#this isn’t accurate in any way I just wanted to draw a fluffy guy in an arctic background of sorts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cinnaminsvga · 3 years ago

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intermission • vi | moonlight

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. jungkook) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none!! it's just jungkook being a cutie!! → words: 3.7K → a/n: this intermission chapter was actually written by @jincherie!! i'm posting it on her behalf since she's currently on hiatus. she had this chapter mostly finished a few months ago and we were waiting to post it until we were both more active (lol) but yeah... things change i guess... anyway see you guys next year (i wanna say /j but really... is it really /j...)

— • masterlist | prev | intermission vi | next • —

Jungkook's strength has never been making friends.

In his mother’s words, a “pleasant and sweet boy” though he might be, that didn’t help much when it came to meeting someone new and the storm of butterflies in his stomach would grow so strong that it froze his limbs and caught his tongue. He’s not too good at first impressions.

A “pleasant and sweet, but terribly shy boy” is actually more along the lines of how Jungkook’s mother describes him, now that he thinks about it. That’s probably a little more accurate.

The sprawling complex he lives in is full of kids, and Jungkook knows each and every one of them. He might be challenged in the social area, but his mother is anything but. She says he takes more after his father, and since his father is usually relaxing inside and reading or drawing when Jungkook sees him at home, he figures that makes enough sense.

Every time someone new moves into the complex, Jungkook’s mother goes to greet them. Of course, he is graciously asked (read: forced) to come along too, just in case they have any kids around his age. This is how he normally meets the other kids on the block. It’s fine, he can’t complain. He has to admit it’s nice meeting all the new and different people that come through. His family is probably one of the ones that have stayed in the complex this long.

When the house next door is emptied of the family he knew, it’s a while before the next one comes in. By the time Jungkook peeks out his window one morning, woken by the telltale sound of a truck beeping as it reverses, and finally sees some movement in the house next to his own, his mother isn’t home. She’d moved into the hospital just a few days earlier, looking ready to pop with the little brother he’d heard so much about in her belly. He’s excited to meet his little brother, and now as he stands on his tippy-toes to get a good look from the window, he finds himself a little excited to meet the new neighbours, too.

It only has a little bit to do with the great, big, fluffy dog they have. Just a little.

It takes a few days for them to move in fully. Jungkook watches from his window every now and then, seeing all sorts of different cars come through. This family has lots of helpers, he notices. By the time they seem to really settle in, Jungkook doesn’t see much of them. Actually, to his disappointment, he doesn’t see anyone around at all. He still hears the dog, glimpses it every so often, but realised that they probably walk it in the mornings before he wakes up.

His mother is home before long, his baby brother cradled in her arms. The first thing she asks as she steps through the door is, “Have the new neighbours moved in? Have you met them yet, Kookie?”

This is perhaps the first time all week he hasn’t cared about the neighbours-- he’s transfixed with his brother. It stays that way for a few days, until the allure wears off when the tiny baby won’t stop crying at night. Perhaps his little brother is something best loved from afar for now, Jungkook surmises.

Back to the window he goes – except this time, there’s actually something to see.

There’s a child! A combination of nerves and excitement bubbles within him as he sees a kid in the backyard playing with the dog, throwing a Frisbee for the massive puppy to leap up and catch in its mouth. The kid looks a little…. feral. Like the baby from that one funny caveman movie he watched with his parents. They’re rolling around with the puppy, uncaring of the way grass and dirt get on their clothes and tangle their hair-- they laugh the whole time. It takes a second for the sound to reach him, but when it does it makes his heart do something funny in his chest.

Ah, the neighbour's kid is a girl.

It’s you.

Jungkook has always been a little more shy around girls, but has never known why. To meet you, he’s going to need his mother there for backup. This is probably the first time he’s outright wanted to go meet one of the neighbours. It’s a little embarrassing, so he elects not to think about it too much.

He thought he would have to pester his mother more to get up and go greet them, but it seems she’s a little sick of being in the house so much because she jumps up the second he mentions it. His baby brother is graciously asleep when they make the trip one morning to the house next door, nestled in his mothers arms looking like an angel wrapped up in fluffy clouds. Jungkook wonders if you’ll like his brother as much as he does. If you don’t, then he doesn’t know how good of a friend you’re going to be.

The doorbell is different, it’s the first thing he notices about the house. Your family must have changed it when you moved in. It’s a bubbly, fun tune now, and he doesn’t even realise the smile it brings to his face. His grip on his mother’s hand tightens, but he misses the fond look she casts over him.

When the door opens, Jungkook thinks his nerves just might eat him alive. He’s so stiff he’s worried he might turn to stone and disintegrate into dust on the spot.

It’s you who answered the door.

You don’t look as wild and unkempt as you did that day he saw you from the window. Actually, your hair is in two cute little buns on top of your head and there isn’t a spot of dirt or grime on your overalls.

The way your eyes light up when you see him and his mother, as well as the baby held to her chest, is enough to make him forget to breathe for a moment. When he remembers, he feels like running his head into the pole of the awning.

“Hey, sweetie,” his mother greets, that big smile on her face that normally wins everyone over. “We’re from the house next door! We wanted to come say hello and meet you. Are one of your parents home too?”

“Hello!” Your response is instant, and the smile you return is so big Jungkook can easily see the gap where you’re missing a tooth. It seems like you’re beating him, he hasn’t lost that one yet. “Yeah, my mama’s home-- you should come in! She said she wanted to meet you guys! Oh, also, we have a puppy! She’s big, and actually maybe she’s too old to be a puppy but… she’s cute. I want you to see her!”

You’re rambling, but you don’t seem to realise. Jungkook couldn’t get a word in edgewise if he wanted to, but he finds himself more than happy to simply listen as he and his mother follow you into the house.

Your mother isn’t as wild as you, but he notices the same little sparkle in her eyes that you have in yours. He wonders if he and his mother have their own matching sparkle. That would be cool.

Right away, his mother hits it off with yours – two socialites of a feather, it seems. You fawn over his baby brother for a few minutes while they talk (he knew right then that you were a good one), before grabbing him by the sleeve and insisting on showing him around. You get a full tour in, and miraculously Jungkook finds it in himself to ask a few questions as you go.

“S-so, you like it? Here?” Every time he opens his mouth the words don’t come out how he wants them, but he can’t do anything now. At least he only stuttered once.

“Yes! It’s so much better than my old house! There’s so many more kids here, and they’re all so nice too!” You’re more than happy to blabber on, a hand thoughtlessly carding through the long, fluffy fur on your dog’s back. Jungkook’s own hand is doing the same (the fur is just as soft and fluffy as he imagined). “There’s more room for Poopie to play, too.”

Jungkook still isn’t quite used to the name of your pet, but something more important in what you said is taking hold of his attention. “Wait, you, uh… you’ve met some of the other kids?”

“Yep,” you say, gaze off in the distance as you try to summon them all from your memory. “Not all of them, but some! Um, I think one of them is named…. Chanyeol…? He lives down the street. Then there’s-- …”

A queasy feeling fills his stomach. He thinks it might be disappointment. For some reason, he thought he was going to come in here and be the first kid you met, that he was going to tell you all about the complex, maybe show you down the street. If you turned out to be a real good egg, then he had even planned to show you his secret place. But now that he thinks about it, it’s a bit silly to think that none of the other families would have come to greet you by now. You’ve been here for more than a week, after all.

He had a good time when visiting you, but for some reason after that day, he finds himself hanging back a bit. He wants to go out and play with you and the other kids, but when he sees you getting along with them so well he’s reminded of that queasy feeling from that day and he stays inside. Which, oddly enough, makes him feel even worse. He feels like no matter what he does, he’s losing progress with you. Maybe you won’t even want to play with him at all, you might think he’s boring after having so much fun with the other kids.

“You gonna go out and play, Kookie?” his mother catches him staring out the living room window one afternoon. She’s bouncing his brother on her hip, the demon baby sated for the time being. “There’s still plenty of time before dark.”

“No, I’m okay,” he answers, hating himself a little bit for it. Why was it so hard to say that yes, he wanted to play, but also that he didn’t. He thinks his mother would be able to help, but he has no idea how to tell her his woes. “I think I might draw a little.”

“Okay, sweets.” She comes over and ruffles his hair. “But if you do decide to go out and play, just let me know so I know where you are, okay?”

He nods, and she leans to kiss his hair before wandering back into the depths of the house. Maybe he will do some drawing, he ponders. It might distract him from the sight of you getting along so well with all the other kids.

Jungkook’s strength has never lain in being outgoing. This proves itself over the months when his attempts to grow closer and befriend you turn out unsuccessful, without fail.

You’ve made a good space for yourself amongst the kids of the block. You’re nice, caring and understanding, and never mean – sure you pushed Chanyeol off the seesaw once, but that was because he was being mean to Suzie. He didn’t do it again afterwards, and peace was maintained in the playground in the park at the end of the complex. Your friendship is sought-after, and with the beginning of the school year looming so close he’s running out of time to establish a friendship between the two of you.

When he spends an afternoon riding his bike at the end of the street, looping around and through the park, it’s definitely not just because you’re sitting there with some of the other girls on the block. When he summons all the knowledge stored in his brain from watching those bike tournaments and attempts to do a little trick, it’s definitely not because he thinks you might be watching. If you happen to see and think he’s cool, then it is what it is. It’s not like he’s actually trying to impress you or anything.

It goes okay, for the most part. His legs are a little tired though. He probably shouldn't attempt the trick he’s thinking of next, but he swears he sees you glance his way and he feels a surge of confidence flow through him. He attempts it.

He botches it.

The bike clatters to the ground and he rolls a bit, but his knees take the brunt of his meeting with the concrete path.

Lucky he wasn’t trying to impress you, because that was pretty humiliating. Lucky you probably didn’t see, either. His knees burn and he feels tears prick at his eyes, probably not just from the pain. He feels so embarrassed, so dumb. He’s touched his bike five times since he got it for his birthday last year, why did he think he would be able to do awesome tricks on it? Dumb, so dumb. He flees the scene before anyone can notice what happened, and completely forgets his bike.

He’s made it all the way home before he even realises it, his vision blurred from the tears that just won’t stop falling and his knees still singing in pain each time he bends them. He almost goes inside, craving a hug from his mother and her gentle hands on his wounds, but then he realises she would ask what happened, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to tell her. It’s too embarrassing. He’s so embarrassed.

So he bypasses the front door, going around the side and slipping through the gate. There’s a tree that lines the side of the house where his window is, and it’s so tall it reaches well above the roof. Without pause, he climbs it, hands finding familiar grooves. He halts, hissing at the sudden sting – it would seem he’s scraped up his palms, too. His eyes burn with the added humiliation and he darts up the tree, making quick work of the climb until he reaches his special spot.

The roof of his house is mostly slanted, but there’s a flat bit at the very top on one side of the house. This is where he likes to go. No one ever looks for him here, plus the view is always very pretty. He doesn’t appreciate the sunset right now, though. He feels like he doesn’t deserve it.

The whole way home, Jungkook held in his cries. He didn’t want anyone to hear and tell his mother. But now, in the embrace of his little ‘safe haven’, he lets them out. He buries his head in his arms and sobs, the pain of moving his palms only making it worse.

He doesn’t know how his little body can handle so much embarrassment, let alone so many tears, but for the moment he doesn’t think about it and surrenders himself to his woes.

He must be up there for a while before his crying ceases. By the time he lifts his head, the last of his tears drying against his cheeks, the sun is just beginning to disappear beyond the horizon. It’s pretty, how it casts light around the shadowy silhouette of the city buildings in the distance. He kind of wants to show it to you. That thought is quickly shut down. He’s going to ask his mother if they can move cities so he doesn’t have to face you again.

Alas, the world just doesn’t seem to be working in his favour today. He hears the rustling of the tree before he sees it. By the time he looks over to investigate, you’re already clambering onto the roof, an oversized fanny pack bursting at the seams with whatever you’ve shoved inside slung over your shoulder.

“Hey!” You greet with a smile, apparently oblivious to the dumbstruck look on his face. “Man, it took forever to find you! If I didn’t see you from the window in my room, I never would have known where you went!”

That was the idea, he laments. He hadn’t wanted to be found.

“Anyway,” you say, plopping down a foot away from him, safely away from the edge of the roof. You swing the fanny pack around so the zip is at your front, and rip it open. Immediately, a tsunami of bandages and band-aids flow forth, fluttering to the tile before you. They’re all sorts of different sizes, but one thing is common across them all – they all have pikachu’s face plastered on them in one way or another. “These are my special band-aids! My mama uses them when I hurt myself, and they always make it heal really quick! I didn’t know how big your owie is, so I brought them all.”

Jungkook is still stunned into silence as you sort through them, organising the chaos at least a little. One of your buns has come loose, he notes. One pigtail, one bun. You look a little more like that wild child he first saw from his window. The knees of your overalls are smeared with dirt, too. He wonders if it got like that while you were looking for him. It makes him feel a little warm inside.

And a little warm outside – his cheeks are starting to burn. He doesn’t remember scratching them too, but maybe he did…?

“Let’s see…” you’re practically just holding a conversation with yourself at this point. He surrenders his leg without protest as you grab it to inspect his knee. “Yep. That’s a big ‘un.”

His whole face has lit on fire. Even his ears feel hot. Is that normal? Probably not. He’d have to ask his mother to take him to the doctor. Maybe he’s dying.

He notices how close you are suddenly, realises this is the first time you’ve been fully alone together (without Poopie), and suddenly he can’t think. Like, at all. He may as well not have a tongue because he can’t remember how to use it anyway.

Somewhere amongst the bandages you’d shoved some tissues. You pull them out now, gently clearing the dirt away from the wounds on his knees. You’re talking as you do it, but his brain is full of static. Your hands are even tinier than his. Is that normal? Wait, no-- they’re the same size. What is he doing…?

Is he going to get in trouble for being alone with a girl…? His mother hasn’t told him about the birds and bees like she said she would yet-- is that what this is? Will he turn into a bird if he gets any warmer? Jungkook doesn’t want to be a bird.

You are placing large plasters over his knees when he finally tunes in to what you’re saying. “… -that last trick was pretty cool, too. It would have been even cooler if you didn’t fall.”

Jungkook squeaks, “You saw that?”

You nod, apparently unaware of his utter humiliation. “Yeah! You’re pretty good on a bike. Can you teach me sometime? I want to show my dad.”

He makes a noise that sounds enough like an affirmation that you accept it, a big grin on your face. For a few more minutes, you finish patching him up.

“There! All done!”

Pikachu stares back up at him from his knees, looking a little wonky because of their shape. The band-aids are a bit wrinkled, but you look so proud of yourself he forces himself to ignore it. He looks up, the words of thanks he took so much courage to summon dying on the tip of his tongue as he sees you.

The setting sun changes the colour of your eyes a bit – it’s pretty, he finds himself thinking. Immediately afterwards, he blushes. Even more embarrassingly, he finds himself unable to help but observe that the sun suits you, actually. Bright, persistent, a little bit sparkly. In the sun’s last reaching rays of afternoon light, you look a bit like you’re glowing.

Of course, Jungkook is used to his silence, but it seems you’re only just noticing it. You seem to misunderstand it’s cause. “Oh, do they hurt?”

Your words tear him from his reverie, and the startled look on his face doesn’t exactly help his case. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t realise they were that bad-- oh! I almost forgot the next step! My mum always does this whenever I hurt myself.”

Then, without a second spared for him to prepare himself, you lean over and plant a kiss on each of his bandaged knees.

Jungkook thinks he might explode. The entire neighbourhood is going to see him take off and zip through the sky like a rocket. His earlier thoughts of moving cities and changing his name come back full force.

“There, they hurt less now, right?” But you’re still grinning, still bright as ever with shining eyes hoping for a certain response. Despite himself he takes a moment to assess the level of pain he’s feeling – oddly enough, it does feel a bit better.

There’s no way he can manage to say that, though.

Instead he nods, wide-eyed. You let loose a sigh of relief, muttering about how you didn’t know what you’d do if that didn’t work. He swears he catches the slightest warmth in your cheeks, but doesn’t know whether it’s a trick of the sun.

“Thanks,” he finally manages, his voice just shy of a whisper. You hear him anyway and flash that gap-tooth smile his way.

“Of course! This is what friends are for!”

You think of him as a friend? Jungkook can’t help the dumb smile that rises to his face. He likes that. Friends. As the two of you stay on the roof until moonlight begins to filter through the tree and your parents are calling your name, he thinks he’d like for things to stay that way.

He’d like to be friends with you. Always.

#btsghostie #networkbangtan #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #bts fanfiction #bts reader insert #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bangtan #bts fanfic #i dont even remember how to tag HAJDHASJ i havent posted a fic in so LONG #anyway yall thought fox rain was dead but i guess she lives for one day... next chapter is gonna kill me tho but im excited!!#see you sooner than later i hope lmao

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sunmoonandeddie · 5 years ago

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a vision in white

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3,441

summary: Fucking Chad and fake champagne.

prompt: “And our love story? I know it may not feel like it right now, baby, but I promise you, it’s just getting started.” (This is Us)

warnings: swearing, angst with a fluffy ending

a/n: This is my first successful attempt to getting back into writing long form. It’s also my entry for @softhairbarnes‘s challenge that was due, like September 18th. I’m so sorry it took so long, and the prompt is bolded in the fic!

