shouting from frustration.

Another loud bang shook the ship even worse.

“To hell with permissions! Hold tight, we’re landing over there.” He exclaimed, pointing to what looked like a spaceship's port.

Emma sat down on the same chair she used to sit at night. Then took Henry’s arm as an invitation to sit upon her knees and so Killian could keep doing his job without interference. The boy was already reaching for the man in his endless need to be helpful, he probably thought that he could give a hand in holding up the steering. But another flashing thing hit the ship and a piercing alarm started echoing through the cabin. That deterred Henry and he sat upon Emma’s lap, grabbing his mother's shoulders to avoid falling as a strong jolt shook the ship to its foundations. 

While they approached the ground, big rocks appeared outside the windows, floating, and they became incandescent as soon as they came in contact with whatever atmosphere was surrounding the planet. 

Was this land itself spitting meteorites? Killian tried to understand what was happening, but even if he had traveled to many different places, he had never seen anything like that. He was also worried about his crew, he wanted to look at them, be sure they were all right, but he was too concentrated on avoiding the rocks and not getting hit again.

The port was approaching fast. Killian internally prayed to the Gods above that the brakes would still work properly. He just hoped that someone could rescue the three of them alive.

After what seemed to be a long and quite difficult maneuver, the ship touched down. He turned off the engines and everything went silent. They looked at each other, waiting for a sign of life, but nothing came. Killian leaned his head against the back of the chair and exhaled. Then he got up and started rummaging through his belongings.

Emma and Henry were clinging to each other, but the boy slipped away and ran towards Killian hugging him. “You did it!” He exclaimed. The man was taken aback by this show of affection, he scratched a spot behind his right ear and tried to defuse “I’m a hell of a Captain!”

Killian took a shoulder bag from behind his hammock, and two laser pistols, delivering one of them to Emma. “What are you doing?” She asked, holding cautiously the weapon in her hand.

“We sent a request for an emergency landing and nobody answered. This planet does not appear in any known charts. I am taking the necessary precautions, it's best to be prepared for anything, good or bad.”

“I want a weapon, as well.” Henry stood there with his back straight and his hands on his hips, to reaffirm his statement. 

“No way.” Emma thought that was enough to put an end to the subject.

“But what if I’m in danger and I need to defend myself?” He insisted stubbornly.

Killian retrieved his automatic harpoon from a locker near the control dashboard. “Take this. Munitions should be downstairs.” But before Henry could run towards the stairs, he grabbed the boy’s elbow and added “Don’t use it unless it’s necessary, lad. And try not to hurt yourself.” Henry nodded and ran away enthusiastically. 

Stunned by the remark, Emma stood, mouth agape, staring at Killian. “Are you kidding me?”

“Don’t worry. It probably won’t work. I forgot to recharge it.”

“You forgot to recharge your weapon.” It wasn’t a question.

He was moving fast around the cabin, retrieving who knows what from here and there, packing his satchel “It was supposed to be a simple commercial trip: no big risks.” He stopped right in front of her and raised one eyebrow. “Wasn’t it?”

She looked at him chewing her bottom lip. “What are we going to do?”

“Go outside, have a look at the damages, find the replacement parts, and hope to come back home alive from this place.” 

.

.

~·~·~·~

.

.    The planet seemed to be desert, apart from the port there was nothing, just sand, and rocks. No people on the horizon.

“This is strange,” Emma said as the three of them were exploring the surrounding area. “Can you feel it too?” A sense of oppression and discomfort pervaded her.

Killian nodded. “It’s too quiet. Something is wrong.”

A large stone flew from nowhere and Killian saw as Henry was right on its trajectory. He launched himself trying to protect the boy from the inevitable collision. The last thing he felt was a sharp pain in his chest and he couldn’t breathe. Then everything went black.

.

[essays-for-breakfast]

A Song to Forget All Trouble

Kiane Week Day Four: Reign/Daily Life

With each sunrise, another problem awaited Diane. Or, for the sake of accuracy, a mountain of problems. Ruling an entire clan was one thing, but the management of two clans who had spent to majority of three millennia with scornful looks and cold shoulders had more in common with a wrestling match against a Tyrant Dragon. With arms tied behind the back. Giants and Fairies alike always found one little annoyance to blow out of proportion and add to the list of matters Diane needed to discuss and solve with the parties involved.

The quarrel for a resting spot on one of the Fairy King’s Forest’s countless clearings took her half a day to settle because both the Giant and the opposing group of Fairies claimed to have arrived there first. Around noon, Diane ordered the squabblers to find other places to sleep and opened the clearing to a horde of Giant children. At the end of their play session, a rugged crater disfigured the landscape, and smashed golem heads roasted in the sun. No one wanted to rest there anymore.

Every trampled flowerbed and every earth-made pillar became a file on Diane’s metaphorical desk. Fairies liked to boast about their inability to understand concepts like possession and greed, but when someone asked them to share their precious forest with outsiders, they crossed their arms and jutted their chins faster than one could turn over a leaf.

Even if their king asked them.

But the Giants didn’t cover themselves in glory with their behavior either. Their daily fighting tournaments, these days held for sport rather than war training, flattened entire areas on a regular basis. And while the Giants toasted to their displays of power, the present Fairies had little to laugh about. To them, a tree was a lifeform in the same way as a deer or a chaffinch. To a Giant, a tree was a resource for weapons and sometimes a javelin in their ego games.

Drole had assured that Diane would make for the ideal queen to their people. If only he had mentioned the massif of hurdles on the road of leadership.

Daylight was fading, and Diane more stumbled than walked towards the Great Tree. She hawked, but the lump in her throat sat on her voice like a fat, ugly toad. The avalanche of irritated ‘what?’ the near-deaf Giant had spat in her direction continued to ring in her ears. He had built a stone damn to turn the southern river into his private bathing lake. The shrubs and flowers he had put underwater by proxy had concerned him no more than a change in the clouds above. Diane had repeated and rerepeated herself in explaining the problem he had created, but more than another ‘what?’ hadn’t come out of him. A wonder the old man still lived – with the philosophy of the Giants in mind, a useless member of the pack went to bed each night in expectation of a slit throat.

Diane rolled her shoulders to shake away these gloomy thoughts. The merger had its upsides too. She just needed to remind herself of them once in a while.

The stench of fire, mingled with the alluring but precarious aromas of roasted boar hit her before the massive shape of the Great Tree came into view. Not again. Diane darted into the bushes, a string of curses she had picked up from Ban on her lips.

In most cases, even the most traditionalist of Fairies looked past the campfires the Giants gathered around to exchange war stories. But when these parties involved hunted wildlife – deer, boars, or the sinfully delicious cranes found in the western lake district of the forest –, a war declaration already waved between the trees by the time King or Diane could intervene.

Along with the cackling of the fire, the sound of laughter and, strangest of all, music reached Diane’s ear as she zigzagged through the pine trunks. The out of place sound almost made her stumble. Had the wind solely carried the beat of drums, she would have continued her race without a second thought. But a small orchestra of pipes and flutes gave the rhythmic pounding a melody unlike anything she had ever heard in Megadoza. If any Giant knew how to craft and play a flute, Matrona had to have hid them in the catacombs underneath the rock city during Diane’s two hundred years of training there.

A final sprint brought Diane to the clearing from where the smell of meat and the sound of music originated. But instead of a pack of drunk and bellowing Giants, the last sunrays reflected from the faces of Fairies and Giants alike. And instead of accusations hurled at the other clan, laughter tied both sides together.

Above the open fire, spits laden with meat turned while a soup happily bubbled in an oversized iron cauldron. A handful of lanterns in the shape of tulips adorned the trees around. While not as golden or luxurious as the festivities Diane had visited in Liones, the clearing showed all the makings of a celebration, complete with a colorful assembly of guests.

King hovered in the middle of the illusive scenery and conversed with Matrona and Ritho, an older Giant whose passion lay with war before any other activity. All three of them were smiling.

Diane maltreated her temple with her knuckles, but the illusion refused to collapse and return to the dust of her imagination. What had happened in her absence that all conflicts between Giants and Fairies had smoothened into a pretty party with a pretty ribbon to complete the present? Had Bartra Liones foreseen the end of the world for tomorrow? Another explanation failed to arise out of the muddle of her thoughts.

She stared, and she stood, unable to move or comprehend what was playing out before her eyes.

King noticed Diane, nodded to Matrona and Ritho, and floated towards her with two minimalistic flaps of his wings.

He lifted the paralyzed fingers of her right hand with visible effort, and beamed at her. “I’m glad you made it. Gerheade was almost on her way to catch you at the Great Tree. I wasn’t sure when you would return, but I guess everything worked out better than expected.”

“I don’t understand. Did I miss something?”

A shade of pink darkened his cheeks. The orange hues of the fire emphasized the effect. “Didn’t I tell you? We want to celebrate the merger between the Fairy and Giant Clan. We got lucky with the weather tonight, otherwise the open fire might have given us some headaches. Oh, and Happy Anniversary!”

Diane blinked. “It’s… been a year already?! I thought… two weeks, a month at most…”

“If Gerheade hadn’t reminded me, I would have said the same, but here we are. A year later. I’m so proud of what we’ve built here. What you started when you told me about your idea with the merger – no one other than you could have even considered to bridge the cleft between our two clans. All because no one sees the good in others like you do.” King inhaled, and his tiny hands increased their grip around Diane’s fingers. “I love you so much. None of this would have been possible without you.”

His touch and the warmth of his smile melted all troubles and anxiousness of the day away. Nothing else mattered, and if Diane had to put up with a thousand near-deaf Giants to earn this one moment with the one she loved, she would jump into the fray without hesitation.

She dragged him closer, intoxicated by the flowery scent of his skin, lost in his amber eyes, and cradled by all the compliments he showered her with, too generous to be true, but oh, so earnest. The cleft disappeared, and Diane covered King’s face with a kiss.

Before he could pass out from a lack of oxygen, Diane pulled back. She smiled at his expression, a perfect replica of the dazzled Fairy boy before he had grown his wings.

“I love you too, King. And thank you for the party. It’s perfect. When did you have time to organize all this anyway?”

“Oh, that? I really didn’t do much in terms of setting up the location or preparing the meat. The others deserve all your thanks for the hard work. I just flew around a little to find some special ingredients for the stew.”

Diane laughed. “Still a delivery boy at heart, I see. The Captain must have drilled this chore especially deep into your head.”

“I guess he discovered this hidden talent of mine before even I could see it.”

More and more Giants and Fairies followed the sound of the flutes, and soon the clearing disappeared in a crowd of feet and wings. Bowls of two different sizes wandered through the guests, a stew of turnips and roots and chanterelle. While nothing between Purgatory and the Sky Temple could match Ban’s carrot soup, Diane gulped down three helpings in record time, mesmerized by the earthy taste. And she would have asked for an additional portion, if King hadn’t handed her a spit with her favorite type of roasted pork.

The smell of fat made her mouth watery. “Can I marry you a second time?”

“I would marry you every single day, every single year ahead of us, if I could,” King said.

Diane grinned and for the next few minutes, she was too occupied with chewing to talk. The chatter of the people around her blurred into a pleasant carpet of sound. This was what she had always envisioned: Giants and Fairies united in spite of their stupid differences and their arguments, an exchange of words and food to the soft crackle of a campfire. And her and King in the middle of it all, finally side by side after all this time.

The stars stood high up in the sky, a million more than humans could ever spot in Liones or Camelot. From time to time, they winked as if to congratulate King and Diane on what they had accomplished. He leaned against her knee while she stroked the filigree ornamentations of his wings. A shudder rocked him whenever Diane found a new nerve to stimulate.

Neither of them felt the need to disturb the moment with words.

Then a single flute raised its voice above the conversations, a new tune, almost melancholic at first. A panpipe picked up where its companion had left of and gave the melody a merry spin. The flautist enticed a few more notes out of his instrument, and for a moment it and the panpipe seemed to fight a musical battle for the tone of their sonata. But then they fell into harmony, drums and chimes and a fiddle joined in, and soon the entire orchestra played a tarantella to invite the crowd to a dance.

King jerked up. After he had risen into the air, he bowed and extended a hand towards Diane. Sparks from the campfire reflected in his eyes.  “May I have this dance?”

Diane took his hand with a smile. “You may.”

One with the music and the rhythm of nature, King and Diane spun around the fire. Her feet bopped and arched, and he mimicked her moves midair. One moment she pulled him so close their noses almost touched, the next he guided her into another twirl and their fingers parted to finish a sequence with two claps. Other pairs skipped onto the dance floor; Matrona and Zalpa, Ende and Gerheade, and ever so rarely a Giant and Fairy together.

Although her steps lead her astray sometimes, Diane always found King’s eyes in the crowd. Never more than a pirouette away, still in sync with her. The music chased them in circles, two claps of the hands, and another sequence of hops and taps and spins. The odors of cooking fat and sweat from a multitude of dancers got to Diane’s head. Dizziness hijacked her senses until nothing but the next step filled her mind.

