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yandere-sins · 3 years ago

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The Carnival Collaboration

My first piece (1 of 3 lol) for The Carnival Collaboration by @demonlamb666! I couldn’t fit my idea with any fandom character so I used my lovely boy Rhys for it and definitely had a lot of fun! ♥ I always forget how fun OCs are until I write for them! He got a bit of a development here to fit his role better, so I hope you guys will still like him! Please enjoy!

Warnings: SUGGESTIVE CONTENT/LEMON, Yandere (in the later parts), Reader has a midlife crisis, PDA, Lots of touching and body contact, Wordcount: 3428

Chapter I - Distraction

Carnival—a place to fulfill all your desires!

Well, most of them at least. As you made your way through the stands left and right, you took in the sweet smell of candied nuts, churros, and cotton candy hanging in the air. The excitement of the kids screaming and running from one attraction to the next was prickling on your skin as the memories of your childhood spent at this carnival warmed your heart.

It wasn’t every day you got to go home to your parents and relive something you’ve been enjoying a lot as a child. Now an adult, you moved away, started your own life, studied, got a job. You moved on from naive pleasures, as were these events. Friends would invite you out to have fun every now and then, but it rarely was something as exciting as the carnival you still remembered from the past.

Booming voices welcomed you closer to their games, which - at your age - you knew were rigged and barely winnable. Still, you looked at the operators of the stands, smiling from ear to ear in their fun getups as they reeled in paying customers. Most of the time, it were the parents of the excited children who spent money, but you also saw couples trying their best to win prizes for each other and teenage friend groups discussing what to do next. It seemed like every kind of person was hanging out here, making you feel less awkward, alone, and seemingly out of place as you were.

Truth be told, when you heard the carnival was back in town, you laughed about it, thinking it was just a silly kid’s thing. Still, the longer the evening at your parent’s house went on, sitting on the couch and watching boring television shows together, the more you felt the urge to do something. Get out, be on your feet, explore. Really get your mind off things.

After all these years since you last visited the carnival, it was pretty impressive to see they were still doing well. A circus had joined them, as well as many other new attractions. They even had a small Ferris wheel now and bumper cars. Nothing that was drawing you in, but people were queuing up in front of the rides, and you felt happy for the carnival people to have a lot of traction.

With a heavy sigh, you reminded yourself not to think so transactionally. Your mind immediately slipped into dangerous territory as you tried to hypothetically figure out how well business was going for them. Your job was one of the reasons that you decided to come visit your family, rarely ever getting the chance to these days. You knew it was normal for children to leave home, move away, start their own families and work, but just last week, you sat in your office, looking at your work computer, when you realized you hadn’t even called home in months. These days, everything was only about numbers and profit, and you were sick and tired of it.

Life had become a drag, you couldn’t deny it. Get up, brush your teeth, drink coffee, work, come home, have dinner, sleep. All the hobbies you once had, passions and dreams, were neatly packed up in your moving boxes still. You never even opened them since you moved to the big city. Back then, you had become incredibly busy trying to build your life. You imagined that things would change once you settled, opened yourself up to new job opportunities, and organized your free time. But instead of the bright, sparkling future, you envisioned, you felt trapped between responsibilities and your job. You hadn’t met new people in years! And the old ones were slowly forgetting about you since you never had time to go out with them.

Before you knew it, you were burned out, craving things you couldn’t have and pitying yourself for it.

Even when you came home, one of the first things you heard was how proud everyone was of you for making it. For getting a good job and working hard so you could afford a - small, and a little moldy - apartment in the city. How could you break the news to them that your visit wasn’t a planned family reunion, but you, trying to flee from your depressing life for a while? That you were, in fact, not happy at all about the measly salary you had to live off on and that you’ve been eating the same kind of recipe for weeks to no end?

No, you couldn’t do it.

Admitting that what you chose to do wasn’t fulfilling or exciting you as much as you always thought it would was hard, no question. Almost as hard as sitting next to your dad on the couch, watching boring ass shows, and having him point out that the people depicted on the television weren’t as much of a big deal as they thought. Actors - or creative jobs in general - had no worth in your small-town, hands-on kind of family. They weren’t too happy when you decided to leave the town to pursue greater things, preferring if you had stayed and taken over the family’s craft store. But here you were, back in town after finding nothing but disappointment in the city, unwilling to admit that maybe they had been right.

Taking a deep breath, you held back some tears as you stood in the middle of the long pathway between the stands, leading up to the circus and around the carnival site. People were walking by, laughing, enjoying themselves. And then, there was you: a complete downer. You came out here to have fun and get your mind off things, not to be more miserable than you were in the city or at your parents’ place!

Surprisingly, the only sound that could break through to you in the cacophony of voices and jingles was a whistle. Not the shouting of the stand owners around you. Not the squeals of delight and screams of the children who had too much sugar. No, it was a simple whistle calling for your attention, short and directed at you, that made you lift your chin, looking around you.

“Hey there, Cutie,” someone called out to you, and your eyes locked on the face behind the voice, your body twisting into the direction. A young man who couldn’t be older than you waved at you, his lips turning into a grin as your eyes finally met. Brown curls framed a pretty face, a red, round clown’s nose glued to his real one. He was standing behind the counter of one of those throw-a-ball-at-cans stalls, inviting you closer. You had already passed by it while in thought, but now you noticed the stand was barely visited by other people. That, and the random person calling out from it, intrigued you. Not least because his gentle, yellow eyes were beckoning you closer as if he was just as captivated by you.

Looking side to side before turning, partly checking no one was planning on going to the stand, or you’d run into anyone, you stepped closer, curious. Watching you approach with a sense of satisfaction, the man ducked down briefly, pulling up three heavy balls used for the game and placing them on the counter before you. He presented them to you with an inviting gesture, still smiling from ear to ear now that he had your attention.

“It’s bad manners to whistle at people,” you reminded him, glancing behind him at the rows of cans neatly stacked. No doubt the bottommost ones were drilled into the board underneath them to make it impossible to win big prizes from this stall, even though they tried to hide the scam. Not that you wanted to win anything. You didn’t even want to play. But you also didn’t know what exactly the man wanted from you, other than play his game.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend, but…” Taking a seat on the counter next to you, the operator leaned towards you, and the smell of cologne wafted from him, earthy and warm. Like wood and spices. You couldn’t help taking a deep breath, the scent enveloping you gently, drawing you towards him, as the guy continued. “You looked a bit upset standing there. I thought you could need some distraction.”

Giving him a half-hearted smile, you looked between him, the balls, and the cans as he invited you with a broad gesture of his hand to throw one. He didn’t even ask you to pay up, but perhaps this was just a way to draw in more customers if they saw you play or kill the boredom of not having any customers otherwise.

“And you think hitting tin cans will help make aaaaaaall my worries go away?” you questioned sarcastically.

The man’s lips parted, showing his teeth as he grinned, hearing your reply, seemingly amused by your feistiness. Picking up one of the balls, he threw it in the air a couple of times, catching it in the same hand before holding it out to you. “Did for me. My tin cans solved all my problems. They might do the same for you?”

Even though this was definitely a strange situation, you took the ball he gave you. By all means, you appreciated the distraction, even if it was some stranger and you, playfully bickering and throwing balls at tin cans. Aiming at the center of the cans, you focused your throw, hoping to perform well despite it being just a kids’ game. It was good to know you hadn’t lost your bite yet when it came to challenges. You sure loved the tin toss when you were a kid, always wanting to win the biggest stuffed animal possible. But now, believing in the reality of never being able to win since it was rigged, it was kind of silly how easily excitable you still were.

There was just something about this stand that really got to you.

Just as you expected, you were able to knock off the top one and one can in the second row. But while the pyramid tumbled a little, nothing more happened. It was silly. Silly enough to get a little upset about it. Looking back at the guy, you noticed his eyes never moved from you, even when you were focused on the game, the corners of his lips curling higher as you looked back at him, now a little flustered that he was watching your fail so intently.

“I actually feel worse now,” you admitted, trying to laugh off the embarrassment.

“Oh, don’t,” he purred somewhat comfortingly. It felt like he was absolving you of your embarrassment, reminding you it was not that big of a deal. All of a sudden, the man lifted his legs over the counter, letting them hang down next to you before jumping to the ground. Standing on your level now, you noticed how tall he was, looking down at you with a mix of gentleness and… something you couldn’t determine yet. He was much more handsome than you had noticed at first glance, strong arms with defined muscles, giving his body a tender but muscular look. Wearing only a vest instead of a proper shirt, you could see the outlines on his chest before he suddenly disappeared behind you. Those big, strong arms wrapped around you just a second later, and you tensed in surprise, unsure what to make of the situation.

“See, there’s a trick to it, Sweetheart.”

Before you knew what he was doing, he pressed another ball back into your hand, guiding that hand upwards with his own. His chest pressed up to your back, your hips snuggly sitting against his. With the other hand, he pinned your free hand to the counter, urging you to lean forward a little as he lifted your throwing arm into the air and in position.

Not only were you completely enveloped by his body, but the scent of his cologne was also stronger now, tickling your senses again. It was hard to breathe in anything but this man, alongside the warmth of his body against yours, making you melt. His touch was gentle but no less assertive than the rest of his body, sending goosebumps over your skin, all while you felt his muscles move with your body as he directed your throw. This was more contact than you had with anyone in a long time, the years of not dating since college now showing you exactly how needy you were for this. You felt incredibly greedy for wanting more from this stranger, but he probably wasn’t aware of how strongly you missed being so close to someone. It was weird that you were so willing to get riled up by this stranger, but at the same time, it was exactly the distraction you had wanted. What was life without a bit of fun, right? Nonetheless because his scent was slowly turning you on with just how tempting it was.

When he said, “Now!” your body didn’t question his instruction, reacting instinctively to him, letting go of the ball in your hand, and… hitting all of the cans. The crashing sound of the tin cans falling to the ground while you stared in disbelief was only drowned out by the chuckle in your ear as the operator closed the distance to praise you, “Now that was an excellent throw, Darling.”

You instantly felt weak in the knees, hoping he couldn’t feel your body relying on him for support. Thankfully, your ears were covered by hair as you felt them grow hot after he whispered the sweet praise for the throw into them, rendering you flustered. It made you feel like a teenager again, flirting with the cute upperclassman. “Feeling better already?” His voice - a honeyed mumble - was still coming from right beside your ear. But you could hear the grin on his face all while you felt his body grind against yours from behind as he waited for your reply.

Taking a barely hideable deep breath, you hoped you wouldn’t stutter as you turned your head in his direction, glancing at him from over your shoulder. It had become quite obvious that he was enjoying this, so it was only fair if you teased him right back. He watched you squirm in his hold, feeling it as you pressed your buttcheeks against his crotch challengingly, first surprised that you’d play along, then grinning knowingly.

“That went really fast. I think I need another demonstration?” you purred innocently, all while brushing up against him with obvious intention.

“Of course, Sugar,” he agreed, wasting no time pressing you against the stall’s counter, making sure there was not an inch of space between your bodies. While you took a sharp breath, he ran his fingertips along your arm and down to your hands, both of his hands gripping yours from above suddenly, lacing your fingers. “Pay attention now,” he ordered assertively, teasing you with his voice ringing through your skull.

“Lift.” He stretched your arm high in the air, bringing it up and behind his own head, your shoulder close enough to his lips that you thought he was going to kiss it. Instead, you felt the vibration of his voice against your skin, making you tense as budding arousal made itself known between your legs. For a moment, he remained in this position, feeling your bodies breathe against each other, you so perfectly pinned between him and the counter.

“Focus on where you want to throw.” How? you wondered, his voice being the only thing that was captivating you right now, stealing all the focus as you wished he’d murmur it more into your ear. All you wanted was to lean in further to him, a complete stranger, and feel more of his body all over yours. This was less of a demonstration of how to throw balls than it was a demonstration of how good his body fit against yours.

“And throw!” Saying that, he directed you to lower yourself into your knees, ground his hips against yours, and jolted your bodies upwards until you were standing on your tiptoes, leaning over the counter. The bulge in his pants fit right in between your ass cheeks, letting you feel the delicious length you were dealing with as you let go of the ball at his command.

Unsurprisingly for you - even after the thorough instructions - you didn’t hit the cans as planned, the ball bouncing off the back of the stall, while the man let out a teasing, “Oh… That’s too bad,” clearly still smiling as he said that. Placing his hands on your hips for a moment, he pulled you back against him while your breath hitched. You felt like you were on a rollercoaster of emotions, pressing your legs together tightly to somewhat get a hold on yourself. “I’d have loved to reward you for that throw, Buttercup.”

Letting go of you, you whipped around, holding on to the counter behind you as the guy laughed, putting his hands in the air innocently as he walked to the side of the stall, letting himself in through the door again. “But alas,” he sighed, leaning down to collect the balls you threw and putting them away.

“All I have for you is this rose.” Pulling forth one of the cheapest prizes, a plastic flower, he slipped it behind your ear, leaning on the counter, supported by his arms. “But I’m sure I at least got your mind off things, right?”

With your heart still racing, you tried to keep the eye contact, the brilliant, citrine glow of his not being subtle about how much he enjoyed this too, as it drilled into you. You could tell he was a terrible tease, but you had to admit he wasn’t wrong. At least for a little bit, he made you forget about your worries, even if you found it hard to admit. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Tin Toss Boy?” you challenged him, keeping your chin high and proud, his smile growing wider with excitement.

“It’s Rhys. But if my little demonstration wasn’t enough to help you with your worries, feel free to drop by again tomorrow. I’ll be here aaaall weekend, happy to help.”

Winking at you, you couldn’t help but laugh for the first time since the exchange started. When you told your parents you’d be going to the carnival, this wasn’t what they thought you were doing. In fact, it wasn’t what you thought you’d do that day either. Chuckling, you took the rose from behind your ear, twirling the plastic stem between your fingers.

“Maybe I will, Rhys,” you made an open promise to him, turning to walk away as you heard him take a sharp breath before letting out a small, pleasurable grumble. You could feel his eyes on you, scanning you from head to toe, and it made you feel even hotter, hearing and feeling that he liked what he saw.

Looking back over your shoulder, your eyes met as you heard him say, “God, I hope.”

When you returned home, your parents had already gone to sleep, the house quiet and dark. You were still holding the rose in your hands, twirling it before your nose again, still faintly smelling his cologne on it. A draft of the scent and your body instantly remembered how his chest felt against your back, the vibrations of his voice in your ear teasing long-forgotten desires inside of you, and most of all, the hard resistance in his pants as you pressed against his crotch.

No matter how strange and intrusive this stranger had been, you couldn’t help that he set off a lot of neediness inside you, making you ache for him between your legs and even deep inside your core. You had never clicked with someone like Rhys before. Someone confident, eager, and dominant with what he wanted. It flattered you beyond imagination that he wanted you of all people; certainly, he’d have enough options with his dashing looks. But you remembered the hunger festering in his eyes as he looked after you, the thought better than sex itself. Maybe he was bored, perhaps just a little weird, but you’d be damned if you didn’t return for another taste of adventure you had with him the next day.

However, that night, you could only dream about what he’d demonstrate to you next.

#Rhys #Rhys Aspen #yandere oc #yandere!oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW #OW

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lifeofkaze · 3 years ago

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When Stars Ignite - Chapter 2

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N:

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of drug abuse, swearing, suggestive NSFW content

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster

No, we won't tell a soul where we gone to

Girl, we do whatever we want to

Ah, I love the way that you do me

Cherry, babe, you really get to me

~ Neil Diamond - Cherry, Cherry ~

It had already been pretty late when they had finally left the O2 arena and made their way into the heart of the city. They’d just had enough time to order something to eat at one of their favourite restaurants at the still bustling Heron Tower before last orders were called.

None of them being in the mood to go home just yet, they had taken a cab to Mayfair for an opportunity to wind down from the high of their show. Ethan had wanted to join them, but had waved them away after checking his phone, mumbling something about a lot of work waiting for him in the morning.

No one was particularly sad about Skye’s dad opting out, however; they were currently making their way past the line of people queuing up in front of the nightclub they had chosen for the evening. Orion wasn’t a fan of crowded dancefloors and music he didn’t like blaring so loudly he couldn’t hear his own thoughts, but had bowed to the will of the others.

Many people considered the glitz and glamour that came with being famous as a perk; he just found it shallow and irritating. However, he was still too wound up to just return to his flat; he hadn’t seen his friends in weeks and was looking forward to properly catching up with them. Even if it wasn’t his preferred location for sharing talk and laughter, nothing was perfect after all.

As expected, music washed over them the moment they entered the building and the air grew increasingly warmer as they were led deeper into the bowels of the club. He could see Everett checking out the women on the dancefloor as they walked past, while Lizzie was slightly nodding her head to the music; naturally, she wasn’t able to resist a compelling beat.

The uncomfortably loud volume lessened to a more agreeable level when they arrived at their designated table in the private area. Their first round of drinks hadn’t even arrived yet, when Everett rose from his seat again and left for the dancefloor; none of them had any desire to join him. Lizzie had been considering it for a moment, but Orion knew how exhausted she must be from their performance. His own muscles were burning with fatigue, he could only imagine how she must feel.