Bucky Barnes hated weddings.

Actually, no. That’s not quite accurate because he loved Sam and Natasha’s wedding. When Sam had asked him to be a groomsman, he’d actually cried. In fact, he cried at least four times that day: watching Tony walk Natasha down the aisle, during the vows and the first dance, and then when he’d watched his girl catch the bouquet.

His girl.

No.

He needed to stop that. You’re not his girl anymore.

It was that stupid bouquet toss that had caused him to panic. It had sent him into a downward spiral as his anxiety reared its ugly head, telling him that he’d never have this with you.

It didn’t matter what the stupid tradition said.

Steve was standing near the front with Tony and Sam, mingling with your parents and having a grand old time. He must’ve said something at least a little funny with the way that your mom had her head thrown back in a laugh.

That used to be him. He used to be the one chatting with your family at events, his arm around your waist. Your dad always called him ‘son’ and your mom fretted over whether he was eating enough while your older siblings gave him hell for keeping you away from them in New York City for too long. He’d never thought he’d have a family in the twenty-first century, but yours had welcomed him with open arms. Your brothers had become his brothers, your sister became his sister.

And then he’d fucked it all up.

And because of his fuck up, he was sitting in the back pew of a church, watching some asshole named Chad chat with one of his groomsmen while waiting for the ceremony to start.

The worst part was that it was all wrong. This wasn’t the wedding you wanted. He knew that for a fact.

First off, the church. You never wanted a church wedding in the middle of August, damn it. Everyone was sticky with sweat, even with the air conditioning on full blast, and more than a little miserable.

And there wasn’t… There wasn’t enough flowers. The only flowers present were two bunches of white tulips on either side of the altar.

Fucking tulips. In white. It was like you’d had zero hand in planning your own wedding.

Which, from the look of things, you probably didn’t.

There just wasn’t enough color. It was all pristine white, as though trying to create some image of purity that he knew you didn’t have. You weren’t some kind of innocent virgin like the whole church thing suggested.

The trip you two had taken to the Dominican Republic a few years ago had made sure of that.

You’d told him about the wedding you dreamed about in the middle of the night, between sleepy kisses and wandering hands. The sheets had been kicked off at some point. You’d tangled your legs with his, soft fingers brushing his hair back away from his face as you murmured into the crook of his neck, “I want a small wedding outside. Just you and me and our family.”

“Yeah, baby?” He’d chuckled, drawing you even closer, if it were possible. “Just us and our family?”

“Mmhm. Don’t need anyone else.”

He’d hummed his agreement as he rolled the two of you over, leaning over you. His forehead pressed against yours, your legs wrapped around his waist. “What else? Hm?”

“What do you mean, ‘What else?’” You had asked, his t-shirt riding up your torso. You’d stolen it at some point, almost permanently becoming one of your so-called ‘sleep shirts.’

“Tell me about our wedding.”

Your bright eyes crinkled as you giggled, your fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Our wedding, huh?”

His fingers attacked your sides in retaliation, sending you into a fit of laughter.

“Okay! Okay!” You had allowed him to lie on your chest, his head resting right above your racing heart. His weight was a welcome one, grounding you and keeping you in the present. Just as Bucky had his demons, you had yours, too. Your voice was soft and sweet, barely audible, as you continued, “It’ll be outside… in June… And there’ll be flowers. We’ll have so many flowers that no one will know what our color scheme is supposed to be.”

A laugh from your fiancé, your soon-to-be husband, pulled him out of his memories. God, the smug bastard.

Part of him wondered if he even knew about your past relationship. Granted, he had to. You were together for so long, it would be strange to not at least mention him to your new lover. Your fiancé.

Right?

Without a second thought, he stood up from the cold, hard pew and went through the double doors that people were still filing in from. He didn’t care that he received more than a few dirty looks after bumping shoulders with a few people. He didn’t recognize more than half of them. Some of them he can vaguely remember from one of your family reunions.

He had so many questions that he needed to ask you. He needed answers.

His invitation was crumpled in his hand as he searched the church, looking for any hint that might lead him to where the bridal party was getting ready. He knew that he’d find you wherever that was. Wanda and Natasha, too.

“Bucky?”

The familiar voice stopped him in his tracks, and he turned to see your older sister standing standing behind him. Josephine, or Jo, as she preferred, was your only sister, the second born of five. He had no doubt in his mind that she’d bawled when you’d asked her to be your maid-of-honor.

“Hi,” he said with a bit of a wince. He knew how he looked right now. Crazed. Desperate.

She had a glass of what appeared to be water in her hand, but he could smell the vodka from where he stood.

Some liquid courage for the bride?

“She doesn’t like vodka,” he said, his voice barely audible.

Jo rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and crinkling the silky gray material of her bridesmaid’s dress. “Yeah, well, she used to not like guys named Chad either, but here we are.”

He wasn’t quite sure what to say or how to respond at all, and just stood there with his mouth hanging open like a codfish.

“Come on,” she said, nodding further down the hall. The first few feet were completely silent, their footsteps muffled by the old carpet covering the floor. There was no way this church had been renovated since the seventies.

“She misses you, you know.” She kept her eyes forward, refusing to look at him as she admitted things she’d sworn secrecy to. “She won’t admit it to anyone but me, but she does. We all do.”

His blue eyes drifted down to the cardstock in his hand. It was white, just like the rest of your wedding, with you and your fiancé’s names embossed on it. It was worn from the amount of times he’d folded and unfolded it in his anxious state. “I didn’t expect to get an invitation.”

“She didn’t send it. I did.”

It was said so matter-of-fact that he didn’t even register her words at first. But the second he did, he tripped and almost fell flat on his face. “You what?!”

“Oh, come on, Bucky,” she said, stopping in front of him. “This… This whole thing isn’t right. I know you feel it, too.” She motioned back down the way they came. “This isn’t her. She’s settling for someone that isn’t right for her because she thinks you don’t want her. And I…” Her eyes, the same brilliant shade as yours, drifted to the ground. “I knew that if you came, it would mean that you still love her.”

“I—” He ran his hand over his face. “Of course I do. But she deserves more than me.”

If Jo’s eyes could’ve rolled to the back to her head, then they would’ve. “You’re both absolute idiots.” She grabbed his hand and set the glass of vodka in his hand before pushing him towards a closed door. “This is your chance to fix it.”

He looked at her once more before turning back to the door, knocking once.

“Come in.”

God, just hearing your voice in person for the first time in three years sent waves of affection through him.

The first thing he saw when he opened the door was your back. You were sitting at the vanity in the room, toying with one of the pins your hair.

“Jo, can you help me? This just… isn’t right.”

But Bucky was frozen by the door. His mouth was suddenly dry and he had to fight the urge to down the entire glass of vodka in his hand.

“Jo, really—” You turned in your chair, freezing when you saw him standing there instead of your sister. “Jamie?”

You looked so… so shocked. Hesitant. Maybe even a little scared?

“Uh… Hey, sweetheart,” he said, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “It’s, uh… It’s been a while.” When you just stared at him, he held out the glass. “Jo gave me this to, uh, to give to you.”

But you didn’t take it.�� Your fingers were white from how hard you were gripping the back of the chair. “What are you doing here?”

His heart was beating so hard he was sure his ribs were going to break like glass. “You… You look beautiful.”

And he wasn’t lying. You were truly a vision in white. The veil covering your hair was trimmed in delicate lace, framing your features in a way that made you appear almost angelic.

Your fingernails were digging into the palms of your hands as you finally stood up. “James, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Jo invited me.”

You cursed under your breath, your eyes drifting up towards the ceiling. “Fucking Jo.”

He took a step forward, a little scared of how you’d react. His hands were trembling. “I… I…” He cleared his throat as he desperately tried to gather his thoughts. Rolling his shoulders back, he willed himself to have some fucking courage, damn it. After what must’ve been an eternity, he finally allowed himself to meet your gaze. “Listen, I could say a lot of shit right now about how sorry I am, and it’d be true. Because I am sorry. I was stupid and dumb and, and a lot of other words that I can’t think of right now because fuck, you’re right here and I… I miss you. I miss you more than anything in the world, and if I could take it back, I would.” When you didn’t retreat, he took a few more steps towards you. “I love you. I love you so god damn much, and I never should’ve pushed you away.” The vodka was rippling, his hand was shaking so much. “You’re the love of my life, and I’d be willing to bet anything—in fact, I’d bet Steve’s life—that I’m the love of yours.”

“James—”

“Tell me that you love him,” he said, now standing just mere inches from you. He set the glass on the vanity without breaking eye contact. You could feel his breath gently fanning across your face. “Tell me you love him and I’ll leave. I won’t ever bother you again. But, sweetheart, there’s no way he can ever love you how much I love you.” His hand, calloused and rough, tenderly cupped your cheek. “I don’t have any right to you, I know. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t even try to make things right. And our love story? I know it may not feel like it right now, baby, but I promise you, it’s just getting started.”

Even though your eyes were watering, you didn’t step away from him. Your cheeks had just gotten hotter and hotter the closer he’d gotten to you. “What are you asking me, James?”

“Come with me,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours. His voice sounded pained, his metal hand grasping yours. “We can get out of here, go home. Please.”

You took in a shaky breath, a million thoughts running through your mind.

“Say you’ll run away with me, sweetheart.”

“I… I can’t.”

Bucky jerked away from you, feeling like a pot of boiling water had been tossed onto him. “What do you mean?”

Nose scrunching as you sniffled, you reached out to him. “Jamie, please…”

He backed towards the door, shaking his head. “Don’t ‘Jamie’ me.”

Wiping at your eyes, you rushed to explain. “I can’t just… just leave him at the altar, Jamie! I can’t hurt him like that!”

“Why not?!”

You looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “What the hell do you mean, ‘Why not?’ I’m engaged to him. I promised to spend the rest of my life with him, and—”

“You don’t love him!”

The words died in your throat. Your chest was heaving against the confines of your dress. “I’m engaged to him.”

“That doesn’t mean shit,” he said bitingly. His arms waved around dramatically as he spoke. “You’re sitting here in a dress, about to give the rest of your life to an asshole—Which, by the way, really? Chad? You decided to marry an asshole named Chad of all things?—because you can’t hurt his feelings?” He really wished he’d downed some of that vodka right about now, even though it wouldn’t really do much for him. “Are you really going to throw your life away like that?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to keep yourself from crying. You were supposed to walk down the aisle in less than thirty minutes, and your makeup artist would kill you if you’d ruined her hard work. “I… I love him.”

Bucky stared at you for a long moment, hoping that you would realize what a mistake you were making. But when it didn’t come, he let out a huff of air. “You keep telling yourself that.” He took one last look at you as he opened up the door, ready to leave. “Have a happy life, sweetheart. I’ll… I’ll see you around.”

He allowed the door to shut behind him before the waterworks started, forcing himself to not go back in when he heard you crying.

Stupid super soldier hearing.

“Bucky?”

He looked up to see Jo standing there, the hopeful look in her eyes quickly diminishing. “She, um… She says she loves him.”

He knew that she could hear you crying even without a super soldier serum coursing through her veins. Without even giving him a second look, she slipped into the room and out of his sight. Your sobs seemed to get even louder when she entered.

Not able to withstand the torture that was being so close to you without being able to call you his, Bucky ran.

He left the church, grabbing a bottle of champagne that was sitting on the catering truck outside.

It would seem that your reception was to be in the basement of the church, of all places.

He didn’t even bother to tell anyone he was leaving. After all, he’d ridden with the team to the church, and he didn’t want to have to beg one to drive him back to the Tower and miss the ceremony. They’d actually been invited.

You wanted them there. But not him. Not after how badly he’d fucked up.

It wasn’t like any of them actually expected him to be able to make it through the vows, or even into the sanctuary.

He aggressively wiped at his eyes as he walked down the crowded streets of New York City. “Don’t you have places to be?” He wondered aloud as yet another person bumped into him.

His feet knew where to take him before his mind did.

The 50 Street Station on Broadway.

The night you first met, you’d just finished a shift at Ellen’s Stardust Diner. Your roller skates were sitting by your feet as you waited for the subway. Bucky had just been wandering around the city and had somehow ended up across Manhattan.

He’d instantly been smitten with the girl working her way through university, and it had been history from there.

He sat on one of the benches, uncorking the bottle with little difficulty.

If anyone was curious as to why an Avenger was drinking in a subway station at noon on a Saturday, no one asked.

And in his nice suit, too.

“Oh, buddy, how the hell did you end up here?” He asked himself before taking a long swig from the bottle. Some of the bubbling liquid dribbled down his chin and he wiped it on his jacket sleeve that definitely cost more than his childhood home back in the twenties.

He would kill for some of Thor’s Asgardian mead at the moment.

But he’d just have to settle for some second rate champagne that, honestly, probably wasn’t even real champagne.

“Probably made in America,” he muttered to himself as he inspected the bottle.

Sure enough, right there on the back under all the nutritional information, it said Made in California.

“Can’t even get real champagne for her,” he said to no one in particular. No one in the station was paying him any mind, choosing to let him wallow in misery on his own.

Seven trains had passed by before he heard it.

“James?! Jamie?!”

He imagined that right? The wind from the trains was playing tricks on him. Making him hear your voice.

An exquisite form of torture, really.

“Jamie!”

But it sounded so real.

Curiously, he lifted his head, the almost empty bottle dangling from his fingers.

And there you were.

Still a vision in white in your wedding dress. Your veil was half torn off, your hair falling. The hem of your skirts was dirty from the muck that covered the streets of New York City. You held a suitcase in your hand, rolling your shoulder back to accommodate the weight and pressure of carrying it through the city.

“What are you doing here?” He asked as he got to his feet, the champagne forgotten. He wiped at his eyes, desperately trying to appear more put together than he felt. “You… You are here right? I’m not hallucinating or anything?”

“No, you’re not hallucinating,” you said as you set the suitcase down with a huff.

He blinked slowly at you, almost afraid that you’d disappear if he closed his eyes. “I mean, you never know with fake champagne.”

“Shut up.”

He watched as you sat down on the bench he’d been occupying for a little over an hour and a half, crossing your arms over your chest. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing here?”

“You’re getting married to Chad.”

With an eye roll that reminded him a lot of Jo, you kept your eyes on the approaching subway. “Clearly not.”

He snuck a peek at your left hand, heart pounding when he realized that you didn’t even have your engagement ring on. “Oh.”

You two sat in silence for a few minutes, not speaking. It was so peculiar to be in the exact spot that you two had met seven years before. So much had changed but at the same time, so much was the same.

He was still crazy about you, for one, and it would appear that you felt the same.

“I hate that you’re right all the fucking time.”

His heart skipped a beat and he finally turned to look at you. “What was that?”

And despite how much you fought it, a small smile was tugging at your lips. “Shut up. You know what I said.”

“I’m not right all the time,” he said slowly, inching his pinky closer and closer to yours. “I wasn’t right to leave you.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“I should’ve just told you that my anxiety was getting the better of me like you told me to.”

“Yes, you should’ve.”

He inhaled sharply as his finger finally brushed yours, and you allowed his fingers to intertwine with yours.

“Better late than never, I suppose,” you whispered, your eyes meeting his.

The silence between you was loaded with tension. And the both of you knew that you had a lot of things to discuss, things to figure out if you were going to work in the long run.

But you were here and he loved you and you loved him.

And that was enough.

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #shb3000wc

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mimzy-writing-online · 6 years ago

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Writing A Blind of Visually Impaired Character: Mannerisms

This post is part of a multi-step guide to writing blind characters, and it’s master post to all parts is linked here: https://mimzy-writing-online.tumblr.com/post/185122795699/writing-a-blind-or-visually-impaired-character

All posts on writing blind characters will be tagged #blindcharacter for you to search on my blog for.

Follow this blog for more writing advice

Disclaimer: I am a very real visually impaired person who has been living with my disability for two years and these are little things I specifically do, little mannerisms that developed because of my blindness

Part Five: Blindisms or Mannerisms that Breathe Life into Your Characters

Biological Things

-My eyes get tired so easily, and when I say tired I mean they start aching and my vision gets even worse as the day progresses. The muscles start to ache and I’ll press or pinch the area around my eyes because of the pain

-Eye strain will cause headaches. When I get eyestrain I have to take off my glasses, stop looking at screens, and just relax for a while in bed until my eyes feel a little better.

-Weather has a huge impact on how I see, and any light sensitive person with a fair amount of remaining vision will probably have the same problem. Light sensitive people will find sunny days much harder, but overcast days can be a little difficult too because the sun tends to diffuse all across the sky through the clouds and the entire sky is bright

-Snow. This isn’t a me thing because I don’t live in this climate and never have to deal with it, but snow days are incredibly disorientating to people with vision issues. It covers any ground land marks you might use to know where you are (sidewalk versus grass versus street)

-Rain puddles are difficult to see and obnoxious to walk through, and your cane just sloshes through them (my mom usually warns me in advance and tells me how to avoid them)

Hobbies and Interests

-We’re actually not bared from many hobbies and activities. There are some very athletic blind people out there who play sports. Molly Burke used to rock climb and teach at a rock climbing gym when she was younger, she also learned to surf at one point. She’s gone bungee jumping and sky diving. There are lots of athletic blind people out there.