With two final claps, the dance ended. King hovered mere inches away from her, guided there by his own doing or a by a smile of fortune. His chest heaved up and down and the many turns had tousled his hair. But his grin was the incarnation of pure joy, brighter than the fire and the firmament.

Their kiss held more force this time, driven by the passion of the dance and heated by the blood rushing into both their heads. The touch of his skin and the flowery taste of his lips replaced the world around Diane, and they were one.

Yes, the merger caused them trouble every day, and Giants and Fairies alike strained their patience with a hellish desire to convince them to give up.

But King and Diane proved time and time again that beauty lay in the union between their clans. They fought for what they believed in, and they continued to push the boundaries of what Chaos’ creations were meant to achieve.

For moments like this.

[scorched-light]

Here is my The Last of Us Part 2 review for anyone who is interested to know about the leaks and if the story was done any justice. The answer is the leaks were basically on point and no. No it was not. Spoilers below, don't read on if you're after a spoiler free review. Final warning: End of Game Spoilers for The Last of Us Part 2!!! Do not read if you don't want spoilers!

Okay. As someone who adores the first game, it pains me to say this but I'm so disappointed with this overpriced horror show. A complete deconstruction of the first game and the characters you developed a connection to therein. Just a complete brutality to basically every character new and old, and the whole franchise's reputation.

Joel announcing his name to a group of strangers he already seemed suspicious of despite knowing that people could be looking for him after what he did was so forced and out of character. This man hit a guy with his truck on the off chance that he might be faking his injuries. He was always super cautious, wary of strangers, and aware of his surroundings.

Ellie walking in on Joel getting beaten to death, GUN IN HAND, and not immediately shooting Abby was also incredibly ooc. Even if she was shocked, this is the girl who shot a man at age 14 to save Joel, here she charges in through the door instead of shooting when she's had years worth of experience shooting first and asking questions later. A lot of the ooc stuff she does after his death is excusable by her obvious trauma up until the ending, at least, but it's still bad writing.

Poor writing, not just in the overall story but also in terms of the characters, is literally used as a gratuitous stepping stone (AKA a shameless excuse) to get to all of the brutal, gorey violence. Not to mention it ends in a bleak way with no silver lining at all. Compare that to the way the first one, while bleak in nature still had its nice moments. Its moments of "ya know what maybe this hellscape is worth sticking around for." It made you feel things. The giraffe scene? Running out of the hospital holding Ellie as Joel gently, desperately tells her she's okay? Beautiful, complexly emotional moments But this game? I'd get more emotional fulfillment shoving fingernail clippings up my ass hole.

Don't get me wrong, I expected it to be bleak. The tone of the game is post-apocalypse. It revolves around death and the ugliness of man and yes yes it's all very grim. That kind of prepares you for how this isn't going to be a totally happy story. But everything they built up and established in the first game is just burned to the ground.

All the gameplay is basically the same as the first with some exploration buffs and NPC tweeks, companion AI feels clunkier now but a lot of the interactions between your people and between enemies outside of cutscenes feels very fluid and natural. That said, a lot of the stuff that's good about the game is done in flashbacks to when Ellie was younger. The actual current story they're telling had potential but the executuion is poor.

The game is trying so hard to get a specific reaction while blowing holes in why and how you should feel that way. We are supposed to empathise with Abby just because we are exposed to her when we're forced to play as her? We are supposed to think bad of Ellie when she killed Mel after Mel attacked her first instead of just pleading "I'm pregnant!"?

Abby killed the man that saved her life brutally and mercilessly. She wasn't able to empathise at all, but you are expected to empathise with her? She even goes on to have a similar, protective sort of relationship with Lev as Joel did with Ellie. Maybe not in a parental way, but the parallels are still there. A notable one is when she's carrying Lev bridal style in her arms off of the island, the same way Joel carried Ellie.

The writing even frames Ellie as being bad, killing a pregnant woman (even though she didn't know and upon finding out, falls to her knees and heaves), and frames Abby as good/the victim, helping and protecting Lev, a victim of transphobia, and slowly discovering and watching more and more of her friends as they die. They try to manipulate you as the player with bad writing.

It really could have been a good story had they spent more time on Ellie working through her feelings towards Joel and his decision to save her. Maybe Abby kills Tommy so Joel can know what it's like to lose a loved one, maybe Ellie is forced to join with him again on their journey for revenge, maybe she more or less HAS to face up to what happened while begrudgingly working with him. Especially after her constantly telling him she doesn't need his help.

He still could have died, maybe before they *really* fix everything. Maybe he gets bitten, that'd be poetic, he robbed humanity of the cure and then died to the infection. Ellie has to face up to the fact that he'd be alive if she had died, and he has to face that too. He also wouldn't have been bitten at all had he not been out for revenge in the first place, so his death would be the price of them wanting revenge for revenge, AND be a much better way of showcasing the cycle of loss being the cycle of revenge in a way that doesn't come across as incredibly redundant for the environment they're in. Ellie really would be The Last of Us. The last of the iconic duo that gave the series its incredible reputation. She could go on to kill Abby and realise it's not made her feel any better, now they've lost Tommy AND Joel, and nothing is going to bring Joel back.

ANYTHING would have been better than what we got. Joel's death 2 hours in was super premature and such a meaningless way to go for a character like Joel. Not to mention the character that looks like Neil Druckman spitting on his corpse but whatever, I digress.

All of this and the fact that the ending is not at aaaaall worth it makes this feel so incredibly soulless. They wanted to go down the route of "is there really a good guy in this kind of world?", and that idea could have worked even for the grim reality in which the story takes place. But then they butcher the execution, force you to play as the character who beat Joel to death for a massive portion of the game, and leave off with a terrible ending.

!Here come the end of game spoilers!

Ellie stated in the first game that she's most afraid of ending up alone, and they did that to her. She suddenly realises that Killing Is Wrong after slaughtering countless men and women to get to this moment with Abby. She is in the middle of drowning her and suddenly lets her live. This woman killed Joel, almost killed Dina. In fact, upon hearing that Dina was pregnant from a battered and bleeding Ellie, she says "Good.", and proceeds to almost slit her throat only that Lev stops her. But Ellie suddenly forgets all of that and lets her leave.

Ellie goes back to the farm she and Dina were living on with their baby only to find Dina has left, as she warned Ellie she would if she leaves for revenge again. The revenge Ellie didn't even get. She goes into a room and sees her guitar in its case. She pulls it out and learns she can no longer play the way Joel showed her all those years ago because she had her fingers bitten off during the struggle with Abby. She props the guitar up by the window, almost as if in memory of the man who taught her to play, and leaves it behind. She has no use for it now. Ellie walks through the field outside, alone. Joel dead. Tommy partially paralysed but his characterisation definitely got massacred. Dina gone. Cut to credits. Game over.

There isn't even a slither of happiness in this game. Was the lesson "revenge is bad"? Because if so, they should have rolled the credits as soon as Abby killed Joel and told players "if that made you uncomfortable, do not seek revenge." In big writing before rolling the credits.

Either way the ending would leave you shifting uncomfortably with a bad taste in your mouth.

I won't even go into how the trailers lied. "You think I'd let you do this alone?" Tell that to Abby's driver. I'm interested to see how quickly the price drops on the PlayStation Store. Even if it gets cheap, I wouldn't bother subjecting yourself to this trashfire.

[selfcareparker]

(lovely anon) i'm so happy to finally be answering this oh my goodness hi gorgeous human being i feel that it has been too long 🥲 SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED SINCE THE LAST TIME I'VE WRITTEN ONE OF THESE HOW HAVE YOU BEEN

to answer the things you have said most recently- i'm so mad that spring break is over bc now i have to go back to life??? like dancing and school and shit that feels so unnessacry 😭 and like i can't just do nothing anymore? i was so used to it and now...... ugh. i STILL haven't played sims (i think it's because ✨depression✨ be hitting sometimes) lol but MWAHAH IM SO HAPPY FOR YOUR NEIGHBOR!AU AND THAT THEY HAD LITTLE BABY LEO!! i feel the name thing.. i just come up with something that sounds nice? i think leo is a nice name, it makes me think about lea michele and the fact that her son's name is Ever Leo but anyway. i don't name my sims after what i want to name my children irl either... idk why though. (i don't know why i'm telling you this but for boy names i love Liam🥰 and if i had twin boys i think i would do Liam and Peter though i am not married to the name Peter.... anywho)

LMAOOO the therpaist coming made me laugh thank you :)) i hope it's helpful? this may be tmi but i've only really had negative thoughts recently and not many healthy outlets so i'm hoping crossing one thing off this sad list will make me feel better :') i think during spring break my anxiety and my depression really spiked? idk, it comes in episodes but yeah THIS GOT REALLY SAD

i think a lot of things when i read your posts but i never say them hahaha so imma say it now: i googled what bon appetit meant ( i also just had to google how to spell it ) but ur right, i feel like bone apple tea makes more sense than bone apple teeth.. the "th" is throwing me off bc how i say it bone appa (like app-a) teet (like you're saying tit but teet lol) so bone apple tea makes more sense to me lol

i never know really know the time difference for anything lmao but est to germany (that's not gmt is it?) is like 6 hours wOAH so it's like 9pm while it’s 3pm here? wowee

i feel mega weird after watching this show called hollywood (darren criss is in it, so is laura harrier and a bunch of other people) but i don't like it💀 i feel really icky rn and idk why but reading your last response to my ask (?) always makes me feel better :')

i am doing what you said btw, i'm typing this on my computer first then gonna transfer it to my phone's tumblr lol but when you said a digital detox, it's interesting cuz i feel like i've been having one since tom's new project was announced? gOD i don't wanna get into it bc i get so triggered but i've been off of instagram since then bc instagram stans literally stand by tom through whatever even when something ain't right- i’m just gonna leave it there bc i’ll continue the rant, but yeah so i took a break lol

also heard abt your driving lesson thing (?) was it that bad? i can't find the old post but someone asked if you hooked up with your lesson person and i was sOOO CONFUSED LMAOO LIKE OK ARIA GET SOME BUT UHH HUH?

now to address the actual response HAHA the way you touch my heart :') by :') bringing :') up :') halle :') being ariel :') (i honest to God don't remember if i brought this up first, forgive me if i did, it's been a minute lmao) i'm always talking about it and i'm pretty sure my family is so tired of me talking about it lmao, but YEAH when i found out they weren't twins i was so surprised but idk why i always thought they were twins? but YOU ARE SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE WITH THE DISNEY TALK- everyone is always like "tiana is my favorite princess" and yea she's strong and stuff but...... she was a frog. for almost the whole time. it's about time we got another one!! i do agree with some people on the fact that disney should just make another black princess but halle is adorable and i was ariel on stage so it's already really special to me :')

yeah lol there are good times with my brothers but they make me mad for a good portion of the time (there's the 12yo vincent and the 7yo daniel but vincent??? psshhh he is a piece of work and i'm not sure how much longer i can put up with him HAJAH AND YES VINCENT IS THE ONE WHO WAS 👁👄👁WHEN I CRIED AND THE ONE WHO DOESN'T LISTEN TO MUSIC- writing this now makes it sound like vincent is awful. which he isn't... we're working on him ig. not to add to the awfulness but no, he listens to obnoxious loud VIDEO GAME MUSIC and won't stop when we ask him to stop... he gets beat up a lot) anyway i imagine being an only child is really calming.. like you have time to yourself and its just you and your parents 😌

yeah let me know if you end up watching it (wandavision)! i think it's great but if you like it lmk!! tfatws is sooo good like PHEW i am honestly loving it. sidenote: j*hn w*lker makes me wanna jump through the screen and choke him to the ground. i was thinking right, and the falcon and the winter soldier (THATS SO MUCH EASIER FAJHKDAH) would techinally be like a 10 hour movie right? because every episode is an hour long and there'll be 10 episodes? like wow. i get what you mean though, abt the racism in the show etc, like looking forward to it but not like..... no i get what you mean i will not try and give another example lol but you make me wanna learn more languages like really badly (bc of what you said about the german to american translation) & if you end up watching hamilton PLEASE LMK ABT THAT TOO HAHAHA i love it so much, same thing with lion king lmaoo

speaking of germany, i was at lunch on saturday with my mom and her friend and we were talking about my schooling and like-- she planted this idea in my head lol like what if i just got my GED and went around the world (to england probably) to get a theatre experience??? and i think it sounds so cool but no where near practical lol, it's just..... the dream haha and i would then try and learn a language 😉

uh yes we absolutely should order basically a resturant meal at a cinema, how about burgers, chips (fries), and a large drink? any time next week works for me, should i pick you up?

also about cherry (which i still haven't watched yet lol) i got the timestamps from tumblr😌 i couldn't find them anywhere else, but i agree, i probably wouldn't even look twice at cherry if tom wasn't in it? like i liked tdatt a lot, but it's not a movie i would be itching to see ya know?