Unsurprisingly, there were a lot of stories to tell; before their break, they had spent every day together for months on end, making a span of four weeks feel like an eternity and a blink of an eye at the same time. Skye was telling them about the side project she had started with her brothers while Merula spoke about her dabbling into poetry. Lizzie had spent the whole four weeks in the States with her brother and had brought back quite an assortment of stories to tell.

Orion himself had travelled a fair bit as well; there was nothing sparking his creativity like visiting new places with a clean and open mind. Thanks to a surge of inspiration, the songs for their next album were coming along greatly. Although they were still far from what Orion considered good enough to openly share them, he was satisfied with the progress.

When Everett returned after some time, the atmosphere cooled noticeably. Hanging from his arm was a girl with long brown hair, who was looking at Everett as if he was Keith Richards and Kurt Cobain combined. She was dolled up to a ridiculous degree, with heels as high as her dress was short.

Glancing down at her simple dark jeans and top, Lizzie chuckled to herself. “Now I feel underdressed.”

“If anyone is underdressed, that would be her,” Merula muttered, eyeing the hem of the girl’s dress, which barely covered her bum, with an arched eyebrow.

As she and Everett sat down next to Lizzie, the contrast between the girl’s artificial look and Lizzie’s more natural beauty couldn’t have been greater. Orion would probably never stop wondering why women felt the need to distort their looks in such a way.

Real beauty was not something to be put on and worn on display, forced about with flashy jewellery and an absurd amount of makeup; it was like light shining from the inside. It illuminated everything around it, drawing eyes without even trying to.

Their conversations all but ceased as Everett started boasting about their band’s success, his impact on their music and the solo career he had been fantasising about ever since Orion could remember.

Orion had to bite back a laugh as he saw Skye mimicking Everett’s expression when he didn’t look her way. Granted, he was a passable guitarist and talented singer. None of the other band members had the way of enticing the crowd and holding their attention like Everett did; nor did any one of them want to. He was about show and performance, the way he liked to celebrate himself all smoke and mirrors, but this didn’t stop his act increasingly getting on all of their nerves.

Everett didn’t use to be that way back when he had joined Equinox; while he had always been a charismatic guy, their continuous success had started getting to his head. Judging by his erratic gestures and slurred speech, Orion wouldn’t bet on alcohol being the only thing he had coursing through his system and clouding his view on things at the moment.

It wasn’t long, however, before Everett eventually decided he'd had enough of them.

Ignoring the annoyed looks of his friends, he and his girl had started making out right next to them. After a while she giggled, pulled on his sleeve and whispered something into his ear. Without sparing them so much as another glance, Everett got up and pulled her along towards the exit. There was a collective sigh going through the group after they had left.

“Fuck it, a few more minutes and she’d taken her bra off,” Merula muttered.

Lizzie shuddered. “No need, it’s not like she was wearing one.”

Skye shook her head. “I don’t get it, what do they all see in him? He’s not even that good looking.”

“You don’t find any man good looking,” Lizzie answered wryly while taking a sip of her almost empty drink.

“Fair enough,” Skye shot back, blowing her a kiss over the table. Lizzie rolled her eyes, but had to laugh anyway.

“I see what you mean, though,” she continued a moment later. “He’s been getting downright nasty lately. The way he was talking to Charlie during the feedback round? That was so unnecessary; a little more and Charlie might have hit him.”

“He’d never,” Skye chuckled. “It takes more than Ev to rile someone like Charlie up. That would be like Orion punching someone.”

They laughed at the ridiculousness of that idea. Skye was right though, Lizzie thought. While Charlie had been offended at suggesting his work wasn’t absolutely flawless and up to his own standard, it wasn’t like him to lose his cool over something like that.

“Like anyone pursuing what they love with a passion, Charlie does care about his work deeply,” Orion picked the conversation up again, “it is only natural to feel defensive when attacked. When you pour your heart and soul into something, it doesn’t matter if the results or yourself are doubted; it comes down to the same thing.”

“Maybe, but Charlie’s attitude is causing problems,” Merula said glumly. “As much as I hate to admit it, Ev is right; the pyros are a joke since Charlie’s doing two jobs at the same time.”

Lizzie immediately jumped to her friend’s defence. “It’s only temporary; he’ll concentrate on sound as soon as a proper replacement is found.”

Merula snorted in response. “I’m not sure there is anyone Charlie would be happy with who’s not himself.”

“Giving up something you love to the care of someone else is no easy feat,” Orion conceded, “but Murphy said it himself, they have a new applicant in for an interview tomorrow. If they meet him with an open mind, maybe we’ll have the newest member of our crew faster than we think.”

Merula’s answer was cut short by the waitress approaching their table carrying a fresh round of drinks. She handed them out and was about to leave, when she turned around again. Hesitating for a moment, she blushed a little, the change in her skin colour barely visible in the dimmed lights of the nightclub.

“Excuse me if I’m rude or anything, I really don’t want to disturb you,” she mumbled, looking visibly flustered, “but you are the guys from Equinox, aren’t you? The rock band?”

Skye grinned. “Right you are. You a fan?”

The waitress’s eyes lit up. “A fan? Are you kidding? I adore your music! I’ve got tickets for your show tomorrow and can’t wait! It’s such an honour to have you here tonight.”

“That’s sweet of you to say,” Lizzie smiled, idly stirring her cherry margarita with the cherry that had come as decoration.

The eyes of the waitress followed the swirls she was creating in the dark liquid. She was visibly gathering her courage before blurting out, “Is it true what’s written on your website? On your character profile?”

Lizzie raised her eyebrows in confusion. “Pardon me?”

The girl started blushing again. “In the misc-section, you know. They’ve written you could tie a cherry stem with your tongue; I’ve never met anyone who can do that.”

Now it was Lizzie’s turn to blush and hide her face behind her hand; sitting directly next to her, Orion could see that she was laughing behind her fingers.

“I knew I should have never told anyone about this,” she sighed, “I had no idea Ethan had them put this on my damn profile.”

“Shut up, you can’t really do that,” Skye exclaimed incredulously. “No way that’s true.”

Lizzie furrowed her brow. “Of course it is.”

“You never told me about that.”

“Why would I?”

“Then why did you tell dad?”

“He asked,” Lizzie shrugged.

Now it was Merula’s turn to look incredulous. “Ethan asked you if you could tie a cherry stem?”

Lizzie snorted. “He asked if I could do a party trick.”

Skye crossed her arms in front of her chest and leaned back in her seat. She nodded at the cherry between Lizzie’s fingers. “Prove it.”

Amused, Lizzie tilted her head. “What, right now?”

“Scared I’ll call you out, Jameson?”

Her eyes sparkling in prospect of a challenge, Lizzie plucked the stem off the cherry and twirled it between her fingers. “Watch it, Parkin.”

She flashed the still sceptical looking Skye a mischievous grin before she let the cherry stem disappear behind her lips. She knew everyone was watching her intently and Orion could see she was trying not to smirk.

He himself was so concentrated on whether she would succeed or not, he was caught completely off guard when he suddenly felt Lizzie’s hand coming to rest on his knee beneath the table. His breath hitched as she was squeezing it lightly. He had to bite his cheek as her fingers started grazing the inside of his thigh in slow circles, her hand steadily dancing higher and higher. All the while, she was keeping a straight face, her blue eyes fixed on Skye.

Orion couldn’t believe what she was doing; he took a deep breath that came out a lot shakier than he had meant it to.

Just before he had to stop her wandering fingers, she retracted her hand abruptly. Her eyes flickering towards him for the briefest of moments, she pursed her lips and pulled the now doubly tied cherry stem from between them in a deliberately slow motion. With a confident smile, she flicked it at Skye, whose jaw had dropped open.

“Teach me,” was all she managed to say before Lizzie broke into laughter.

“That’s my secret technique, Parkin; I’m not sharing.”

Lizzie leaned back in her seat, visibly satisfied with herself. Judging by the devilish smile playing around her lips, it was not only because she had proven Skye wrong.

Orion closed his eyes for a moment and brushed his hair out of his face to give his fingers something to do. While Lizzie and Skye were bantering back and forth, Orion was counting to fifty in his head in an attempt to reign his thoughts in again.

Just when he thought he had himself back under control again, Lizzie leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand while appearing to listen to Merula attentively. What the others could not see was her using her shift in position to press her leg against his. The cheeky smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth was hidden by her hand, only visible to him.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Orion moved himself out of her reach. “As much as I would love to stay with you, my friends, I’m afraid tonight’s show has taken more of a toll on me than I thought,” he explained at Merula’s and Skye’s confused expressions; Lizzie was merely blinking at him innocently. “If you don’t mind, I’ll head back home to get some well deserved rest.”

Without waiting for any of them to reply, Orion quickly turned around and left for the exit, all the while feeling Lizzie’s eyes on his back.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts mystery #rockstar au #orion amari #skye parkin #merula snyde #lizzie jameson #lizion #when stars ignite #besties collaborate

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pucksnsticksnhockeyboys · 5 years ago

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scary movie

request: 33 with mat Barzal please!!

prompt: “We’re about to be murdered and you say that?” / number 33 off of this list with Mathew Barzal.

summary: a simple movie marathon with Mat turns into both your worst fear and the best night of your life.

warnings: swearing, breaking and entering (?)

word count: 2k

requested by: anon

“You’re literally a man child.”

“Hey!” Mat protested your chirp. You giggled at him, and he could keep an angry face before he started laughing along with you. “Okay, maybe I am. But which one should I pick?”

“It’s candy, Mat.” You tried to reason, leaning against the shopping cart as you watched your best friend try and make a decision. You made a show of checking the time on your phone, teasingly telling him you’d been in the same aisle for two minutes now.

“It’s not everyday I let you convince me to cheat on my diet, this is a very important decision.” He joked back and you rolled your eyes, the smile never leaving your face.

“You’re the one who suggested a movie night.”

“And a sleepover.” Mat gave you a pointed look, making sure you didn't forget that part.

“And a sleepover.” You repeated with a sigh, as if it was the most troubling thing he could have asked you to do. And in a way, it kind of was. Your friendship with Mat was borderline painful since you had come to the realization a few weeks back that you had totally, completely, fallen for your best friend.

But he was practically untouchable. He was this star hockey player that got to travel across the country and even into Canada. Dozens of women threw themselves at Mat for a chance to be with him, if only for one night. You watched all this happen from your spot at his best friend.

You took the momentary lull in conversation to appreciate Mat. He was in casual sweats and an Islanders shirt, an outfit not unlike yours as he had spontaneously arrived at your apartment after practice. It wasn't out of the ordinary to have him show you at random times, and it especially wasn't far from the norm to have him ask you to help him with errands. He’d grin at you in the lazy way he did and you’d drop whatever you were doing to help him.

“Why did I agree to go grocery shopping with you?” You mused, the question supposed to pass off as more a jab than a legitimate inquiry. Mat just turned to face you, his typical smug grin on his face as he finally tossed the pack of candy he picked out into the cart.

“Because I depend on you to keep me alive.” Mat said like it was simple, and you once more you rolled your eyes at him. You started rolling away from him and towards the produce section, knowing he needed to stock his fridge with food he actually could eat during the week.

“Do you want to get ice cream while we’re here?” You asked, knowing that was one of his favorite snacks for your movie nights. You tried to ignore the nagging thought that grocery shopping with him felt so domestic and natural, like the two of you were actually a couple and were buying food for your apartment. And honestly, with the amount of time you spent at him place, it wasn't far from the truth.

“No, I bought your favorite kind yesterday so I wouldn't forget.” Mat said and it felt so casual, like it was something he did often, you had to force yourself not stop dead in your tracks in the middle of the store. Thankfully, he was looking at something on his phone and missed the look of pure adoration you sent his way at the thought of him not only remembering your favorite kind of ice cream, but going out of his way to make sure he had it in his apartment for you.

“You’re so sweet.” You settled on finally, hoping that he wouldn't question the beat of silence that lasted a moment too long between his declaration and your response.

“Do you usually think I’m some kind of jerk?” Mat teased, and suddenly you were rolling your eyes at him playfully once more.

“If you keep being such a drama queen, I’m going to go home and make you pick out your own groceries.” You mocked, trying—and failing—to ignore the handsome grin on his face.

“You wouldn't do that, you love me too much.” You just chuckled, not responded because you didn't trust yourself to not let him know just how right he was.

After the first movie had ended, you had already finished your second glass of wine. You weren't drunk by any means, just a bit tipsy and giggly. Mat was in the same boat as you, which was why neither of you found any problem when Mat suggested watching the next movie in his bed. He insisted that it was more comfortable for cuddling and that it was more practical, since you’d be spending the night, not that you would have argued.

It probably did nothing to help your feelings, but as you watched Mat flop down onto his bed on his back, opening his arms up for you, you threw caution to the wind. You grinned like a dope, crawling into his awaiting arms and curling into his side. Your smile fell off your face immediately once you saw the movie he had queued up.

“No!” You whined, drawing out the word much longer than necessary. Mat started giggling, and you only pouted. “That’s literally like the scariest movie ever.” The wine had you exaggerating, but Mat didn't seem to notice nor care as he giggled.

“I’ll protect you.” He said between his laughter, sobering up once you pinched his side.

“You can barely watch scary movies. How are you supposed to protect me?” You teased. Any other protests you had died on your lips went Mat tightened his arms around you, pulling you so you were practically laying on his chest. Despite the fact that this was not the first time you had cuddled with Mat, your heart rate doubled its pace and you were certain he could feel it since you were pressed up against him.

“You’re so mean to me.” Mat huffed and you rolled your eyes. The conversation stopped there as the movie started playing, and you only spoke in curses and screams from the various jump scares. Somehow, you managed to get even closer to Mat than when the movie started, on account of you shielding yourself from the screen by burying your head into the crook of his neck. Mat would laugh at you until the next jump scare, where he’d let out a resounding ‘fuck!’ because the creepy kid that you were sure was going to give both of you nightmares appeared.

“We need to watch something happy now.” You breathed, trying to collect your thoughts as the credits rolled on screen. It was nearing one in the morning, and your yawns clued you in that if your were to watch something else, you’d just fall asleep before you made it halfway through.

“No, that’s the fun part. Being scared shitless as you try to fall asleep.” Mat grinned, turning off the television. You groaned, standing up to get ready for bed when you froze in your spot.

You heard the front door of Mat’s apartment click shut, and footsteps in the living room. Mat was looking at you with wide eyes, and you knew he heard it too. Your palms started to sweat and Mat gestured for you to silently cross the room to stand by him.

“Do you have your phone?” He whispered, and though he tried to hide it, you could see the nervousness in his eyes. You shook your head, starting to panic, realizing that you had left it on the coffee table in the living room—right next to Mat’s.

“It’s out there.” You bit your lip to try and keep calm, your voice barely audible and you were certain that it Mat wasn't standing as close to you as he had been, then he wouldn't have heard you. He looked into your eyes, as if he was searching for something, trying to piece together a plan that would get you out of his apartment safely.

“I love you.”

“We’re about to be murdered and you say that?” You had you force yourself to keep your tone low and even. Of all the times for Mat to confess his feelings for you, he had to pick the one time you were certain someone who had just broken into his apartment was going to kill you. You couldn't even focus on how your heart was doing flips because you were trying to keep the contents of your stomach done. “Not the best time, Mat.”

“Fuck, okay, I’m going to look.” He started to head towards the bedroom door and you could hear the footsteps, it sounded like the intruder was in the kitchen now.

Fear started to settle into you, and you shot your hand forward, grasping for Mat’s. He instantly complied, giving your hand a squeeze before using it to tug your body behind his as he cracked the door open.

“Mat, I’m scared.” You spoke into his back. All at once, you felt the tension in his body disappear, his shoulders going slack but the grip on your hand stayed tight. You didn't know if that was a good sign, but you weren’t left wondering long.

“What the fuck are you doing here Tito?” Mat yelled into the apartment, gaining the attention of his closest friend on the team. Relief washed over you and you couldn't help the breathy laugh that you let out. “We thought you were a robber.”

“Shit, I didn't realize she was spending the night. But I left my wallet here and I needed it. I texted you, though.” Tito explained, finally coming into your view as Mat let the bedroom door swing open. Mat sighed, flipping off his friend before slinking back into the bedroom.

“Goodbye, Tito.” You called, watching as he headed to the door. He returned the sentiment and you headed back into the bedroom, after grabbing both yours and Mat’s phones and seeing that he had, in fact, texted.

“Sorry about that. I didn't realize I was going to regret giving him a key so quickly.” Mat mumbled, laying facedown on the bed. “If you uh, want me to sleep on the couch I will.”

“I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch, Mat.” You sighed, a smile finding its way onto your face as you finally calmed down enough to absorb what he had confessed minutes prior. “Now’s a better time, by the way.”

Mat turned towards you, studying you as you sat on the edge of his bed. You could see the worry in his eyes, and it made you reach out and rub a comforting hand on his back.

“I love you, like a lot.” He sighed, and you shifted your position so you were laying on your stomach beside him, head turned to face him. “And this is terrifying because you’re my best friend and I don't want to lose you.”