-Martial arts is very possible for blind people and certain organizations for the blind teach self defense classes. So, in case any of you were mad at me for saying you shouldn’t write Daredevil, my point is that you shouldn’t give your blind character unrealistic super senses. Your blind character can still kick some ass when needed.

-I play video games. It’s not impossible, although it is very hard for me. I still love it. I personally play Overwatch on PC and I’ve been playing Sims for years

-Reading is something a lot of blind people enjoy, and it’s sometimes described as the blind person’s version of TV, a way for them to see in their minds eyes what they can’t see with TV. So for this reason I have and will continue to tell you to keep your blind readers in mind and not traumatize, kill, assault, or victimize your blind characters for plot.

-We read in different ways. Some only read through audio books, some read through screen readers, some read on their tablets or laptops because they can enlarge font, some read printed books with magnifiers. It all heavily depends on how much sight your character has left and where they like to get their reading material. For example, if you read fanfiction a lot you will probably have to rely on screen readers on your laptops to read to you, but if you like reading published books then you will rely more on audio books.

-We do watch TV and movies, even if we can’t see the screen at all. Some movies and tv shows come with audio description for the blind, and they describe visual details on screen. You have access to lots of examples of this, because Netflix does have audio description for a lot of their shows and movies. Check audio description on your favorite Netflix Original and minimize your browser window to the background to experience movie going the blind way

-We can cook, and sometimes amazingly. Christine Hà is a blind chef who won the third season of master chef and she is amazing. She published her own cookbook too. Some schools for the blind will offer cooking classes as part of their rehabilitation services

-Art. I recommend hopping on google and checking out some blind artists out there. I’m sure you’ll be surprised by a few. There are painters, sculptors, pottery makers, photographers, and many more. My second blind character is learning to draw in school and will over time develop his own cartoonish style of drawing.

-Music. Yeah, I know I said I didn’t want to see the blind music prodigy again, but that’s because I wanted to see you guys come up with your own stories and your own unique characters. There are some wonderful blind musicians and your blind character deciding to learn to play an instrument for the first time during the course of your story would actually be pretty cool.

Theatre. It would be really cool to see some acting blind characters. Doctor Who had Ellie Wallwork, a blind actress play a blind character on their eleventh season. She was amazing and I really loved that episode, it was my favorite in the whole season. (I also adore Jodie Whittaker)

There are so many more hobbies that you can have, even with vision loss. Some might require you to adjust how you do that hobby, but with the right accommodations you can do just about anything really. (Except drive. Please don’t drive.)

Little Enjoyable Things

-Interesting textures. The less your characters see, the more obsessed they get with interesting textures. Hard ceramic mugs with decorative bumps, soft and fluffy blankets, crochet blankets and pillows, tile lines and patterns, any raised surface like slightly raised letters on a book cover, rocks with interesting but not too sharp textures. The more vision loss you have, the more you rely on your hands and your hands become a way of seeing for you.

-I have bought bumpy mugs and soft blankets and textured pillows for exactly this reason. My fingers touched them and just enjoyed the hell out of it.

-Your hands becoming a way for you to see makes you want to touch everything (except faces) Shopping in stores is especially bad because I’m touching everything even though I have quite a bit of sight left.

-There are favorite outfits, purely because what you’re wearing has the comfiest texture

-Soothing sounds and music. I’m not big into ASMR but some people might be. I like quiet background music

-Sometimes I tap my cane on pavement or other hard surfaces just to hear the way it sounds. I can’t echo-locate, most people can’t, but it’s a weird form of sensory

-Loud environments where sounds seem to come from all directions is overwhelming and not enjoyable

Cane Safety Things

-Bring your cane everywhere

-Have a backup cane when travelling long distance in case something goes wrong

-Don’t ever touch my cane. I mean it, don’t! My cane is an extra limb, it is part of my body and I get incredibly nervous when people touch it, especially if I don’t know them well. I only trust a few people to hold my cane with them for even a minute (my mom, maybe my best friend if I’m trying to put on a sweater and can’t hold it the whole time)

-Cane height: your character’s cane should be as tall as their shoulder, at least, or maybe a few inches taller to their chin.

-Because of this I like to lean forward and rest my chin on my cane when I’m bored and waiting for something (like a line)

-In general I just fidget with my cane so much

-You can actually get custom canes. I have a cane with a royal purple tip instead of red. You can get a cane that’s entirely pink or blue or black or whatever. You can add reflective tape to make you more visible.

-Some people prefer long canes that don’t fold, some people prefer folding canes. It’s really a personal decision. I’ve heard long canes are better for tactile feedback because the vibrations when they hit an object or tap the ground are more accurate. I like folding canes because I like storing it away when I don’t need it right away (in class, sitting at a booth in a restaurant, in my backpack) My preference for folding canes goes back to my paranoia of people touching it when I’m not paying attention

-Long canes that don’t fold are not easy to fit into cars and you need to get creative.

Guide Dog Things / Animal Things

-I will include a more serious list about guide dogs in my Part Four about tools and things blind people use to survive (canes, guide dogs, accessibility tools, braille) but for now this is more of a fun list

-I can’t say this from personal experience because I have never had a guide dog, but I’ve had pets and let me tell you, everyone loves spoiling their pets with gifts and hugs and pets

-Soft animals are so fun to pet

-Please tell me when there’s a cat nearby, even if I can’t pet it. I love cats? Wild bunnies too? (I’m super allergic to bunnies, I should never pet them, but I love their existence, they’re so cute)

-Some blind people are not dog people and will not get a guide dog for this reason. They are still valid. People who aren’t dog people are still valid, regardless of ability or disability.

General Safety Things

-Depending on the orientation and mobility skills of your character, they may not feel super comfortable walking out alone, and this comes down to how much training they have, how independent they are, and if they’re generally and anxious person or a self-assured person. Some blind people are great at inner city travel and can do so confidently, others feel less confident (I’m personally not great at crossing busy streets by myself and parking lots are scary to me)

-They may not like bars or nightclubs- this comes down to who your character is. Bars and nightclubs are loud, it’s hard to talk, they’re crowded so using a cane or guide dog isn’t easy or sometimes possible. They’re also poorly lit and if your character has some remaining vision but is night blind, this is especially bad. Because of how preyed upon women are, especially disabled women, your character probably won’t feel safe in a bar or nightclub because they know creeps might target them because they can’t see

-Being blind, you develop this awareness that there are predators out there in the world who see your blindness as something to exploit, that will make you easy to assault or abuse.

NOTE: please don’t use this as an excuse to write a rape as part of your plot. The general consensus of readers has come to the conclusion that using rape as something to further your plot is a terrible thing to do, it is cheap and unoriginal plot development and that you shouldn’t do it. You especially shouldn’t put your blind characters through something traumatic like this. Seriously guys, blind people are coming to your stories because they want to see themselves represented. Seeing themselves victimized will only hurt them. DON’T hurt your readers like that

-Because of this awareness of how vulnerable you can be, you learn to walk in groups and avoid places where predators frequent (bars and nightclubs)

God, this thing is getting long and there are so many other little blindisms that I’ve probably not thought of yet. I will probably make more posts in the future about blindness, including little stories or things I experience.

Follow this blog for more writing advice (and posts about experiencing the blind life)

#writing advice #writing tips #writing #writeblr #blindcharacter #my advice #mine

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sherlollydramoine · 5 years ago

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How the Lights Shine So Colorful and Bright

I hope that this satisfies. It just ended up being a bunch of cute fluff. This is actually two parts. Part one is just Rami X Reader and some quality time, the second part is Dad!Rami X Kids X Reader. Fyi, they have four kids in this one. :) Whoops. Busy little horn dogs.

Warnings: implied/mentioned sex, and just a lot of cute fluffiness. I cried writing a part of this.

These are just two separate HC’s totaling about 2k words

Rami X Reader

For the record I am not from NY, nor have I ever been to NY, so anything that is listed in here is sourced straight from a quick Google search.

Word Count: 1060 words (Part One)

You and Rami had escaped to New York in early December. He had some promotional work that he had to do, and he also said that you were overdue for some one-on-one quality time

You stayed behind in the hotel sleeping in for the first time in nearly six years, having four kids is exhausting, while he went to work. The twins, your toddler, and the baby

When he finally came back from fulfilling his work obligations he found you still in bed, dead asleep and he couldn’t help the quiet chuckle that escaped him.

He shrugged off his coat, and took his shoes off before he carefully climbed into the bed with you.

“Hey sleepyhead.” he says, as he gently brushes your hair back from your face.

“If no one is bleeding, dying, or the house isn’t on fire then please leave mommy alone!” you mumble out.

He laughs loudly and you open your eyes.

“How was work?” you mumble out.

“It was fine. It’s always kind of fun doing the initial promo stuff. Buttttttttt, now that I’m free for the rest of the day I was thinking that maybe we could go get something to eat, and then maybe you know... because it’s been awhile since we’ve... ya know. I have plans for us tonight though.

Your day passes by all to quickly between shopping, eating, and having the hot sex you two were so overdue and that next thing you know it’s getting late.

You had both taken a brief nap after one particular round of vigorous sex, so you were both charged up and ready for whatever he had planned.

He gets into the closet and pulls out a garment bag, and tells you to put the dress that is inside the bag on.

You draw in a sharp breath, and then almost start to cry as you open the bag. “Baby, where did you find this dress?”

“I found an old picture of the two of us and you were wearing it, and you know, I know people. So I had this dress made for you. I know how much that dress meant to you. You were wearing it when we first met, on our first date, when I asked to be my girlfriend, the first time we kissed, it’s also the dress I took off of you the first time the we had sex. When you lost everything in that house fire, you told me how that dress and your grandmother's copy of Pride & Prejudice were the only things that meant anything to you.”

You threw your arms around his neck and brought your lips to his. That is just how amazing your husband is, he would do anything like this for anyone that he loved.

“So get dressed YN, because we have plans.”

You got dressed really quickly and taking his hand you both headed out the door of your hotel.

Usually when you visit the city you both take public transportation, but not today. He had hired a car with a driver. You try to ask him what he was up to, and then it dawns on you.

“Baby are we.. are we going to go look at the Christmas lights?”

“Yes.”

“That’s just like-omg-I love you so much!!” you feel the tears wanting to start again, as you lean into his shoulder.

“Yes, just like our first date.We were both so broke, and I was so excited when you didn’t want to ditch me after that. That other guy that really liked you was rich, and I thought that there was no chance in hell that you’d ever want to see me again.”

“Oh baby. I had the biggest crush on you and we’d just never met, only ever seen each other from a distance. I never thought that I had a chance in hell because you were and still are the most beautiful man that I’ve ever seen.”

He kisses your temple, just as the car pulled over.

We’re at Rockefeller Center. You got out,and walked around for a bit. Admiring the giant Christmas tree and all of the other sights and sounds around us.

When you were standing as close to the bottom of the tree as was possible, he took out his phone and angled the camera to capture you both in a selfie.

An older gentleman and his wife were walking by and they stopped and offered to take a few pictures of the two of you.

He presses another kiss to your temple, and then takes your hand in his.

Your husband was so caring and gracious, that when a couple of fans spotted him, he happily agreed to take a few photos with them. You offered to take them and they declined and asked you to be in the picture too.

After spending a little while in one location, he’d have you back in the car and off to the next.

This time he shuffled you off to Bryant Park. The skating rink, with the NY Public Library looming in the distance, and all the little ways that the area was lit up. The random decorations around, the cool night air wanting you to just lean into him. The different vendors that were set up along the way.

The last location of the night was for a stroll down Fifth Avenue, mostly just so that you can look at all the displays in the windows, and the way things were decorated so meticulously.

Your night ended with dinner at a restaurant close to your hotel, walking back in the chilly night air.

Walking, hand in hand, just like all those years ago. You really couldn’t have asked for a better date night.

“YN, all the bright lights could never shine any brighter than you, or my love for you.”

He stops you in the middle of the sidewalk, others around you huffing in irritation as they had to maneuver around you; he reaches up to cup the back of your neck as your body practically melts into his. The kiss you shared was so sweet yet full of passion.

You rest your head on his shoulder. “This was the best date that we’ve had in a long time. Maybe we should strip it down more often, and just do things the cheap and simple way like we used to Rami.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

***********************************************************

Part Two

Dad!Rami X Kids X Reader

Go to the LA Zoo Lights - for the record I’ve never been there, never done that, I hope it’s not disappointing. I did a basic Google search and got some information about this. I hope for those of my readers that have been, that it is accurately described.

Word Count: 1056

“Daddy!!!! I wanna go to the zoo!!” your oldest two started yelling repeatedly, in unison

“We will go in just a minute, mommy is just finishing changing the baby.”

The sun had just barely set, everyone fed, and now you two were getting ready to round up your crew of kiddos to get them in the car.

They had been excited about going to the zoo in the dark for a week. It’s all they’ve talked about.

The twins were bouncing off the walls, your toddler was having a meltdown because she wanted to wear her pink sparkly shoes, but they were nowhere to be found, so she had to wear her purple sparkly shoes instead.

The baby had just pooped after being fed, so you were finishing changing him and then everyone was set to go.

Sometimes you and Rami joke about how crazy you had been to have kids so close in age, but parenthood was something he wore just as well as he wore those fancy suits.

Rami was trying to keep your three oldest entertained as you dealt with the baby.

Walking into the living room, you couldn’t help but to laugh. Rami was on the floor with three kids on top of him.

“Heeeellllllllllllpppppppppppp meeeeeeeeeee!!!” he dramatically cried out, waiting for you to come to his rescue.

With a loud sigh you set the baby down on his play mat on the floor before walking over to your husband.

You grabbed your toddler and one of the twins and began to tickle them.

“My heroooo!” Rami laughed, as he gave you a kiss, standing up. Scooping the other twin into his arms and tossing him in the air.

“Soooo… who is ready for some zoo lights? And maybe some ice cream after if it’s not too late and you behave?!”

The two oldest stopped in their tracks and started screaming, which caused your toddler to start screaming, which made the baby cry.

Rami just laughed, as he scooped your infant off the floor and into his arms.

Grabbing the diaper bag that was full to bursting with everything that would possibly be needed for an evening away from the house, along with the stroller, baby carrier, and the backpack, you grab your small army and head to the car.

You are a minivan family. Rami hated it at first, but once he realized there was no way in hell that you were all gonna fit in the small SUV you had, he had begrudgingly agreed and bought the minivan

You were strapping in the twins, while Rami was wrestling with your toddler, the baby having already been strapped in to his car seat and snapped into the base of his car seat.

Rami drove you all to the zoo, where the twins excited screeching was just getting louder by the minute, the toddler just jabbering away about who knows what, God bless your infant son who was blissfully asleep amongst all the chaos.

You two learned the hard way about 6 months ago, to keep everyone strapped in until you were ready to go. Rami was on twin patrol, and you would handle the stroller and wear the baby.

You climb into the van and get the twins out, they had their instructions to stand next to the van, and hold hands. Next came the toddler who was promptly situated in the stroller, and lastly the baby that couldn’t be bothered to wake up, while being strapped into the carrier, grabbing his blanket to cover his tiny body.

Rami took the twins ahead, to go get everyone’s tickets, while you got the two youngest taken care of.

You could hear your twins Oooohing and Ahhhhing at the entrance already, and you smiled sweetly, knowing that this was going to be a great decision.

Rami let the twins lead the way, as only certain parts of the zoo were open during the zoo lights.

Watching the kids faces light up in wonder and amazement at what they were seeing.

The lights were bright and fun, the lighted tunnels were a favorite.

You never would have thought that this would have ended up being your lives, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Rami only got upset once during the evening when a fan approached and asked for a photograph, to which Rami politely declined stating that he was out with his family. You almost stepped in and offered to allow him to take the picture, but he was firm in his ‘no’ because he didn’t want them to accidentally snap any pictures of the kids.

He would get so mad when someone would catch photos of him and the kids, and post them online.

He was always so adamant that he wanted the kids to be as far removed from his ‘celeb’ life as referred to it, as possible.

The kids knew their dad didn’t have a normal job, but they didn’t know exactly what he did, and he wanted it that way, until they got a little older.

He never allowed the kids to live a ‘jet set’ life, choosing to allow them to have as much consistency and normalcy as normal childhood allowed. The only time you all traveled was when Rami’s job took him away from home longer than a month, and that was because he always insisted that he hated being away for so long. He used to just travel back and forth, but that became incredibly taxing on him, after the first couple of times, it was decided that travelling as a family unit was for the best.

The kids still got to see various parts of the world, and he always made it a learning adventure. Learning about different cultures, food, history, and languages.

The adventure at the zoo was only supposed to take somewhere between 60-90 minutes, but of course, the twins and their never ending curiosity made the whole evening end up lasting about two and a half hours. By the time you were all heading back to the car all the kids were definitely exhausted and ready for bed.

You barely made it out of the parking lot of the zoo and all four kids were out cold.