HAHAHAHA THE 24 HOUR NOTIFICATION- i think i have around 1030 hours on sims? but i've had it since 2019 lmao (reading the screenshots, yes u are 100% a genuis, i take screenshots too but on anon you can't upload them so i just read them and retype what i wrote lmao) i think the university experience in the game is fun, but time consuming and it's all work imo. idk why i do it so often tho 😭😭😭

and agreed!! when you're making good money in the game you have to find other ways to make it interesting. my cousins who play it just continously do "motherlode" and i'm like.... then what do you do in your game?? it just sounds boring to me... my current sims household, i had a famous comedian sim, her name was dylan, aND SORRY IM LAUGHING SO HARD WHILE WRITING THIS BC ITS A GREAT EXAMPLE OF THE UNI THING UNLESS IM JUST DUMB, she went to college for communications when i wanted her to be a comedian and when she graduated i realized that degree did nothing for the career 🥲 so yeah, i think i'm just dumb. but she had a kid in college, guy didn't stick around and she was pretty broke HA but then she got married to this (great) guy named steve, made good bank, had 5 more kids (two sets of twins and one more lol) but then she passed. uhm... yeah that's still an open wound . lol i'm kidding, but when you get rich like that, you have to find a way to make the game interesting and i chose a million kids.

(this was one giant paragraph until i broke it up uhh yeah) i seriously don't pay attention to the sims prices and just end up spending way too much money and not being able to finish the rest of the house😭 but then again, i'm so used to having sims live in apartments... if i end up building a house FIRST OF ALL it'll look like what you explained before lmao but i'll tell you if i actually end up building a house HAHA & planning out your sims game is so fun to me lol, did enisa and michael take in his daughter yet? i may be thinking too far ahead lol and i love that they fucked woohooed (i say woo woo lol) in celebration HAHA but when i was playing with this one couple i had them woo woo every night hoping the dude would have horrible pull out game and they would concieve, but one night they were too tired and i was like why? get back in there man. if i was in college and lived with my partner we would be fucking every night homie. be grateful. i have been talking a lot about sims, and like you said: enough 💀 i just love this game a lot 😭😭

SORRY LAST THING i think the sims romantic and sexual stuff is so nice bc its what i want?? LMAO IDK like the whole hot tub thing you're talking about- puh lease ITS JUST NICE TO SEE OKAY

i'm reading the german section over again and i said aloud "my german friend is so cool" lol (i was saying that to my brothers & i know they don't care LMAO) (& i'm glad the uni zoom call went well!!) so on a form, in german, it could possibily say Einführungsveranstaltungsteilnehmer because you would be a participant to an introductory event? i swear german sounds so cool 😌 but i love reading your german lessons!! it's really interesting, most of the time my brain can't comprehend it tho?? like that word makes sense to you, but i need a translation. like to be able to look at that and know what it says.... its just appealing and seems so cool lol i kinda wanna write something out in german but i feel that google translate will fail me. während googeln "google übersetzen" mein Computer war so verdammt langsam und es fühlte sich einfach wie etwas Gutes auf Deutsch zu sagen. ich bin nicht sicher, welches Wort ist "fucking", aber ich mag es lmao (did it fail me like i thought it would??)

LMAOOO THANK YOU FOR BRINGING UP JUSTIN BC WHILE AT THE RESTURANT THEY PLAYED A JUSTIN SONG AND I IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT OF YOU AND THIS STORY😭 lol i was thinking it's depending on your age but not even that either... i really don't know.... but tom's fans are hollanders💀 i would consider myself one? he's the only person i'm really into like that (like a lot lol) so idk lmao (directioners 💔💔the pain is real)

LMAOOO (both of these paragraphs started off with “lmaooo” smh) "i like my men when they look like they are on the brink of death" PLEASE, i don't like pete's blonde hair... i just don't. i'm not sure if i wasn't watching the most recent snls but yea. my mom thinks he looks like trash, but i think he's okay? like he said staten island people just look like trash LMAO and I STILL HAVEN'T SEEN KING OF STATEN ISLAND GIRL I ALMOST FORGOT ABOUT THAT!! now i'm gonna make plans to watch it lmao, & yes agreed i find pete hot, don't ask why i really couldn't explain it to someone he's just .

my favorite songs from rex are from pony oh my goodness 🥺 anywho i'm gonna go eat cereal (i ended up eating bun and cheese instead) and listen to the Stormzy songs you recommended... aria. aria aria aria. i would like to thank you for introducing me to stormzy i- i don't have any words or any emojis to express HOW GOOD STORMZY IS. i hope he's popular in germany/the uk because i haven't heard of him but GURLLLL

one second - delicious i love it. it's really good. it’s not my favorite from the album, but its great.

superheroes - at first i played the non-explicit one (on accident) and wondered why the words weren't playing but i was reading them in the lyrics??? THIS ONE THOUGH??? IS THE BEST SONG I THINK I'VE EVER HEARD. i am so SO SO into black people empowering songs (like brown skin girl by beyonce) and this song???? PHEW I CRYYYYY ITS SO GOOD.... i was gonna quote some lyrics BUT THERS TOO MANY I LOVE, "i am young, black, beautiful, and brave" "black queen, you're immaculate, it's coming at the world, they ain't ready for your magic yet, and that was never your fault" THAT WAS NEVER YOUR FAULT- I ALMOST CRIED THIS SONG IS SO BEAUTIFUL (i played it twice lol)

lessons is another beautiful one, like its slow and it feels intimate and nurturing and just OO chefs kiss, beautiful . like you can feel the apology and the regret... it’s so good

own it - OWN IT OWN IT OWN IT IS AMAZING!! swear you would catch me dancing to this song, this song is so fucking good i cannot comprehend like this one might be my favorite for real... "it's the way you wind up your waist, i'm so in awe, you never have to worry abt nothing, you know its yours, you know you own it" 🥲 i played it two or three times honestly

rachael's little brother - YES I DID LISTEN TO IT LMAO AND YES I LIKE IT, its a very complex song and it's very layered in terms of emotions i think and i really like that about it. i probably won't listen to it that often, but its really good. i would recommend this song to my "older brother" bc he would just absolutely love this

shut up - i was taking this song seriously (also very good) until i heard him say shu-T up LMAO, this one is good, i probably wouldn't listen to it 24/7 like rachael's little brother but honestly its still fire

before listening to blinded by your grace and vossi bop, i know you brought up the religion bit, i definitely don't mind that, especially because i'm Christian lol and i actually liked that he brought up God in some of his songs like idk i just like it🥰🥰

(i then went to bed after that lol but first thing in the morning i listened to superheroes and... that song is probably my favorite tbh, i was gonna write MORE quotes that i loved from it but, yeah no there's too many. if you want i'll tell you lmao but this is already so long i would just be quoting the whole friggin song)

VOSSI BOP IS A BOP (lol) I CANT EVEN LIE, i love a song that hypes up a dude's girl so the line- i love that my phone decided to fail to load the lyrics, lemme google it, okay the lyric "looking at my girl like what a goddess" i was like AYEEE its honestly just really good. and no one in america says "sauce" like "i've got the sauce" but now i do (thanks to love island and Nas from last season) and now stormzy so (also im gonna watch the music video for superheroes bc it looks great so 😛)

(because this is already so long i feel like i shouldn't finish the rest but . no i'm gonna do it)

now for blinded by your grace pt2 idk why i’m nervous lmaoo PAUSE I'M NOT EVEN DONE WITH THE SONG GIRL THIS SONG IS *chefs kiss* no words, speechless PHEW y'all gon make me start jumping around. why did i not know about stormzy before, he is amazing i- ok yeah i finished the song, all i have to say is that Stormzy is immaclucate. period. i am literally sending his music to all my friends he is..... amazing

you want my song recommendations 🥺🥺 hmm uh okay lol i listen to a lot of old music, whitney houston, marvin gaye, queen, celine dion, i love "more than words" by extreme uhmm okay, but for actual music i listen to on the daily? (this is a lot of different music like.... they do not go together lmao so be prepared) a song about being sad by rex orange county, betty by taylor swift and lover by taylor swift and... most of that album lol, treasure by bruno mars lmao, OOOO and versace on the floor by bruno as well, lazybaby by dove cameron, creep by tlc has been on repeat lol, deja vu by olivia rodrigo (i saw what you said about drivers license and AGREED LMAO but i like deja vu a lot more haha) and two albums that i listen to in general, rare by selena gomez and ungodly hour by chloe x halle 🥰 you don't have to listen to all of them or any of them lol but that's a sense of what i'm into :) so basically everything haha, i'm into literally every single kind of music really so i wasn't too surprised that i enjoyed stormzy :’)

HAHASBSJHAHA your h20 story cracked me up,, like "wow these actors are so dedicated, learning german just for us" 😭 the beauty of overdubbing

once again, math and maths, in my mind maths makes sense because its mathmatics, but saying maths doesn't feel right to me lol, like if i said maths i feel like everyone would look at me like ??? and yea i was taught it as math so its just more natural for me. but yes math/maths is disgusting, easily one of my least favorite subjects so .

mkay. i- the first time i read this i could not contain my laughter when you said the only pollen you know is sex pollen LMAOKOOSHBABJFAJF STOPPP I'M EVEN LAUGHING WRITING THIS,, anyway. wow! that's interesting, my dad (<<< mostly anything else) gets migraines from the sun and the heat and stuff, yesterday (sunday, i was outside for like hours watching my brothers play football, the american kind lol) i was in the sun for like ever and i got a headache😔

summer clothes🥲 i need to go shopping fr fr. for my birthday my mom and dad got me a giftcard like dedicated to a shopping spree and we've yet to go so..... i should bring it up to my mom lol, but!! i went bra shopping (ended up returning literally all of them cuz they honestly didn't work for day to day work? its a long story) and if i could i would walk around in this new "summer bra" i got, i would. it's so fricking cute and its really light fabric (which isn't perfect for my nipples but still) so i don't get hot in it, but that bra and some shorts would be perfect. its the closest thing to being naked so

IS THE BIRD STILL BOTHERING U ARIA, TELL ME NOW ISTG, i laughed really hard that the bird isn't stupid and is really trying to torture you LMAOO like i was rolling, it wants you to suffer, badly

when you said "mensus" it was still close to mens!!! latin speaking queen 😌😌

okay STORYTIME i was reading back your response and started (fake) crying bc i love you lol and my youngest brother (daniel) gon say "oh man, catherine's crying about something we don't care about, again" I--- i swear when i tell you about them they sound awful, but they aren't that bad, just the stuff i say about them is sounds really mean LMAO

but the thing you said about being kind, same, what i always say is: don't be the person that makes people say "i hate people" ya know? like there's no reason to be a jerk or anything.... but its true 🥺🥺🥺🥺 you are really kind and every time i talk to you i would like to personally fly to germany and give you a hug 💖💕💞💗💓💝💖💘

& i'm gonna show my stretch marks some love bc of you 🥺😭 i really hate how men have basically everyone conditioned that you can't love your own body </3 fuck them, y'all beautiful :')

also thanks for what you said :')) you literally are the kindest, sweetest person i think i've ever spoken to and i love you 🥰🥺🥲💓💗

READING YOUR TAGS HAHAHHAHA the spelling errors makes everything so much funnier. once again, i like your german lessons & yea!! i'm gonna play sims after writing this hahah

#catherine's tags are back #i don't think i've told you my name before?? #anyway it's catherine🥰🥰🥰 #i'm typing this on my computer (without emojis) and if i didn't edit this you would be reading shit shite like #heartface and pout and cry LMAO #yeah abt the tattoos #some stuff with my parents i'm like deal with it??? lol #my mom tells me "if there's something you enjoy or you like but i don't have the same opinion on it... why would my (my mom's) opinion matter? #and i love that #like i'm not gonna go and do whatever i want #but if my mom doesn't like that i swear (which isn't true just an example) #its like okay.... #but whatever #and your tattoo ideas sound really cute!! #and yeah @ your parents, i mean you aren't getting something wild #and the tattoo album>>> #i'm gonna look up ariana's butterfly tattoos just so i know what you mean lol #but i'm guessing you don't want something so incredibily simple, but not super like over the top? #correct me if i'm wrong lol #LMAO the tags were in order don't worry ! #and yeah lol ily2 <33 #and once again, again, sorry for this post JSHJS ITS A MESS AND LONG AS HELL #and you don't need to go in order of my post its literally longer than your german compound words #u're fine #also !!! while writing this the birds were chirping outside and i was like 😳 #and one of your fics (i’ve read all of them, i don’t remember lol) that valentine’s day one where y/n had lingerie on (the pancake one lol) #inspired me to buy lingerie #like when i look back on me “growing up” #that fic & basically you lol really helped with that #that made no sense and i don’t know how to make it make sense... but... yeah. like ily

hiiiiiiiiiii <3333

Dear catherine, 😌

(you have said your name before, but it wasn‘t like an introduction or anything i think you were talking about .... was it possibly the incident at the cinema??? And you said something like ‘calm down catherine‘ like you were telling yourself to calm down idkd dkdkkdkd anyway i didn‘t mention it cause i wasn‘t sure if it was an accident or not dkdjd but now i know 😌❤️ Catherine is such a cute and lovely name btw omg and so are your brothers‘s names 🥰

Sorry that I‘m answering this so late, it‘s been an emotional rollercoaster for me since last week but i‘ll get to that in a second lol

Sksklssk girl i haven‘t played sims in like 2 weeks now ekejdkdlldld ok that‘s not that long at all actually but i keep wanting to play but then i end up not playing for whatever reason, so no news about my sims game 😔 but i love the names Liam and Peter and for twins!!! That sounds really nice actually

okay i‘m trying to answer your ask in chronological answer even though i wanted to wait for the depressing stuff and write it at the end or something OKAY so. i thought that i‘d feel so good when i start uni and that i‘ll like... have a purpose in life again and just be happy (cause in the last year i didn‘t do much and i was depressed like half of the time lol).... anyway i kind of feel even worse now? 😭 i think it‘s because in my brain it‘s like: university!!! that means your life will change and it‘ll all be so exciting. and don‘t get me wrong it is exciting butttt..... idk the online thing is so weird cause you‘re not meeting any new people (i‘m introverted anyway but still lol) and it doesn‘t feel like you‘re listening to/talking to actual people cause it feels the same as just watching a video?

also i thought i‘d be busy again but i only have one lecture (90mins) a day and theres one day where i dont have any lectures at all and just one day where i have 3 hours but.... idk i mean i shouldn‘t complain about having so much free time but i just don‘t know what to do all day and in a pandemic there really is nothing to do but i also can‘t relax bc it‘s like during the week and i know i have uni the next day and .... yeah.