“More terrifying than a potential robber?” You teased, and Mat bumped you with his shoulder.

“Worse than a robber, even if they turn out to be Tito.” You giggled at his chirp at his teammates expense. Mat was smiling, soft eyes looking at you like you were the reason to get up in the morning. The air felt thicker in the room, but you weren't complaining. It was a good feeling, like there was a shift in your relationship with him that you had been dying for, for weeks.

And suddenly you were kissing him. You were kissing Mat Barzal, Long Island’s star athlete. But he wasn't just a hockey player to you, he was your best friend. He was the goofy boy you had fallen in love with over movie nights and idiotic dancing at clubs. He was the one that never failed to take your breath away when walked in the room and the kiss between you two fell nothing short of stealing the oxygen from your lungs just the same. You were certain that if you hadn’t been lying down, he would've knocked you off your feet.

“For the record, Mat, I love you too.”

#mat barzal #Mathew barzal #mat Barzal x reader #mat Barzal imagine #mat Barzal imagines #Mathew Barzal x reader #Mathew Barzal imagine #Mathew Barzal imagines #New York islanders #New York Islanders imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #nhl #nhl imagine

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fanfictionaries · 4 years ago

Text

Where the Green Grass Grows - Part 1. A Real Fine Place to Start

@imanuglywombat credit for the moodboard/art!

Summary: After leaving town in 2001, Marianne Grace Barnes swore she’d never step foot in Texas again. She was happy with her life in San Francisco. She had great friends, a great job, and a loving boyfriend. But when her mother insists she come home after six long years away, Marianne comes face to face with someone she vowed to never lay eyes on again. Now the questions arise: Is he so different from the man who broke her heart? Is she so different from the girl she used to be?

And most importantly, is she as happy as she really thinks she is?

A story of love, heartache, and that special feeling of being home.

MASTERLIST

Pairing: AU Cowboy!Steve Rogers x OFC

Warnings: Swearing

Author’s note: This is my entry for @arrowsandmixtapes ‘s RomCom Writing Challenge! So sorry for the late entry, Covid has been a whirlwind of a time.

Prompt: Sweet Home Alabama (2002)

***

The streets of San Francisco were their normal, misty grey as Marianne Barnes rushed down the sidewalk. Scrubbing at the technicolor specks of paint that covered her arms, she wondered why that day of all days she had decided to introduce the splatter paint portion of her student’s curriculum. The current semester was focused on abstract and modern art. Slowly she’d been introducing them to all of the history and techniques behind the different styles before allowing them to try it out for themselves. While initially it seemed like a fantastic idea, she soon realized that allowing a group of middle schoolers the freedom to literally throw paint was a recipe for disaster. Luckily, she had her art smock to cover the entirety of her clothes, but that had not saved her arms and legs from the ricochet of paint as the over enthusiastic kids hurled globs of color as hard as they could at blank canvases. Continuing to rake her nails against the skin of her arms, she sighed in frustration. She really should have taken a few more minutes to wash up one more time.

It was important that she look nice tonight. Tony, her boyfriend, had invited her to dinner stating he had some “big news”. Marianne assumed that it probably had to do with the big business deal he’d been working on for his company. Tony was a visionary of sorts. Having come from family money, his future was always to be well off. However, he had taken the extra steps to truly make something of himself and slowly over the years of his career he had come to own the single leading company in clean energy technology. She was proud of him – even if his job did take up a large amount of his life. However, without his job she probably wouldn’t have met him. She thought back to the embarrassing moment in which they had met nearly a year ago.

Marianne pulled at the neckline of her dress, the Peter Pan collar currently feeling as though it was going to choke her as she shifted uncomfortably by the food and drink table. As much as she liked being there for her best friend, she really wished Natasha would stop inviting her to these kinds of events. While Nat insisted that she’d stay right by Marianne’s side, she always ended up alone at some point in the night, twiddling her thumbs in a room filled with strangers. Having met in art school, Marianne always found it incredibly interesting how drastically different her and Natasha’s careers were. While Marianne had opted for teaching the youths of America about Monet, Dali, van Gogh, and Matisse, Natasha had settled on the curation of art, a field that suited her much more appropriately. The rubbing of elbows with the hoity toity rich was a perfect fit for Nat’s easy, sophisticated, and, for lack of a better word, sexy personality. With her naturally fire-red hair, knockout curves, and perfect smile, Natasha was the type of woman that when she walked into a room, every person either wanted to be her or to fuck her. There was no in-between. Even for Marianne, who supposed in some ways, she’d like to be a bit more like Natasha.

That’s why she was so surprised to be approached as she clung to her glass of champagne and pretended to stare contemplatively at the same painting of a flat tire for the fifth time that night.

“What do you think?” asked a smooth and timbred voice from beside her.

Marianne chuckled slightly to herself continued to trace the thick brushstrokes of the painting with her eyes. “Well, considering the artist’s theme of stagnation, I think they’ve gone a bit too on the nose with this one. It’s…unimaginative,” she commented, before turning to see the handsome man beside her. If she’d actually been drinking the champagne in her hand, she might have choked on it. Luckily for her, she hadn’t.

The man continued to stare at the painting in front of them, a contemplative expression that brought his thick, dark brows together, before he turned his gaze to her, “So you don’t think it will sell tonight then?”

“Oh no, it will definitely sell. I’ve been to enough of these things to know that it’s not really about taste, so much as it is status. If the artist seems important enough, then so is their art,” smirked Marianne, this time actually taking a sip from her champagne flute to avoid focusing on the intriguing way in which the stranger was staring at her.

“Ah, yes. The snobbish elites’ inability to see past their own social status,” he commented dryly, taking a sip from his own flute.

“Hey, you said it, not me,” Marianne laughed, feeling as though she might have made a connection with a reasonable person just yet.

“And who do I have the pleasure of giving me all the inside critique?”

She extended her free hand out to the man, “Marianne Barnes—art teacher, friend of the curator, and overall critic of the snobbish elite.”

He took her hand in his own, his grasp soft, yet strong as he shook her hand and stared her directly in the eye, “Tony Stark – member of the snobbish elite.”

Marianne blanched at the words, the overwhelming feeling of embarrassment taking over her as she realized her mistake. She was just beginning to open her mouth to apologize when Tony held up a hand.

“No need to apologize—” he inhaled deeply, looking around the room and the people that inhabited it “—Truth be told, I don’t think I can stand a single person in here. You excluded of course, but who knows that may change.”

Marianne wrestled with the smile that fought to match Tony’s own wry grin. He was too charming for his own good. Taking a second to look over his expensive suit, Italian leather shoes, and $200 haircut, she reckoned he was much too handsome and successful for her own good. Still, she figured there was no harm in a little conversation.

“Say, I like your accent. Where’s that from? Georgia? Alabama?” asked Tony, stepping in to close the distance between them and making the interaction feel so much more intimate than it should.

Marianne gasped in mock offense, “Excuse you sir, but I am Texas born through and through.”

“My apologies ma’am,” Tony said, holding a hand to his heart in sincerity. “It’s never my intention to offend beautiful women. But for some reason, it just, well, happens.”

That comment made Marianne pause, “You think I’m beautiful?”

He took a moment to assess her, raking his eyes over her from head to toe. Not in a predatory way, but more like he was assessing another painting on the wall. Then he answered, voice heavy in sincerity, “Most beautiful piece of art I’ve seen tonight.”

The sharp tone of Marianne’s ringtone brought her out of her musing and back to the present as she waited at a crosswalk for the light to change. Digging into the deep contents of her purse, she cursed under her breath, pushing aside pens, pencils, scrunchies, lotions, and general clutter before her fingers closed around the buzzing device.

“Hello?”

“I just really don’t understand why Serena and Nate just don’t get together! I mean, he basically broke up with Blair for her, the least she could do is date him,” groaned Natasha from the other end, before Marianne heard the distinct crunch of popcorn being chewed.

“Hey! Spoilers, I haven’t watched last night’s episode yet! Besides, I really don’t have time to talk about Gossip Girl right now,” she huffed, glancing at the time on her watch and realizing she was even later than she thought.

“Well hurry up and watch it! I want to talk about what Chuck did. You’ll never believe it—”

“Seriously Nat, no spoilers!” Marianne exclaimed, now picking up her speed as she crossed the street, trying not to catch the heel of her stilettos on the cracks in the pavement. “And I meant it, I’m running late for my dinner with Tony. He’s taking me to my favorite restaurant to celebrate the contract with Pym Technologies.”

“Wow. I never would have expected Tony to slum it all the way to the Mission District,” Natasha snorted.

“What? No, I’m in SoMa right now. We’re going to Omakase,” Marianne said, jumping back when a bicyclist zoomed past her, nearly knocking her into a dirty puddle.

“Oh…”

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just that I have a distinct memory of you saying you’d rather lick an L.A. sidewalk than eat raw fish, but I have seen you scarf down more burritos from Taqueria Cancun than I can count.”

Marianne bristled at the comment; she always did this. “My tastes are allowed to change Nat,” she bit back, seeing the sign for the sushi restaurant her and Tony frequented in sight.

Natasha was quiet for a moment on the other end of the line before she responded, “Yea, yea, you’re right. I’m sorry. Well, have fun at dinner and tell Tony I say congratulation.”

Sighing, Marianne immediately felt guilty for the harsh way in which she spoke, “Thanks Nat, I’ll tell him. And don’t worry, I’ve got the episode queued up first on Tony’s TiVo. I’ll watch it tonight and then I’ll call you tomorrow and we can gab all about why Serena needs to pull her head out.”

The comment earned Marianne a small laugh from Natasha, alleviating some of her guilt, “I’m holding you to that. Talk to you later hun, love you.”

“Love you too.”

Marianne closed her phone just as she was approaching the front doors to Omakase. Throwing her phone back into her purse she pushed the glass door open, knowing that Tony was probably already waiting for her at their favorite table. The first thing she noticed upon entering the restaurant was the distinct lack of the normal bustling sounds of other people, the second thing was the presence of orchestral music, and the third were roses. Hundreds and hundreds of red roses. Stacked on every available surface, the flowers littered the restaurant in large arrangements placed in beautiful crystal vases.

Silently, her heeled feet padded across the rose petal covered floor as she tentatively stepped further into the building, wondering for a just a second if she was in the right place. However, as she rounded the corner to see Tony dressed impeccably, string quartet situation behind him as he stood next to the only table in the dining room, she knew this was exactly where she was supposed to be.

“Tony…” she approached him cautiously, unable to stop from looking around the room and all its grandeur.

“There she is. For a second, I thought you found something better to do,” joked Tony, closing the distance between them and kissing her lightly on the lips.

“Sorry, I got out of class a bit late and then Nat called. What’s going on?” Marianne asked, still unsure what the big romantic gesture was for.

“What? A man can’t treat his girlfriend to a romantic night?”

“Well yes, but I thought we were celebrating your deal.”

“Well, I mean that’s part of it, but we’ll get to that later. Here, why don’t you set your things down? I have something I want to ask you.” Tony slipped Marianne’s purse from her shoulder and placed it gently down onto her chair before turning to her and taking both of her hands in his. “So, a little precursor, I closed the deal with Pym Technologies.”

“Oh my god, Tony that’s amazing! I knew you were going to get it,” Marianne exclaimed, smiling widely at her boyfriend. She moved in to give him a congratulatory hug, but Tony stopped her, holding her away from him at arm’s length.

“Oh, hold on, let’s not celebrate too soon. At least let me finish my little speech and then we can jump up and down like teenage girls,” responded Tony. His tone, while its usual joking manner, held a tense and clipped edge to it that Marianne didn’t hear often. Nervously she shifted her weight, wondering what he could possibly have to ask her. Then slowly things started to click into place. Secluded restaurant. Red roses. String quartet. Tony’s favorite red wine on the table. Big important question. Oh.

“Well, once this deal goes through, I’m going to be spending a lot of time traveling internationally. Things are going to pick up at Stark Industries and I realized that life is about to get a lot more hectic and messier. Then of course, this brought on a whirlwind of existential questions about life and its meaning and purpose and what I really want out of it and…and I’m rambling aren’t I?”

“Yea, just a bit,” Marianne answered with a small smile.

“I had a point—”

“Did you?”

“I did—” Tony released his hold on her hands to dig into the pocket of his suit pants “—and I think it sounded a bit like this.” Marianne gasped lightly as Tony dropped to one knee. “Basically, to make a long, drawn-out story short, I realized that no matter how messy and crazy the future scenarios of my life, one thing remained a constant. You. You by my side as my wife. So…” Producing a small, black box from within his hands, he opened it slowly to reveal a large, sparkling engagement ring. “Would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Marianne stood speechless for a moment, consumed by the surprise turn of events. For a second the musing thought that she would have definitely forgone splatter paint today if she had known she was getting proposed to, flashed through her mind before she nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes, yes I will marry you.”

That’s how one month later Marianne found herself entering Natasha’s apartment, arms completely stuffed with nothing but wedding magazines, samples, and binders. Dropping her things into a large pile on the carpet of Natasha’s living room floor, Marianne breathed in deep before turning her attention to an open portfolio on the coffee table. The bright splashes of reds and blues of oversized poppies amidst a large, open sky caught her attention, drawing her in.

“Hey Nat, are you looking to take in a new collection at the gallery?” she called towards the kitchen, unable to pull her eyes away from the beautiful and almost impressionistic take on the flowers.

“Yea, one of my boss’s associates is crazy about these giant oil paintings of poppies. He wants us to consider doing a whole show of them. We’re equally as enthusiastic, but I guess the artist is hesitant about selling their work,” answered Natasha from across the apartment.

“Don’t most artists want to sell their art?”

“You’d think, but judging from the California poppies, they’re probably some west coast artist that doesn’t want to ‘sell out’ and ruin the integrity of their work.” Marianne could almost hear Natasha rolling her eyes through the walls.

Staring even harder at the small collection of paintings as she flipped through the portfolio, Marianne asked, “Are you sure they’re California poppies?”

Just as she asked the question, Natasha came around the corner, two large glasses of prosecco in hand. “Of course. We’re in California. They’re poppies. California poppies,” Natasha shrugged, placing the glasses on the coffee table.

“Yea, I guess you’re right,” Marianne said, sharply closing the portfolio and shaking off the strange sense of melancholy that the paintings evoked.

“Jesus, when you said you wanted to come over and talk about wedding stuff while we watched Gossip Girl, I thought you meant something like looking at a couple of magazines, not planning the whole thing in one night!” Natasha said, eyes growing wide as she took in the sheer amount of materials Marianne had arrived with.

“Yea, well that’s pretty much all the time I actually have to plan this thing. Tony wants to get married soon so that we can go on our honeymoon before he has to start traveling for work. Once things pick up, we’re not really sure when he’ll get another free moment,” sighed Marianne, sitting down on the floor and beginning to organize her mess.

“I’m surprised he’s letting you plan this and it’s not him making all the decisions,” remarked Natasha, sitting down across from her, and picking up a magazine.

“What do you mean?” asked Marianne, looking up quizzically at her best friend.

“Well…” began Natasha, hesitating for a moment before continuing, “I just mean that Tony tends to have a habit of making decisions for you.”

“What? No, he doesn’t,” Marianne scoffed.

“Uhuh…okay. Well then, who decided shortly after meeting you that your car, your first car, your baby, wasn’t good enough and that you needed a new one?” Natasha asked challengingly.

“It was old Natasha. People get new cars every day. Tony was just kind enough to buy me a new one,” Marianne reasoned with her, picking up her glass of prosecco from the coffee table.

“Okay, what about your job? You were working at that cute little public, elementary school that you always said you loved so much. Next thing I know, you’ve got this new job at a private middle school.”

“Tony had some connections and there’s nothing wrong with moving up in your career. I’m pretty sure that’s the whole point of a career, Nat.”

“Your apartment then? A week after he saw your apartment for the first time, he insisted that you move in with him.”

“That apartment was a rat-infested shit-hole and you know it. Things were going well, and he had the space. I took a leap of faith and moved in with him. I think it went alright considering the fact that I’m marrying the man. Just- what are you getting at Nat?”

“I guess I’m just worried that these major life decisions aren’t what you want, but instead what Tony wants. I mean, you’ve been together barely a year and already you’re more like him than you are you. You dress posher, you act posher, your accent’s fading…I want you to be happy Marianne, but I don’t want you to lose yourself along the way,” Natasha ended her small rant by taking a large gulp of her drink.

Marianne placed a hand on her friends arm reassuringly, “Hey. It’s alright. I’m happy, I promise. And it’s still me! I’m still the same Marianne Barnes you met in art school – just a little fancier is all.” She laid her southern accent on thick near the end of her sentence, lifting up her left hand to waggle the large engagement ring in her friend’s face. Natasha laughed, knocking her hand out of the way, and rolling her eyes at Marianne’s blatant bragging.

“Shut up, now let’s work on your guest list and invitations first while we let the drama of Manhattan’s Upper East Side consume us,” said Natasha, exchanging the magazine for a binder as she turned her TV on with the press of a button.