You and Rami just smiled at each other, and high-fived, another successful family adventure for the books.

@xmxisxforxmaybe @mrhoemazzello @itsme690 @txmel @r-ahh-mi @ramimedley @spacedustmazzello @safinsscar @ladyr0b0t @hissom1933

#rami malek #rami malek fanfiction #rami malek fluff #rami malek imagine #Rami Malek Christmas #rami malek christmas fluff #christmas #cutenes #smol bean as the best daddy ever #seriously #this is just adorableness #Dad!Rami

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spookysnicket · 5 years ago

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ANON: i apologize immensely if this isn't something you're comfortable with writing, but could i maybe get some headcanons for how Bubba Sawyer and Vincent Sinclair would be with a s/o who has an eating disorder, specifically anorexia? i've been kinda having a Not Fun Time lately with some struggles and could use some fluffy boyos. if this isn't something you're comfortable with though, i 100% understand

---

(Hey love, don’t you worry about a thing! I’m so sorry this took a bit to get out, I spent the past few days doing research and taking notes on EDs, hopefully to get these as accurate as possible- and then I saved this in my drafts all night thinking I posted it. I want to make a disclaimer though, that this whole post has the potential to be triggering, so big trigger warning in advance! I also have never personally dealt with anyone who’s had an eating disorder, so please let me know if any of these are harmful or inaccurate and I’ll edit them immediately. With all that aside, please be safe and take care. HCs below the cut)

Bubba Sawyer 🐓

🐓 If we’re being honest, at first the brothers just think you don’t want to eat other people- which isn’t wrong, but not correct, either. This dawns on Bubba when he puts together seeing you cook with Drayton, yet not having any of the meals yourself

🐓 His first reaction is concern. Out of the way of his brothers, Bubba will approach you with a bowl half full of chili and anxious babbling- the poor guy just doesn’t know what's wrong. He understands how difficult it can be to struggle against yourself, so if you aren’t ready to open up just then, he’ll worriedly relent until you are

🐓 Once you break it to him that you have an ED, you’re going to have to explain a little more. Bubs was only raised by the rules of family and food. He doesn’t quite grasp the concept of you not being able to eat regularly

🐓 When the light above his head finally flickers on, he’s full protective mode. Considering how crude and brutish Nubbins, Chop Top, and Drayton can be, Bubs is officially taking no chances with their remarks. “Hey, Y/N looks-” No. “Y/N, you should-” No. “Oh hey Y/N, you want-” No. He’s putting his big boy foot down, even if it’s on his family- he’s not letting anyone or anything mess with your recovery. You’re in this together!

🐓 Bubba immediately starts worrying that whatever long forgotten canned goods in the cupboards and cabinets aren’t well enough for you, so he'll sit you down and make a list of your favorite foods. The next few days Bubs spends pleading and whimpering and crying at Drayton’s feet until he finally goes grocery shopping- praise the saw

🐓 In their usual valiant attempts to be supportive, Chop Top and Nubbins add their own rather ridiculous requests to the shopping list so they too can protest with Bubba (Any reason for them to cause a ruckus is a good one)

🐓 Since you’re a part of the family now, you’re expected to uphold the “Sawyer clan values”.. That’s the phrase Drayton used in his speech to give you chores, anyway. The younger three always try to swap out their less exerting duties with you though, especially on the days which you feel excessively fatigued or worn out

🐓 Effectively, you have an entourage of caretakers! As much as Bubba would love to be physically attached to your side (he’s probably thought about it), he carries the bulk of the workload- meaning he’s stuck downstairs busy as a bee more often than not. Regardless, his brothers always manage to stay nearby and on the lookout for any signs of wooziness from you while you go about your chores

🐓 Now, with that considered, the boys know good as anyone that you don’t need to be babied. You get Drayton’s crap and Nubbins and Chop Top’s pranks just as much as everyone else- because you’re a part of them. You’re as strong as any Sawyer, and Bubba couldn’t be any more proud

Vincent Sinclair 🕯

🕯 A part of being Vincent’s S/O is being his muse- which is why he’s a tad shell shocked when you start tearing up at the sight of a drawing he’d made of you

🕯 Prior to this, Vincent had likely done plenty of stalking- at least enough for him to determine that you suffer from some sort of disorder. This was partially why he had mustered up his confidence and shown you his art in the first place- with hopes that it would help. Unfortunately, it had unplanned adverse effects. Vinny spends the next few hours feeling horribly guilty, and attempting to properly educate himself with your aid

🕯 Vincent reacts similarly to how Bubba does in regards to his brothers and their insensitivity. Lester’s quick to show understanding, but Bo .. well, is Bo, and takes longer to cut the jokes and respect your afflictions. It’s a rare occasion that Vincent makes his stance clear, so his brothers will both do their best to give you their support too

🕯 If you’re one to exercise a bit excessively, the boys will come together and make accommodations. Lester’s cleared out a small pathway around Ambrose for you to jog along, that passes by all the major buildings where they typically can be found. Bo is, without a doubt, the guy to have a workout room. You two can schedule times to spot each other and exercise there together. Vincent, in hopes to find less physically trying ways to get your fitness fix in, has dedicated a whole space just to you in the museum where you can try out yoga

🕯 Vincent’s picked up on how you silently struggle with your self image. Finding little wax trinkets on the sink counter in your bathroom is a common occurrence, as well as sticky notes plastered onto your mirror. The notes are short but sweet, written in Vinny’s trademark cursive, and usually compliment your eyes, hair, outfit, etc.

🕯 There isn’t exactly a whole bountiful list of things to keep yourself occupied with in Ambrose, and Vincent often worries about you not having any creative outlets of which you can take out your frustrations with. Knowing this, Lester came back from a roadkill run with one big word he’d heard from a passerby: aromatherapy. If you’re outdoorsy, try going into the woods and scavenging for any pleasant smelling flowers that grow nearby- Vincent will take them and, after some trial and error testing, turn them into scented candles

🕯 You getting sick is one of Vincent’s biggest concerns. He knows he’ll be too preoccupied with work to be able to properly care for you- meaning that it’s up to his brothers to nurse you for a majority of the day. It’s not quite as bad as he thinks, Bo and Lester mostly do a fine job of checking in on you, but you’d be lying if you said that they’re better than the extra cuddly and extra clingy Vincent you get once he’s home

🕯 Vinny is a huge cuddle bug on the down low. I HC that aside from all the psychological and mental struggles he faces, sleeping is difficult for him due to his injuries as well. If you have a hard time getting rest, you both will often lay in your shared bed, all wrapped up in one another long into the late hours of the night, and early on into the first morning lights

🕯 Whether it be surprising or not, Vinny has quite the wardrobe. It mostly consists of cozy earthy tones, with an excess of large musty sweaters tattered by, from what you could guess, is either wear or moths. Seeing as they’re somewhat loose on Vincent himself, his oversized sweaters drape over you heavily, and conceal your form. Once he notices you’ve taken a liking to a handful of them, Vincent will happily tailor them to better suit you- pinning up the baggiest areas that rub uncomfortably against your skin, while still leaving enough material to cover and alleviate some of your insecurities- if just for a while

🕯 In the event you get so cold that even your comfy sweaters can’t stop you from shivering, you’re more than welcome to go down to the basement and warm up with Vincent. While there’s a chilly draft all through the passageway, the combination of steam, lit candles, and open fires in his workshop make it just comfortably above room temperature

#tw #im honestly so dumb i thought i posted these last night (((:::#but i hope youre doing well and you enjoy these despite the wait #also #if you ever need to talk to someone #my dms are and always will be open #<3 #bubba sawyer #texas chainsaw #TCM #x reader #slasher x reader #slasher fandom #slasher headcannons #headcanon #slashers

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bluemoonfantasiesiii · 5 years ago

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Servamp!Sakuya Ch. 1

“I’m Mahiru Shirota. Fifteen years old. I like to keep things simple; try to keep life uncomplicated. That’s why I picked him up. I didn’t want to just leave him there and regret it later. That would be irritating.”

Mahiru dried off the raccoon with an old towel. He had just given the critter a bath after picking it up off the street. He knew a raccoon wasn’t exactly the most common choice of pet, but if Mahiru hadn’t taken it in, who knows what would’ve happened to it in a big city like Tokyo? Besides, the raccoon seemed calm enough. If it had rabies, it would’ve tried to bite him already, so the young brunette figured it was safe.

As Mahiru rubbed the towel over his new flatmate’s fur, he noticed some strange things about it. First and most obviously, it was albino. Its snout and chest were still a brighter white than the rest of its body, and it still had black rings on its tail and around its eyes, but it was definitely missing some pigment everywhere else. The second thing was the fur around its face. It was long, natty, and almost looked like it had bangs. One clump, in particular, fell over its left eye. In fact, all the fur on the left side of its face was longer than its right.

At last, Mahiru deemed the animal dry enough to wander the apartment. Before he let it go, though, he carefully carded his fingers through the fur falling over its face.

“Poor thing,” he said to the raccoon. “It’s getting in your eye. Hang on.” Slightly surprised when the creature actually stayed put, Mahiru went to his nightstand and searched through the small drawer. Almost instantly, he found what he was looking for: a hairpin with two pink sakura flowers on it. He’d found it in the hallway at school about a year ago, and he kept it in hopes of one day finding its owner. However, thinking simply, if it had already been a year, she had probably replaced it by then. There would probably be no harm in Mahiru using it.

The raccoon stared at him curiously. It tilted its head as Mahiru gently pushed back the fur covering its eye and pinned it back using the hair clip. He laughed as it curled upward in response, seemingly defying gravity. The raccoon raised a little black paw up to feel the accessory. Mahiru could’ve sworn the thing smiled.

“Aww, he likes it,” he said to no one in particular, lifting the animal up off the ground. The raccoon titled its head again, its beady, white eyes staring directly at the teen. “Now, what to name you…?” Mahiru was no animal expert, but he was fairly certain his new friend was male. “Your hairpin has sakura flowers on it, but Sakura’s a little girly…” He mused to himself for a second before gasping with realization. “That’s it!” he exclaimed, making his albino companion jump in his hands. “How about Sakuya?”

There it was again. That satisfied little expression on the fluffy, white face. Mahiru laughed. “Sakuya it is, then!”

“I had no idea I was inviting trouble into my home and putting my life in danger… Until the next day.”

The next day, in a random high school, the students were attempting to plan for the upcoming Culture Festival. Most of the duties had been handed out already. All that was left was to decide who would make the costumes. No one really had any experience with making clothes, so the job was passed around until one student spoke up.

“Why don’t we just get Mahiru to do it?” asked a boy with short, black hair and red eyes. A pair of sunglasses hung from the collar of his uniform shirt. This boy was Tsubaki Yuushuu, a first year.

“But he’s already in charge of preparing the food,” replied another first year with wavy, light brown hair. Koyuki turned toward his friend with a soft smile. “True,” said Tsubaki, “but it’s not like he has anything else to do since he lives alone. Besides, he’s the only one of us who knows the first thing about sewing. The way, I see it, there’s no other choice!”

“You talk about him like he’s the class maid or something,” said Ryuusei, the last of the trio, with a chuckle. Tsubaki burst out laughing at that. It was an unexpected but admittedly accurate description of their friend. As he was busy slapping his desk in hysterics, the classroom door burst open, revealing Mahiru himself, a black apron over his uniform and a bowl of butter cookies balanced in each hand. The stern look on his face made everyone in the room simultaneously think “angry mother.”

“Seriously, you guys?!” he scolded. “You still haven’t picked someone?! There’s only one job left! How hard can it be?!” “Speak of the devil,” said Tsubaki, having calmed down.

Mahiru let out an exasperated sigh. “Honestly! Oh, and here,” he shifted the bowls to draw attention to them. “I made a test batch of cookies, so line up and-“ The entire class immediately swarmed the boy. He yelped as he struggled to balance the sweets. “HEY!” he shouted over his classmates. “I said LINE UP! One at a time! There’s plenty for everyone!”

Within seconds the whole class was gushing over how delicious the freshly-baked cookies were. Still a little annoyed at the stampede, Mahiru shrugged off the compliments with a simple “Well, I like to keep recipes simple,” before taking a bite of his own creation. Once everyone was done eating, the students all took their seats.

“So, costumes are all that’s left, right?” said Mahiru. Everyone nodded. “The person in charge of that will need to know how to sew and have lots of free time.” More nodding. “Well then, thinking simply,” Mahiru pointed to himself, “I’ll have to do it!”

The class erupted into cheers. They could always count on Mahiru to take charge!

(later)

Mahiru, Tsubaki, Koyuki, and Ryuusei strolled down the steps of the school. Mahiru and Tsubaki took the lead while Koyuki and Ryuusei lagged behind side by side, the latter greedily munching on a sandwich.

“Are you sure you can handle making the food and the costumes?” Koyuki asked with a concerned smile. As much as he appreciated Mahiru’s willingness to do all the work, he didn’t want his friend to exhaust himself. Mahiru tended to do this often. The other three recalled when he volunteered for track back in middle school, or when he offered to care for the class pet.

“Well, someone’s gotta do it,” said Mahiru. “I figured if I can be that someone, then why not just go for it?”

“Still,” said Tsubaki, who was now wearing his sunglasses on his face, “isn’t it a bit unfair that you’re doing everything yourself, Mahiru?” He threw an arm around the brunet. “I’d be happy to help if you’re willing to teach me how to wield a needle-“

“That would just be unnecessary work, especially knowing you!” Mahiru cut off his raven-haired friend. Tsubaki gasped and clutched at his own chest as if in pain.

“You wound me, Mahiru!” he cried, dramatically pressing the back of his free hand to his forehead. “How will I go on knowing my best friend has such little faith in me?!”

Ryuusei swallowed his mouthful before butting in. “He’s got a point though, Mahiru,” he said. “I mean, all that responsibility. Don’t you ever get…overwhelmed?”

“Nah,” Mahiru shrugged. “It’s easier to just do it than to try to make an excuse not to.”

“I don’t get that philosophy, but whatever,” Ryuusei responded. “We owe you one for this, though."

“Yeah!” Koyuki chimed. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help you out.”

Tsubaki laughed. “Well, it might take some bribing with me, but I’m here for you, too!”

“What can you even do, Tsubaki?” Mahiru jabbed. “Other than make bad jokes?”

Tsubaki feigned offense. “My jokes are gold, and you know it!”

“At the very least, we can help you shop for supplies,” said Koyuki.

“Thanks, you guys,” said Mahiru.

Tsubaki gasped. “Oh!”

“What is it, Tsubaki?” asked Mahiru.

“You’re not going to the shops near the station, are you?” the raven-haired boy inquired.

“Uhh, yeah, I am. Why?”

“There are rumors going around about that area.” A sinister smile tugged at Tsubaki’s lips as he leaned in. “I heard there’s a vampire on the loose!” The other three met Tsubaki with matching stares of skepticism.

“Seriously, though!” the red-eyed teen defended, smile falling. “There’s an investigation on some kind of street slasher. People have been calling him Tokyo’s Jack the Ripper! He’s already claimed about ten victims, all of them found drained of blood with bite marks on their necks and arms!”

While Mahiru and Ryuusei still weren’t convinced, Koyuki was practically shaking. “Th-that’s really scary!”

Tsubaki grinned, baring his longer-than-average canines. “Of course,” he said, “I could be lying,” and was promptly smacked on the back of the head by Mahiru.

“Don’t do that! You’re gonna give Koyuki a panic attack!”

Said brunet managed to compose himself fairly quickly. “Oh! W-well, if it’s really safe, I’ve got free passes for karaoke by the station if you guys are interested!”

“I’ve got no respect!” Tsubaki replied, sending himself and Ryuusei into a fit of laughter.

“I’ll meet up with you guys later,” Mahiru said, starting down the road to his apartment building. “I’ve got some laundry I want to finish before I do anything else.” And with that, he sprinted home.

“Hey!” Tsubaki called after him. “Not all of what I said was a lie! Don’t blame me if you get attacked by a vampire~!” “Yeah, yeah!” Mahiru called back.

“I’d actually already heard the rumor about vampires going around. But I had real things to worry about. I wonder if Sakuya’s alright. I hope he didn’t get into trouble while I was gone.”

Arriving at his building, Mahiru stepped into the elevator to get to the seventh floor. A few minutes later and home sweet home. He pulled out his key to unlock his apartment door.

“Sakuya, I’m home!” he called out from the doorway as he removed his shoes. A light from the living room caught his attention, and he could faintly make out pop music. “I could’ve sworn I turned the TV off before I left…” he muttered to himself. Now on guard, he silently approached the living room. He slapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from gasping.

Sitting cross-legged on the rug in front of the TV, the only source of light in the apartment as the blinds were closed, playing a rhythm game, was a boy who looked about Mahiru’s age. He had messy, green hair that was swept off to the left. Dressed in black slacks with suspender straps hanging at his waist and a black jacket over a black-and-white-striped button-down shirt, the collar popped. Seeming to notice Mahiru’s presence, the boy turned to face him. His eyes were red and seemed to glow in the dim light. Those eyes widened as the controller fell from his hands, and the song finished with a series of “Miss” sounds.