There‘s also this one assignment i had to do that took me AT LEAST SIX HOURS AND IM NOT EVEN EXAGGERATING????? so that was the only thing i‘ve been doing besides “going to“ lectures. for this one course we have to read two (really really long) texts (like it literally took me 3 hours to read them) and we‘re supposed to post it on this website that all the professors in our uni use. So after 5 days of anxiety (✌🏼) i posted mine this morning bc last night i realised that i didn‘t even know why i was having anxiety so i just posted mine today. The deadline is tomorrow at 12 and no one except me has posted theirs yet........ so i have anxiety again 🥰 cause idk if i‘m the only one who did it or if i even did it correctly

Edit while i‘m rereading this: my anxiety about uni is a lot better and i‘m not as d*pressed anymore maybe it was just hormones? idk but i‘m better so that‘s good

(I started writing this like 5 hours ago and then i randomly completely forgot lol)

I‘m in a better mood now though so let‘s move on from that (oh wait also, i think i‘m gonna see if i can find a psychiatrist bc with my anxiety symptoms (long story) i need to go to a psychiatrist, and so far i‘ve only gone to like psycholgists and it didn‘t help but i think that‘s just bc i was meant to go to a psychiatrist and not a psychologist so dldjdjsj

n e ways but yes you‘re not alone, ily, things will get better and yes i love you (i‘m not good at this type of thing🥲 but i‘d hug you right now if i could <3)

Yess i think the time difference between est and me is 6hours but gmt is uk time i believe? i think mine is called.... cet? For central european time? I could be completely wrong though lmao

Oof i completely forgot about hollywood, i remember when laura kept posting about it on instagram but i never actually watched it and i definitely won‘t now lmaodkdksjsn

Okay my driving lesson LEBDJDKDK I DID NOT HOOK UP WITH ANYONE AKSJSKSMMLM especially not my 40 or 50 year old driving instructor lol i like her but NOT LIKE THAT, the lesson was really really really good actually and i think i‘ll have my driving test soon, but i don‘t even remember why the anon would have thought that??? Oh wait now i remember okay KEKSKDLDL so during the lesson my instructor was like do you mind if i turn on some music? AND THIS WOMAN TURNED ON ONE DIRECTION I LOVE HER so i made a post about it and i said something about the song up all night and i guess i phrased it in a .... idk in a dumb way 💀 so the anon made a joke that i stayed up with my driving instructor all night and NO. No.

Wait did i read that right? YOU WERE ARIEL ON STAGE? SIALDBDJDKSLMSBDKDMDMDKDJSLSMDJFJJEDMBFEKLEFBJDLDVSIDLESKSKWKDKDJDOWNYUEKWNDUWLNSUFLWVSUDLEHDOENSIDBEISBEHENJELBSIEMWUDNRIW KB WOBE JO ON SBEUU HIII S HWS LV W ICH US KB okay this keyboard smash is getting out of hand but uh please do elaborate on that 💘😌???? Like you can‘t just drop that information and not say more??? I forgot if you‘re in like your school‘s drama group (is that a thing? lol idk anything about acting) or in an independent group? Either way - ARIEL that is so fucking cool

Your brothers loooooool, no i get it though obviously you love them and stuff but esp at their age children are so annoying so good luck with them 😭😭😭lmao

Yeah “anyway i imagine being an only child is really calming.. like you have time to yourself and its just you and your parents 😌“ yeah just me and my parents who constantly fight 🥰 lmao no i like being an only child, like i cannot imagine having siblings but i feel like if i had siblings i would be saying that i can‘t imagine being an only child so? but i do think it‘s quite different like i‘m trying to imagine having siblings and WHAT that‘s just so different omg i‘ve never really thought about it like properly ???

I saw a tik tok the other day that was like “sometimes i forget that my siblings have a life of their own. like i see them as side characters in my life“ and even though i can‘t relate obviously i felt that. lol, like i can really imagine how it feels idk what i‘m talking about like shut the fuck up, daria

(also my actual name is daria not aria but i dont like it, and also i wanted to be more anonymous on tumblr so now i‘m aria lmao. pls don‘t mention it though cause no one knows except for you and mel (peterbenjiparker) dkdkdkdnkdnd. but i‘m starting to identify with the name cause everyone keeps calling me that looool😭😭😭 (but i like the name, more than daria anyway? well it also depends on the accent, cause the way germans say daria is okay. the was Americans say it is also okay, but some of my family in England are from the north of england and i don‘t like how they say my name 💀 no offence to them(?) but yeah pls don‘t mention the name in your ask cause the chance of people seeing it is higher then (or if you want to say something about it just send a separate ask and i just won‘t post it (IDK what you‘d want to say about my name but yeah just in case slsldlldmsndnsns)

I‘m loving falcon and winter soldier so much but when i was watching an episode the week before last week (?) my laptop broke😭😭😭😭 during the scene where the dora milaje came at the end my laptop just shut down? And it had these lines all over the screen and i had to bring it to the shop where i bought it and they said it‘ll take 6-8 weeks to repair 💔💔💔 but at least it‘ll be for free, cause if i brought it back to apple it would cost like 400€ (i think that‘s nearly 500$) so yeah. but it sucks cause now i‘m “going to uni“ on a really old rusty laptop and on my phone which kinda sucks. oh yeah and also i can‘t watch anything on there 😭 i definitely want to watch wandavision but it‘ll have to wait🤧

Yessss you should def get your GED! I googled and I‘m still not entirely sure what it is dldks but from how you described it- YES!!!!!!

Idk if you know this? Like no idea if I‘ve told you this already (hmmm wait i feel like we talked about it actually?) anyway i was originally gonna go study in England, but for loads of reasons I ended up staying in Germany and I‘m def happy with my decision, but I definitely want to go to England sometime even if it‘s just for six months or maybe for my masters or something? And (obviously everyone is different) but i think everyone should go abroad and live in a different country once in their life, no matter if it‘s for school or what, and even if it‘s just for a few weeks. But i think that‘s something that you‘d never ever forget! And combining that with your acting/theatre??? You really would be living the dream 💘💘😌

how about burgers, chips (fries), and a large drink? any time next week works for me, should i pick you up?— sounds good see you soon 🥰🥰🥰

i used to be one of the people who‘d just do motherlode motherlode motherlode and just... what did i do? Why did i do that??? But not anymore lol. Like I said i haven‘t played sims in a few weeks but i‘ve been watching a few legacy challenge let‘s plays and usually i play with the aging off. So my sims just don‘t age 💀 but i could (should) turn aging on so that it stays exciting and i have limited time and everything. and once i get bored with my current sims i can just make them have kids and continue playing as their children when they get older- like recently i remembered that i haven‘t played the acting career in ages? and i haven‘t had a shop in ages? and i think you can even become a vet right??? like those are definitely some things i want to do in the next weeks!!! Also yes sksksjs i have a few hundred hours on sims as well (if not thousands 😭) it was just that one household that i‘d been playing with for 24hrs

AND GIRL SSKSKJD THE UNIVERSITY THING HAPPENED TO ME TOO, it was a while ago so i don‘t remember what degree and what job it was about but i made my sim study something for aaaaaages so she‘d get a better job from the beginning (you know what i mean like get in at a higher level)...... and i apparently studied the wrong thing cause i didn‘t get any benefits from studying and still had to start at level 1 and shit 🥴🥲

Oh also (this was like 2 weeks ago) Enisa and Michael did take in Michael‘s daughter and i think Enisa currently even has a higher/better relationship with the daughter than Michael but um💀💀💀 also i was hoping (since michael and enisa married (in their back yard i think lol) that the daughter (i forget what her name is😭) would have enisa as her step mom? Like you know how you can see the relationship and it says daughter or son or sister.. and i was hoping that it would say step mom but it doesn‘t say anything 🥲 but in my mind (and if the sims had proper family relations) she is her step mom😌 also Leo is a teenager now???? I mean I aged him up lol dkdk he was being too annoying as a toddler but i don‘t like children so i aged him up twice in one day and now he‘s a teen, but that means he can look after his half sister when she becomes a toddler which is good (the game recognises them as siblings tho even if they‘re just half siblings? why can‘t they have step family members in the sims🥲) okay i‘ve annoyed you enough with sims ✋🏼

I‘ve been a bit sick these past few days and now i‘m getting a headache so i have to finish this response tomorrow 😭😭😭 </3

.

It‘s not tomorrow, it‘s 3 hours later but i‘m better lol

oooff when sims are ungrateful and won‘t woo woo (lol i like that) cause they‘re too tired like?? Be grateful that you‘re not living with your parents anymore 🙄 no okay dkdkdkdl idk if you play with mods (i don‘t) but i know there is a mod (or it‘s part of a mod idk maybe wicked whims?) where you can adjust the percentage of how risky a normal woo woo is, like you still click woo woo (3dksksks okay i‘ll say woohoo again— wait is that what’s it called? 😭) but there‘s like a 25% chance that your sim can still get pregnant just like in real life there‘s always a chance of getting pregnant even if you‘re using protection (just not 25% lmao) but yeah i personally don‘t play with mods sksk and you can always just click try for baby but it would be cool if you could add stuff like risky woohoo to the game without mods (i have no idea how to download mods and i play sims on a really really old laptop and sims is literally tje only thing that works on it anyway so—) i repeat my words from earlier: okay i‘ve annoyed you enough with sims ✋🏼

okay i‘m so sorry i‘m gonna watch fast & furious 1 now cause i need to watch f&f 1-5 until the 30th of april cause they‘re only on netflix til then (i mean i could watch them somewhere else but the quality is never as good) so i will finish this tomorrow after all😭

it is now 1 am, i finished the film, can feel a new obsession coming up again (i always have these f&f obsessions for six months before and after a new film comes out)

THE GOOGLE TRANSLATE wkekdjdj tbh it sounds like someone is speaking with some kind of foreign accent i guess that‘s probably because it just is a direct translation and so anyway slsjsj i don‘t know if you asked me what the word fucking is in german? like idk cause the translation is a bit weird but in case you asked lol sidjsjs theres not really a good translation like we just say fuck for fuck lmao, i don‘t know if you typed in fucking in google translate and it came out as verdammt? cause that means damn (or damned sksjjs) ummm yeah idek if/what you asked so imma move on🤧

I‘m not gonna comment on what you said about every stormzy song cause you already said all the important things but SKSKSJSJSKNSNDBDUDOENWBSLSKKHSULSLSKSBSJSKSK I WAS SMILING SO HARD WHEN I READ YOUR RESPONSE FOR THE FIRST TIME BECAUSE AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH finally i know someone who loves him as much as i do 💘💘💘 also since you brought it up, i‘m pretty sure he‘s considered the most successful UK rapper or if not then at least top 3 so he‘s defffffffffinitely big in the uk, in germany more and more people are listening to uk rap too but not as much stormzy cause theyre dumb apparently 🙄 but anywY i‘m sooooo sooo happy that you like him. i think hith came out end of 2019 (i could be wrong but i think it came out on the 13th of december so (in a european way) you‘d write the date: 13.12 and obviously i don‘t KNOW this but i can definitely imagine that he chose that date because ACAB and yes, Michael. Yes. But he hasn‘t made too much music since then so i hope he‘s working on some new stuff 🤞🏼

Also i ordered the stormzy poster😌 also a nicki minaj one bc i decided i‘m gonna have one wall with red-ish posters (i already have two kinda red ones) and one with blue/green-ish posters (already have two) and i can add stormzy to the blue one and nicki to the red one, but i think that‘s it cause if my walls are tooo full it could look cluttered? I‘m not sure how that type of thing works lmao but my room is generally untidy so i don‘t want the walls to look unorganised too so i think that‘s it for now