Taglist:

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

@caffiend-queen

@grincheveryday

#RomComWC #RCWC #steve x ofc #au!steve #cowboy!steve #steve rogers #sweet home alabama #romantic comedy #fanfiction #fanfic #tony stark x ofc #enemies to lovers

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killervibe · 5 years ago

Text

Hate to See Your Heart Break

Summary: Barry notices Caitlin's quiet suffering. He's been there before.

Note: The title and lyrics come from this song !! Strongly suggest taking a listen! Also, minor spoiler for Love Is Blind.

For: @manjehaal

Tag: @staroflightning

~.~

Love, happens all the time,

to people who aren't kind

And heroes who are blind

~.~

“Hey Caitlin.” Barry sped into the Med Bay with the evidence he snatched from CCPD not even six seconds ago. “I need you to run tests on these before officer Voogavitch notices I stole them off his desk.” He slapped the hat left from the crime scene in the plastic bag on her table and frowned at her hiss.

Caitlin’s chair swivelled so slowly, Barry had to double check he wasn’t in flash time. “Uh,” he said when he got a proper look at her face. “You’re wearing your hungover sunglasses.”

“I don’t have...hungover sunglasses.”

Barry stared at her. The acetaminophen tablet bottle was right next to her elbow.

“Fine,” she grumbled. Barry backtracked to the light switches and turned them all off. Caitlin let out a little sigh of relief and removed the accessory. “I’m a little...hungover.”

Barry grabbed one of her stools to sit. “Why?”

Caitlin shrugged as she took the forensic sample he had left her and slowly put on her gloves to start the analysis in the dark. “I guess I was a little too indulgent at my pity party.”

“Pity party?” He frowned as he watched her boot up one of her machines. “Why would…” He trailed off at her glare. It wasn’t that it was cold but...weary. He remembered that look. He’d worn it often and would notice as he passed by the mirror at the precinct back when Iris was dating Eddie.

...Oh.

“Caitlin,” he said empathetically. “They broke up.”

“I know,” she snapped. Caitlin folded her arms as she sniffed back her tears. “I know they broke up. I knew they weren’t working. I knew he kept coming to me to talk. And I let him.” Her processor pinged. Caitlin took it out and walked over to her monitor to read the results. “We talked so much. All night, sometimes. Just me and him over the phone. When he was away—After he came back. I just stupidly let myself think that…”

“He’d come back to you,” Barry filled in when she went silent again. “You thought he loved you, didn’t you?”

Caitlin bristled. “Well he doesn’t. Your meta has abnormalities that suggest a similar polymer composition to Ralph’s.”

She turned curtly and returned the evidence. “You need to bring this back before officer Voogavitch notices.”

“Caitlin.”

“Voogavitch. He’s old and grumpy and already hates you.”

“Caitlin.”

“I’ll be fine.”

And Caitlin never says she’ll be fine. Usually she won’t say anything at all. Usually Barry would get the cliff notes version from Cisco when she was finally ready to open up about what was bothering her because as close Barry and Caitlin were, they could never in a million years resemble the delicate intimacy that rested in the quiet conversations those two could have with their eyes. “Caitlin,” Barry said again, touching her arm. “He does. He does love you.”

“Yeah,” she responded faintly, sliding the sunglasses back on over her eyes. “And so do you, right?” She collected her purse and wobbled a bit in her heels. “If he asks, I went to visit my mother. He knows not to bother me for a full day then.”

“What are you going to do?”

Caitlin pushed past him lightly. “ What I was doing before you interrupted me. Sleep.”

~.~

Barry’s conversation with Caitlin left him rattled for the rest of the day. At dinner, he picked at his third plate, which made Iris raise an eyebrow.

“Did you eat those calorie granola bars Cisco made for you after work? You’ve hardly touched your food.” She sipped her drink. “I didn’t make it you know,” she teased.

Barry let his fork scrape against the rice and peas listlessly. “I know you told me not to stick my nose in others relationships again—” “Uh oh—”

“—But don’t you think we should try to fix the rift between Cisco and Caitlin?” “What rift?” Iris picked up her plate to put in their dishwasher, kissing his cheek as she passed him by. “They’re the same as always.”

“I know!” he complained. “That’s what’s so weird!”

“You’ve lost me, Barry.”

He sighed and picked up his own plate, wrapping it in a container to store in their fridge. “Caitlin is in love with Cisco, she has been since like, I don’t know, Iris...Since before we were engaged.”

“Wasn’t she with Julian then?” Barry rolled his eyes. “Oh come on. Julian was her distraction from Killer Frost and Cisco.”

Iris put a hand on her hip. “Barry. Are you sure this is all factual or just how you’ve been seeing it the last couple of years?”

He scoffed as he closed the fridge door, leaning against the tacked up drawings Jenna had made for them that they had put up with magnets. “Caitlin is in love with Cisco. Cisco has been half in love with Caitlin since day one, too. They just sucked at timing and now that Kamilla is no longer around...I think they just need a push.” “We don’t push our best friends into romances they don’t want, Barry!”

“Oh my god, but they do want it, though!” He ran his hand through his hair with a stressed out laugh. “Both of them!”

Iris took his hands in hers, dragging him to their couch. She folded herself against the cushions, rubbing her thumb against his knuckles. “I get that these are your two best friends and you really want to see them be happy, but Barry—for the love of god. Let them work it out on their own. Please.”

He pouted a little, falling backwards onto the sofa and covered his eyes with a groan. Iris laughed.

“What am I supposed to do?” he whined through the muffling of his sleeve. She snuggled up against him until Barry couldn’t help but wrap his arms around her waist. She queued up Netflix. “How about getting you hooked onto the latest season of Love Is Blind?”

Barry perked up immediately. “Do you think there’ll be another Messica?”

“There’s always another Messica.”

~.~

Barry watched Cisco and Caitlin be themselves for a whole other week with little to no development. He still stole her fries when she wasn’t looking and she nagged at him when he’d do something stupid only to get a fond eye roll and an arm slung over her shoulder. She’d tease his meta name of the week and for that, would earn a new nickname rolling off his tongue of her own. She’d let him hug her and she wouldn’t say anything different. And if her eyes darted over to Barry every once in a while after he’d be obliviously, painfully affectionate, well Barry seemed the only one to notice.

My friend, Cisco would always say when talking about her. My friend. My friend.

It made Barry cringe.

Another week turned into a month and then it was Spring. Iris began inviting Caitlin over to go shopping as a distraction. Cisco would turn down Ralph’s offers to hit the town.

Halfway into April, Barry got too distracted to keep score of Cisco and Caitlin’s stalling by a new crop of moderately dangerous alien attacks targeted around Central City. After a call and elaborate takedown with the help of Superman, they managed to put an end to it, content to send some alien children back to their homes.

Team Flash watched the news segment that relayed on Central City News Network in the Cortex as they fixed up the last of the technical difficulties in corresponding with the DEO to send the last aircrafts out to the alien planets, all wiped out and exhausted.

The news reel caught a quiet moment between Clark and Lois in the aftermath, Superman nowhere near in sight. The news headline captioned the footage of them grabbing onto each other in relief as

“Couple Reunited After Alien Scare—Saved by Superman & Team Flash!”

“Damn,” said Cisco around a Twizzler. “I want something like that.”

Caitlin clenched her clipboard tighter and forced a smile. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“Duuuude!” blurted out Barry, slapping his hand against the whiteboard he’d been cleaning off from their language decodes and translations. Cisco might as well have been the one from another planet. “Dude! Come on!”

Cisco startled in his seat at Barry’s volume. “What?”

“Stop it with the utter bullshit! You do have that! You’ve always had that!” He gestured wildly at their best friend. “Hello!?”

“Barry,” Caitlin warned.

Maybe it wasn’t his place. Iris had told Barry not to pry, but this was pushing all of them too far. He couldn’t stand to see the look on Caitlin’s face. It’s been weeks. Hell, it’s been months. This had to end.

It was too late to salvage what he’d done, anyway. Cisco turned to look at her. “What is he talking about?”

Caitlin’s cheeks flared up as she muttered something incomprehensible, setting the clipboard down.

Ralph took a long sip of coffee, watching the scene above the rim of his mug.

“It’s just a crush,” she said at last, as if she were commenting on the weather. “A silly little crush, Cisco. It’ll pass.” She ignored Barry as she briskly walked across the room, her eyes flickering for a moment as her hands shook.

“Stop,” she said to nobody in the room, in a hushed, direct tone. It must’ve been for Frost. “Stop it. I’m fine on my own.”

They all watched as she left.

“Okaaaay,” said Cisco. “I’m very confused. What the hell just happened?”

Barry kept his mouth shut already knowing Iris would kill him.

Cisco sat up on the monitor desk and dropped his candy. “Barry, I mean no offence, but how is it that—again, no offence—”

“—Little taken.”

“ How the hell does Caitlin have feelings for someone suddenly and she decided that you’re the first to know?”

“Does that bother you?” Barry countered.

“That she told you first!? I just said that!”

“No, it bothers you that she likes someone.”

That took Cisco by surprise. “What—No?”

“You hesitated.”

“No.”

Barry shared a glance with Ralph, who merely rolled his eyes. “Yes, you did.”

“So what does it bother me?” he lamented. “Why wouldn’t it? I don’t even know who this person is!?” Cisco frowned deeply, brushing a hand over his hair. “Do we know him? When did this happen?”

“Buddy,” said Ralph with feeling as he stretched his limbs, deciding to follow Caitlin in case Frost turned up after all. “Listen to yourself.”

“I’m listening to myself just fine!”

“Uh.” Barry squinted at him. “Are you, really?”

Fine!” Cisco yelled, jumping down. Barry blinked. That was easy. “Maybe I’m concerned that Caitlin is falling in love again!”

“Why would that be a problem? You love Caitlin and want her to be happy.”

“I know!” Cisco shouted. “I love her and I want her to be happy but god for once, why can’t she just be happy with me?”

His words roared in Barry’s ears. Cisco himself blinked at his own outburst, shocked.

Finally. Finally!!!!!!

A ridiculous grin threatened to split Barry’s face, tremendously relieved that he didn’t have to suffer through this anymore. He reached for his pocket to text Iris about this new development with about a thousand exclamation points and a fireworks screen for emphasis.

“Cisco.”

The men turned on their heels, horrified to find Caitlin back in the entryway of the Cortex.

Cisco’s face went ashy. Barry nearly dropped his phone.

“Caitlin—“

She shook her head, cutting Cisco off, a dangerous look in her eye. “Do you know how selfish you sound? You don’t want me with other people but you don’t want me either!?!”

“What!?”

“How many times have I heard you talk about wanting someone normal? How many times did I have to spell it out for you? How much you mean to me—How many more ways am I supposed to!?”

“The clearest way, Caitlin,” Barry cut in quietly. “It’s not that he’s not interested. He doesn’t know.”

Cisco was now in front of her, imploring. “I don’t know what?”

Caitlin swallowed, tearing her eyes from Barry back to Cisco. “I want to be with you,” she confessed. “It’s not just a crush. It’s not going to pass. I’m so in love with you I'm sick with it.”

It seemed as though Cisco’s mind churned and churned until any coherence jumbled into alphabet soup. “You—? Me?”

Barry smiled.

Caitlin nodded and tugged on Cisco’s shirt hem as he stumbled closer. Barry remembered the weary look in Caitlin’s eyes when he’d caught her hungover weeks ago. It was making its reappearance.

“I’m not normal—“

“—Caitlin.” That was all it took to snap Cisco’s brain cells back into formation.

“—I’m not wife material anymore, I get that.”

“Caitlin!”

“—But I’m happy with you. I’m so happy with you, Cisco—We don’t need anything else. We don’t have to change or be any different—You’re enough for me and that’s all I’ve ever really cared for—

“Caitlin.”

“—And I understand that you see me like a sister and how this is a total shock but I really thought—You were calling me Cait and sometimes you’d look at me and I’d let myself think—“

“Caitlin!” Cisco held her face in his hands to get her to stop talking. She seized, her words stolen away at their proximity, at his touch on her skin. Her eyes caught in his gaze.

“Cait,” he said much more softly, reverenced. He thumbed her cheek and leaned forward until their foreheads were pressed together. Caitlin closed her eyes, her shoulders slumping as he slid his hands down her face, her neck, the curve of her shoulders. Arms wrapped around her entirely as they stilled in the hallway.

Barry couldn’t dare move if he tried. He was mistaken, what he thought he saw before. The lines of pain etched into her face, the guarded stiffness in her posture when she finally told him what she wanted. There was something different in the way she held herself and looked at Cisco now. It was not weary and miserable, but yearning and delicate. A heartsickness that despite all the fatigue he’d seen it carry over Caitlin now rested in the same place that signalled newfound strength.

“I don’t expect you to suddenly develop feelings for me overnight—“ she whispered.

“Well that’s impossible,” Cisco murmured into her hair. She stiffened in his arms but he simply held her tighter, continuing. “I already love you more than anything in my life.”

Caitlin startled backwards, covering her mouth with her hand. She made a noise like a yelp. “I thought I was imagining it. I felt like I was going crazy!”

Barry sighed, folding his arms across his chest as he took a seat by the monitors. “I told you!”

They both turned to glare at him, but only for a second. Cisco was immediately drawn back to Caitlin, walking backwards to lead her into the Cortex from their spot in the hallway. “No. No, no, no.” He promised. ”This is my fault, I’m sorry. Every time I was hurt or worried or upset when I was with Kamilla��I just wanted to speak to you. And when I finally admitted to myself it wasn’t working...I was too scared to admit to myself I just wanted to run directly to you, then too.”

Her breath hitched.

“But I didn’t know,” he said. “That it was the same way for you. You told me in Antarctica that you didn’t want to get in the way of me starting a family—I assumed…” Cisco paused abruptly. “You were in the way,” he realized breathlessly. “You were always in the way—Mmph!”

Barry’s heart flipped for the both of them, a dumb smile lighting up his face when Caitlin kissed the hell out of Cisco.

The meta alert dinged on Barry’s phone. He slammed down on the space bar to silence the building alarms before they could jolt them apart. He leaned his chin against his palms as his elbows relaxed against the keyboard with a happy sigh.

Lois and Clark were in town. Superman could get this one.

~.~

For all the air that's in your lungs

For all the joy that is to come

For all the things that you're alive to feel

Just let the pain remind you hearts can heal

#the flash #killervibe #fluff #cisco ramon #caitlin snow #tkv fic #corona fic

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heart-eyes-kippen · 5 years ago

Text

Lil post-finale fic before I sleep

(Ft. Jonah, and some talk about look-backs.)

“I guess I kind of knew that he liked me, but also I kind of...didn’t want to get my hopes up? And then...” Cyrus felt his face warm as he continued, voice faltering slightly at the memory, “that night on the bench, we held hands. And afterwards, he told me he liked me.”

Jonah nodded, a faint smile on his lips as he turned over the marshmallow he was holding over the fire. Crickets chirped around them, and a pitch-black sky stretched above their heads. They didn’t have a tent this time, but they did have a family-sized bag of marshmallows, and really, that’s all they needed.

“How did you know that he liked you? Did he look back at you?”

Cyrus tugged at the sleeves of his jacket, letting out a nervous laugh. “Did he what?”

“Look back at you. Like - whenever he walked away. Apparently, it’s a sign that someone likes you,” he clarified, shrugging.

The cold was biting, tinging both of their cheeks red, but the fire in front of their seat was enough to offset it just enough to make it bearable. Cyrus looked over at him, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Since when is that that a thing?”

“Since Amber told me,” Jonah responded with a laugh, “but...it seems to be kind of true. From what I’ve noticed, anyway.”

Cyrus looked down at his lap, a bashful smile forming on his lips as he thought back to the varying times TJ had looked back at him. It had been about two weeks since they’d confessed to one another, and Cyrus had officially been given the all-clear to tell his friends about what they had. Naturally, after rambling over facetime to Andi and Buffy for a solid hour, he’d invited Jonah to break the news over some roasted marshmallows. The boy had seemed surprisingly nonchalant about the whole thing, and Cyrus couldn’t help but suspect that he’d had his suspicions, despite seeming oblivious a lot of the time.

“So,” Jonah prompted, smile turning mischievous, “did he look back at you at all?”

Cyrus rolled his eyes, but he could feel himself blushing again as he held his hands out to the fire. “Yeah. He did.”

“Huh. Maybe it is a thing, then.”

“Maybe,” Cyrus returned, and silence fell for a moment as he reached down to grab another marshmallow.

Jonah looked up to the sky, which was speckled by a few bright stars, before returning his gaze to Cyrus.

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy anyway. At least - you seem happy.”

“I am,” he smiled, before hesitating. “...Are you? Happy, I mean? Your break-up with Amber is still pretty recent and all...”

Jonah considered this for a moment before responding. “Yeah, I am. I mean, we have an apartment now, and I have a room to myself for the first time in a while. Having that has kind of made me realise I don’t always need to have a girlfriend. I wanna find my feet a bit before I start dating again, maybe look into some singing lessons when we get enough money for it.“

Cyrus laughed softly as he thought back over the past few months to the relationships Jonah had entered and left again shortly after. Privately, he couldn’t help but agree.

Well,” he began, placing a hand on the boy’s arm, “no matter what, I’ll still be your biggest fan.”