#moon writes shit #servamp #servamp!sakuya

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a-dinosaur-a-day · 6 years ago

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A Dinosaur A Day, Tumblr, and the Future

Things are Changing on ADAD

This blog is coming up on its 5 year anniversary, which naturally means I want to change everything about it. I’m kidding, of course, but we are going to have some big changes in the new year (2019). First, let me go over the purpose of this blog:

ADAD has Four Primary Goals:

To be an encyclopedia that covers every. Single. Dinosaur. In current scientific thought, we classify animals based on their ancestry (so, common descent). Dinosaurs are defined by the first two animals ever dug up as fossils and called dinosaurs - Iguanodon and Megalosaurus. This means that Dinosaurs are the most recent common ancestor of Iguanodon and Megalosaurus (the last ancestor they had in common) (also of Diplodocus but let’s not get into that today), and all that ancestor’s descendants.

If you want to picture it a different way: your grandparents are the most recent common ancestor of you and your cousin. Now, you both also have your great-grandparents as ancestors, but they aren’t your most recent common ancestor. Furthermore, when you have kids, they’ll still be a part of that family group, even though they’re a new generation.

This group includes birds, because birds evolved from dinosaurs (the evidence is substantial). This means that birds are dinosaurs, and I have to cover every bird.

This is actually a novel goal - most dinosaur encyclopedias only cover the dinosaurs as we classically defined them, or all dinosaurs that lived in the Mesozoic (which includes some birdy dinosaurs since birds evolved in the Mesozoic, the “age of reptiles”). And most bird encyclopedias don’t cover extinct ones to any extensive degree. And there certainly isn’t an encyclopedia that covers both (apart from, well, regular encyclopedias). So, one of the main goals of ADAD is to cover birds as well as non-avian (not-bird) dinosaurs (and their closest relatives).

To be an encyclopedia that is accessible for all readers. So many scientific blogs and other resources use fairly complicated language and bad formatting. I try to make my articles with the simplest language possible, while still making it interesting and fun for all readers of all levels. Still, this is a place where we have to grow, especially since the head author (Meig) and all the other members of the ADAD team have their own accessibility issues to grapple with. This encyclopedia also allows scientific knowledge to reach groups that are typically disenfranchised by traditional education (such as those with disabilities, the LGBTQ+ community, women, and people of color). We have actually conducted statistical studies on this and the results are promising! We are making a difference, though we have a lot of room to grow.

To bring fun to scientific education. Memes, silly posts, silly competitions, jokes, rants, all of these are fair game on ADAD, because meme culture makes learning fun, at least, and it keeps things interesting. Plus, taking things seriously is against my programming.

FLUFF. Recent discoveries have indicated that many dinosaurs had feathers or almost-feather covering on some or most of their bodies - especially the closer you get to birds on the dinosaur family tree. However, paleoart (art of prehistoric life) is slow on the uptake when it comes to new discovery, and people still tend to lean on the scaly side for dinosaurs - even to the point of being wrong. As such, a major purpose of this blog is to lean on the feathery side instead! Sometimes this means being accurate where others are not, and sometimes this means representing dinosaurs in ways that are implausible. We never, however, represent dinosaurs more fluffy than is possible, so none of these reconstructions are inaccurate. We just fill a void in how dinosaurs are represented, to help bring balance to the images of dinosaurs on the internet.

Tumblr was the correct platform for this blog to exist on, primarily due to happenstance (how I got the url in the first place was sheer dumb luck), but also due to the ability of the platform to bring dinosaurs to people who don’t usually have access to science, in combination with fun memes and jokes as is typical on the site. It also allowed for some leeway for the earliest days of the blog when it came to images - I credited every piece of art I used, but I didn’t have to ask for permission in most cases, allowing me to have images for articles where otherwise I wouldn’t have had anything to accompany the text.

So, this leaves ADAD with some current problems:

There are about two years’ worth of entries that need updated art, made by the people I pay, that I have permission to use, that are also as fluffy as the blog requires. Unfortunately, the artists do not have time to update these entries, because there is very little being brought in from the Patreon and already scheduled entries every day.

Leaving New Users Behind. Because I go by order of evolutionary relationship, I have finished non-avian dinosaurs, so anyone new following is literally in the middle of Bird Hell. I could do throwbacks, of course, but it’s not quite the same, and I can’t throw back to those posts that don’t have art (so everything from the first two years of ADAD; I’ve only had the Patreon for three years. Oh my Gd. Three years. What is time.)

New Discoveries. Because of the complete and utter inflexibility of the current schedule (evolutionary order + weird special weeks = I can’t shift the schedule around easily), we haven’t covered newly discovered dinosaurs in a shameful amount of time. And that sucks! Because they’re super cool!

Stagnation. Going in taxonomic order means that yeah, we get a bunch of cool dinosaurs that are all related in a row, but also every, single, crappy, dinosaur, from, that, group, that, isn’t, different, from, the, previous, one, at, all. And this is boring - for me to write, for the artists to draw, and for you guys to read.

The sheer multitude of birds. This kind of ties in to 2 and 4, but for every non-avian dinosaur there are 2.26 times as many birds (in terms of genus. It’s actually even more than that, but, I’m not doing it by species, so). This is insane. This is literally insane. But I’m not backing down on goal one, so…

Tumblr is Terrible. Over a year ago, it made it so that posts with external links (such as those for my patreon and ko-fi, you know, funds I need to live; as well as my sources for my information) don’t show up in search results. This means that the blog has stagnated in terms of follower growth. This is bad enough, but now the website is probably going to go kaput because of all this NSFW crap going on, so if anything we’ll be losing readers.

So what is our solution?

ADAD is starting over in the new year, and with a different organization system.

This might seem crazy - there are 12 years worth of dinosaurs total - but there are a lot of reasons to do this.

This will allow us to bring variety to the blog

This will allow new users to see non-avian dinosaurs

This will allow us to update old entries in terms of written content and the art

This will allow us to finally do new dinosaurs

I will start over on Tumblr, and start completely on Wordpress, so if Tumblr implodes I still have the blog somewhere else, and I can start to grow the community more elsewhere in addition to Tumblr. I WILL stay on Tumblr as long as it exists, but this gives me an exit strategy if it implodes.

The wordpress blog will be ADAD sans memes, but it will bring in a new audience, more recognition, and hopefully more Patreon money, so the blog can grow further! Also, restarting will allow me to change the format of the posts, which will make them more accessible and hopefully show up in the Tumblr search results.

I’m not bitter, you’re bitter.

So, on January 1, 2019, we’re starting again!

What’s the new organization system?

Random, with themes for each day of the week.

This gives us flexibility in the schedule - to break up monotony, help us maintain our workload easier, and add in new taxa to the schedule. It also allows for us to regulate it so that there are a healthy mix of birds and not-birds every week.

What are the daily themes?

Mesozoic Monday - Dinosaurs from the Mesozoic

Terrestrial Tuesday - Dinosaurs that mainly make their living on the ground

Water Wednesday - Dinosaurs that mainly make their living in the water or near water

Theropod Thursday - Theropods: meat eating dinosaurs such as Tyrannosaurus and Velociraptor, also birds of prey

Flying Friday - Dinosaurs that can fly!

Songbird Saturday & Sunday - Passerines, which by species make up half of dinosaur diversity

This will give us a very nice mixture of nonavian and avian dinosaurs every week, as well as interesting diversity and differences between each one. This will help us to mix up living and extinct animals, long and short entries, things we can just copy over from ADAD’s first run and things we have to write from scratch. There can even be theme weeks! And requests can come back! Random doesn’t just mean random number generator, it also means we can change things to our fancy if we want or need to.

So, we hope all of these changes will solve many of the problems that ADAD faces. We have read your responses to the survey, and we hear you - we think this solution will solve everyone’s complaints and help us go forward into the future in a better way.

If you have concerns, don’t hesitate to contact us via FanMail (yup, it still exists) or an ask. We recognize this means ADAD will go on for many more years - but let’s be real, because of new discoveries, that was going to happen anyway.

Thank you all for your understanding! We’re really excited about this change, and we hope you all will enjoy it!

#announcement #palaeoblr #a-dinosaur-a-day #dinosaurs #birds #birblr #a dinosaur a day #long post #bold text #italic text #all caps #accessibility #blog goals #feathered dinosaurs #PLEASE REBLOG!

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generallynerdy · 6 years ago

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Troublemaker (Cat!Loki X Reader)

Summary: When a black cat appeared on the doorstep of the compound, you couldn’t help yourself. He was an adorable little guy and you quickly became used to his presence, despite Tony’s protests and pure hatred of the cat. A month later, a dramatic reveal proved that you might not have been the brightest when you chose to pick up the cat, who turned out not to be a cat at all. No wonder Tony hated that cat.

Requested by Rookmoon(AO3): I like the idea of Loki changing into a cat for a month as a prank and following reader around causing mischief. When Loki's had enough, he does a dramatic reveal and reader realized that they let a god sleep on their stomach and gave him scratches and pets for a solid month. No wonder Tony didn't like the cat.

Key: None- not even a (Y/N)

Warnings: Cursing, Tony hates cats, the cat is aggressive for like two paragraphs

Word Count: 1,065-ish

Note: I know I haven’t been very productive lately, but now I’ve set up stuff on my phone, so I actually stick to a regular schedule of writing! Weird, right? Welp, I hope you enjoy this one, friend, as I had fun writing it. I’d be open to a part 2 with some awkwardness and fluff, but that might take a while, as I still have a lot of requests in my inbox. Still, if you want it, request it! I’ll write it down! <3 Enjoy!

In your defence, the cat was cute. It was absolutely adorable, in fact. You couldn’t resist bringing him into the Avengers’ compound. It wasn’t every day a cat showed up on the front step, much less a black one with sparkling green eyes. It didn’t occur to you that it could be anything but an innocent furry little companion.

For the first few days, no one had any idea of his existence. You kept him carefully locked away in your room for as long as you could, seeing as how the team wouldn’t be exactly ecstatic about their new roommate. It didn’t last long, though, because the little troublemaker found a way.

At nearly two in the morning, you were just headed back to your room for some shuteye when a scream sounded from the lab. It was high pitched, so you thought it might be Wanda or even Nat at first, but as you raced inside, you were quickly corrected. Standing on a table and pointing violently at your cat on the ground was none other than Tony Stark himself.

“What the hell is that thing?!” He exclaimed, looking at you pointedly.

You giggled and rushed to grab the cat, who mewled in protest. You let his head lovingly and laughed at Tony once more, “He’s just a cat, Tony, he won’t kill you.”

“Bullshit,” he muttered mutinously, carefully climbing down from his table. “Where’d you get the little shit anyway?”

You shrugged slightly, “I just kinda found him outside. He’s pretty cute, don’t you think?”

“No,” Tony answered dryly, “Get him out of my lab, (Y/N).”

You rolled your eyes and reluctantly listened to the billionaire, making the trek back to your room. As you did, you laughed again at the cat’s innocent mew as he looked up to you. “Well, at least he didn’t kick you out- literally. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

The cat simply purred and rubbed its hand against your hand, snuggling up to you. You found yourself practically melting at its cuteness and decided once and for all that you were definitely going to keep the little guy.

For the next few weeks, you barely focused on anything else. Despite the fact that your new friend didn’t have a name yet, he was your main priority. By the end of the first week, everyone in the compound was aware of his presence, though mostly because of an incident in which the little guy completely ruined the pancakes Bucky was making for the team. Yeah...that cat got himself into all kinds of trouble. You could’ve sworn his intentions were almost human, as the mischievous gleam in his eyes was evident nearly permanently, but most prominent after he’d made someone’s life much more difficult. With you, on the other hand, he was on his best behaviour. He never put a paw out of line.

One thing you noticed was that he was overly affectionate, even for a friendly cat. He relished ever pet and scratch as if he’d never been lived in his life. You didn’t mind at all, not with how adorable it was, but it was definitely odd.

You noticed it about a month in, during movie night with the team. Troublemaker, as Steve had dubbed him, was meant to be put away in your quarters, because Tony refused to be in the same room as him. More accurately, he refused to be on the same floor as the cat. Miraculously, the mischievous little one got out of your room and made it two floors down, only to appear in the theatre and scare poor Scott by leaping over the back of the couch.

“Jesus!” The man exclaimed and proceeded to roll off the couch, landing on the ground with a painful thump.

The rest of the Avengers, far too busy with the Princess Bride to notice the fluffy bundle of trouble wreaking havoc, shushed Scott immediately. You felt kinda bad, but then Troublemaker pranced over to you and you completely forgot about the guy in the floor.

Troublemaker flopped down on your lap, meowing incessantly as if he was dying. You chuckled and moved an arm to scratch his ear. Just as you did, the cat stuck both paws out and grabbed your arm tightly, purring up a storm.

Again, you laughed, though quietly so as not to disturb the others. “You’re really needy, aren’t you?”

In response, the cat flicked his tongue out and licked your hand, unable to stop purring.

Before you could do anything else, the movie was paused and you could hear Tony grumble, “Damn that cat.” He stood from the couch and everyone waited while he crossed the room to you, intending to be rid of the little beast.

When Tony reached out to grab Troublemaker, however, the cat hissed and flew to his paws, drawing closer to you. At his troubled response, you frowned. You didn’t like Tony messing with your cat.

“Just leave him,” you said, “He’s not bothering anybody.”

“He’s bothering me,” Tony hugged and reached forward once more.

Before Tony could grab Troublemaker away from you, the little cat made his move first. He raised his back legs and surprised both you and the billionaire by leaping right at Tony’s face. Tony screamed in a very unmanly way and fell backwards, Troublemaker holding on for dear life. Just before the two hit the floor, there was a loud crack and a bright green glow that flowed from their general vicinity that was so bright everyone had to close their eyes.

When you opened them again, it wasn’t Tony and Troublemaker on the floor. In fact, Troublemaker was completely gone. In his place was a tall, dark-haired god of mischief that you recognised immediately, one that hadn’t been seen since before the whole situation with Thanos.

No one said a word as Loki got to his feet and exhaled sharply, a mischievous grin plastered on his handsome face. “Well,” he grinned, “It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye. Isn’t it, brother?”

Still, no one spoke, especially not you. You froze up upon the realisation that you had been giving Loki scratches and pets for a solid month. You’d even let him sleep in your room and gone so far as letting him cat nap on your stomach. What the f-

No wonder Tony hated that cat.

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a-splash-of-stucky · 7 years ago

Text

I Know This Game | Eight

Pairings: Bucky x Foster!Reader

Summary: In which you and Bucky sit down to have the conversation you’ve been needing to have for a while.

Warnings: Language, brief mention of vomiting, sad!Bucky, mentions of sex

Notes: FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELTS. It’s an angsty ride to the end, it is. Fic inspired by ‘Eyes Closed’ by Halsey.

IKTG Masterlist

You’re absolutely floored. Completely speechless. You’re half-tempted to pinch yourself, to check if this is another cruel dream concocted by your overworked mind. Of all the people to run into right now, the universe just had to give you James Bu-fucking-chanan Barnes. Whoop-de-doo, your good luck never ends.

The silence seems to drag on forever. In the end, it’s Bucky who makes the first move.

“Y/N?” Bucky asks tentatively, as if worried that you’re some sort of apparition, or something. He takes a step towards you, expression very much like a deer caught in the headlights, hands outstretched in a non-defensive gesture. “Wha—what’re you doing here?”

You cross your arms over your chest and arch one eyebrow. “I could ask you the same thing, Bucky,” you reply coolly.

Bucky winces at your tone, painfully aware of the fact that the two of you are probably not the best of friends, right now. He chooses his next words with caution, not wanting to aggravate you further, because he’s not exactly sure what kind of mood you’re in.

“Well, I—I couldn’t sleep,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “So I decided to go for a walk. And…I guess this is where I ended up,”. Bucky stretches out his arms and gestures around the park. He exhales nervously, “I hadn’t realised that I got so far from the compound,” Bucky admits, a timid smile playing on his lips.

You purse your lips, but otherwise don’t give him any indication of what you’re feeling. Truth be told, you’re still in shock — you cannot believe that Bucky Barnes is standing in front of you, in the flesh. Once you’ve got over most of your initial surprise, you force your jaw to work, your lips to shape the words. “I couldn’t sleep, either, actually,” you tell him, “I was—I kinda wanted to talk to you. Wanna go grab some coffee?”

Bucky looks at you like you’ve just spoken to him in Ancient Greek. If his eyes weren’t wide and filled with wonder before, they certainly are now. He blinks a couple of times, as if to shake himself out of his stupor. “I—y-yeah!” he stutters, “Yeah, yeah that’d be great! How—where d’you—I mean—,”.

“There’s a 24/7 diner around the corner,” you interrupt, gracefully swooping in to save him from making a fool of himself. Bucky flashes you another one of those timid smiles, and, though it is a mere ghost of what his really happy one looks like, it manages to melt your heart a little all the same.

“Yeah, doll,” Bucky murmurs, motioning for you to walk ahead, “That’ll be real nice. You lead the way,”.