I really want to finish this now but my brain is getting kinda slow and i need to sleep soon so this will have to wait till later after all 🥺🥴 (not that it makes and difference to you bc you‘ll see this whenever i post it buttttt i wanted you to know that i want to talk to you again but with my slow brain i‘m just taking too long to do it in one day😭😭😭 and i‘m so busy tomorrow hmm but i‘m sure i‘ll have 30 minutes to finish this then <3)

Okay wait I‘m so dumb I didn‘t realise I‘d nearly answered everything i could have posted this yesterday 😭😭

Oooohh that summer bra sounds so nice like if i was confident enough i literally would just wear a top that resembles a bra (or really is a bra lol) cause my tiddies always be looking amazing i‘m just insecure about my stomach sometimes 🙄🙄🙄 but recently i‘ve been loving myself more and more tbh 😌

also i hope you can go shopping for some nice clothes soon ✨😌

I‘ll be honest I haven‘t listened to your song recs YET but only because i wanna take my time with them and i‘ve been so busy and slso AJ tracey‘s album came out last week and I haven‘t listened to that one yet either so ekdkdj (he‘s also a uk rapper like quite popular and successful as well, but i feel like i‘m not gonna like his album cause whenever i‘m looking forward to an album it ends up being really bad and the albums where you weren‘t expecting it turn out to be bangers.... so yeah but i‘ll let you know when i listen to your songs!!!! :)

Omg i keep having to scroll up all the way to see the next thing you said so sorry if I completely miss some of the things you said😭😭

So when you sent this the bird was still bothering me oh my FUCK DKDLDMMDMDMD but now i‘ve been going to bed at like 1-2am so the bird is probably still asleep lool

Okay and for the rest of your ask my response is: 💘💖❣️💚❣️💛❣️💛💕💞❤️💓💟💞💕💕💖💘💝💟💟🧡❤️🧡💞💛💚💓💚💚💚❣️🧡💖💘🧡💝🧡💕💘🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥺🥺🥺🥰🥺🥺💘💘💘💘💘 (okay that looked cuter in my head i don‘t really like the green hearts dldkkdksndnd)

[astro-break]

Quick first thoughts on the first ep of the Hypmic Anime. Spoilers beware (and im writing this as I watch so :p)

Otome’s speech is.... questionable from a persuasive point of view. Manga did a great job of introducing her (which you can read here) but they really cut out the more terrifying parts of her speech and how she uses force to show people that she's not to be messed with

Its cool seeing everyone in their respective environments though. thats cool. Though they could have added Sasara and Kuuko (shhh i know why they didn’t let me dream)

I love how poppy the typography is. Its amazing how the visuals just leap out at you. The OP does a great job of this. The first few seconds before the title really gives me Persona 4 OG OP vibes with the influx of information given. The rest is a clear concise and streamlined way that still gives character. Animation is sparse but still carries across a general idea of each character and shows off each character object. Rendering is really nice and pays a bit of homage to the posing artwork thats done for the MVs. They also do their division hand signals and thats cute

Love how the OP has blatant HifuDoppo and DRB matchup foreshadowing

so far I really like what theyre going for. BB is about brotherly familial bonds and they show the goods and the bads. Jiro and Saburo bickering right out the gate really cements the fact that they get along like cats and dogs but you can still see that they love each other, working together when the situation calls for it

Now the 3d models. Theyre... not great but usable if you don’t look too hard. They serve their purpose and don’t actively detract from the viewing experience.

Visual typography in the rap itself are fun and poppy but they dont.... speak to me? like theyre there yes and I appreciate them but the only ones that got me excited were from Ichiro’s rap

I take my words back the group portion was kickass and I apologize

I love how they interpret the Hypnosis Speakers though. Esp. Saburo’s organs. That was super creative and I love it! If there was one thing that I felt was missing from the franchise was a deeper exploration of the speakers but the anime puts a new and fresh spin on it! Love it, especially with their attack patterns!

If the production team ever feels inclined to, Id love to see those info sheets on Otome’s desk released. There seems to be very interesting info and stats written out about each member (like capabilities, personal status etc.) They all seem unique too so I really really really hope they release images of those sheets

OOOOOOOOKAY MTC. I have such a big biased for them so Im very torn to see what unfolds

Rio striking out on his own is interesting. Out of everyone in MTC hes the biggest team player yet here he trusts his teammates to go ahead. This either displays Rio’s willingness to trust his teammates or it becomes very OOC if the anime wants to set him up as a lone wolf like character

I love how they specify its a drug deal. It means that Jyuto surely will show up and it also shows that Samatoki knows Jyuto’s motives and willingly gives black market info that he knows aligns with Jyuto’s goal. Thats A+ detail writing there and a great establishing characteristic for both of them

OOohhhhhhhhhhhhh man Asunama-san’s voice acting is god tier his work as Samatoki is phenomenal. He pulls of Samatoki’s threatening voice so well with those almost calm words before his voice becomes loud and confrontational. Those rolling syllables in contrast to Komada-san’s almost lyrical and airy speech and Kamio-san’s strict and enunciated words is such a delight to hear. It just speaks to how amazing and great these Seiyuu’s are in order to pull of such amazing work

Im so biased but MTC has such a better rap than BB im so sorry. Just by watching Samatoki’s part, the imagery is amazing. Even the arrival of his Hypnosis Speaker was awesome and sent a shiver down my spine. using the lyrics to form blades and blood was such a great thing to do. Theres so much more variety that just him standing there and shots of his hypnosis speaker. The old fashioned vignette shots, the four panel spread, the nods to old Kurosawa era films are great and I love these small details. Even the typography looks better.

Again, the interpretations with the speakers is fresh and new. Its great and I love the different imagery and attack patterns. Each one is so unique but carries across each different style of rap.

The 3d modles aren’t any better tho lol

(Hi this is Astro who is reading over their assessment again and making a note. Yeah I’m a bit harsh on BB’s rap. I’m not going to change it since I still stand by it and this post is supposed to be a documentation of my first impressions. I think one of the reasons why I’m so harsh on BB is because of their dynamic as a trio of brothers. They Have to have a more uniform approach than the other divisions. Which in of itself isn’t a terrible thing, it just doesn’t catch my eye as much as MTC did. Thats all! I definitely don’t hate BB, they’re maybe my 3rd favorite division out of the current lineup [not including TDD era teams like Kujaku Posse, MCD, and Naughty Busters] its just that their rap was pretty meh)

Samatoki crouching like a real gangstar and the cigarette kiss killed me

sadjkhfjkasdghsadjkcsdjhsdfsjhf im dying i love these trio of dumbasses so uch oh y fod someone save me aaaaaaaa (Astro note here! yeah i died when the jyuto and samatoki’s stomach growled im weak please. Samatoki’s face is just so precious and funny I might set it as a profile pic somewhere)

But also my initial assessment of Rio possibly being characterized as a lone wolf is very much jossed and im very thankful for that. It seems that Rio was simply trusting his teammates to carry out their part of the plan while he carried out his own. I like that, it really shows how much of a team these three are and that they genuinely trust each other. He’s also comfortable enough around them to invite them to dinners after work casually and not just for special occasions.

I really love MTC guys

Oooh! we get Ramuda on his design process which is really cute. the inside of his studio is super cute and retro and i love it. the poppy old music you would hear in a cafe or 90′s resturaunt is also really cute (astro note: yeah i know that in ARB you see the interior of Ramuda’s office but its kinda different seeing it animated)

the translation i have has gentaro speaking in early modern english (Shakespearian english for those who aren’t english nerds like me) but from what I can hear, he doesn’t speak in a particularly old fashioned way? Its more formal than old? and hes speaking without any of his character persona lying thing that he likes to do (as he refers to himself as “Shousei” throughout the segment where hes in Ramuda’s office which is kind of his default pronoun of choice). so its kinda odd for the translation to go in that direction but im not complaining

Gendice banter is gold but it feels... flat? a little? it doesn’t have the same impact as in the drama cds or in the manga? i feel? Also Ramuda using gratuitous english is??? idk how to feel about that

kjshf thats against the rules Ramuda omgggg,,,,,,,, (astro note again: while watching i was under the assumption that using your hypmic for monetary gain such a as buskering [which is what FP is doing] is against the rules. May not be the case but whatever)

FP’s rap might be my favorite in terms of tune and lyrics though. It’s a nice laid back bop and really gives of chill vibes. the integration of 3d and 2d is really nice and i love how they play off each other in the rap. The wordplay is so fun with little nods here and there and the beat is poppy too so it really energizes me.

Ramuda’s rap concerns me slightly since he makes very subtle and small nods towards his past (being created in a laboratory, warfare, and his overall very unpleasant life experiences) but spins it into something cutesy. It could be a coping mechanism, it could be me overthinking it. But it does make me worry a bit. Gentaro and Dice’s rap really play off each other with Gentaro sticking to stories and Dice taking up the baton by carrying on that same imagery but putting his own spin on it.

the self awareness of how scattered they are as a team is interesting though. It doesn’t seem like something you’d speak about in a rap? but i guess since its not really a do or die situation they can afford to be looser on things like this.

Right off the bat, i don’t like how they handled Hifumi and Doppo in relation to Hifumi’s fear of women. Slug made a post once talking about this and I echo many of his sentiments. Hypmic has never been very tactful about tackling this particular issue and while I didn’t have high hopes that the anime would be any better it hurts to see Doppo take away the one thing that allows Hifumi to function within society.

Doppo’s breakdown mirrors a lot of my own mental state when I spiral though its shown a lot quicker than what happens to me oof. that hits close to home. though Jakurai’s advice is. Questionable. Its not the best advice to give to someone but we have no idea what kind of doctor Jakurai is so ill let it slide

Jakurai’s pose looks like hes going to do a mahou shoujou transformation lmao

I don’t have many thoughts about the rap though again. How they visualize the rap is interesting. the different imagery is quite interesting for each of them and the typography is nice a distinct but im still on the fence about the visuals here

The sound is in the same boat. The sound effects either drown out the rap or are too quet but some parts are nice at least. When they talk about Tokyo’s beating heart, the heartbeat sound is a but distracting especially since its only played once. But the imagery is at least nice

I wonder if for the eds they’re going to take a similar approach to what Enstars did and have a four different endings, one for each division. I love the blend of styles here and it really accentuates that although they’re different they mesh well together.

Ramuda’s silhouette though is hilarious. Love it.

:p and thats it. Uh not bad for a first episode. Established all 12 characters really nicely and their dynamics. I had some problems with it but then again nothing is perfect. I look forward to what they show us next week

[rightnowyoucanttell]

Malibu, Next To You

Title: Malibu, Next To You 

Summary: Is it supposed to this hot all summer long? Or is it just him? A very fluffy date with some minor molehills between Veronica and Grayson on a Malibu beach. Just because the sun is down, the night is still young, and so are they. But which way does it go...

Warnings: Fluff, implied smut (I don’t write smut, sorry guys), talks of anxiety 

A/N: When this idea came to mind, i say that because i have a roughly planned full series timeline in my head it started with just the first part as a blurb but then I was like hey let's make a series, it was originally to be a reader insert (Y/N, Y/L/N, ect.) but i always have problems doing that as they feel too weird to write so I came up with Veronica and added it to the plot/timeline whatever you'd call it. so you can do that or appreciate it for the beauty it is with Veronica and Grayson. 

Tags: @dzoint ​ @graysavant @blindedbythelightt ​ @tadadolan @heartofalionxo ​ @beatement-l ​  @grayswhore ​@saggitariusagirl @tattoogray @onlyangels-world @dxlxnbby

Part one 

Series Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know..” Ronnie drifted as she walked kicking the sand beneath her feet forward in a rhythmic pattern,” I’ve never enjoyed going to the beach..” Veronica glanced up from the sand and over to Grayson who gazed down to the ground before making eye contact.

The smell of saltwater brushed their noses, seagulls cawed in the distance as the water crashed closer and closer and then pulled itself back out. The pair, Ronnie and Gray watched the sunset as they walked barefoot as the tide came in and set back out, like both of their hearts, coming to a calm stop and then flooding back in a rampage of fluttering butterflies, beating in there chest.

He explained the currents and she just gawked in a secretive manner, so he didn’t notice, the dumbfounded look his body gave her. 

    “Really? You don’t say, I mean I figured that much, for someone who has a fear of seagulls and drowning…” he pondered the thought as his feet stopped the wallow in the incoming tide that was just far enough from Ronnie who was in the dry portion of sand.

She giggled shaking her head continuing down the shore all while facing Grayson,”..are you saying you’re not enjoying yourself?” he shouted over the crashing waves that he ran from to catch up to her. 

“You remembered…,” Ronnie’s heart fluttered. Grayson knew about her anxiety.  Ronnie explained to Grayson that night in Starbucks, her fears, in return for him doing the same.  There was a semi prolix list. Seagulls, birds, circus clowns, large crowds, heights, and significantly Drowning.