“Thanks, Cy,” Jonah responded, smile impossibly bright as always. “You know, maybe TJ and I could start a music duo.”

“Oh my god please,” Cyrus begged him, clasping his hands together, and Jonah laughed.

“I’ll look into it,” he promised as he finally drew his stick away from the fire. Cyrus watched as he shook it around for a moment in an attempt to cool it.

“Marshmallow?” he offered.

Cyrus smiled and nodded, taking one of the marshmallows from the stick. “Thanks, JB.”

Cyrus could see his breath in the air with each exhale as he walked beside TJ through the crisp winter air, a green beanie pulled over his head. TJ had let slip that he thought this particular beanie was ‘adorable’ on him, and Cyrus had obviously taken total advantage of this fact ever since.

Clouds blanketed the sky above them as they headed towards their local bakery, and he could see TJ sending him furtive glances every now and again.

He playfully bumped their shoulders together, eyes shining with mischief as he looked over at TJ. “Jonah told me something interesting last night.”

The boy bumped him back, a smile tugging at his lips. “And what would that be?”

“Welllll,” Cyrus dragged out, “apparently when you like someone, you look back at them while you walk away from them.”

TJ let out an amused huff, mist appearing in the air in front of him before fading away again. “Is that so?”

“It is,” he nodded earnestly, “and it kind of got me thinking about all the times you’ve looked back at me.”

The boy considered this for a moment, and Cyrus wasn’t sure if he was blushing now or if it was just the cold, but his voice faltered slightly with embarrassment as he spoke.

“I...guess I did look back at you a lot. But I mean, we’ve already established that I’ve been madly in love with you since day one,” he said, tone quickly becoming confident again.

Cyrus couldn’t help but lean into him, giving him a fond eye roll as he did so. “You’re weren’t madly in love with me.”

“Fine then. I was madly in like with you,” TJ teased, as they approached the glass double doors to the bakery.

“Right. You saw a dork who couldn’t get his own muffin and thought ‘yeah this is the one.’”

Cyrus had meant it as a joke, but TJ ended up nodding enthusiastically. “Exactly!”

The boy held open the door for him, and they were immediately met by a gust of warm air. Giving TJ a playful look, he stepped into the quaint-looking bakery.

“I would say you have pretty bad taste, but I guess it got us to where we are now.”

“Hey! I have perfect taste, thank you,” said TJ, giving his nose a tap, “You may be a dork but you’re a cute-as-hell dork.”

They queued up in the line that had formed before the front counter, eyes scanning over the list as though they’d order something different for once.

“Let’s see...I’m guessing you want a wholemeal raisin-muffin, then?” TJ asked him, laughing as he narrowly dodged the boy’s swat at him.

“Don’t even joke about that,” he warned, but the smile on his face took away any edge those words might’ve held.

TJ continued to scan the menu, a grin spreading across his face. “Okay, sorry, sorry. A banana walnut one, then?”

“Try again,” Cyrus told him, folding his arms across his chest.

“A...gluten-free sweet potato brownie?”

“Your hand-holding privileges are close to being revoked,” said Cyrus, unable to keep from smiling as he took off his beanie.

TJ playfully snatched the beanie away from him, pulling it over his own head instead. “Okay, okay, chocolate-chocolate chip muffin it is.”

“Too much risk?” he asked, tone smug.

TJ’s face reddened slightly, but he tried to brush the comment off. “As if you wouldn’t miss it just as much.”

Cyrus leaned his head against the boy’s shoulder then, letting out a small sigh of content when TJ drew him in.

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly, smiling, “you’re right.”

#they are baby #tyrus #tyrus fanfic #andi mack #tj x cyrus #my fics

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panicinthestudio · 5 years ago

Link

bandit1a: Hi It's been a while since we've been in touch, but I saw this WaPo piece earlier and wondered if you have any thoughts about it.

It has been a bit, haven't been on as much the last few weeks. Which is not to say I haven’t been digesting the news as it comes.

The piece feels like it's flattering the Chinese government even in its criticism of lack of transparency and authoritarian tactics. People failed to care during SARS until it came to their doorstep. It also really highlighted China's upward trajectory at the time, and the renewed animosity people had towards the new wave of Asian global influence. Racism and assumptions were easily stoked as people got more and more anxious.

It's not even a matter of hindsight, many of us have watched the pandemic mentality become routine the past 20 years--in a way the crisis was a peak in a trend that never went away. Avian and swine influenza, foot-and-mouth and other zoonotic viruses and diseases are no longer a novelty, but have been regular, annual news items. The sight of a person walking around in a mask routinely for health or precautionary reasons used to be very unusual.

I remember the first trip back to Hong Kong after 2002/2003, and being curious at the way people queued for boarding and immediately began to gear up as if they were about to do some in-flight dental procedures or woodwork. Arriving at Chek Lap Kok to find a city that was now plastic-wrapped, single-use, and wiped down at scheduled intervals.

***

This time conjures up a lot of buried resentment and fear, perhaps because China has been through this kind of public embarrassment so many times in recent memory that it doesn’t matter that the PRC government is being uncharacteristically publicly proactive. The warning signs of a new public health crisis were there with the spread of African swine fever, and the cases of pneumonic plague that were reported in the fall.

Even when it was apparent the Wuhan and Hubei authorities were being very cautious about how they were talking about the growing situation since the end of 2019, there was no real traction in a lot of traditional Western media. Now that this new coronavirus has exceeded the local level’s ability to tamp down or spin in a matter of weeks, it falls into the hands of the Xi Jinping, the Central government, and their surrogates to try their hand at turning it into a win for nationalistic favour and global reputation. In the absence of a more intense scrutiny from outside, they control the official narrative of who is to blame, where credit is placed, and what parts of the full story are altered or removed entirely.

The tensions, shortages, and lockdown are a potential gauge on the population’s ability to accept extreme measures and possible future courses of action, rather than an opportunity to reduce the root causes or minimize the cost of people’s lives and the peace of mind of others in the first place.

bandit1a: What troubled me about it was the contention that lack of media freedom fuels misinformation and rumour, and by extension, panic.

When we look at the manipulation of public opinion through the West, often through rumour and misinformation, I simply felt WaPo is meant to be better than that.

To suggest China would have a better grip on the problem and we wouldn't be so concerned if only China had a free press was shockingly over simplistic to me.

It's self-congratulatory, and a large dose to boot. It strikes me that the Post is also still angling the neoliberal line that China will replace its institutional organs into something resembling American ones, and that in the meantime we should all just turn a blind eye.

The fact is lack of media freedom is a reality we're converging on. That's why so many alternative media outlets are springing up in their place. At least in the last decade, having seen the ability of social media to spread not just particular viewpoints but be put to political action, organizations are finding their footing and the talent to execute it. It's no longer enough to get the message out there, it's about the saturation and likeliness of it to spread.

I got the impression the article encouraged the ideological starting point of not needing to be critical of systems that rely on the whims and direction of leadership, rather than critical and review mechanisms. Really, why should it matter what Trump, Xi, or the Pope for that matter have to say if they aren’t keeping citizens up to date, rather than applauding what little has been done in an ongoing pandemic.

A protected free press would help, but in this case conveniently shifts responsibility of actual transparency and accountability off the bureaucracy and allows their stranglehold on institutions and failsafes in public health, safety, and infrastructure go unexamined.

#bandit1a #coronavirus #Wuhan #chinese communist party #China #public health #authoritarianism #SARS #xi jinping #politics #disease #Washington Post #news #freedom of the press #propaganda #COVID 19 #pandemic

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backtobasicbellas · 6 years ago

Photo

Bechloe Social Media AU: Date night (+ a short little drabble)

When Beca comes home from the studio on Friday night, she finds her and Chloe bed gone from the apartment. There’s a spike of panic that rises in her, head twisting to make sure Chloe hasn’t moved it - but really, where would the bed even fit besides the spot they already had it in?

Beca blinks twice, as if the bed will magically reappear. Or she’s hallucinating.

“Becs, you’re home!”

Chloe pops out from the bathroom, smiling wide and it’s slightly concerning because the redhead doesn’t at all seem worried that their bed is missing from the apartment.

“Hi,” she greets in a distracted tone, barely registering when Chloe bounds over and places and pecks her lips in greeting. “Where’s our bed?”

Chloe’s eyes light up at the question and her grin form into a wide, excited grin.

“Chloe..” Beca starts, her girlfriend’s name sounding more like a warning.

“Nothing bad!” Chloe insists immediately. “I have a surprise for you.”

Beca tosses her bag to the side and eyes Chloe warily. “My surprise better be our bed is coming back.”

Chloe rolls her eyes, waving off Beca’s concerns. “Change into something comfortable and meet me on the roof.”

“The roof?” Beca gapes, unsure if she’s heard correctly.

Chloe nods in conformation, leaning forward to press a kiss to Beca’s forehead before easily moving around her.

“See you up there, babe!” she calls behind her before shutting the door.

Beca grumbles. “What the fuck is happening?”

However, she complies with Chloe’s instructions - because, like, she’ll do anything when Chloe asks, it’s actually ridiculous - and makes her way up to the roof of their Brooklyn apartment.

“Chloe, I swear to god if you don’t tell me what you did with our bed-”

The rest of her sentence gets caught in her throat because when Beca looks up, she’s awestruck by the scene.

Their bed is the far corner of the roof with a food tray and a bucket filled with two bottles of wine. There’s also a bowl of popcorn beside it and Beca shifts her gaze just a little to find a project screen on a stand, the DreamWorks logo queued up for what Beca assumes is a move.

Her eyes fall to Chloe, who stands beside this whole set up sporting that adorable, lopsided smile.

“Surprise,” Chloe says quietly. “It’s date night.”

Beca shakes her head, taking a few steps towards Chloe.

“Chlo, is this what you’ve been up to all afternoon?”

Chloe nods, reaching out and grabbing Beca’s hands in hers. “I had a little help - thank your intern, by the way, I know it was his day off - but yeah, I wanted to make sure it was ready when you got home. I know work’s been a lot lately, so I thought I’d put this together.”

Beca’s heart all but melts. She still doesn’t understand what on earth she’s done to end up with such a thoughtful and loving person like Chloe, that out of everyone else in the universe, Chloe wants her too.

“You didn’t have to,” Beca insists, looking at the bed and the food and the wine.

Chloe laughs, the sound bringing Beca’s gaze back on her. “Oh, I know. I wanted to.”

Beca tugs Chloe towards her, wrapping an arm around her neck as she pulls her into a sweet and gentle kiss. Chloe smiles against her lips, reciprocating the kiss just as sweetly before pulling away in an agonizing manner.

“I love you,” the brunette murmurs when they part.

“I love you too,” Chloe hums in response. “Come on, let’s eat.”

Chloe plays the movie - which Beca swears is a movie they’re way too old for - and they eat dinner underneath the New York night sky. Beca hardly even pays attention to the movie, instead watching Chloe’s face light up and her lips move in sync with the lines being said on the screen. She watches Chloe laugh and gasp and react as if she’s never seen it before, and Beca swears her heart grows at least twice as big from this.

It doesn’t take long until the movie is long forgotten and they’re making out under the blankets, tired but content to be with each other.

They both fall asleep at some point, Beca thinks it’s somewhere between the last twenty minutes of the film, and it’s only two hours later that Beca finally stirs.

When she realizes her surroundings and recognizes the breeze that floats through, she reaches over and moves Chloe.

“Chlo, let’s go inside,” she suggests groggily.

Chloe only hums, most likely still asleep.

“Chloe,” Beca tries again, voice still light and gentle.

Chloe makes a noise between a hum and a groan before she’s reaching out and tugging Beca back under the blankets. She adjusts herself against Beca’s figure before letting her head dig back into her pillow.

Beca laughs softly at the gesture and sighs when she realizes Chloe won’t be moving herself - or any of this - any time soon.

“I love you Chloe,” she whispers into her pillow.

Chloe presses the softest of kisses against Beca’s shoulder blade before answering, “I love you more than anything, Becs.”

#bechloe #mine #sm au #minific #what can i say i got inspired #:-)

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aubzylynn · 7 years ago

Text

5 Times

Word Count: 2056 Warnings: Fuckton of fluff. Yall know how I do. I broke Sarah when I initially sent this to her. Request: Hey babe, I absolutely love your writting, could you write a 5 times steve was hipnotized with the readers voice? Pweaseeee?! Love you xxx A/N: Heyyyy, guys! I’m on the road to NY as we speak! Special shout out to @sarahwroteathing cuz I’m gonna see her fuckin gorgeous face in a little over 24 hours and I COULDN’T BE HAPPIER!!!! This is queued up for your reading pleasure. Please remember to comment & tell me what you think about my stories! Make my roadtrip stops better by having sweet words to read!!! I always love reading what you guys have to say! You guys be good. I love you all very much!

The first time Steve is hypnotized by your voice is when he finds you laughing with Scott’s daughter, Cassie. The music of your giggles was a luxury he wasn’t used to. So soft, so beautiful, so full of a joy he hasn’t felt in years. Bucky notices the way his best friend’s attention is suddenly captured by you and tells him to go introduce himself. Steve cracks a smile and dismisses the thought immediately with a slow pull from his beer.

He can’t help but spare glances your way while the party plays around him. You’re perfectly content sitting with the little girl, telling her stories and laughing at hers in turn. Tony wanders over to you, and Steve watches as your face falls into an easy smile. He wishes he could hear the undoubtedly sweet way you greet him. There’s just something about you, he knows that everything you do has an undercurrent of grace.

Tony gestures over to where Steve, Bucky, and Sam are sitting and your eyes trail to him. His heart stutters as your eyes meet his and a small smile graces your lips. You turn back to Tony, taking his proffered hand and rising to your feet.

Steve turns suddenly, hoping to look like he’d been in Bucky and Sam’s conversation and not watching you from the corner of his eye-- y’know, the perfect embodiment of nonchalance -- only to find that his friends had left and he hadn’t realized it. He scanned the room, slightly panicked, until he found Bucky over by the bar with a smug smile firmly in place as his eyes flickered between Steve and the woman that had captured his friend’s attention.

That jerk, he set this little meeting up! And Steve was sure that he was none too subtle about it. Tony would surely have a field day knowing he’d been mesmerized by you. But Steve couldn’t dwell on it for too long. You’re laughing at something Tony says as you both come to a full stop before him.

“Cap, have you met this beauty? She’s my assistant, I could have sworn you’d been introduced before--”

You laugh, pushing your shoulder into Tony’s side. “I’m Bruce’s assistant. He’s not gonna be happy if you keep trying to steal me away.”

“Jolly Green knows I like to push his buttons.”

You shake your head good naturedly at Tony before extending your hand and telling Steve your name. He repeated it, tasting it in his mouth as he smiled at you and shakes your hand.

You duck your head, suddenly struck shy by the unintentional intensity of his gaze. Your voice was rendered soft and sweet, feeling suddenly coy. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Captain Rogers--”

“Call me Steve. Please.” His lips quirked up as your neck grew hot. Your name is called behind you. Turning, you find Cassie frantically waving you over. As you turn back to the boys in front of you, you duck your head again in apology. “Excuse me, gentlemen, there’s an urgent matter that requires my attention.”

Steve can feel his heart swelling as he watches you suppress your smile and skip across the room to Cassie.

“Y’know, she’s just as smitten with you, gramps. I’ve only heard that voice when she met Wilson a few weeks back.”

Steve shakes his head, trying so hard to focus on Tony’s words. “What d’you mean?”

“That almost sickeningly sweet tone she was using? Her voice does that when she’s around people she admires.”

Steve scoffs, watching you laugh and pick up Cassie. “Admires?”

“Is it so crazy to believe?” Tony asks, watching Steve as he watches you. “She could be really good for you.”

The second time, Steve’s walking through the compound. He’s just finished up his training with Wanda, decidedly making his way to the kitchen for a bottle of water before heading to his room to shower. He heard cabinets closing, ceramic cups clinking together, and a soft melody wafting through the air. When he enters, he finds you by the stove mixing tea bags into a pot of simmering water. You’re lost in your own head as you hum and dance around in the space.

You tossed your hair over your shoulder as you started to sway to the song, humming and singing under your breath. It’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, only second to your laugh.

He could stand here and listen to your quiet melodies for hours, but Steve also doesn’t want to look like some creep just standing here and watching you make tea. You’ve had a few encounters, a few more conversations, but Steve wouldn’t say this was a friendship. Not just yet.

Your favorite crooning song comes on, you can feel the smile light up your face. You feel brave and sing just a little louder. Not by much though, because this tower is full of people and you have an irrational fear of people hearing you sing. An instrumental reprieve has you swaying again as you remove the tea from the pot and get the cups ready.

“Hey, you.”

Your heart skips in your chest as a smile takes over your face. You turn to face Steve, who’s smiling politely and ducking into the fridge for a water bottle. “Hiya, Steve.”

“How’s your day going?”

“Mmh, ya know, listening to my favorite calming songs and making tea for myself and Bruce is really awfully stressful.” you grin through your sarcasm, giggling a bit at the end. Steve smiles as he watches you pour the tea gracefully into the cups. “Oh, I’m glad I found you, though. Bruce was saying that he needed you to come by the lab for a bit. You know, just--whenever you have time.”