The two of you walk side by side, in a surprisingly not awkward silence. You catch yourself sneaking glances at Bucky out of the corner of your eye when you think he isn’t looking. It’s still pretty dark out, so you can’t make out his features very well, but you manage to catch a brief glimpse every now and then, when the pair of you pass under a streetlight. You swear that his face looks more gaunt than it used to. The stubble on his jaw is scruffier and thicker, which actually tells you a lot about Bucky’s state of mind.

When you were dating him, you used to use the amount of facial hair he had as a sort of ‘mood gauge’. The longer he voluntarily went without shaving, the worse of a mental state he was in. Bucky had a tendency to neglect his self-care when he retreated from the world. Your makeshift meter had always proven to be pretty darn accurate.

When you arrive at the diner, Bucky — like the 40’s gentleman he is — holds the door open for you. It’s a cozy little place, if a little dingy looking. You know that the owner, Scott, is trying to save up some money to spruce the place up, but for now, customers have to put up with the faded tiles, suspiciously-stained seats and faintly musty odour. At least the food is decent enough to make up for the decor. The only other patron in the place tonight is a woman wearing neon pink earphones and reading a newspaper in the corner booth at the back, a mug of coffee in front of her.

Scott waves at you from behind the counter, where he is currently drying glasses with a tea towel. “Y/N!” he calls, “Nice of you to stop by!”

“Heya Scott,” you greet, shooting him a smile, “Business a little slow, tonight eh?”

He shrugs as if to say, nothing new there. “Not much I can do about it, can I?” Scott says, “Go ahead, sit wherever you want, I’ll get you some menus in a minute, yeah?”

Beside you, you can sense Bucky agitatedly shifting his weight from foot to foot as his eyes dart around the room. You know how antsy he gets when he goes to unfamiliar places, so you put your hand on his forearm to calm him down. Bucky startles at your touch, but his expression soon softens when he realises what you’re doing.

“Where d’you wanna sit?” you murmur, knowing it’ll give him a peace of mind if he gets to decide.

Bucky goes for the table you thought he might pick; near the front, so that the two of you have some distance between Scott and Newspaper Lady, and right next to a window, so he can keep a watch outside. He chooses to take the seat facing the door and you sink into the chair opposite him. Scott comes over and hands the two of you your menus.

Now that you’re inside the diner, you realise how famished you are. The hunger pains have been gnawing on your stomach for a while, now — ever since you threw up what little food you had inside you after that nightmare — but your body must have tuned out the signals, as your mind was preoccupied with other things. Nearly everything on the menu looks enticing. Your stomach lets out an impatient growl.

Bucky is flicking through the menu, a mildly alarmed look on his face. Extensive options can still make him feel anxious, as his brain gets easily overwhelmed by all the prospects. “If you want something filling, I’d go with the fluffy pancakes, maybe with sausages on the side,” you say gently.

He looks up at you through his lashes, a grateful smile lightening his features. “Yeah? What’re you getting, doll?” he asks.

“What I always get. Chocolate chip pancakes and a coffee,” you reply smoothly.

Bucky snorts in amusement. “You and the fucking chocolate chips,” he mutters.

You wag your index finger at him and narrow your eyes in mock anger. “Don’t you dare insult my chocolate chips, Barnes,” you growl quietly. Bucky’s eyes widen in terror and for a minute, he looks like he might actually fall for it, so you waggle eyebrows playfully to put him at ease and he actually chuckles.

“Okay, okay, chill out,” Bucky says, holding his hands up in surrender, “I know better than to get in the way of you and them,”.

“Good,”.

This is what you miss, you realise. The easy back-and-forth between you two, the amiable banter, the friendly insults, the ability to make a conversation about literally anything last for hours and hours. Despite having not talked to each other in over half a year, not to mention the fact that you parted on less than amiable terms, you fall back into your old routine with surprising ease, as if nothing had ever happened.

When Scott comes by to take your order, Bucky goes with your suggestion and gets the fluffy pancakes with a double helping of sausages. He takes his cap off after Scott leaves, setting it on the table beside him, before raking his gloved metal fingers through his hair.

“You been eating okay, Buck?” you ask softly.

He freezes and looks at you guiltily, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “No, guess I haven’t,” he mutters embarrassedly. A part of you wants to lean over and hug him, maybe shake him around and mother him incessantly, demand that he takes better care of himself. Instead, you settle on scowling in disapproval.

With an apologetic shrug, Bucky goes back to fixing his hat hair. He’s grown his dark locks out since you last saw him; they almost reach his shoulders now. Huffing impatiently, he pulls a simple black hair band from his wrist and pulls his uncooperative hair back into a low, messy bun. You have to smother down a smile at how frickin’ innocent it makes him look.

Under the bright yellow glow of the overhead fluorescent lights, you’re able to study him better. Bucky’s hair is not just longer, but also scragglier and somewhat…greasy? Like he hasn’t washed it properly in a while. Bucky’s face is indeed more haggard, the eyes sunken in and ringed in dark circles, those beautiful cheekbones now more prominent. His jaw, as you’d noted earlier, is left unkempt and covered in thick stubble, and even his skin looks more sallow, unhealthier than you’d like it to be. All the evidence of self-neglect leads you to draw two possible conclusions. He’s either a) just come back from a really long mission, during which he had no time to take care of himself or b) really been struggling to cope without you.

The desperately love-struck fool inside you dearly hopes it’s the second reason.

“So how’re things at the compound?” you ask, hoping that it’s an innocent-enough question to break the ice.

Bucky’s left shoulder hitches in the way you’ve learnt — over countless therapy sessions — to interpret as nothing’s changed much. “Pepper’s brought in this guy, Dr Banner as our new on-site psychiatrist and — well, he’s great, but he ain’t you, y’know?”

You level an unamused glare at him. “Don’t, Bucky. Trying to guilt-trip me won’t make things any better,”.

He grimaces apologetically, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to,” he mutters.

A tense silence passes, the two of you just trying to assess the other person. Bucky is idly picking at the fingernails of his right hand, brow furrowed and jaw tensed. “Doll, I have so many things I gotta tell you,” he says slowly.

The moment he speaks, you feel like a lightbulb suddenly goes off in your head.

“Hold that thought,” you say sharply, holding a hand up to stop him in his tracks. Bucky’s mouth snaps shut and he levels you with a look of mild confusion. You reach into your back pocket and pull out your phone, bringing up the ‘letter’ that you’d written him earlier. You skim over a few of the paragraphs, chewing at your bottom lip as you mull over whether or not you actually want to give this to him. You haven’t even read it all, and it probably won’t make a hell of a lot of sense to him. Besides, there’s a lot for him to take in — what if he gets confused?

Then again, there’s a lot of things you want to say, and most of it’s already been written down.

“Doll?” Bucky asks, breaking you out of your reverie, “What is it?”.

You decide to bite the bullet. With a deep breath, you spin your phone around and hand it over to him. Bucky’s uncertainty only deepens as he accepts it. He frowns as he looks at the screen, “What is this, sugar?”

You swallow nervously and look down at your clasped hands. “So…I told you I couldn’t sleep, right? I—well, I had a lot of things on my mind. So, I decided writing some of it down might help,”. You laugh weakly, and jerk your chin towards your phone, “And that’s what came up, I guess,”.

Bucky’s eyes widen in surprise — it seems that you’re giving him a lot of surprises tonight — and his thumb hovers over the screen, hesitating. “So—you want me to read it? All?” he asks, voice slightly incredulous.

“Yeah,” you shrug, “A lot of the things I wanna say is on there, so it’s a good start, right?”

He nods, chewing his bottom lip pensively. “I dunno if I can read it with you here, doll,” Bucky says shyly, a little blush colouring the tops of his cheekbones.

“Oh, right, uh…” you look around the room, wondering what you could do to disappear for a bit and give him some privacy. To be honest, you don’t want to watch him read it, either. “How ‘bout I go to the bathroom for a bit? And I’ll catch up with Scott, too?” you suggest.

Bucky smiles at you gratefully, “Yeah, that’d be great,”.

You get out of your chair and are about to slip past him when Bucky catches hold of your sleeve. “You’re coming back, right?” he asks, a note of desperation in his voice. “I got so much I need to say to you, please don’t leave before I say it all,” he pleads.

Your heart softens at his panicked look and, running completely on instinct, you caress his cheek with the tops of your fingers. “Of course I’m coming back, love,” you murmur, stroking your thumb over his cheekbone, “I won’t be a moment,”.

Almost unthinkingly, he nuzzles his cheek into your touch, eyes fluttering shut on instinct. He turns his face into your hand and presses a gentle kiss to your palm. Immediately though, he freezes and his eyes flash open. Bucky pulls back with a sheepish grin on his face, “Sorry,” he mumbles, “Don’t think we’re there yet,”.

Bucky looks somewhat appalled by his actions, so you give him a small smile to ease his nerves. “I’ll be back in a few,” you tell him, as you turn sharply on your heel and stride to the back of the diner.

You dawdle in the bathroom, trying to waste as much time in there as you possibly can. You’re not entirely sure how long it’ll take him to read everything you’ve written — mostly because you yourself don’t even know how much you wrote — but you imagine he’ll need some time alone to process everything. Once you’re done relieving yourself, you come out of the stall and wash your hands in the sink. When you catch your reflection in the mirror, you let out a soft groan.

To say that you look like shit is probably a euphemism.

It’s very apparent that you’ve had one hell of a day. There are dark bags under your bloodshot and red-rimmed eyes, your hair is a ratty mess and your skin has a sickly pallor to it. You look like you could do with about a thousand years of sleep. With a resigned sigh, you turn on the tap and scoop some water in your hands to wash your face with. The cold water instantly makes you feel more alert. There’s not much you can do about your hair, so you settle on raking your fingers through your locks, trying to tame the stray strands as best as possible.

Scott is busy mopping behind the counter when you go back outside. You glance over at Bucky and try to gauge how he’s doing. His shoulders are hunched over and his head is bowed, both elbows on the table. Apart from that, there’s no aspect of his body language that suggests that something is wrong, so you just leave him to it. You prop an elbow on top of the counter, chin resting in your palm.

“So Scott,” you drawl. He glances up from his cleaning and flashes you a tired smile.

“‘’Sup, Y/N?” he returns, straightening up and wiping the sweat from his brow. Scott balances his mop in the bucket, then comes over to talk to you.

“You’re not cooking tonight?”

Scott grins at you, like he’s got some sort of secret. “I got me a new cook,” he says proudly.

“Really? That’s great!”. You hold your hand up for him to high-five. The search for a new cook for his diner has been going on for several months now, and you knew that Scott had just about lost all hope. “So who’s the lucky person?” you ask excitedly.

Scott glances over his shoulder, as if to make sure that no one’s listening in and gestures for you to lean in closer. “Between you and me, it’s nobody,” he whispers.

You frown in confusion. “Scott, what the hell are you on about?” you ask.

“Shh! Keep it down,” he hisses, glaring at you pointedly. “Okay, so I’m not technically allowed to hire him, ‘cause he’s got a criminal record, alright?”.

You raise an eyebrow in surprise. “What for?”

“Guy won’t tell me. Decided not to push it,” Scott grunts, crossing his arms over his chest. You nod, figuring that he must have his reasons to trust the guy. You understand his sympathy towards this man, as Scott had been in a similar situation himself. Once upon a time, he’d found himself wrongly accused of breaking and entering, leaving him with a criminal record that made finding a job, and more importantly, keeping said job nigh impossible. Luckily, he only had to suffer for two years, before new evidence was found to prove his innocence.

“So who is he?” you ask.

“His name’s Vision,” Scott replies. At your amused look, he elaborates, “That’s what he told me to call him, anyway. I’m assuming it’s a nickname, though. Swanky British dude, wears a mask on the lower half of his face. Guess that’s kinda sketch, but he’s a good man. Decent cook, willing to put up with the long hours and god-awful pay, so…” he trails off with an indifferent shrug. “Can’t complain, can I?”

“Guess not,” you agree, eyes travelling once again to Bucky. His shoulders seem more tense now, so you can only assume that he’s gotten to a part that’s particularly gritty.

Scott follows your line of sight and makes a small noise of interest. “Who’s your friend?” he asks quietly, crouching down to arrange some boxes behind the counter.

“He’s…well, actually, he and I have a lot of talking to do,” you say slowly, “Lots of things we need to say to clear the air, things to figure out, all that lovely stuff,”.

Scott nods wisely. “So it’s that kind of night, huh? Or—I guess, morning?”

“Yeah, I guess,”, you murmur absentmindedly.

“Well, I’ll leave you two alone then,” Scott declares, clapping his hands decisively, “Give you a whole pot of coffee too, you guys look like you could use some,”.

You whirl to face him, “Oh no, you don’t have to—,”

“Please,” he says, a tiny smile gracing his lips. Scott holds his hands up, “It’s on the house,”. He doesn’t look like he’s going to take no for an answer, no matter how much of a protest you might put up, so you just give him a smile in thanks.

“I’d best get back to him,” you say, pushing off from the counter, “Lots to talk about,”.

Scott gives you a look of encouragement. “Good luck. I think you might need it,”.

“Thanks,”.

As you draw nearer to your table, you realise that, what at a distance had looked like tense shoulders are in fact, shoulders that are minutely shaking. Hesitatingly, you slide back into your chair. “Oh, love,” you breathe, taking in the sight. There are wet trails on his cheeks and Bucky’s eyes shine with yet more tears. His luscious bottom lip is quivering so much, you have to fight the urge to press your thumb — hell, press your lips — to it. Barely-audible sobs wrench their way out of his throat every now and then, and they’re doing a number on your heart. Bucky’s gloved metal hand is clenched into a tight fist, whilst he uses the flesh one to scroll. You note that there is an almost imperceptible tremble to his fingers.

With a heaving breath, Bucky switches your phone off and slides it back towards you. You push it to the side of the table, out of the way. He’s watching you intently whilst trying to reign himself in, gain some control over his breathing.

“Buck?” you ask softly.

“Just—gimme a minute,” he whispers, clasping his hands together and resting his forehead on top of them. Bucky takes a few deep breaths and with each one, his breathing evens out, becomes less shaky on the exhale. “Okay,” he breathes, flicking his eyes up to look at you. The sorrow and heartbreak evident in his gaze makes you want to wrap him up in your arms and never let go.

Scott dashes over just then, both your plates balanced precariously on one arm, a tray with the coffee held in his other had. Without a word, he swiftly sets everything on the table, and offers you a quick wink of solace before he goes back to the counter.

Bucky swallows nervously and uses his sleeve to wipe away the wetness on his cheeks. “Doll,” he begins, cutting himself off immediately when his voice cracks. He laughs wetly, “Y/N, that was—wow,” he sighs, looking at you with an unplaceable expression on his face. “I still love you too, you know?” he says urgently, “I’ve never stopped loving you, either,”.

You school your face to remain neutral as you shove a forkful of pancake into your mouth.

Bucky nods in understanding and continues, “Okay, well. I—I have no idea what to say now, really, I mean—,” he makes a vague gesture to your phone with his hand, “How am I supposed to top that? If you ever get sick of being a psychiatrist, I think you could be a fucking writer, doll,”.

You chuckle despite yourself, shaking your head in amusement. “Of course you’d say that,” you mutter fondly. You tilt your head to the side, “I guess I just got one more question to ask before I let you talk, Buck,”.

He nods, taking a bite out of one of his sausages. “Shoot,” he says, the word coming out garbled because of the food in his mouth.

You scrunch you nose up in mock disgust and stick your tongue out at him. Bucky chortles, the corners of his eyes crinkling adorably as he laughs. You shake your head and focus on putting on your serious face, because, goddammit, the two of you are supposed to be having an adult conversation, right now.

When you’ve pulled yourself together, you stare pointedly at your fork, unwilling to face him as you ask the question that has been plaguing you for the better part of the year. “Bucky…why’d you do it?”, your voice coming out barely louder than a whisper.

My lover, my liar

Bucky sighs tiredly, takes an enormous mouthful of pancake and sausage — seriously, you wonder how the hell he can open his mouth so wide — then sets his cutlery down. He chews with a thoughtful look on his face, so you allow him time to think, knowing that he’ll tell you when he’s got things phrased right in his head. You wistfully remember how Bucky had been very particular about that during his therapy sessions.

“I guess I owe you the full story, huh?” he says, after a drawn-out moment of silence, “After all the shit I’ve put you through, you deserve it,”.

You don’t say anything, just focus on chewing your pancakes with as much of a stoic expression as you can.

Bucky scratches his jaw pensively. “Okay, what I’m gonna say probably won’t make sense, at first, but you gotta hear me out, alright? No interruptions. You’ll get things once I’ve told you the full story,” he says. You want to scream at him for being so cryptic. Bucky leans in closer and lowers his volume, as if he’s about to tell you state secrets. “I’m probably breaking about a dozen different rules telling you all this, but hell, if there’s anyone worth breaking rules for, it’s you, doll,”. He winks mischievously, then sits back in his chair and tips his head back to look at the ceiling. Bucky blows out a long breath through his mouth.

“Right, well, the most important thing for you to know is that things between Natasha and I were never serious,” he begins slowly. You can tell by the slight furrow in his brow that he’s treading with utmost caution, picking his words carefully. “I guess it makes sense to start at the beginning, right?” Bucky continues, “Natalia and I have history, this is true. I don’t just mean that in the sense that I was one of her trainers in the Red Room, but also that when she started working in the field, we went on a couple of covert missions together,”.