She shook herself from the bliss and continued, “but, no. No no, no.. of course not. You brought me here!” she exclaimed twirling with open arms, the wind catching her grey wool shawl that covered her white strapless sundress with bright red roses.

Her damp dark brown hair caught in the breeze flew gently, her eyelids covered her vibrant green eyes. Grayson’s eyes followed Veronica in awe as she twirled in the sand and breeze all the way as she ran back to him and nearly ran into him. 

   The two laughed and turned around to walk back to the there picnic blanket, both inaudible deciding it was time to eat,” Your something else, you know that?” he offered up to the conversation. His hand brushed against gently against Ronnie’s. 

   Ronnie just smiled letting silence sit between then,”..Something good I hope…” the entirety of the walk back to the picnic blanket and the food was silence, blissful and incentive for Grayson, but nervous and nerve wracking for Veronica. She hastily wondered if she had said the wrong thing, or turned him off or away and that’s why he hadn’t said anything, but she tried telling herself it was just the anxiety and the nerves this Italian boy from New Jersey stirred up. 

  Veronica Chandler likely always would be anxiety-ridden. After all, Fears my life, Ronnie had the words tattooed on and wrapping around her wrist. The black ink still had water droplets from when she had been swimming and wading in the water with Grayson. Veronica left the fishing on her stepfather’s, Darren,  boat to him and her older brother Noah, even all the while, an excelling science student, she never got how they were floating.  

    However, if tonight, if Grayson asked her, Ronnie probably would step foot on a boat.  She never willing went to the beach, even though living in Miami with private beach access growing up at her home, and certainly did not stand by the ocean. But on this evening, Grayson brought her there, and she was happy that he did.

So here they were. 

  The sunset warmed Veronica the pinks and blues entangling themselves, like the hopes of how Veronica undeniably wanted to be entangled with Grayson later that night. Something in Grayson hoped it too.

On a picnic blankets, following a stroll along with the tide on the now rather deserted from the public eye, on a beach in Malibu. Munching on what Ronnie’s mom would call “Rabbit Food”. 

  “This is one of the best wraps I’ve ever tasted,” Ronnie added as she quietly finished chewing her toes in the sand below and surrounding the blanket. 

"Its from.." Grayson paused to chew," this stand in downtown LA, Marty's I think, they're delicious." They made eye contact, Ronnie smiled with her eyes, covering her mouth as she was chewing.

"We should go together sometime,"Ronnie offered nervously.

 "Defiently...,"Grayson brushed his hands above the wrap on a clear piece of plastic wrap beefy ass salad chickpea wrap sat on, in between final swallows of his bites of food he started, "so... care to explain why you ignored me for a week, 'ronica?"

   That's when the evening went south.

What Grayson didn't know, that the week Veronica avoided him..one week desperate Gray was left with no sign she was alive, no text, calls, and no DM’S except the confirmation seen from the first night. 

 That week the week she ignored him, the week he was referring too, Veronica,  was in Miami visiting her mother. Veronica had deep-rooted feelings for Grayson.. but, again, like a record used, the last had left a few scratches, and overtime... they scarred.

But it was nothing, Gianna, Mama Chandler couldn't fix...

   Ronnie sighed heavily,"Why does everyone I love settle for someone so low of them?" She pondered the thought in silence as she finished her rant of the night she met Grayson.

 “..well, he sounds like a keeper..and handsome....,” her mother drifted. Ronnie wasn’t paying attention fondling with the small strands that belonged to the blue and white polka-dotted beach towel her mother and herself were tanning on. Within seconds her attention was grabbed by an incoming frisbee, that landed...perfectly in one of the white polka dots. Ronnies eyes widened when she caught its sight, she gazed curiously and then picked it up examine it, before tossing it to the wind aimlessly,”-Veronica! You could have hit someone!” Gianna gently smacked the four-arm of her daughter’s right hand with the back of her hand. 

    “Mom!? What the fuck? Did you not see that it landed in the circle, that’s not a coincidence...that’s a fucking conspiracy. Like how a cartoon predicted 9/11 and then moon landing was faked...," Ronnie slumped back so her back rested against the beach chair set up behind her. 

"It was an accidental coincidence..dear," her mother licked the tip of her finger pulling the pages apart. Her sun hat covers her sunglasses covered eyes, and held her brown hair in place around her shoulders, she was paler than Ronnie, she and noah got there skin from her absentee father, he was the Brazilian in her jeans.

"Yeah well, accidents don't just happen, accidentally, mother," Veronica huffed and crossed her arms leaning back farther and closing her eyes, enjoying momental peace before the woman started up again.

"When you head back to Los Angeles, you better text that boy, I'll be damned if you pass up a chance with someone like that. He's a good one that Grayson, I can tell. You cant let your life wither away to nothing and give up on love because of one bad drinker and a beater bad apple.. theres good people out there.. you just gotta look in front of you."

The memory on the beach faded, she hadn't realized she had been gazing into Grayson's hazel eyes the entire time the flashback played out in her head like a scene from a movie,"do you, uh. Really want to know? Is it fundamentally necessary.." she drifted off leaving a tenacious gap of silence. Just the wind and the waves to be heard.

Grayson scoffed a chuckle,"..well, no, but, I'd like to know."

Ronnie thought for a few moments, if she didnt tell him, he'd be suspicious, if she told him he might doubt the feelings she had if they were legitament,"I was in Miami. With my mom, i needed advice. A break. I was worried you were..a player. And now I know, I know that your not. Your kind, cute, hot, sexyyy, and-"Veronica's ramble was cut off by Graysons hands wrapping and cupping her head into his hands and pressing his lips to hers.

Internal fire works went off, if it were a movie they would be exploding over the water between there heads just visable to camera shot. Both hearts beat against there respective rib cages, not knowingly they both had been wating for this moment the entirety of the night.

Ronnie's hand came to touch Grays chest shortly before she came up to breath in the salty air,"that.." she panted,"was hot. But, I dont know.. if this'll work. I'm lonely and broken.. and can barely take care of myself, just, Grayson-"

"I like that your broken, and lonely" he grasped her face one hand still behind her head his thumb caressing her cheek,"not like in a kinky sort of way," they both laughed for a few seconds, Ronnie looked down. He placed his pointer fingern underneath her chin, tilting it up,"I could be lonely with you.."

"My place or yours?" She smirked. Hoping that night of entanglement would happen after all.

"Mine, definetly mine." He breathed there chins pressed together.

Ronnie had never run faster than she didn that night, all the way back to the porsche.

[namjoonspiration]

ON [2]

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: You wake up in a new place surrounded by Mages; however, you feel the weight of Jungkook’s absence. In the meantime, you meet some new friends.

Warnings/tags: heartbreak, mentions of violence

Author’s note: Here is Part 2! I know it’s kinda short and I apologize for that, but Chapter 3 is pretty lengthy and I’ll be posting that in a couple days to make up for it :) Enjoy!

Masterlist

Part 2

Year 3049 – 388 years after the Fall of the World

A pungent, salty smell brings you to your senses. Your hands fall flush against rough cotton as you bolt up from your laying position. The hand that was holding the white rock jerks away. You survey the room frantically. A purple-haired young man is holding the salts. And that golden-eyed Mage who you saw at the Citadel was sitting across the room.

The Citadel!

Jungkook! Your screams of desperation ring inside your head.

You look that Mage dead in the eyes and feel your rage drag you to your feet to launch yourself at him. “You! You fucking prick! You left him behind!” You pound against his chest repeatedly and get a few hard slaps against his face.

“Get her to calm down!” He snaps at Purple Hair. You don’t even spare him a glance. You keep getting as many hits as you can on this stupid man.

“You left my Jungkook behind!” Soft, oiled hands wrap around the back of your neck. “You—you could have saved him…” Your muscles become like jelly, losing all their strength.  You feel your magic go to sleep. Purple Hair is quick to grab you under your arms and set you back to sitting on the bed. You look at his hands, and the bottle on the table. What is that stuff?

“No, we couldn’t. Trust me, if I had the chance, I would have done it. We went into that raid with the aim of getting every single one of you out. If I had gone back for him, our bodies, along with his and the other Mage kids, would be rotting inside that Citadel at this very moment.” The Mage explained.

“He’s probably already dead.” You protest, your anger melting into sorrow.

“They won’t kill him. They’ll hurt him, but they won’t kill him.”

“Why?” You ask in utter disbelief. “And why are we still here and not out there trying to rescue him?”

“Because your boyfriend had proven with his fight at the end, he’s worth more to them alive then rotting in the ground. Besides that Citadel is now locked tighter than a snake around its prey. There’s no telling when that place will let people in again. I doubt they’ll let their own people out to go on the trade roads again for months.”

“Trade roads?”

“Between the civilizations that are left.” His words surprise you. There are more people out there? The Governing Circle always said growing up that the Citadel was the last surviving place for humans left on Earth.

For humans. But Mages…

“That’s how we knew you guys were in there. I was on those roads when a trader from the Citadel was selling oranges, and for top dollar too. I knew it had to be magic that made those. Oranges haven’t grown in any land since the Old World, and I didn’t think the Mages that were making these were doing so voluntarily. The Citadel has a reputation in the outside world for cruelty and oppression of Mages that enter its walls.”

The story was slowly knitting itself together inside your head. You can’t believe it. Your magic gave them a smoke signal—a cry for help. You were the reason that so many Mages were freed from the Citadel. But it didn’t lift your spirits.

The most important person in your life was still in there.

Wait. “What about my mother? My family? The village?” You rush out. “In the Southeast corner, we all lived in a village with our family and neighbors. Did they get out too?” Your heart beats faster in anticipation.

The Mage raises his eyebrows, “Village?” He thinks about it for several long moments, and then he stiffens, jaw clenching. Finally, at last, he says, “No.”

Your spirit drops even further. “So, they’re still in there too?”

“No. There are no Mages left in the Citadel besides your boyfriend. They were all killed when they took you and all the other children several years ago.”

“What?” Tears prickle at your eyes. “How—how do you know that?”

“We heard about it on the roads, and we investigated it. I even saw their bodies being carted out of the Citadel myself before they buried them in a mass grave about a week’s travel away from the city.” The weight of the loss sits heavy on your chest, making it hard to breath. “The Governing Circle only saw your village as a population problem, and when they had finally picked out what they wanted, they destroyed it. They never planned to free you from your prison or for you to ever see your families again. You would have served, worked, bared children, and died within those walls, with your children and your children’s children to live the same fate.”

“Sir,” Purple Hair speaks out of the blue. “She’s not well, and I don’t think this conversation at the moment is going to help her recover.” His voice is so gentle compared to the gruff of the giant man sitting across from you.

He huffs, “Fine. Please send word when she’s recovered then.” And he leaves without another word.

Purple Hair fiddles with bottles and jars, the clinking and clanking poking at the silence in the room. Then he’s laying a tray of food next to you and gestures towards it. “Please eat as much as you want. I can get more if you don’t feel it’s enough.” You don’t say anything. “My name is Namjoon. I’m the doctor here. I’m human, but I’m not here to hurt you obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t be a doctor,” he laughs nervously. You don’t say anything still. He clears his throat awkwardly. “Sorry. My comedic skills aren’t that great, but I’m a good listener when you want to talk. I’m not just a doctor that takes care of physical wounds. Everyone has emotional wounds, and right now I know you have many. We don’t have to deal with them all today, or even tomorrow, but I’m here to help you heal.” Namjoon pats your shoulder tenderly before getting up to give you some space.

You don’t move for hours, even for days for that matter. You nibble twice at the fresh food and water Namjoon gives you three times a day, but then you stare at nothing. Not thinking, not feeling, not sure what to do. Nothing happens inside Namjoon’s clinic the whole time you’re there for that first week until he gets two new patients.

They walk in. A boy and a blindfolded girl. The boy was much older than the girl, and she couldn’t have been any older than three. He appeared to be about your age with a tall, skinny but somewhat muscled build like how Jungkook was.

Is.

“Please come in. Make yourselves comfortable,” Namjoon gestures to the empty bed across from yours. They tentatively sit down. You’re sitting down yourself, nibbling on a piece of bread. They face you, the boy looking you directly in the eyes, like he’s waiting for you to do something. “Ah, I guess some introductions will help with the… tense atmosphere in this room. This is y/n. Y/n, this is Taehyung and his little sister.”

It really didn’t help with the tension at all.

“Okay, never mind,” Namjoon mutters. “I’ll just take her to the other room to treat her injuries and check for any broken bones and infections,” he lays a gentle hand on the little girl’s wrist to lead her. Taehyung is quick to grab Namjoon’s arm that’s holding his sister, warning flaring bright in his black eyes. “It’s alright. I’m not taking her from you. I’m going to help her,” Namjoon speaks with an open and honest tone. Trust.