“Yeah, of course. Let me get cleaned up and I’ll be up there soon.”

“Okay.”

He grins at you as he leaves, and you can’t help but smile at him while feeling your heart inflate at the thought of seeing him again.

The third time, Steve’s in the middle of a mission debrief. He’s mid sentence when he hears your laugh echoing from the next room over. He knows it’s you. There’s no one else that has a laugh that makes his heart sing like this.

He shakes it off, hoping no one noticed his momentary pause and continued to give his report until he takes his seat.

After that, he can’t focus. His attention is captured by your muffled voice. He’s wondering who you’re speaking to, what you’re doing on this floor. Would it be inappropriate to ask you on a date? You had known each other for quite some time now… How would Dr. Banner feel about Steve dating his assistant? Should he ask his permission first? No, that’s silly you’re not his daughter or anything. Maybe he’ll just ask him about it? See what he thinks?

Steve has to resist finding you after they’re dismissed. He would probably just end up asking you on a date by blurting it out, and that’s not how he wanted to do this. You deserved more finesse.

The fourth time, Steve is accompanying you to an awards banquet in Dr. Banner’s honor. Bruce was still missing in action, so you accepted the award on his behalf. The way you spoke with such love and adoration for the man that most of the world feared sent Steve tumbling head over heels for you. As you spoke about the work that you helped Bruce with, you were filled with passion and confidence, and Steve couldn’t get enough of it.

Sure, over the past few months that you two had been dating exclusively, he’d seen some of this. But, for you to bear your soul to the whole conference, to have such power and conviction in your voice; something rose up in Steve and he knew he wanted to marry you. Right now. This second.

The thought both thrilled and terrified him, but he knew he needed to pump the breaks. You hadn’t discussed marriage...or a family for that matter. You weren’t even his girlfriend, officially, yet. Steve decides at the end of the night that he’s going to ask you to be his girl and that you’ll take it a step at a time after that.

Once you got back to the table, Steve rose out of his seat respectfully and pulled your chair out for you. That little bit of old time charm always made you blush. When he sat back down, you grabbed your phone off the table and swiped open the camera app, telling him to scoot closer. You situated the award between you both and took several pictures: from the sweet ones you’d keep for yourself to the goofy one you planned on sending to Bruce.

Opening your chat thread, you deflate a little seeing he hasn’t responded. You’d sent him multiple texts over the time he’s been gone. You added your picture to the line of texts, including: Miss you, boss! Hope your vacay is worth it. I’ll keep this safe for you. <3

Steve watches your face as you hit send, pulling you into a half hug and kissing your temple. “I just don’t want him to think I’ve forgotten him.” You explain, knowing he’d seen the thread of unresponded messages.

Steve pulled you in for another kiss in your hair. The capacity in which you loved people around you made his chest puff with pride. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

The fifth time, Steve needed to hear your voice. He needed it like a drug. He’d been dragged back into the fight and it’s been weeks since he’s seen you. He calls you as soon as he collapses on the quinjet, needing you to calm him down.

The phone rings and rings, each seeming longer than the last until your sleepy voice comes through. “Steve?”

His shoulders relax, slumping with relief. If he could wrap himself in the sleepy way you said his name, he would die a happy man. He sits with it, soaks it in for a moment, forgetting you’re actually on the phone.

“Stevie?” Your voice rises a little in panic. “Are you okay?”

He realizes he hasn’t said anything and smiles apologetically even though you can’t see it. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” You tease, some of the roughness ebbing out of your voice. “Use your Life Alert if you need it, okay? I can’t fly halfway across the world just to help you get up.”

He laughs quietly, not wanting to disturb his teammates. “God, I miss you,” He blurts out. He hears your smile when you tell him you miss him too and it makes his heart flutter. “We’re on our way home.”

“Good. I’m in desperate need of a hug from my boyfriend. He’s been gone way too long. Oh, while I’ve got you on the phone, I need your opinion on something.” You’re suddenly more alert as you speak, but Steve is lost in the all-consuming way his heart swells when you talk. He’s distracted by the smile on his face and the way he feels lighter than air. How long has he been in love with you? Why is he only now realizing that he hasn’t said it to you yet? Did you know?

He gathers his courage, feeling like he has to tell you right now. He’s running on just a few hours of sleep, and this might not be the best decision, but damn it, it feels important. “Hey, sweetheart?” he calls, waiting for your full attention.

“Yes, dear?”

His lip quirks up in a boyish smile as he takes a deep breath, willing his nerves away. “I love you.”

Your end of the phone is silent for a moment and it sends Steve into a panic. Was it too soon? It was probably too soon. He just needed you to know. He didn’t expect for you to say it back--

He hears a quiet, disbelieving laugh on your end, and he can practically see the smile you’re wearing as you say, “I love you, too, Steve.”

That was absolutely hypnotising. Before he realizes it, the words are tumbling from his mouth, “Say it again? Please?”

“I love you, Steve.”

God, he could live in this bliss forever.

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landywinslow · 4 years ago

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The Ides of March

What do you call the anniversary of something you didn’t want to happen? Is there a name for that? Maybe it’s just “anniversary,” but with a dark timbre of voice? Either way, there’s an experience that most of us shared about twelve months ago, and I’m not sure exactly how to commemorate it. Like, part of me feels like celebrating something. Resilience. Survival. Etc. But part of me wants to spend the day laying in the fetal position with a bucket of strong drink.

Overall, I feel proud. I’m proud of the ingenuity of our species collectively and individually. I’m proud of all of us for navigating (however awkwardly) the restrictions and profound anxiety of all of it. I’m proud of the millions and billions of us who have stolidly continued to place one foot in front of the other amidst loss of loved ones, loss of income, loss of any and every sense of security. I’m proud of all the people trudging forward with ravaged mental health, emotional exhaustion, and the crippling sense that we aren’t moving forward at all but sliding and struggling down a filthy muddy slope of futility. Despite everything, we continue. Maybe not to do anything but we continue.

March 13th, 2020 was a Friday. In The Before, I joked about Friday the 13th’s being bad luck. I haven’t joked about it since. It hasn’t been an intentional avoidance, just the fact that our collective existence in the past year has felt like such a string of unbelievably heartbreaking bad luck that I can’t conceptualize it as lighthearted anymore.

I mention all of this because that thirteenth day of March, the year of our Lord two thousand and twenty was, unbeknownst to me at the time, my Last Normal Day.

A year ago my family was at the end of a long and grueling battle with a cockroach infestation that had taken up almost every waking thought for a month. The exterminator had come twice, prompting us to completely disembowel and deep clean the kitchen three times. I was kicking myself for the gentle “All Life is Sacred” approach to the small, seemingly non-roach insect I had caught on the counter weeks earlier, and dumped gently into the bushes outside without a second thought. Dealing with a colony of pests while parenting four young kids and starting a new job at a big event venue in town (insert ominous music) was exhausting me faster than I could caffeinate.

All of the vague news circulating about a virus swirled around the periphery of my very challenging present. I saw an infographic that said it was less dangerous than the flu, and that eased the itch of anxiety enough for me to put it on the back burner. Dozens of doomsday prophecies had come across my proverbial desk, and had amounted to nothing. I doubted this would be any different. I joked to my neighbor, “Everyone else is talking about this coronavirus stuff, and I’m over here like, ‘Virus? What virus!? My house is FULL OF ROACHES!!!’” as we stood together watching our kids tumble around with each other in the twilight. “The only part of it I’m nervous about,” I remarked, “is school closing. I had a horrible homeschooling experience and my education is shit. I’m terrified to be responsible for their learning, and I’m at the end of my rope as it is!”

Oh sweet, innocent child. If only she knew how much could (and would) be woven, tied, taped, and glued on to the end of that rope.

That Friday was drizzly and cold. I decided to be uncharacteristically optimistic and make the best of it by doing something out of the ordinary with the kids. We drove to the nearest indoor mall and wandered around, window shopping and riding the escalators. When we got to the little spongy, rubbery playground they wanted to play, so after depositing their shoes and socks next to a dozen others in the little cubbies, I opened up my phone to zone out a bit. I stumbled across a meme that said, “Just a warning, this week starts with changing the clocks, moves to a full moon, and ends with a Friday the 13th… Good luck people! Ps: Don’t forget to wash your hands.” I chuckled and sent it to a couple friends.

Everything was fine until a little toddler I didn’t know came up beside me, sniffly and coughing. As I reflexively shifted away from her, a shadow of dread crept into my chest; Maybe we should go wash our hands. I called my kids over and reminded them to not touch their faces until we were finished playing there, which in child-code meant: Pick your nose and/or lick your hand immediately. I rolled my eyes and went back to my phone. A friend or two had posted about closures in their cities, cases beginning to accumulate. I began to worry, but it wasn’t here right? I became increasingly aware of the crowds of people around us, the very first anxiety about group contagion that I can remember experiencing. It’s not here I reassured myself, malls seem contagious in the best of times. But even as I worked to calm the bubbling fear, my passive assessment of risk silently transitioned into something more tangible. I gave the kids a five minute warning, and seconds later a text alerted me of a new post in our school’s parent portal. My stomach dropped, somehow cognizant that this was the fateful moment. My hands trembled, hesitating over the preview: “Dear Staff and Families...” until finally the weight of not knowing was heavy enough to push my thumb across the screen, unsealing the portentous message.

I skimmed it so quickly for bad news that I ended up having to re-read it three times before finding the key information: “There has been a community-based transmission of COVID-19 in San Diego county. As such, we are cancelling all field trips, social events, and learning center instruction through April 10th.” The hammer fell so gently at the end of that sentence that it didn’t sink in all at once, but rolled around on the surface of my mind for a few moments. All instruction... Cancelled until April 10th. Tears queued up along my lower lids, the first of a very long line. No sense in putting it off, I sighed after a moment of silence for the coming trials. I called my kids to leave and to give them the news, already knowing that their initial reaction would be the opposite of mine. School closed for a month was a dream come true for them. But I knew it wasn’t a month off of school, it was a month of not going to school. A month of my brain stretched thin, full of holes, having to face up to one of my most visceral and life long insecurities. Homeschooling meant working double time, through crippling self doubt, first to learn all of the concepts myself and then, juggling four grade levels, attempting to translate the information to humanoid pinballs who would much rather be doing something else. I felt sick with dread.

In reality, a month would have been such a lenient sentence, wouldn’t it? The disbelief I experienced back then while attempting to look forward is an inverted version of what I feel now looking back. The exact same sense, but from opposite views. Last March I couldn’t believe how impossibly long a month seemed. Now I can’t believe that I thought a month was so long.

After we left the mall, I dropped by our school to pick up a workbook and spoke with one of the teachers. We laughed together at how silly it all was. We were sure that it would pass quickly and said that maybe we’d make the most of it by snagging one of the newly affordable flights. The next day I went to work and repeated that conversation ad nauseum with my coworkers. “They say it’s not even as bad as the flu!” We parroted back and forth, because it comforted us. At the end of our shift we all gathered around to ask our boss about job security. “None of the shut down orders apply to us,” she assured, “and we’re booked solid for the rest of the year. Nothing to worry about here!” That was my last shift.

I recently rewatched some of the entertainment content that came out a year ago. Clunky interviews and table reads done from whatever corner of the house was quietest; celebrities looking slightly dishevelled in their own clothes and diy hair and makeup, recording from iPhones and laptop cameras without proper lighting. Everyone kind of hunching over a screen that was balanced on whatever flat surface was nearby, just like my friends and I do it. It was like everyone’s mask came off, and underneath we were all the same: exposed, scared humans attempting to hold on to any semblance of normalcy within reach. During my rewatching, I found a Tonight Show interview with Lin Manuel Miranda that aired five days after my Last Normal Day. Following a maladroit preamble, Jimmy Fallon says, “A lot of people are saying to me, ‘You must be getting a lot of work done right now, a lot of writing done.’ Are people asking you that?” and in the desperate tone of every disoriented parent, Lin replies, “I’m not getting work done! I’m learning how to teach math!”

I found the interview equal parts endearing and heartbreaking. We were still so bright eyed and cautiously optimistic that a solution was right around the corner. We just had to flatten the curve. A year later, it feels like all capability for optimism has been sapped, leaving nothing but an indigestible husk. And yet, here I am. For months and months and months every plan has had to change, every expectation has had to pivot, and every experience has been seasoned with disappointment. The reflexive code of, “I can’t do this. I can’t possibly do this.” has run through me on an infinite loop. But I did do it. I am doing it. All of us are. We continue. Despite the stress and isolation and loss and grief we experience. We exist. We are self sustaining verbs, even in what feels like stasis.

Do you see what I mean about not knowing how to feel about this anniversary? Even at our most beaten down, we are remarkable and there is such a tension between the positive and negative of that. In her poignant and encouraging article for The Atlantic titled “5 Pandemic Mistakes We Keep Making,” Zeynep Tufekci writes, “Hope nourishes us during the worst times, but it is also dangerous. It upsets the delicate balance of survival—where we stop hoping and focus on getting by—and opens us up to crushing disappointment if things don’t pan out.” In all honesty, I’m not ready to hope again. It’s too much to ask, after these last twelve months have burned through every reserve. But I’m also not ready to mourn this last year. The weight of loss has already hung so heavily that asking anything more of us is unthinkable.

A few months ago I began casually looking into the 1918 flu, as a sort of morbid self soothing exercise. I enjoy reading about it because, while the impact was devastating, the similarity of restrictions and the photos of everyone wearing (less fashionable) masks brings a comforting sense of camaraderie. But mostly I like reading about it for one single fact: it ended. I think that’s the most hope-adjacent perspective possible. We don’t know when our pandemic will end, but whenever it is, it is inevitable. When I put it like that, acknowledging that there was that day last March when everything changed for me, and acknowledging that there will be some other day or days where things inevitably continue to change… acknowledging that there’s no way possible to get back to old normal and no way yet to get to a new normal… it brought a sort of acceptance. I’m not ready to hope or celebrate or mourn, but I am ready to accept. Ultimately, I think acceptance is the only possible way I can commemorate this milestone that is not a beginning or an end. This anniversary of my Last Normal Day simply exists. Just like me. Just like you. I accept that it is a single milestone on a long, treacherous path, and I will keep trudging forwards through however many more days are before me, finding little spots of color and beauty as best I can. The other thing I notice while reading about the last pandemic is how it segued almost seamlessly into the Roaring Twenties. I don’t know about you, but whenever it is that we finally look around and find ourselves in the falling action of this pandemic’s narrative, I sure as hell plan to live it up.

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toobusylyintomyself · 7 years ago

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Sinister ǀ 08

A/N: Soooo, I’m dumb. This was supposed to be queued and posted last Friday, but low and behold I didn’t do that properly so this has been sitting in my drafts for a few days now. I just got back from the coast and I feel awful. Sorry y’all. Here’s part 8 though!

Pairing: Demon!Taeyong x Reader

Genre: Supernatural!AU, Thriller, Romance(kinda, more later)

Warnings: None this chapter :)

Word Count: 4,832

Masterlist

Chapter 7

You went with him, keeping quiet as your mind wandered back to the energy you’d felt when you touched the book. You tried to focus on the meal he had made for you, eating slowly as he kept initiating small talk. Everything about this felt wrong to you, between the way he kept talking to his abrupt dismissal of the topic. You could barely even respond to him, and you could tell he was trying to keep it that way, he didn’t want you talking, asking questions, hell, he put the book completely out of your reach. Something about this situation was off.

For some reason, Taeyong was lying to you.

You tried, you really did, to just forget about the book for the time being. You figured you could talk to Doyoung about it tomorrow, but as Taeyong pulled you into bed, curling himself around you as he turned the lights off, you couldn’t help letting your mind drift to it. You laid in bed with Taeyong, your back pressed against his chest with his arm slung around you, keeping you close to him with a tight grip.

You pretended to be asleep, hoping he would drift off before you did so that you could try to find something out about the book. Thankfully, he must have been more tired than you were, the rise and fall of his chest slowing and his grip loosening around you. You slid out of his arms, replacing the space where you’d been with a spare wadded up blanket as you traveled soundlessly through the dorm. You were learning quickly that you could control a lot more of your surrounds than you had realized initially, making the process of getting the book from the shelf seamless. You set it on the coffee table, sitting on the couch as you ran your fingers across it, the odd aura still pulsing about the ancient tome.

You traced across the writing on the cover, finding the odd lettering coming naturally to you, despite never having seen it before. The strange language translated in your head, making the would-be indecipherable words legible to you.

Demonic Spell Casting

You flipped to the first marked page, a sound nearly escaping your throat as you read the words across the page. Why would Taeyong need this? You thought to yourself, staring at the page in terror. Sifting through the other marked pages brought about similar concerns, making you shake as you thought about the man in the other room.

You felt him shift, making you scurry to put the book back in its place, walking into the room to see him looking slightly confused at the blanket that was now in his grip. You steeled yourself, walking up to him as casually as you could manage, settling yourself back in his arms with a brief kiss. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He frowned a you, pulling you closer to him. “What’s wrong, love? I can tell something’s bothering you.” He murmured, kissing the top of your head softly.