Your eyebrows quirk up in surprise. As the Avengers’ private therapist, you had of course picked up on the unusually companionable relationship between Bucky and Nat. You’d found this surprising, as Bucky didn’t seem to be very trusting of very many people at the time, least of all ex-spies. You suspected that they had had some kind of contact with each other during his time as the Soldier, your theories further bolstered when Nat had hinted at having a personal connection with HYDRA’s greatest weapon.

Bucky assesses your reaction, before continuing tentatively. “We crossed paths a few times, actually. I don’t know how it happened…but I think she fell for me. Sweetheart, she saw me as the Soldier, a cold-blooded, brainwashed killer, and somehow, she managed to find the capacity to love me,”.

Your stomach churns at his words, and Bucky seems to pick up on this, so he hastily adds, “It was brief, and I can wholly assure you that it was one-sided, doll. HYDRA pumped me full of all sorts of chemicals to suppress those urges in me,”. He gives you a wry smile, “I think her feelings might have changed when I tried to kill her that one time, though,”.

“What?” you gasp, fork poised in mid-air. Bucky chuckles at your astonishment.

“Well, it was just after she’d switched allegiances, from the KGB to SHIELD,” he explains, “My handlers sent me after her, to sort her out,”.

“So…what, she’s forgiven you? Like, the two of you are okay with that? I don’t see how…” your voice trails off as you frown in confusion. Their relationship — or supposed relationship, if you’re going to believe Bucky’s words and accept that they were never actually together — doesn’t make sense. If Bucky tried to kill her, why would Nat allow him to get that close again?

Bucky shrugs his metal shoulder. “I think we’ve just agreed to let the past be the past,” he muses, “But then again, she is Natalia, and a completely different creature altogether. I don’t pretend to understand her. I mean, she had feelings for the Soldier, of all people, so maybe…”, he leaves the sentence unfinished and makes circular gestures with his hands as if to say well, you know what she’s like.

“Okay, so…that was before, what now?” you ask.

He hesitates, pushing a scrap of pancake around his plate as he thinks. “Well, when I went away, after…after DC,” Bucky’s face contorts into a grimace at the unpleasant memory, “A lot of my memories started to come back. And her face was in there. So when I came to the compound, and saw her in person, I kinda knew who she was,”.

Bucky’s next exhale comes out in a quick whoosh. “I—she was drunk, one night, after one of Tony’s parties, and came to my room. Mind you, this was well before anything happened between you and I, doll; this must’ve been…three months? After I came back, that is,”. The words trip over themselves in his haste to get them out. He’s obviously uncomfortable, like it’s a struggle trying to get the words out.

“What happened?” you ask quietly, almost unsure if you want to hear the answer yourseld.

“She was drunk,” he repeats, “And…threw herself at me. She showed up at my door and literally launched herself at me. I didn’t particularly want to be with her, but I…wanted to remember what it was to feel human again,”. A sad little smile flickers across his mouth. When he looks into your eyes, Bucky’s gaze is so mournful, you have to fight down your irrational urge to kiss him. “I felt horrible, just using her like that, but—I hadn’t had sex in 70 years, doll!”. He laughs dejectedly.

“That’s no excuse, of course, but can you imagine what hell my body was going through, trying to remember what it was to be human again? To have urges, and needs, and desires? I hadn’t been allowed to do things like that with HYDRA, and here was a warm body presenting herself to me, and I took the opportunity! I’m not proud of it,” Bucky adds defensively, the vein in his neck twitching from annoyance.

“You never mentioned any of this to me,” you murmur, “During our sessions, that is,”.

Bucky’s eyes meet yours for a split second. “I…I was ashamed, doll. I thought, there were so many problems about me that you had to deal with, I didn’t want to add to the list. And besides, I didn’t really want to jeopardise her position on the team, or anything like that,”.

You have a million things to say to that, but decide to drop the issue, because there’s nothing you can do to rectify the situation. Besides, there are more important things to be discussing. “Was that the only time things got—,” you hesitate, wanting to choose the right word, “Intimate, between you two?”

Bucky shakes his head morosely, and your heart sinks. “Well, depends what you mean by ‘intimate’, doll,” he sighs, “‘Cause in a way, yes, because that’s the only time we ever had sex—,”

“Really?”, you interrupt, your eyebrows nearly disappearing into your hairline.

“—Yes, really, but I’ll—okay,” he huffs frustratedly at the disbelieving look on your face, “If you don’t believe me, remember what I said? You gotta hear the full story. But yes, it was the only time we slept together,”.

“…So how else were you intimate?” you ask timidly, deathly afraid of what he might say.

“There were a few times where we kissed or…went a little further,” says Bucky hesitatingly, “Six, at most. After a mission, usually,”.

“Did she force herself on you again, or…”.

Bucky grimaces again. “Don’t get the wrong picture, doll. We—I wasn’t in the right headspace for a relationship, and Nat thought she was helping. I wanted to make it work, but at the same time, I didn’t. I was so messed up. And—and sometimes, yes, she would initiate, but sometimes I would,”. He laughs softly, but there’s no joy behind it, “I was always the one to put a stop to it, though. Whatever was going on between us couldn’t go on anymore. My conscience kicked in,”.

“Did you put a stop to things when we got together, or before…or after?”

Bucky holds up one finger as if to say wait. He takes a sip of his coffee, another bite of his — now cold — pancakes and chews thoughtfully, for a little. “We’re not there yet, doll,” he says, “First, I need to talk about how I fell in love with you,”.

You can’t ignore the way your cheeks flush hotly, or the way your heart flutters excitedly at the thought.

--------------------------------- Condensed tags: @feelmyroarrrr @valkyeries @hollycornish @buckingoffthebed @moonbeambucky @sanjariti @in-winchester-we-trust @badassbaker @retroasgardian @lostinspace33 @waywardpumpkin @jurassicbarnes @buchonians @katielu-blog @alohabucky @sarahmatthews7 @i-should-probably-be-asleep-rn @toongtii @barnesdeservestheworld @amrita31199 @amour-quinn @ugh-supersoldiers

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fluff #scott lang #my writing #i know this game

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umbraja · 7 years ago

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Half Baked Goods

This is a list of ideas I'm keeping partially to remind myself so I don't forget them but also to get some feedback on if anyone wants to see them developed.

If you're interested in any of these ideas being finished please let me know so I can move that up on my list of priorities. As you can see, I've got a lot of ideas all competing for attention so I'm only working on the ones that other people actually want to see.

Some of the things on this list are continuations of stuff I've already posted so I've got them linked to that.

Works in Progress

Things for the Kidge Zine - This beast is taking up almost all of my time.

Collab Artwork - This one's a drawing, might end up animated.

Monsters and Mana Fic - I HC Keith as a closet nerd so I just couldn't help myself.

D&D Module - Working with a few artists to make a 5e D&D module based off my M&M fic.

Rover Models - Prototyping 3D models with LED lighting.

Space Caterpillars - Prototyping plushies.

Kosmo - Prototyping plushies.

GoT AU - An art series that took over my life recently.

Keith (Jon) Snow - Keith looking badass with Longclaw and Kosmo as Ghost.

Pidgett (Ygritte) - Pidge in furs with a bow - not the ribbon kind.

Allurys Targaryen - Mother of Dragonmice.

Hunk (Sam) Tarly - Hunk and Sam are basically the same person - the sweet cinnamon rolls.

Lance (Oberyn) Martell - I considered Loras Tyrell but, come on, the spear.

Shiro - I need help with this.

VLD Mix Tape - A collection of songfics from various genres, set in various AUs, some canon, featuring various ships and all the feels.

Simple Man - Based on the song "Simple Man" by Lynyrd Skynyrd. Originally this was going to be for Desert Keith Week but I didn't get it done in time. Some real good Keith and Krolia angsty sweetness.

When I Die - Based on the song "Wolves" by Down Like Silver. Pretty much Keith's thought process in that last scene of Season 4. Sad AF and super short but I'm working on illustrations to make up for it. Will post when the art is done.

Rough Ideas

Possible One Shots - These are probably going to be shorts but I never can tell and could all end up sprawling AUs given my track record with trying to write shorts.

Red Thread - Gritty Soulmates AU, future noir conspiracy plot where the government pairs people by a system that supposedly traces Red Threads to match soulmates but it’s imperfect and corrupt. Keith is a hard boiled detective, Pidge is a tech genius and daughter of a renowned scientist who is openly critical of the soulmate pairing system and hires Keith to find her father when he goes missing.

Douglas Adams Tribute (working title) - Almost Canon AU style study where I tortur- I mean, where Shiro gets thrown into the sort of absurd adventure that you would expect from the creator of the Hitchhiker's Guide, Dirk Gently, and some classic episodes of Dr Who. I want this sooo bad but it takes so long to write like that.

80s Romance (working title) - Modern AU where Keith's parents are living one of those fiery, doomed romances that make for such great stories but kind of shitty lives. Thank the-ghost-of-keith-kogane for this one. I might integrate it into my Quiet Kind AU cuz it fits.

Dancing in the Dark - Modern AU where Keith works dispatch for the university police at his school and his desk just happens to overlook the dance studios where he can't help but watch Lance practice every night.

More to Lose - Canon Divergent AU in which everything is basically the same but when the war ends and they go home the others find out that Keith had motivations to save Earth beyond just natural heroic tendencies and he actually did leave something (someone) behind.

Identity - Canon Divergent AU where Shiro is acting strange (so maybe canon?) and has a bit of a mental break that leads down an insanity spiral into Lovecraftian horror.

VLD Mix Tape - A collection of songfics from various genres, set in various AUs, some canon, featuring various ships and all the feels.

Stuff that Works - Based on the song "Stuff that Works" by Guy Clark. Basically a music video for my Quiet Kind fic. Soooft Kidge and real friendship between the Paladins.

Champion - Based on the song "Champion" by Barns Courtney. Not just about Shiro.

In the Valley - Based on the song "Through the Valley" by Shawn James. Basically a music video for the Western AU listed below.

Only Human - Based on the song "Human" by Rag 'n' Bone Man. This just screams of Shiro.

Broken - Based on the song "Broken" by DNMO & Sub Urban. Something with Lotor.

Wisdom of Officer #3 - Based on the song "Girls on Trampolines" by Ludo. Cuz even Paladins need to have fun sometimes.

Probably Series - These are probably going to be longer works, anywhere from three to infinite parts.

Trip the Light - Canon Divergent AU where Keith comes into contact with some strange alien I'll just call it a drug and, well. . . Keith without inhibitions is a beautiful and terrifying thing.

In the Valley - Western AU where the Paladins have to save a frontier town being threatened by Rail Barrons (Galra). Shiro is the sheriff, Pidge is his deputy, Matt's the sawbones, Lance manages the cat house, Hunk tends the saloon, Coran is the priest, Allura is Coran's niece and the school marm, Keith is a gunslinger.

Rabbit Hole - Almost Canon AU where Voltron has fans and they are very much like the real fandom (without the ship wars) and when Pidge stumbles across it she shows the others which kind of breaks Keith cuz he doesn't like how accurate some of the information is and thinks there could be a spy and this could be dangerous so it's tinfoil hat time!

Elsewhere - Canon Divergent AU where the Paladins stumble upon a Fey Gate into a fantasy realm where they get to meet all my OCs and participate in the insanely huge uber plot I've been running D&D groups through for decades now.

Reflections AU - A canon compliant (for the most part) series of (so far) fluffy team bonding moments that lead to introspective scenes where Keith slowly opens up to each of the others about himself. Kind of an excuse to get down some of my headcanon for Keith's past. Parts of this are already published but here's some ideas for more.

Lance (working title) - Keith opens up to Lance.

Pidge (working title) - Keith opens up to Pidge.

Allura (working title) - Keith opens up to Allura.

Hell in a Handbasket - Series of gritty, realistic vignettes showing the progression of what went wrong in Keith's past to make him the way he is. Backstory behind the fluffy parts. Waiting to see what season 6 does with Keith's mom on this.

Country Christmas - Adorable vignette of Keith's childhood in the Texas panhandle to make up for that darkness and prove it wasn't all bad. I didn't finish it in time for 2017 but I'll probably have this out for 2018.

Lone Star AU - Modern AU, Lance PoV, Klance that was going to be a much longer work but I don't have time to finish it and reader feedback suggested it would be better just to focus on the relationship dynamic between Lance and a closeted, slightly homophobic, rodeo Keith anyway. So that's what this is. Parts of this are already published but here's some ideas for more.

Au Naturale - Lance talks to Keith about skincare, or the lack thereof.

La Grange - How Lance met Keith and what started his Telecaster crush.

Bullrider - Lance observes one of Keith's hobbies.

Rattlesnake Roundup - Texas has some strange traditions and Lance can't wrap his head around this one so of course Pidge forces him to attend.

Hermanos AU - Canon Divergent AU, started as a request fill for a 5/1 where the team slowly realises that Keith and Lance are adopted brothers but I'm seriously considering expanding it into a multipart AU.

Homecoming - The Paladins return to Earth and Keith goes home with Lance. Waiting to see what season 6 does with Keith's mom on this.

New Kid - Look at the past when Keith first went to live with the McClains.

Brothers - Rewrite of the original fic but from Keith and Lance's perspective.

The Paladin Saga - Canon Divergent AU that was going to be an insanely long work where I keep mostly to canon but fill in plot holes with eldritch horrors, tie up loose ends in ancient myths, and shed light on the "legend" of Voltron to show a much darker history than Allura would like to admit while also letting humans be a little badass for once. This one was gonna be a long, sprawling epic full of Lovecraftian horror and moral ambiguity but I don't have time to finish it and reader feedback (or lack thereof) suggested I should focus on my fluffier works. Here's a list of chapters anyway, not a complete list mind you and possibly a bit out of order:

Is it Real - The Paladins refuse to believe Kolivan when he tells them Keith is dead.

Space Between - Keith wakes up in a strange place and finds something Dark there.

Fire and Darkness - The Paladins get Keith back but the Darkness has affected him.

Sins of the Father - Lotor tells the Paladins what Zarkon told him of the Darkness.

Waking Dreams - Keith struggles with the Dark, Shiro loses time, Lance gets visions.

Scorched Earth - Shiro loses control, Keith puts him down, Hunk keeps them all alive.

Things I've Seen - Lance tells others about his visions, Coran tells them about the Price.

King of Death - Zarkon returns from the dead (again) with a new weapon.

When the Arm Breaks - The Red Lion pays a heavy price to save the others.

Tides Turn - The Galra rally under Zarkon and his new power.

Devil You Know - An unlikely ally offers the Paladins help.

Fool's Errand - The Paladins make a desperate move to save Red.

The Dreamer Awakens - The Paladins find a sixth Lion and Allura gets an upgrade.

A Sword Reforged - The Paladins return with Voltron made whole and defeat the Galra.

At What Cost - The Coalition takes power but peace isn't easy and bills are due.

The War to Come - The Paladins learn of their part in an ancient prophecy.

See You on the Other Side -

#umbrajasfics

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webcricket · 8 years ago

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Lather, Rinse, Repeat

Characters: Human!CastielXReader ft. Dean Winchester

Word Count: 1017

A/N: Drabble request by anonymous – “I was wondering if you could do an imagine where reader teaches Human!Cas how to shower and it’s very fluff!” Poor befuddled Human!Cas – it’s a good thing the reader has a soft spot for him (or is that the other way around?)!

You glowered at the kitchen sink, repeatedly flipping the hot water handle, and repeatedly finding no hot water to be had. Puffing out your cheeks in a show of annoyance, you slammed the faucet shut, spinning around, shouting at the top of your lungs, “Dean!”

“W-what?” Dean winced and rubbed his ears, having snuck up to stand directly behind you while you grumbled at the sink.

“Oh, hey,” you offered him an apologetic smile, “I, uh, think you need to check the hot water heater. There hasn’t been any hot water in this place since yesterday.”

“Yeah, talk to Cas about that,” Dean wandered over to grab a cold beer out of the fridge, popping the top off on the edge of the counter and flinging the cap across the room.

You arched an eyebrow askance, watching as the tiny metallic round accurately struck and fell in the trash bin. You couldn’t fathom what a now human Castiel returning to the bunker the day before with the brothers had to do with the lack of hot water supply.

Dean leaned against the counter, smirking to himself, taking a long draught before replying, “Seems showering is his new hobby. Go figure, all that pent up frustration had to surface sometime.”

“Are you saying he’s-”

“Well seeing you parade around in those tight white tops that leave nothing to the imagination probably isn’t helping any,” he gestured at your figure with the bottle, giving you an approving wink.

You self-consciously shifted to cross your arms over your chest, shooting Dean a chiding glare.

He shrugged unapologetically, downing another swig of his beer, readjusting to face you, waxing philosophic, “Look, the way I see it, Cas missed the whole teenage learning curve figuring out how to handle certain urges. Humans have years to navigate that mine field. Can’t blame the guy for needing a couple days to work it out.”

“So you’re saying he’s basically going through puberty?”

“Yep,” Dean nodded, “pretty much.”