Taehyung considers his words for a few long moments before letting go. The little girl hops down, and Namjoon places a hand on her back to guide her. Just before they are out of the room, Taehyung warns, “Don’t take her blindfold off. It must never come off.” His tone sent chills down her spine. Namjoon nodded wordlessly.Once they were gone, you and Taehyung returned to your staring contest. It was hard to get a complete read on him, but you could tell he’s been through hell.

“What’s with the blindfold?” You ask after several minutes of silence.

“None of your business.”

“Why does she need it?” You cast another line.

He doesn’t bite. Instead, he fires back with another question, “Where are you from?”

“The Citadel.” There was no point in being mysterious.

“Shit. No wonder you look like hell.”

“I could say the same thing about you. You want to tell me what that black scar on your shoulder is about?” You eye the part of his skin where his oversized long sleeve has fallen to exposure the portion where his neck meets his shoulder. He quickly tugs his shirt back into place, scowling at you. “Are you a Mage?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“Yes.”

“How did you get here?”

“I was rescued with several other Mages I grew up with. I’ve been here about a week. Although, one of us got left behind,” you mutter bitterly.

Taehyung doesn’t bother to prod further in your last comment. “My sister and I, we’re from a Mage colony from the West.”

The West. You knew what that mean.

That’s where the darkness travel from, swallowing civilizations whole, scorching the lands and poisoning the waters.

Taehyung and his sister must have escaped from it. And from the looks of it, it didn’t seem that they did so with much ease and that they were the only ones who made it out alive.

“Must have been pretty bad out there,” you say.

He nods slowly. “Yeah, it was. I can imagine the Citadel isn’t a picnic either.”

You shake your head. Silence befalls both of your again, but the tension in the room is definitely gone at this point. Now it’s just you and Taehyung, sitting in Namjoon’s clinic with bleeding internal wounds.

He was just like you in a way. Hurt in several ways, seemingly lost, not knowing how he ended up here. The first person you’ve seen in days that wasn’t so interested in how you were faring and when you might recover so they could interrogate about your life in the Citadel.

You hold your uneaten bread out to Taehyung in a gesture of respect and understanding. He searches your face and seems to know what you’re offering him beyond just a chunk of bread. Thankfully, he accepts the bread from you and begins to eat.

…

It takes another week for you to walk out of Namjoon’s clinic, feeling less numb than you had when you first arrived at the Mages’ camp. There were so many other Mages here. You almost couldn’t believe that so many have survived after hundreds of years when you thought at one point your village was the last one left. It was overwhelming at first trying to settle in. You struggled with sharing a hut with other girls your age, who were happy and moving about their normal days. You just didn’t fit in. You returned to Namjoon’s clinic in the middle of the night the first day out, and he offered the spare room in his clinic to stay in if it meant you’d get some sleep. You were truly grateful for his kindness. It also allowed him to keep an eye on you and to monitor your progress.

After your first meeting with Taehyung, Namjoon noticed an improvement in your interactions with your surrounding environment, so he thought it would be a good idea to have you two have some level of interaction every day.

At first, you and Taehyung were somewhat reluctant to listen to him, but after you both realized this would be a chance for you to share with each other about the hell you’ve both been through and to commiserate with each other.

So, you did for hours every day. You would tell Taehyung about life in the Citadel, and he would tell you about what it’s like running from a faceless darkness, that never gets tired, for his whole life he’s lived in the West. Before he and his sister got here, they’d been traveling for months non-stop. Their camp got too close to the darkness one night, and they were attacked by whatever unspeakable horrors were inside it. Their parents sacrificed themselves to save Taehyung and his sister and died a grisly death. However, in their process of escape, Taehyung was attacked by the darkness. It had entered his body, leaving him in constant pain. But he couldn’t stop running and fighting to get away because he had his sister to protect. Thankfully, they stumbled across some Mages from this settlement.

Namjoon didn’t even though what to do about the darkness in Taehyung, which had manifested itself in the form of a living scar on his shoulder. Namjoon didn’t want to try to cut it out from him for fears that he might upset the living darkness and put Taehyung in more pain. It hadn’t mattered to Taehyung anyway. He could barely feel its presence there anymore.

One evening, he finally tells you about his sister.

“She’s a Seer.” Your mother had mentioned them in the bedtime stories she told you. You thought Seers only existed in Mage Folklore. It made sense why Taehyung insisted the blindfold be kept on. Seers constantly see visions of the past, present and future, so to see all that along with the world in front of her, she wouldn’t be able function properly. The overload of information could even kill her, and she might lose her Sight. “Besides, if she keeps that blindfold on, she doesn’t have to see how far this world’s fallen into shit. I can keep her from witnessing firsthand the pain and hell of this world if that blindfold stays on. I won’t ever let her take it off until we’re in a better, happier place.”

You didn’t have your first interaction with his sister until she was almost six years old. You had traveled with her and Taehyung out to a nearby wooded area—a very rare sight—to collect herbs Namjoon needed to make medicines. You’d been examining a cluster of leaves and flowers near a pond when you see them.

Lilies.

Jungkook’s face fills your thoughts. All his sweet words and caring heart. The love you gave each other the few months you had together after you first kissed.

It broke your heart to think about it. Three years… It has been nearly three years since you’ve arrived at the Mages camp. You’d asked that silver-haired warrior every time you saw him when the Citadel would open and when you can rescue Jungkook. His answer: I don’t know. Maybe soon.

As if she heard your distressed thoughts, Tae’s sister placed her small hand on yours. “Let go of your heartache, y/n. He’s where he needs to be right now.” Her voice sounded nothing like a six-year-old’s. She sounded ancient, like she’s been alive for thousands of years. You knew she was telling you the truth, and you can’t lie, it was hard to swallow. But you wouldn’t just sit idly by, waiting for that warrior oaf to bring you news of the Citadel.

No.

Instead, you took action. You learned from the experienced Mages in the camp how to do offensive and defensive magic. No longer would you just know how to make plants grow. Now you would learn how to fight back.

You convinced the merchants to let you join them on their travels through the trade roads after persuading Namjoon for some medicines to trade for promise of bringing back rare items he needed. It took more time than you would have liked, but one day you finally heard news on the Citadel.

They’ve strengthened their numbers again since the attack, and apparently, they’re bragging about some secret weapon they have. You know what I say? What a load of bullshit. I’ve heard from some traders who have direct contact with the Governing Circle that their weapon is nothing more than a Mage boy with some spitfire in his soul. Weapon? Pish. What can a single Mage do against other angry Mages, much less against the darkness that continues to blacken the soil.

Jungkook. He was still alive. That brought you hope that there might still be one day you’d see him again.

But that’s not all I’ve heard. There’s a war on the horizon, and whoever is left on this Godforsaken Earth needs to be prepared.

[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (Entry #11)

(cw: drugs, assault, graphic violence) <-Previous | Next-> ----------

12/28/87     11:30 PM

Hey.

I’ve put this off for long enough. 

I’ve been stuck over how to write this part pretty much since my first entry. Now that it’s come to it, there seems no point in tip-toeing. It already happened. Recording it on a scrap of paper isn’t going to make a difference either way. 

So I’ll skip the sugar coating and euphemisms. I’ll just tell you what happened, exactly as I remember it.

I was almost done my sweep of the arcade, and I was really freakin’ tired. In every sense of the word, really. Still couldn’t sleep, still had no appetite. Boosts still had me high-strung and aggressive, but I was on the losing end of most brawls by that point. Too unhealthy, too distracted.

We both know I’m basically unstoppable, but you still had me almost at the end of my rope. Coming up empty just became more infuriating the longer I looked. It felt insulting, at that point, like multiple slaps to the face, like big ol’ reminders that you didn’t want me to find you. And I freakin’ hated you for it. I hated the crappy vengeful sprites you’d left me with, I hated how everything sucked and nothing was fun anymore, and I hated how I’d put so much freakin’ time and effort into looking for such a jackass. But I wasn’t about to let you beat me. I was ready to turn over every pixel of this place if I had to.

All that was left was Dragon’s Lair.

Before I go on, I feel the need to say. A good portion of the arcade took what you did as a threat to their very way of life. Sprites don’t very much like feeling threatened. They’ll do any number of stupid things to stop feeling that way, up to and including tearing the threat apart bit by bit. But you were already dead. How could they neutralize a dead threat? 

The little cowards needed someone living to act as a stand-in. They needed to delude themselves into thinking they weren’t powerless, that they could effectively block an attack that had already landed.

Guess who they picked.

Before I went to Dragon’s Lair, I made sure to snag a Boost. That castle is a glitch and a half. I knew I’d have to be on my game in there or I’d get lost or possibly chopped to pieces. 

I still got lost. I swear, all the rooms look the same. 

I don’t remember most of the endeavor, other than a blur of blades and armor and a big pissy dragon shooing me from its hoard. It ended up taking almost all night -- I wanted to be thorough, because there were so many places to hide, and it was the last game, so if I didn’t find you there, well… I just couldn’t come out empty-handed.

I ended up taking too long, and my Boost wore off. Crashing in that castle could easily be a death trap, so I was relieved to make it out before the crash fully hit. But that was really the only thing worth celebrating. I still hadn’t found you, and I had nowhere left to look. I was at a loss. I was pissed. I was miserable. For once, I was in no mood for flying. So I just walked along the path through the woods. Slowly. Dull, lethargic, and off my guard. I might as well have painted a huge target on my back.

And damn if they didn’t hit bullseye. 

I was tackled face down on the ground and blindfolded. I thrashed as hard as I could, but the tackler was too big and sturdy. I think she said some crap while she twisted my arms back, but it got drowned out by screaming and shouting and growling and barking -- she brought canine friends with her. Three of them.

I managed to hear her rasp an order to take my tools away. I felt a drooly mouth hook the handle of my paint can and hold it somewhere close by. I took offense to that. I hit her with a dozen colorful threats, all of which I meant fully, but she stuffed my hat in my mouth. 

She started to drag me by my hair while the dogs followed closely with my bucket and brush in their mouths. She grumbled nonsense to herself the whole way, when she wasn’t yanking my hair and demanding I stop struggling. As if I could just go limp and let her take me. I just knew we were going away from the path, into the woods. I also knew that once we went in, I’d likely never come out. 

If the sprite pulling my hair wanted to kill me, she would get away with it in there. No one would know. No one would ask.

Hardly anyone would even care, I thought.

When she finally ended up dropping me, she began to speak clearly enough for me to hear. I’m going to be paraphrasing a bit here. Hearing her out wasn’t really my priority at the time, and her voice and words were erratic and rushed -- she was definitely hopped up on something. But I can give the gist of what I remember, which is actually a lot. Unfortunately.

The first things I remember her saying were along the lines of:

“Surge Protector should’ve just let you burn. If the SP won’t protect us, we’ll protect ourselves. Should’ve done this a long time ago. A long time ago.” Then she just kept hissing under her breath, “Should’ve let you burn.” 

I’d been writhing like my life depended on it, because it probably did. I’d been screaming against my gag as hard as I could, hoping that maybe someone in the castle would hear, or anyone at all. But my lungs still weren’t in great condition, and I went into a coughing fit, face down on the ground with my mouth blocked up. I thought I was going to suffocate until she kicked me onto my back. I could breathe just enough if I kept still and quiet.

So I tried to just listen. Take a deep breath and feel where my tools were. Try to map the scene out as best as I could. 

I felt one of the dogs carry my brush over to her. She flipped it around in her hand -- and I use the word ‘hand’ generously, because whatever it was, it was hard, clammy, and prickly -- as she obviously tried to figure out how it worked.

I wanted to puke. Having any of them touch my brush was disgusting and humiliating and violating. I couldn’t stand being so helpless to it. But I also knew that if she was stupid enough to try to use it, I might glitch out of the ropes. Then I could hand her ass to her and get the heck out of there.

She did try to use the brush, of course. No dumbass can resist. But, naturally, the one time I actually wanted that full-body glitch response, it didn’t happen. When she pulled a stroke through the air, my legs flickered free, but that was it. 

All I had time to do was kick her shin hard enough to knock her off her feet. 

In any other situation, I could have worked with that. I’d have been upright in a second, you know I would have. That could have been my ticket out of there. But those freakin’ dog things. They were on me before she even hit the ground.

This is normally my favorite part of telling a story, you know. This would be the start of that real gross, juicy scene that’s so good at hooking the audience. But there’s no audience for quietly writing in a notebook. There’s just me, and I already know how it ends. This isn’t fun.

Better just get it over with.

They tore my legs apart. All three dogs at once. 

I fought hard, I really did. Even managed to kick out a couple yelps at first. But I was completely prone. Practically laid out on a platter. They clamped down on my thighs and calves with their steel-trap teeth and just… ripped. Whipped their heads around. Twisted and pulled. Tried to strip me to the bone.

At the time, I was absolutely certain that was how I’d die. Eaten alive.

It wasn’t until I received a swift kick in the ribs that the assault on my legs ended and the dogs backed off. I could only imagine the damage that had been done. In my mind, I could see my legs strewn across the dirt in bloody ribbons, with chunks hanging off my bones like an unfinished dinner. But all I could really make out down there was a mess of feverish throbbing. They were hot, they were quivering, and they were limp. Useless. 