You instinctively relaxed into his touch, having a hard time convincing yourself that the loving boy in front of you was the same one looking up those spells. You let yourself curl into him, making it seem that you needed his comfort. “I had a nightmare. I got up to get some water. I’m sorry I woke you up.” You mumbled into his chest, just loud enough for him to hear.

He wrapped himself protectively around you. “Don’t apologize for that, Y/N… Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was soothing, his hand stroking up and down your side.

You shook your head against him, the sound of his breathing helping you relax. “I just want to go back to sleep.” You couldn’t help the fact you felt better around him, and right now that scared you. On the one hand, you didn’t want to believe what you had read, wanting to convince yourself that it was all fake or that your mind was playing tricks on you. You had been reading a language you’d never even seen before after all. On the other, the words had made perfect sense to you and you couldn’t deny that either way, he had some powerful magic book that he was refusing to tell you about.

You gave up on thinking about it for the night, believing that even if he was doing some dangerous things, he wouldn’t hurt you. You knew better than the question how he felt and his drive to keep you safe, especially after everything that happened with Taeil. This was the man who healed you, the one who made you feel safe when all you felt was vulnerable and weak. You breathed in his scent, letting yourself drift off in his arms, sleep easily overcoming you.

When you woke up in the morning, Taeyong wasn’t beside you anymore. You could tell he was still in the dorm, partly from the link you shared, but mostly the fact you could smell coffee and breakfast coming from the kitchen. You slipped out of the bed, walking out to see him hovering over the stove cooking, still shirtless as he hummed to himself. You walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing his shoulder blade while he made breakfast, earning a chuckle from him. You were surprised by how natural it all felt, considering how short of a time you’d known him for. Maybe it was the bond, but you knew you felt close to him even before that. You wanted to ask but you thought it might be a better topic for another time.

“Good morning, Y/N.” His deep voice was even more gravelly in the early morning, though you could hear the smile in his voice. “Are you feeling better?”

“Much.” You mumbled into his back, still wrapped around him.

Taeyong flicked the stove top off, putting the pans contents onto plates before turning around to embrace you. He leaned down to place a kiss on your lips. “Good,” he murmured against them. “I don’t want you to be upset.” He pulled back, motioning to the plate of eggs and toast. “I made breakfast. Eat and then we can go to your room so you can get ready for the day.” He pecked your lips again, nudging you toward the barstools at the counter.

You smiled back at him, sitting down as he set a plate in front of you before taking the seat next to you. You both ate in silence, just enjoying each other’s presence. When you finished, he took the plate from you, smiling when you thanked him, before taking the plates to the sink and washing them quickly, setting them in the dish rack next to the sink before coming back over to you.

“Ready?” He asked, offering his hand out to you, which you took immediately, letting him guide you out of the room. You wanted out of the room, hoping that not being surrounded by him would let you think things through better. You needed to sort out what you read in that book and find out why Taeyong had it in the first place. You didn’t understand why he couldn’t just tell you it was a spell book when you asked, it would’ve kept your curiosity at bay and you wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

Taeyong looked over at you as you walked down the hall. “Everything alright, Y/N? You seem upset again.”

You shook your head dismissively, flashing him a weak smile. “I’m just nervous to go to classes today after everything that happened. I feel like people will notice… that I’ll be different somehow.” You weren’t exactly lying when you said it, even if it wasn’t really what you were worried about. You weren’t sure if Taeyong knew that some Taeil would be at the school, whether or not that was his brother still up in the air, but until you figured out exactly what was going on with that book, you didn’t plan on telling him. If you couldn’t get answers from Doyoung, Taeil might be your only option, as much as you hated to admit it.

Taeyong brushed his thumb over your knuckles affectionately as you reached your door, tugging you slightly to face him. “No one will notice anything. You’ll be fine.” He kissed you, pulling back quickly. “Go get ready, and I’ll see you in dance.” He let go of your hand, heading back off down the hall as you nodded to him.

You took a deep breath, not knowing the state of your own room anymore. You opened the door, surprised to find everything had been cleaned, fresh sheets on the bed in place of the ones previously stained with blood and the chair that used to be near your bed had been replaced You walked about the space, noting the small changes that had been made following the night Taeil attacked you. You stopped in front of your dresser, leaning against it with a deep sigh. It was hard to process everything that happened since then. Your life changed drastically over a weekend, which was absurd in every possible way, and yet here you were, about to go to your 9AM photography lecture. You almost laughed at how mundane it sounded, feeling gleeful to have some sort of normalcy back in your life after the chaos of the past three days.

You opened your dresser, pulling out some undergarments before walking to your closet, opting for a floral dress since the weather had taken a turn for the better. You slipped the clothes on, walking into the bathroom to fix your hair and makeup. You gasped softly at your own reflection the moment you saw it.

You looked inhuman. The thought made you chuckle ironically. You didn’t look human because you weren’t human. Your skin was now completely spotless, pores invisible, eyes glimmering vibrantly despite the harsh lighting of the bathroom, even your hair had a shininess to it you were sure wasn’t there before. You ended up only brushing your hair out and throwing on some eye makeup, considering putting it anywhere else would have been redundant at this point.

You walked back out into the main part of your room, grabbing your bag and putting the notebooks you’d need for the day in it before checking the time. You still over an hour before you needed to head to class, giving you some time to relax. You started brewing some coffee, letting your mind wander as you did. You could still feel Taeyong, even though he wasn’t in the building anymore. He was somewhere on campus, but you couldn’t tell exactly where that was. It was weird trying to get used to having another presence in your head all the time, and it made something occur to you rapidly.

You were never bonded to Taeil.

Of course, no one said you were for sure. It was just a possibility, but you were sure of it now. Taeyong wasn’t ‘influencing’ you either, at least you assumed he wasn’t since you’d been able to get up and check out that book in the middle of the night, but you were hyper-aware of his presence and state of being all the time. You never even thought of the possibility of feeling another person – demon, you corrected yourself – and it hit you like a ton of bricks the first time you felt it. That was within an hour of the bond being created, and you had a feeling you would’ve sensed something over the course of an entire day if you had bonded to him.

You heard the coffee pot go off, slowly walking over to it to pour yourself a cup. You added some milk and sugar, never having had a taste for coffee by itself before walking over and sitting on the couch. You pulled open your laptop, unsure of what you were looking for exactly, but you knew you needed to find answers: about the book, about this bond, anything. You were tired of feeling like you were in the dark on everything. You sighed in defeat, glancing at the clock and seeing it was time to head out. You shut the computer and grabbed your bag, heading out of your room and to the lecture hall. You were careful to lock your door on your way out before heading down the hallway.

Campus was still fairly quiet at this time, not many people took early morning class, making your walk peaceful as you stepped into the large building where your first class was held. You stepped into the lecture hall, finding Doyoung and taking your normal seat next to him. You still had fifteen minutes before class would start giving you some time to talk to your friend.

He looked over at you, taking in your appearance carefully. “You look good.” He nodded toward you as you blushed profusely, still not used to the new ‘you’. “Still not used to it?”

You shook your head, sitting down next to him. “It’s weird. I scared myself this morning.” You fidgeted with your hands, feeling nervous as more people filed into the room.

Doyoung reached out to pat your shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I know this place looks like an art school, but no one here is human.” Your eyes widened in alarm, making him chuckle. “You aren’t actually surprised, are you? All your friends are immortals, and it never occurred that probably everyone here is too?”

“Still a little surprised.” You managed to squeak out, looking around the room at the people who were also in the room early. “How did I not know about this sooner?”

You heard him snicker beside you. “Why would anyone want to tell the human girl that they’re a magical being?” You nudged him, shooting him a glare. “I’m just messing with you. No one was allowed to tell you.”

You relaxed, settling back into the chair. “So do they know? That I’m not human anymore?”

Doyoung nodded. “Technically, you were never human. But yes, people knew and a lot of them felt the shift when you gained your powers.”

You gave a curt nod in response, not sure what else to say on the topic. You decided Doyoung would be a good person to ask about the book, prompting you to speak up again. “How much do you know about spell books?”

The topic seemed to pique his interest, making him look over at you. “I know a fair amount. Why would you ask about spell books?”

You shrugged, thinking you might have hit a sensitive topic. “Taeyong has one in his room. He wouldn’t tell me about it. I guess I’m curious.”

It was Doyoung’s turn to have his eyes widen. “Taeyong has a spell book? Like a normal spell book or is it specific to anything?”

You heard him curse under his breath, making you tense up. “I mean… it was a demonic spell book? Doyoung, what’s going on?” You heard him swear a few more times before looking up at you, smiling awkwardly. “It wasn’t a coincidence was spells were marked in there, was it?” You managed to choke out.

You heard him let out a slightly labored breath, shaking his head. “I should’ve noticed it yesterday. What spells were marked, Y/N?”

You shifted nervously in your seat, unsure what he meant. “There was one on body transformation and – “

Before you could finish talking, you were cut off by the boy in question walking into the room, looking at you quizzically. He wrapped an arm around your waist. “I came to get you this morning before class, but you were gone.”

He nuzzled his face into your hair and you did you best not to stiffen, still trying not to give away that anything was bothering you. No matter how nice it seemed he was to you, he was hiding something. You refused to let your guard down until you had answers. You noticed that Doyoung looked nervous from where he was sitting. You turned slightly in your seat to better face the demon boy. “I didn’t know you were coming back so I went to class.” You kept your voice steady, making sure to still sound a bit clueless.

Your act seemed to work on him, as he hummed in agreement. “As long as you’re feeling better. You seemed a little shaken this morning.” He had a slight pout on his lips.

You smiled at him, trying to put him to rest and hopefully have him leave so you could return to your conversation. “I’m doing a lot better. Thank you for checking on me. I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you this morning.”

Taeyong seemed to relax, unwrapping his arms from around you. “That’s good to hear. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” He returned your smile when you nodded then pressed his lips to your forehead before leaving the room.

You relaxed into your seat once he had left turning to face Doyoung. He was watching you silently, still processing the encounter he had witnessed. “I don’t know what to do anymore.” You finally lamented, letting your head fall against the desk.

Doyoung cleared his throat, prompting you to look at him. “So body transformation?” You nodded. “Anything else of note?”

You sighed, lifting your head back up. “Memory manipulation, a few death spells, poison control? I’m not even sure what that means exactly.”

You heard him let out a sharp breath. “Right. You need to stay away from him as much as you can until we figure this out.” You heard him muttering under his breath about needing to get ahold of Johnny, Ten, and the others.

You bit your lower lip nervously. “Doyoung, I need to be a part of this. You can’t leave me in the dark here, not anymore.”

You heard him sigh, opening his mouth to talk when the professor walked through the door, immediately starting class as he did. The conversation would have to continue after class. You did your best to pay attention to the lecture, trying to keep your mind to wandering elsewhere.

After sitting through an hour of your professor go on about fashion photography, you finally got your projects for the next two weeks. You and Doyoung partnered up as usual, thankfully giving you a valid reason to be spending more time with him. You both walked out of the hall together, running face first into Ten and Johnny who were waiting outside, looking impatient.

The second you were close enough, Ten grabbed you, pulling you between him and Johnny. “We need to go, now.” His voice was low and hushed, making you feel confused. No one else around you seemed to be remotely bothered by the scene, Doyoung and Johnny both helping to move you out of the crowded hallway. The four of you ended up in one of the school’s hidden gardens, giving you some privacy from the outside. You noticed Johnny had done something to better cut you off from the outside world, letting you exist in your own little bubble for the time being.

Johnny looked at you cautiously. “Y/N, did Taeyong hurt you?” He took a step closer, looking over your body.

You cocked your head to the side, confused by the question. “No? Why would he hurt me?”

Ten was walking around the perimeter, constantly scanning the surroundings, but your question was enough to get him to leave and come over to you. “He lied, Y/N. To you, to everyone.” He reached up, cupping the side of your face. “Yuta picked up on it after you left with him in your room. Taeil didn’t attack you. Taeyong did. He used the whole thing as a ploy to make everyone trust him.”

You stepped back, refusing to believe what you were being told. “No, he wouldn’t do that.” You shook your head, your resolve quickly deteriorating as you remembered what was in that book. “No,” your voice faltered. “Yuta hasn’t liked him since day one, Taeyong wouldn’t do that.” You felt your breath catch in your throat as you tried to fight off the emotions threatening to spill over.

Ten stepped toward you, trying to comfort you. He frowned when you moved further away. “Y/N… You know something about this is off. I know you do.” He felt his heart break slightly when a tear rolled down your face, staining your cheek an inky black color. At that point he stopped caring that you were trying to stay away from him, he grabbed your arm, pulling you against his chest in a tight embrace. “We’ll figure this out, but you have to act like nothing’s wrong. He can’t know any of us found out. We’ll find a way to break the bond, and we’ll get you away from him.” He tightened his grip when he felt your body heave from crying.

You sniffled, peering up at your friend. “The new student, we need to figure out if it’s Taeil. He might be able to help.” You wiped your eyes, sighing lightly at the sight of the black tears on your hand. “Even if it wasn’t actually him in my room, I know what he looks like.”

Ten stiffened and you could sense the unease of the other two filling the space. Doyoung finally spoke up, breaking the silence. “Y/N, I think it’s best we avoid letting anyone else get involved. We don’t know if we can trust him and we can’t take that risk right now.”

You frowned, looking between the three boys. “We might need him. He’s the first prince.” None of them seemed to be faltering in their stance. “What if Taeyong finds out? None of us are strong enough to go against him. He could help.”

The second statement earned a small chuckle from Johnny, his eyes locking onto yours in all seriousness. “Y/N, you’re the strongest person here. Stronger than any of us, and stronger than him.” You looked at him like he had grown a third arm, though all things considered, you might have found that less strange than what he was currently trying to convince you of. “The more you hone your powers, the stronger they’ll get. And your ability? It’s limitless. Try to do something. It doesn’t matter what, just anything.”

Ten let go of you, moving closer to Johnny to give you some space. Part of you didn’t believe him, no one had truly unbridled power. It had to have limits somewhere, and you would have to find them eventually. You focused on the stone enclosure around on of the plant beds, visualizing it turning to dust. You held your hand out toward it, shocked by the energy you could feel bending at your fingertips. You took a deep breath, focusing the energy toward the stone again. To your surprise, and to the surprise of those around you, the stones seemed to evaporate right in front of you, soil spilling from the lack of support as the dust created by the stones swirled in a mini tornado that you were somehow controlling. You let it fall instantly, drawing your hand back and staring at it in shock. You curled in on yourself, Johnny and Ten running over to you as you did to make sure you were alright. Doyoung on the other hand walked over to the rubble, picking up a handful of the brick dust on the ground and letting it slip through his fingers.

He walked over to the three of you, kneeling in front of you. “Y/N… I’ve existed for a long time, and I’ve known a lot of demons in that time…” He paused, drawing in a long breath. “That has never happened before.”

You shivered at his comment. “I can feel it. When do things like that, I can feel the energy.” You let out a shaky breath, still trying to calm down from what you had witnessed – what you’d done.

Johnny looked around. “We should go. The shield is deteriorating quickly.” He turned back to you. “This blocked your bond to Taeyong, he’s going to be looking for you. Stay relaxed, as far as we can tell, he isn’t going to hurt you.”

Ten hugged you again. “Stay safe, please.” He pressed his lips to the crown of your head.

It took everything you had not to cry as you nodded. You hugged him back tightly, choking back the tears. “You too.” His arms tightened around you before he pulled away. You walked over to Johnny, fiddling with your hands in front of him. “I’m sorry.”

His hardened expression dropped, slinging both of his arms around you. “He tricked you. Don’t apologize for that. Please.” You could hear the pleading in his voice and it made you realize that Johnny was probably blaming himself for this situation.

You hugged him tightly. “Johnny, please be careful. I need my best friend.”

He dropped his arm after a few moments longer. “I will. But you need to go.” He motioned you toward the edge of the barrier. “Play dumb until he figures it out. Hopefully it’ll take a while.”

You nodded, walking closer to the barrier. You turned back to face them again. “Thank you,” And then you stepped through.

Once outside of the barrier, you could feel how tense Taeyong was. He was a ways away on campus, though you noticed that he seemed to relax some now that the connection was restored. You started walking toward the direction you could feel him in, noticing that he was also moving toward you. You weren’t sure how you were going to deal with him once you got there, but you knew avoiding him was going to cause more problems than it solved.

Within minutes you ran directly into each other, Taeyong pulling you roughly toward him by your arm. “Where the hell have you been?” he growled into your ear.

You shivered, he was pissed. You should have expected as much. You remembered Johnny’s advice, coming up with a plan quickly. “I…” You tried to make your voice sound distraught, not that it was particularly difficult. “I was just walking… I suddenly couldn’t feel you anymore… I… I was so scared.” You let your voice break as you finished the sentence and allowed your knees to buckle.

Taeyong’s expression softened, moving to support you before you fell. “Y/N…” His tone had changed, along with his posture. He brought his lips to your forehead. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.” His arms slipped around your waist, holding you close to him. “I was worried something happened to you.” He murmured as he buried his head into the side of your neck, inhaling your scent.