The ring leader just kept kicking and stomping with her freakishly pointy feet, screaming about something or other that I couldn’t pay attention to. I felt things pop and crack, and she hit me in the gut so hard that I dry-heaved a few times. But the pain just didn’t register on the level that it was probably meant to. It seemed like my legs had burned through so much pain, there wasn’t any left for the rest of my body.

And then, her disgusting, bizarre, jagged mouth closed on my brush, and those creepy, hard hands grabbed onto my ankles and yanked me forwards. I didn’t enjoy that. 

But at least there was any leg left to grab onto, right?

She was dragging me again. I don’t know why, or if there was a reason at all, beyond messing with me. I mean, it worked. I wasn’t too thrilled about it. Then, along the way, my head hit some wicked knot in the ground, and… I guess I was knocked loopy, briefly. I blacked out.

Next thing I remember was being briskly smacked on the cheek a few times. The ring leader told me not to fall asleep, that I wasn’t off the hook just yet.

I still had no idea where we were, but they had sat me up enough to tie my torso back against a tree. They left my legs untied, but why bother? They took the kick out of me already.

Just to be especially cruel, the ring leader painfully sat in my lap. My brush was in her hand again at that point, and she was gripping it hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make her arm shake. Then she started talking so close to my face that I could feel her rancid garbage breath on my cheeks.

I remember something like, “We were all there, at the memorial. We saw the fireworks. We all saw you proclaim your loyalty to that murderer. You and your little boyfriend cooked up this plan together, didn’t you? And the only reason you’re still alive,” she grabbed my nose and shook it, “is ‘cause it’s not done yet. Ain’t that right? You’re gonna take another game down if no one deals with you. So we will. We’re just here to do the arcade a favor.”

She paused for a long time. I kind of get the impression, looking back, that she finished the speech she had practiced in the mirror that morning, and had to move off-script.

Eventually, she said, “We know. We know you knew. There’s no way you didn’t know he was gonna do this.” 

And then, she cracked. Struck me hard across the face with my brush. Started screaming:

“YOU KNEW! YOU KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN! YOU COULD’VE DONE SOMETHING! BUT YOU DIDN’T! YOU LET THIS HAPPEN!” 

She hit me again. And again, and again.

“SPRITES DIED! HE KILLED DOZENS OF SPRITES, AND YOU DON’T EVEN CARE! YOU DON’T EVEN CARE! YOU WERE IN ON IT! YOU COULD HAVE STOPPED IT! BUT YOU JUST LET HIM DO IT! YOU LET THEM ALL DIE! YOU EVEN LET HIM DIE! YOU LET YOUR PRECIOUS HOMICIDAL MANIAC DIE! HE’S DEAD! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?! IT MEANS GONE FOR GOOD! FOREVER! HE’S DEAD! THEY’RE ALL DEAD! AND THAT’S ON YOU! IT’S ON YOU!!”

And she just went on like that. Screaming and hitting.

There was a nasty, sharp sting to every hit, which I recognized immediately. You might have noticed, at some point, that the metal cuff on my brush has kind of a sharp ridge at its seam. It’s enough to break the skin if you use it right, and apparently, she did. I could feel wetness on my cheeks. She grabbed my face and took a closer look, the rusty gears in her head creaking.

Then she tried to pry off the cuff. Just with her nails, or claws, or… whatever she had that was small, pointy, and painful.

I was too overwhelmed to even hear my own thoughts anymore. I was blind, tied up, probably about to die, with a crazed stranger trying to pry off what might as well have been my fingernail. I should have kept quiet, should have never let on how much it hurt, but I just… couldn’t. I screamed, I struggled. Offered up a dead giveaway. And that freakin’ low-life sadist, she figured it out. Those rusty gears clicked together. Hard.

Next thing I knew, one of the dogs had my brush. She told me that if I did what she said, she’d call off her friends, and “make this quick.” She basically wanted me to ‘confess’, I guess for her own sick satisfaction. High-as-balls dumbass forgot she gagged me. Started slamming my head back against the tree, screaming “SPEAK UP!” 

I’d never been so completely vulnerable as I was then. The majority of my code was completely at their mercy. My paint can was knocked over somewhere, with cold noses sniffing at it, and dull claws scratching at it. The mouth holding my brush just kept rocking up and down, chattering its teeth against it like it was some freakin’ chew toy. Just squeezing tighter and tighter.

I could see what was coming. I could feel it deep in my gut. But there was nothing I could do.

And, well… I was scared.

So much that something inside me broke. I didn’t cave and do what she said, no. That wouldn’t have stopped her, not when she so clearly enjoyed making me suffer. I did the unthinkable. When she finally pulled my hat from my mouth, screaming, 

“IT’S YOUR FAULT! YOU DESERVE THIS! SAY IT!” 

I just… started begging.

I apologized. Swore that I didn’t know, and apologized again. Begged them to do literally anything else, even just kill me right then and there. I pleaded like a pathetic weakling, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t the answer they were looking for.

And then... I hate this. I hate this. Why am I doing this? Why’d you leave all this behind for me to deal with? Why aren’t you here right now? Why am I pretending you can hear any of this stuff that I don’t even want to say? 

Why am I making a half-assed attempt at stalling myself? What does any of it matter anymore?

They broke my brush. 

Snapped the handle in half.

I thought having my legs torn apart was the worst pain I’d ever experienced. This? This made that seem loving. It was like a sledgehammer, like a massive impact that split a deep, spiderwebbed, searing hot fracture in my code, and I felt the very breath of my life blow out through the cracks. My eyes just gushed with water, and an iron vice around my lungs and throat nearly strangled me. But out of nowhere, it let go, and I could breathe, and I could scream. I think Litwak himself must have been able to hear my blood-curdling shriek. 

With one word from the ring leader, those flea-bitten mongrels finished the job. Tore the rest of my brush to complete shreds. And I felt every last pixel of it. They ripped out the bristles, they crunched the wood to splinters, they wrenched off the cuff and mangled it. My sprite could barely keep it together -- I felt my code bending a dozen ways it was never supposed to, and I felt my body flickering like crazy, but, still, it wasn’t enough to free me. All I could do was take it.

Once she finally called them off, I’d screamed myself into another coughing fit. I was drenched in sweat. My whole body felt broken. It felt like my code was bleeding. But, hey, wouldn’t y’know it, she wasn’t freakin’ done.

She had one of her lackeys bring her the cuff. Against the shape of her hand, I could feel just how crushed and warped it was. It was raw as an open wound. Just having her hold it was painful. But then she bent it open, which basically felt like breaking my fingers over backwards, so that was nice. She sort of straightened it into a strip and got that serrated edge that she had been after before.

At that point, she was quiet for a minute. I had no idea what she was doing, but I have to wonder if she was just sitting back and enjoying… you know, being in her position. Like it was fun to just make me wait in fear of what else might be done to me. Or listen to whatever pathetic noises I might have been making. Eventually, she tut-tutted. Then, in a sweet and crooning and disgusting voice, she said, “Aw, baby girl, what’s the matter? Did we make you sad? Well, I’m sorry. But you don’t need your little rainbow toys anymore. You showed your true colors already. Sorry -- true color. Loud n’ proud.”

Then she pushed the edge of that mangled cuff against my cheek, slashed, and smeared my blood with her creepy fingers. After doing it once more, she said, “And you know what? I’ll help you wear that color to your grave. It’s what he would’ve wanted, don’t you think?” 

Then she just… you know, sliced up my face. Smeared my blood around like she was finger painting. It didn’t hurt that much, not relatively, but that was kind of the worst part. It was too gentle. All it said to me was that something worse was coming. The anticipation was torture, and she knew it -- she took her sweet-ass time, like she was carving a sculpture. There came a point that she cut so low, I was sure she was on her way to slitting my throat. Honestly? Part of me hoped she would. Everything would be over.

What actually happened was far less kind.

She instructed her friends to tend to my paint bucket. The feeling of their feet shuffling around it made my blood run cold. But once again, what could I have done to stop them? The ring leader wasn’t even trying to tease me with mercy anymore. She just told me I had one last chance to die an honest sprite.

Even if I wanted to tell the lie that she called the truth, I couldn’t have. I couldn’t muster any words that weren’t pleas for her to stop. The creep just sat and listened, and that drove me crazy. I totally lost control. The pleading turned to screaming. I thrashed hard, too, put up some semblance of a fight with the strength I had left. Didn’t matter, though. Once she got bored of the show, that was it.

She grabbed the clothes on my chest, and growled, “You’re just as bad as he was,” while she cut and ripped them away -- I assume because she was a high whack-job dumbass who didn’t realize I have freakin’ buttons. Then she put the sharp edge against my chest, told me to stay still for her, and called out,

“Game on, boys!”

Then... Well. It’s hard to find the words here. Everything just kind of… erupted.

My paint can was destroyed. Split open. Crunched, scratched, bent, punctured, everything you’d expect from a team of junkyard dogs. For the first few seconds, the pain was indescribable. But it transformed into something worse. My system was overloaded, or something -- like my code was not written to process that much damage. It felt like my insides turned to acid. My body twisted and jerked against my will. My head pounded against the tree. My arms fought the rope, every joint threatening to pop out. My legs jumped and kicked at the dirt. I just... convulsed. 

It felt like my code was being peeled out line by line. I glitched so widely and rapidly that I didn’t know what pixel of me was where. My senses cut in and out, kind of like I was struggling to keep my head above water. Whatever I could hear quickly cut into static and distorted audio. And then my vision flooded with threads of binary, until all I could see was blue.

I don’t know if I screamed. I don’t know if I could even breathe. It’s really hard to remember from here. The world just stopped making sense.

I remember emotions, but like... every possible emotion at once. Kind of like they were all pushing and shoving to get through the same door, and… I don’t know, like screaming, laughing, wailing, singing, swearing, crying, all layered into one sound.

I remember seeing images. Like, split-second frames of memory, as if all my code’s worth of data was firing at once. There must have been hundreds. As far as I can remember… I saw a moment from an Excitebike ride. I saw half-eaten Burger Time from Devs know when. I saw one of the drones from that old unplugged space game with the robot birds. I saw your game’s bleachers. I saw your fridge. I saw your garage. I saw you driving. So many times, I saw you laughing.

Really, the recurring theme was you.

Everything fell away into blinding, pulsing blocks of color, ones I could hear and smell and taste and feel, penetrating everything in this endless loop of red-orange-yellow, red-orange-yellow, over and over and over, until…

Nothing.

That’s as far as I can remember. I don’t know when I passed out.

But I do remember waking up. 

Somehow, after all that, I woke up. Maybe you saw it coming, given I’m here to write to you now, but I survived. I survived all that.

I’d love to brush that off and say “Takes more than that to kill Make-it Mavis,” but, the thing is, they could have. They had me right there, in the palms of their creepy hand things. They could have gotten their revenge and deleted me for good, with no consequences. Why they didn’t, I tried not to question too terribly. Though it would come back to gnaw at me on quiet nights.

When I came to, I didn’t realize I was awake at first, or that I was even alive. I just saw little sparks of binary behind my eyelids. Then, slowly, the rest of my senses came back. Every pixel of my sprite was pulsing. I was freezing cold. My head felt split, my ribs ached, my chest burned, my legs were ravaged, my tools were destroyed and strewn around me -- I must have had barely a decimal of HP left, but it was enough. 

I was lying on the ground. Maybe they untied me, or I finally glitched out of the ropes, but either way, I was free when I woke up. But it still felt like I couldn’t move. There was this rock in the pit of my stomach telling me that this was all a trick, that they would be on me again if I so much as opened my eyes. I listened for so long, but all I heard was the pounding in my ears and distant clanging coming from the castle. They were gone, and the arcade was open. Had been for some time, as it turned out. So I opened my eyes and tried to make sense of my situation.

I saw the cuff of my brush first. It was lying right next to my face, all twisted and chewed, one end covered in dried up blood. The rest of my brush was scattered over the dirt, bristles and all, and my paint can was warped and split and gnawed up nearby. There was no paint in it anymore, just buzzing and flickering sheets of binary.

My hat was close by, all crumpled up and caked in dry spit. My smock had been completely removed and torn to pieces. I still had my tank top, but it was a little worse for wear. Of course, my pants were ripped too, to say the least.

Contrary to what I thought, my legs didn’t end up looking like chicken dinner. But they still looked like a horror game. Under better circumstances, it would have been pretty wicked to see -- they were all flushed and swollen in parts, and there were these nasty-looking bloody wounds on deep purple welts, some still weeping. 

My chest, too, was covered in dry and fresh blood, but I couldn’t see enough of the wound to understand what it was, in the state I was in. So, when I figured out how to move, first thing I did was drag myself enough to reach my bucket. Touching it felt like punching a bruise, but it was still just reflective enough to be a makeshift mirror. So I saw, all skewed and backwards, what that scummy sadist freak saw fit to brand me with.

There, carved shoulder-to-shoulder, in big, glistening, deep red letters, was your name.