You relaxed into him, feeling better now that you knew he wasn’t angry at you. “I looked for you as soon as I could feel you again. I thought you were hurt.” You mumbled back, feeling the small bit of tension left in you leaving as he littered your shoulder with small kisses.

You felt him smile against you. “I’m alright, love. I’m glad to see you are as well.” The pet name still had more of an effect on you than you cared to admit. “Certain forms of magic can interfere with the bond.” He pulled back, looking into your eyes. “Call me next time, okay?” He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours.

You kissed him back, dropping your guard now that he was quelled. If he was suspicious of anything, he wasn’t letting on. You knew you were safe for the time being. “I will. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, a smile crossing his face. “Don’t apologize, love. Let’s get to class.” He lightly pulled on your arm to get you to come with him, to which you complied easily.

He didn’t seem to be in much of a talking mood, which you appreciated. It gave you some time to think. It was hard to process everything you’d been told today, namely that the loving boy in front of you supposedly stabbed you. That much you couldn’t believe, he had no reason to. You’d already taken to him before that happened, the only thing it did was accelerate something that was occurring on its own. It still seemed more likely that someone else had attacked you, even if it wasn’t actually Taeil.

The matter of Yuta claiming it was Taeyong struck you as being strange, however. Even though it was clear that the two didn’t get along, it wasn’t like Yuta to make baseless claims, and for as aloof as he could seem, he generally knew what he was talking about. Johnny had been looking for a reason to distrust Taeyong since the day they met, and you knew Ten was just looking out for your best interests. All of it confused you. You didn’t see the aggressive attacker from that night in the man in front of you, in fact you’d never seen Taeyong be anything other than kind.

Except for now, when he’d been upset. You struggled not to shudder when you thought of how angry he’d looked when you saw him. His dismissal of the spell book also seemed too convenient. It was hard to tell what was true and what wasn’t anymore. Everyone seemed to know what was best for you, other than you.

You’d never felt more alone in your life.

#taeyong scenarios #nct scenarios #lee taeyong #nct #taeyong #nct ten #johnny seo #doyoung #things are about to get real #sinister #chapter 8!#sorry that i'm the worst #if youre reading tags...#I'm writing on one shot for taeil rn #unrelated to the sinister universe #but its really adorable?#should be out this week :)

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writingmask · 7 years ago

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Ride ‘Em Cowboy! (McHanzo Week, Day 3)

Prompt: Undercover or Downtime

Rating: General Audiences (warnings for alcohol)

Words: 2063

Summary: A new bar opens up in town, and McCree convinces Hanzo to go on a field trip.

Notes: Based on this video and written because @regalmisfortune told me not to. Beta’d by the lovely @stationoracle.

[AO3]

All was peaceful for a blessed moment in the common room of Watchpoint Gibraltar. The gentle murmuring of the television filled the air, mingling with distant conversation as everyone went about their business. It was something of a day off for everyone; Winston had decided to declare a holiday rather than let his agents run themselves into the ground in a move that had just about the whole team singing his praises.

Jesse certainly was. He turned his gaze from the nature documentary on the screen to the man leaning against his side. Hanzo was out for the count, poor thing. If Winston hadn’t called for mandatory time off, Jesse would’ve had to do something drastic to get his partner to rest. As it was, with nothing else to do, all it took was about twenty minutes of footage of hawks in flight and some subtle arm maneuvers on Jesse’s part to convince the great assassin to actually take a goddamned nap.

He smiled to himself as he watched Hanzo snore softly beside him, curled under his arm. It was rare that he got to see him so unguarded outside of their rooms. The simple fact that he had his feet on the couch was practically a sign of the apocalypse. He looked so small when he was asleep; and Jesse felt his heart melt just a teeny bit more as he did his best to commit the sight to memory and reached out to brush a lock of hair from his face.

“Holy shit! Guys!”

Jesse yanked his hand back as Hanzo startled awake, almost falling off the couch as he scrambled to get up. Jesse jumped up and had to do a quick check to make sure there wasn’t a knife in Hanzo’s hand ready to throw down. Old habits died hard. Satisfied no one was about to get stabbed, Jesse followed Hanzo’s confused glare to the door where Lúcio came striding in. He was waving a piece of paper, though he froze as he caught sight of the two startled men.

“Oh… Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to interrupt, but you have got to check this out!” He bounded forward and slammed the paper down on the coffee table. Hanzo sat back down, rubbing his face and probably reminding himself that he’s not allowed to strangle teammates. Jesse sympathized. Lúcio, unaware of how close he’d come to the abyss, looked positively giddy. Jesse shook his head and picked up what looked to be a flyer of some sort. Apparently some kind of new bar was opening in the nearby town…?

Jesse’s eyebrows rose as he read the advertisement, a large smile slowly growing on his face as he reread it to ensure that no this wasn’t some sort of prank. He felt Hanzo lean over his shoulder and turned to show him the flyer with a grin rivalling Lúcio’s.

“No.”

“C’mon, darlin’. We have to go.”

“Jesse. I will not–”

“Babe, please?”

“We are not going to a place called ‘Tandy’s Taphouse.’”

oOo

Jesse won the argument. It had taken two sweethearts, four darlin’s, and a punkin, but he’d convinced Hanzo to come with him and the others. As an added bonus he’d even managed to get Hanzo to add a bandana on top of the plain button-down he wore in town. (

That

had taken a whispered sugar directly into Hanzo’s ear, and Jesse was pretty damned proud of himself.)

He tore his eyes from the cutest thing in the west to inspect the troops lined up in the light of the neon cactus logo of the bar. Hana had already taken out her phone to document the entire evening, and Lúcio and Genji had both dressed for the occasion with bandanas as well, raided from Jesse’s own closet. Lena kept giggling and bouncing on the balls of her feet, ready to get the night started. As for Reinhardt, he looked about as cheerful as he ever did, eager to spend time with good drinks and better friends.

“Alright, folks,” Jesse said as he put hooked his thumbs on his belt and sauntered forward with is serape fluttering in the wind like a magnificent cape, leading the charge and smirking at Hanzo’s exasperated sigh, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

He threw open the doors and the group was immediately assaulted by the Wild West. Jesse felt his heart sing for joy as he looked around. It was as though someone had managed to take the entire Southwestern United States and distill them into a single European location. Neon signs advertising beer were everywhere with cacti and cattle and boots. Down-home country sayings on wooden signs joked about the excesses of booze carried dire warnings about cowpokes who left the seat up in the bathroom. Country music blared overhead with a twanging guitar and proudly singing about horses and ex-wives with nary a hint a shame.

Jesse wiped a bit of moisture from his eyes. It was like coming home.

There was a collective gasp from his group, and they dispersed to take in the atmosphere and find a table. Jesse watched them go with a swell of pride in his heart as he moseyed up to the bar with Hanzo in tow. After ordering their drinks, Jesse leaned back and surveyed the building with a content sigh.

“Was it everything you hoped for?” Hanzo asked, scooting close enough that their hands touched. That was about all he could bring himself to do in public, but it still made Jesse grin like a loon.

“Oh yeah. There are places like this all over back home. Didn’t realize just how much I missed it.”

Hanzo was quiet for a moment, thinking. “We’ll have to ensure this place stays in business then, won’t we?”

Jesse’s eyes widened as studied his boyfriend for a moment before nodding with a gentle smile. “Thanks, darlin’.” Hanzo shrugged and answered his smile with one of his own. It wasn’t much, but it felt as good as an “I love you.”

They were in the middle of sipping their glasses of whiskey and counting the stars in each other’s eyes when Genji and Lena bounded up, flushed and filled with mischief.

“We found something,” Genji said without preamble, throwing his arm about his brother’s shoulders and clearly ignoring the resulting attempt to dislodge him. “You have to come see.” Jesse and Hanzo exchanged looks of curiosity, but neither Genji nor Lena seemed interested in elaborating as they dragged the duo with them to where the rest of their gang was waiting in front of a wooden rail, reminiscent of an arena.

Jesse’s eyes lit up as he realized it was an arena, and that smack dab in the middle of that arena sat a mechanical bull in all its red, white, and blue glory. “Oh hell yes,” he said. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!”

Lena giggled and tugged him forward. “We’re all going to try it and figured you didn’t want to miss your turn.”

“Well that was right kind of you, ma’am,” Jesse replied in an exaggerated drawl. He glanced back to see how Hanzo was taking this and was mildly surprised to see him in conversation with his brother. There was a breath of unease ghosting through him, but neither Shimada seemed angry or even irritated. That was progress, and Jesse returned his attention to the bull and the rest of the crew as everyone queued up to try the machine out.

What followed was an event that, through Hana’s determination to have a record of everything for her stream, would later become infamous enough to reach several top viral video lists as well as the Overwatch end of the year video reel.

Hana herself went first, and Jesse had to admit she had a lot of pluck despite getting slung off the bull’s back within the first second and a half. Reinhardt waved off his turn, claiming he was too old to be thrown about by anything other than his dearest Ana and moving to lean against the rail next to Hanzo, who’d somehow managed to retain his drink. Lúcio fared slightly better, lasting three seconds before slamming into the safety mats lining the arena. Lena did her absolute best, but she found herself flying as the machine started up. Surprisingly, Genji lasted almost eight seconds. It figured that a super ninja assassin had some form of balance training.

Finally, it was Jesse’s turn. He secured his hat on his head and waved to Hanzo for luck, his heart fluttering as Hanzo actually waved back, and stepped towards the metal beast. He squared off, taking a deep breath before launching himself on its back. The moment his butt hit the saddle, the bull was off, bucking wildly underneath him. But Jesse was an expert, and he hung on for dear life, clutching with his knees and yelling up a storm. He held on until the clock said fifteen seconds and figured that he’d showed them how it was done enough and jumped off. Applause sounded through the bar, and he swept off his hat and took a bow in the direction of Hana’s camera before making his way back to Hanzo’s side.

Who was still talking with Genji. The unease returned, but Jesse brushed it away as Genji clapped Hanzo on the shoulder with an air of encouragement. Everything was fine. Probably. He grinned wide and propped himself next to Hanzo.

“Well, partner, whadja think?”

Hanzo took a sip of his drink, clearly thinking through his answer. There was something percolating behind those dark eyes, and Jesse felt a thrill of excitement at the scent of a challenge. “It was… alright.”

“Alright? Alright?” Jesse repeated, clutching a hand to his heart. “I’ll have you know I was once a professional bull-rider!” Well, undercover as a professional bull-rider, but it counted.

His boyfriend scoffed and had the audacity to smirk at him. “I suppose you’ve gotten a bit rusty, then.”

“Oho, think you can do better, then?”

Hanzo drained the remaining whiskey from his glass before slamming it down on the rail with a haughty expression that looked downright dangerous. “Watch and learn, cowboy,” he said in a growled voice that gave Jesse shivers before hopping over the railing and striding towards the bull.

Which he proceeded to sit on backwards.

Jesse gulped and tried to regain his words as he heard a suspicious snicker from Genji. Yeah, something was definitely up. “Uh, Hanzo…? That’s not–”

With a mechanical whirr, the bull started up. Jesse winced, fully expecting Hanzo to slide off the beast’s back immediately. Instead, Hanzo slid forward just a hair and then… Jumped. Up. To a standing position. And started dancing.

Jesse’s jaw hit the floor.

He couldn’t tell how long Hanzo danced on the back of the bucking bull, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was the smug smirk on his face as he jumped and stepped back and forth on the back of the bull, even dropping briefly into a sitting position once or twice, his eyes never leaving Jesse’s face. Dimly he heard Lúcio and Hana both cheering him on and Genji laughing beside him at whatever face he was making, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Hanzo.

And the the asshole ripped off his bandana and threw it at him. Jesse caught it on reflex before dying as he realized Hanzo had rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned his shirt to reveal his muscled body. Suddenly the room was too hot and Jesse couldn’t breathe. Hanzo grinned straight through his soul and dismounted as lightly as any gymnast. The bar erupted into cheers and laughter as he, too, took a bow for Hana.

He swaggered over to Jesse and placed a finger under his chin, closing his mouth. “What’s the matter?” he asked, cheeks flushed and eyes dancing merrily. Jesse’s reply was little more than a gurgle.

“Come on, now, Jesse,” Hanzo said with a laugh, leaning to murmur straight into his poor frozen cowboy’s ear. Jesse was pretty sure he’d died and was heaven at this point. Or maybe he’d fallen off the bull and hit his head. But then, that wouldn’t explain the cackling from Genji next to him.

“You should know by now that I have plenty of experience in riding.”

#mchanzo #mchanzo week 2017 #jesse mccree #hanzo shimada #overwatch #alcohol /#kat writes #i'm really enjoying this

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furederiko · 7 years ago

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STATUS UPDATE... for the month of August.

WARNING: The use of "Kyoukai no Rinne S3" as the cover image is nothing more than a metaphor to describe the content of this message. It doesn't imply anything about the show, nor... anything else, really. Just having a little bit of fun, because it perfectly describes my personal condition. So if you happen to arrive here, expecting something related to the Rumiko Takahashi series? Then sorry to say, this is not that kind of post. The exit is just one click away...

You might have noticed that I haven't been exactly... active since the start of August. Well, there's a reason for that, and here's a quick rundown of what happened: - Basically, I had some... real life stuff I needed (and still need, apparently) to deal with. Can't really share what it's all about, but in a way, it's related to my financial situation. To clear that one out, I've decided to myself, to have a social media/internet detox for a week or so. It was effective immediately, after my weekly recap-view (for Kyuranger 23) went up. - Coincidentally, I was having issues with my internet connection as well. As usual. Well... not exactly similar. But it's just that I'm running out of my data charge and had to wait for a while before I could renew my payment. - That's when the unexpected arrived. Yes, as I've shared yesterday, I've been preparing a weekly recap-view offline ever since. It was shaping up nicely (65% or so) to be queued to go up around August 8... when I ended up getting the sickness. It forced me to stay in bed for... more than a week. Can't really say what it really was, because I couldn't go to the doctor. But I was indeed in a pretty bad place: I couldn't stand nor stay up for more than 5 minutes, because my body would lost its composure. I had this painful headache (but it definitely wasn't migrane or vertigo), preventing to get a decent rest. And I couldn't really eat, because my body just would not accept it. - Body condition finally got better around August 14th. That's when I began finishing up my delayed recap-view, while doing the other. I figure, go for broke, right? And I did it, I put them on queue on August 16th, just before the Independence Day (of my country) Holiday.

Unfortunately, things haven't really... improved since then. Yesterday morning, I started feeling that my bad health was slowly crawling and creeping back in. And I was right, the fever has returned today, along with some mild headaches. Probably due to the weather, because it really hasn't been kind to me lately. But I'm guessing that's because I haven't really completely recovered too. And also, that real life issue? Well, that's still pretty far from done. Being sick already occupied my attention anyways...

With that said, here's an update of what's going to happen to my Tumblr page in the remaining days of August: - Kyuranger weekly recap-view will still go up. After all, there's only 2 more left for the month (episode 26 and 27 will air on August 20th and 27th). I'm committed to doing one (since the show is one of the few saving grace that's keeping my sanity inline), so I'll definitely work on those as best as I could. You probably would want to expect... some delays or two though. Meaning, don't be surprised if it comes out... unceremoniously late again like episode 24. In fact, there's a possibility I will end up posting two episodes at once at the end of the month. - Gonna have to take a rain check on... everything else. Yes, I'll probably going to be mostly off the grid again in-between my weekly recap-view to deal with my situation. So no new 'Review', no new 'First Impression' (actually itching to do one for "The King of Fighters Destiny"), none of those. - Which also means... NO 'Random-News-Digest' for the month. It's a good thing that we're having a generally slow-news weeks in the entertainment industry for the moment, with all the media focus on that disheartening and concerning tragedy in the US (which I only learned just a few days ago). So I don't think I'll be missing out on anything major. For the record, the last R-N-D was published on July 27th. I've actually been preparing a new one ever since, but that's definitely not going up anytime soon. They have mostly become old news anyway. I'm hoping to get a fresh one ready to go up for the start of September, but sorry to say, even I can't promise that will happen.

There you have it folks, my STATUS UPDATE for August. To sum up, you might not be running into me on the internet for a while, because I'll still be working things out on my end. If you try to reach me or anything when my hiatus is in effect, allow me to offer you my apology in advance, because I might not be able to reply them immediately. Not that... many people do that... so, it really doesn't amount to anything. LOL. For the time being, recuperating health and gaining some peace of mind are my utmost priority. Gotta get back the cheery disposition that I've lost, y'all!!! LOL. On the bright side, things aren't set in stones! There might still be a change coming before the month ends, only the Heaven knows that. I'm personally hoping that my condition would be turning out for the better, sooner than later. Crossing my fingers.

Till then, be good to the world, and do take really good care of yourself. Thanks for spending your time to read this, it means a lot. I guess I'll see you... when I see you. Right? Bye now... (^^)/

PS: One more thing. I'll probably show up once or twice, every now and then on Twitter. But it probably won't be everyday, nor for a long duration too. Social media can be a scary distraction, so removing myself from one would be the wisest choice during this... personal time, when I need my primary focus elsewhere. So yeah, there's that too... ;D

#message #melancholymoments #random thoughts #So disappointed

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