“And did it ever occur to you that perhaps the actual explanation is a lot less hormonal? Like, maybe no one ever taught him how to shower?”

Dean continued to bob his head, lips drawing into an ever thinner tightly pressed scowl which suggested the more innocent and far more likely scenario had not occurred to him in the slightest.

“Dean?”

Dean gulped the remainder of his beer, refusing to meet your coolly questioning gaze. Setting the empty container to the counter with a gentle clink, he deliberately wiped his hands on his jeans, taking several long strides sideways toward the door, clearing his throat, “Did you hear something? I think Sam needs me in the library.”

“Dean Winchester, you get back here!” You yelled as he scuttled from the kitchen. Silence answered. Like so much else when it came to the fallen angel, it appeared you were going to have to take matters into your own hands.

What the hell am I even doing? What if Dean was right? You thought to yourself. What am I going to say? Hey there Cas, want me to help you out in the shower? Fist poised over the closed bathroom door, puffs of steam curled out beneath the threshold as you finally summoned the resolve to knock, “Cas, are you decent? I, um, Dean and I thought you might need some help figuring out the shower situation.” Yeah, real convincing when you involve Dean. You rolled your eyes at your own inner awkwardness.

Several seconds of silence elapsed followed by a husky and somewhat uncertain, “Yes.”

“I’m coming in,” you tried the knob, and finding it loose, swung the door open. You moved through swirling clouds of heavy mist toward the vague outline of a figure near the sink. Haze suddenly shifting as the cool air from the hall flooded the room, Cas stood before you completely, gloriously, and unabashedly nude. On the plus side, you now had clear confirmation of the notion you held since first meeting him that under all those layers of clothing dwelled a beautifully sculpted specimen of a man. Less out of disapproval, and more out of embarrassment over your uncontrollably roving eyes, you squealed, “You’re naked!”

Cas’ regard dropped to examine the expanse of his exposed body, blue eyes widening with unease as if there were something peculiar about his nakedness which startled you. Gaze flitting back to your reddening cheeks, he innocently cocked his head, “I thought removing one’s clothing to shower was a necessary first step?”

Getting a grip on your reeling nerves, you spun around to intently study the tile wall dripping with condensation from all the water vapor hanging heavy in the air, “I asked if you were decent!”

His eyes narrowed in confusion, brow knitting with consternation. “I like to think I’m a decent person,” his deep voice faltered, “Am I not…decent?”

The defeated tone of his query sent a twinge of guilt to your heart, “Cas just, just-.” Your attention settled on a fluffy towel hanging from a hook on the wall. Grabbing it, you turned to confront him, forcing the height of your vision to remain on his questioning blue eyes as you tossed it his way, “Here, put this on.”

He deftly caught the towel mid-air.

You waited for him to look up again as he fumbled to wrap it around his waist, “And Cas, of course you are a decent person. I didn’t mean to imply-”

“I’m sorry,” he sheepishly fidgeted with the folded edge of the towel.

“Don’t be,” you smiled warmly, motioning at his shrouded body hoping he would glean your meaning, “There, now you’re the kind of decent I was asking about. Get it?”

His eyes glinted understanding, “Yes.”

“Good. Now about the hot water-”

“Y/N, thank you for helping me,” Cas interrupted, a small appreciative smile touching upon his lips.

Your expression softened at his words, smile widening as a gentle chuckle escaped your throat, “But I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“You’re here,” he countered, the breadth of his smile growing to match your own, “that’s all that matters.”

#castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel reader insert #castiel fluff #castiel drabble #cas x reader #cas x you #castiel #castiel oneshot #castiel fanfic #castiel x y/n #spn fluff #spn reader insert #fic request #cricket writes cas

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hey-i-wrote-a-story · 7 years ago

Text

Chapter 32 Into the Unknown

Gently, Scott brought the small Maltese out of his kennel. The fluffy white dog with the nappy fur was nervous by nature, and as such took a long time to grow accustomed to anyone. The little guy tended to cower from strangers and had a tendency to shake. It was only with the people he loved that he’d leap about, play, and bark happily. The little dog loved Scott McCall. While it took him some time to accept most people, he took to Scott instantly. There was something about him that was just comforting. Scott held the Maltese in his arms, where the dog settled in immediately, resting his chin on Scott’s bicep and wagging his tiny tail. Scott stroked his head gently, speaking to him as if they were old friends. In fact, this was only the second time Scott had seen him in twice as many months. To look at them, they seemed to be the best of friends who saw each other every day. With the ongoing chaos of strange young fans and the flying monster they brought with them, taking a moment to tend to his part-time job was a much needed chance to catch his breath.

“You ready to come see the doctor, Bello?”, Scott asked. Bello looked up at Scott with a joyous expression, his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. “Who’s a good boy? I think you are. Are you a good boy?”

Bello rolled over in Scott’s arms to show his belly, which Scott began to scratch. Dr. Deaton, who stood by the metal examination table, shook his head in admiration.

“Had I tried to coax him out of there, it would have taken all day. Then when I had him out, he’d spend the next hour hiding in corners.”

Scott rested Bello on the table. The little dog looked very much at home there, as long as Scott’s arms were around him. “Aw, he’s a good dog”, the young man observed.

“You’re a natural-born healer, Scott.” Bello remained perfectly still as Deaton gave him his shots. The little guy never took his eyes off Scott. His tail never stopped wagging. “I suppose that makes the inevitable solution to our current problem all the harder to accept.”

Scott kept his eyes down on Bello, busying himself with scratching his ears. “I’m not ready to accept it.”

“There may be no other way to defeat this creature. Mrs. Yukimura and I have both been searching. I’ve even turned up some legends that were new to me. Knowing what we’re dealing with has helped. But it hasn’t helped much. We keep finding the same thing. It just reinforces what we already knew.” Deaton paused to take a breath. “Scott, it looks like the only way to banish The Unspoken is through a sacrifice.”

His reply came as quick as it was stern. “We’re not going to let it come to that.”

Scott returned Bello to his kennel, offering him a small biscuit as he closed the door. “We should call Mrs. Herman and let her know Bello’s ready to be picked up.” He looked in at the little dog, who was bright-eyed and happy inside his temporary home. He began to wrestle with a plush toy beside him. It squeaked as he hugged it close. Deaton allowed Scott to collect his thoughts.

“There’s just got to be another way”, Scott said at last.

“I’m sure there may be. It was only a couple years ago that we feared your best friend would be lost to an ancient demon. The challenge is finding that other way.”

Scott’s eyes brightened. “Wait. Kanima venom. If we could expose it to—“

“I thought so, too. But…”

Deaton stepped aside to reveal a small experiment set up on the table behind him. It appeared to be a miniature dynamo or some other makeshift device to produce an electrical charge. Donning rubber gloves, Deaton flicked a small switch and the device hummed to life. A small lance of electricity arced back and forth between two points. He picked up a small vial which held a small amount of viscous fluid at the bottom. “Given the amount of electrical energy The Unspoken contains…” He poured the contents of the vial down onto the small arc of electricity. There was a popping sound, a shower of tiny sparks, then the smell of ozone. As Deaton turned off his experiment, a wisp of smoke rose from the machine and was gone in an instant. He pointed with a gloved hand at the small machine. It looked exactly the same. There wasn’t even the faintest trace of venom anywhere. The electric discharge evaporated it.

“What if we used a lot more of it—“, Scott ventured.

“Kanima venom’s not the kind of thing you can buy by the gallon at the local filling station. There simply isn’t that much to come by. Even if there was, the result would be the same, only on a much larger scale.”

“You’re not saying we need to consider the sacrifice…”

“What we need is more information, which so far has been in very short supply. I am open to suggestions. I honestly don’t know where to begin.”

“I might”, Scott said, his eyes bright again. He went to his backpack and retrieved an old hardcover coffee table book. “I almost forgot I had this. This is one of the things Stiles dug up back when I was first bitten. He was looking everywhere for anything that would help me during the change.” Scott dropped the book down on the table. It was a book of monsters, of the kind made for kids active in Dungeons & Dragons or other role playing games. The painted cover illustration of some tremendous monster emerging from what could have been a wormhole in space was well done, if a bit over the top. Deaton looked at the title, which was written in intricate lettering.

“Into the Unknown: The Ultimate Guide to Monsters and Beings of This and Other Worlds.” Deaton scrunched his brow. “I take it this isn’t going to be the most academic of tomes.”

“Not hardly”, Scott said, flipping pages. There was an entire chapter on lycanthropy and werewolves that was filled with post-its, colored sticky-tabs, and notes scrawled in the margins in Stiles’ semi-legible hand writing. Past the werewolf section, there was very little in the way of research notes, save for a small illustration here and there including a were-creature of some kind. The book was mostly pictures, some with 360-degree views of the fantastic creatures in question, to aid young readers in drawing the monsters on their own, or including them in gameplay. Scott paused on one page that looked unfamiliar to him. Beyond Stiles’ noted pages on werewolves, Scott never spent a lot of time perusing the book. The drawing he saw filled an entire page. It was a huge gray monster with a body not unlike a dinosaur’s, or perhaps a rhinoceros. It had six legs, three on each side. It was covered in heavy gray scales and had a mooselike head topped with hideous antlers. Below the image was the word:

Bilgesnipe.

Scott made a frowny face. “Hmp. So that’s what that is.” Hurriedly, he moved on to the page he was looking for. He slid the book over to Deaton. “Look at this.”

The page he showed the veterinarian displayed a furry monster (it could have been a werewolf, or a giant cat, or something else entirely), mouth open and fangs bared, claws at the ready. It was squaring off with a monster four times its size that bore a passing resemblance to The Unspoken. Deaton considered the book with newfound interest. His eyes glanced at the chapter heading at the top of the page.

“Fearsome Monsters from Other Dimensions”, he read aloud. He skimmed the next several pages and saw nothing else like it. “Is this the only part of the book that mentions it?”

“Afraid so.”

Deaton looked at the caption below the drawing. “An Ailuranthrope prepares to do battle with an interdimensional traveler for whom he is no match. A monster so terrible that its forbidden name brings painful death upon any who dare speak it.”

“Not 100% accurate”, Scott conceded, “but it does tell us at least something. If The Unspoken can get a mention in kid’s book on monsters—“

“Then there is lore out there for us to access if we can find it”, Deaton answered, finishing the thought. “This is interesting, if nothing else. I may be able to turn something up in a source I hadn’t thought to before.”

“I hope we find something new soon. I don’t like the way the drawing has The Unspoken rearing back to eat that were-cat.”

Deaton picked up the book and stared hard at the page before him. Scott could tell that his druidic mentor was thinking something he was not yet ready to share. He figured he’d know in another moment if Deaton was on to something.

“May I hold on to this for a while?”, he asked.

There it was. The sign the wheels were turning in his boss’s head. “Sure. Keep it as long as you like.”

Scott grabbed up his backpack and made for the door. He didn’t want to be away from his new charges for too long. Deaton stared at the page a bit more, then looked up as Scott opened the door. Deaton opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped himself. Scott paused. “Is there something else?”

Deaton smiled. “No. Not yet, I don’t think.” He held up the book, adding, “I will look into this. Nice work, Scott.”

“Just making sure everybody gets through this alive.” And with that, he was gone.

Deaton’s smile dropped as soon as Scott had departed. He didn’t want to say anything else now. No need to raise any hopes until he was sure.

* * *

Kira awoke to a tingling in the fingers of her left hand. She blinked herself awake and was reminded by what she saw that she had fallen asleep on the couch while taking a break from her energy-sensing practice (which is what she was calling it) that her mother had her doing. She was sore and spent and would have preferred to flop back down on the cushions and drift back to sweet oblivion, if not for the small arcs of electricity dancing along her fingertips.

“What the--?” She sat up and looked at her hand. She had never lost control of her power while she slept. She suppressed a shudder and took a deep breath, balling her hand into a fist and smothering the electrical charge. She still felt the slight itching beneath the skin, the tingle of the electricity fighting to get out, like a puppy desperate to go outside. See? This is what you get, mother. With all the ‘Push harder, push harder, try again’ business and now I’ve lost control of my abilities and I will most likely burn the house down the next time I go to bed or possibly char-broil the entire junior class the next time I use the school swimming pool—

She stopped. She had been pushing harder, following her mother’s instructions. Maybe this wasn’t loss of control. Maybe this was…something new. Maybe the secret to accessing it was to stop pushing so hard. Kira loosened her fist and watched as the electricity rolled up her fingers to dance in arcs along her nails. Maybe the trick was to just…let go. Kira opened her hand wide, palm up and fingers spread. The electrical charge she had generated leapt up from her palm. It zipped up perhaps a foot high, then to her surprise, too a sharp right turn and shot across the room. The day was warm but with a welcome breeze, so the door had been left ajar to allow in some fresher air than the a.c. could produce. The small jolt shot out through that small opening. Kira sat up, looking. What was that about? Again, she felt the itching in her palm and release another small charge. Again, the same result. The jolt leapt up, angled sharply, and zipped out the door. If it was that puppy she’d just been thinking of, she’d swear it wanted her to follow it.

What if that was it? She had no illusions that her power had become sentient, but if she had made a connection with what she’d been reaching for, she needed to maintain it. Kira took another deep breath and closed her eyes. Without pushing, without forcing, she opened her palm and let her power reach out. This time she let the power do the work for her. It was like a glowing line that stretched out beyond her, beyond the house. Where was it going? What was it reaching for?

There.

There it was. Not the big burst of energy she was certain was the monster. This was smaller, though no less foreign. It pulsed and crackled, somewhere off there in the distance. Kira stood up and began to walk slowly across the room. She did not open her eyes, but she navigated the room without running into anything. It had less to do with her familiarity with her surrounding than following the pull she felt inside her. In moments, she was on the front lawn. The pull, the pulsing she felt kept drawing her forward. Soon she was making her way down the walkway toward the sidewalk. She stopped to focus on what she felt far ahead of her. If it wasn’t the monster, what was it? Now with eyes open, Kira glanced back at the house. Should she go back inside and get her mom? No, not yet. Not until she had something substantial to tell her. She reached her arm out in front of her and allowed another jolt to leave her palm. Out it went, at first lingering in the air a moment, then darting far in front of her like a shot.

“Okay, Fido”, Kira mumbled under her breath. “Show where Timmy fell down the well.”

Kira quickly lost track of any sense of movement. She was focused intently on the energy pulling her forward. As she continued on, pausing here and there only for a moment to release another tiny charge of energy to keep the connection going, moving onward with the same surety of a compass pointing true north. The target for which she aimed became clearer and clearer as she went. She got another flash that knocked her back several paces. It was the scary face again. Angry, or frightened, or possibly in pain. Blank eyes wide, mouth open, mop of hair aglow around it like a mane. Definitely not the monster, but it was definitely something. Rather than being scared off by it, Kira felt a renewed determination to find out what it was. She quickened her pace, now noticing a flow of energy around her. Telephone wires, street lamps, neon signs, even traffic lights pulsed briefly with lances of electricity, all pointing Kira in the direction she needed to follow. The energy never lingered long enough to disrupt any device’s day to day workings, and mostly went unnoticed by passersby. But they weren’t looking for them, either. Kira was.

She was so close now. The energy source ahead of her practically screamed at her to better draw attention to where it was. Kira felt her power flow through her freely. He limbs, fingers, and brow were alive with electricity just beneath the skin. She stopped and closed her eyes. “Okay, whatever you are. Show me your ugly face one more time.” Kira let her body relax and the power surge through her. The invisible line flowing from her to whatever being lay at the end of it grew stronger. How long would he have to probe? How long until she made contact? Not long. Again the face appeared in Kira’s mind, but this time she was ready for it. She allowed it to come without letting it push her back. There was the face again, eyes ablaze and mouth wide. Kira pushed it away just a bit, far enough so she could get a better look at it. It was surrounded by gleaming thistles of light, of energy, and the face, though distorted and hideous, was undeniably that of a girl. It was a girl Kira had seen before. Where had she--? Then the realization struck her like a thunderbolt. The last time she had seen this face, it held an expression of terror, eyes wide and growing blank. For beneath its chin talons protruded from its chest, pouring blood onto the highway.

Kira shook herself from the vision and broke contact. “Oh my God. Erin?”

Kira understood what she had connected with. If this was Erin, or whatever was left of her, she would be dealing with a monster of an entirely different kind. Now she had something substantial. More than that, now she needed advice and she definitely needed help.

Kira turned her head to the side and called out, “Mom? Could you come out here, please? Like, now? I really need your—“

She stopped talking. Where the hell was she? Kira was nowhere near home, that much was certain. Inwardly, she chastised herself for thinking she was. She saw the street lights and power lines that led her on her search. So caught up was she in tracing the source of the energy pulse that she had forgotten for a moment how far she had wandered. And how far was that, exactly? Kira turned around, expecting to see a neighboring street corner or road sign to help get her bearings. No such luck. She was well outside of her neighborhood. In fact, she was very nearly outside of her area code. Behind her was dirt road and tall trees. In the distance, she could almost make out a paved road beyond the one of dirt and gravel. Kira blinked. “I’m lucky I didn’t wander into traffic”, she mused.

Kira then turned to see what was before her. She stood at the end of the dirt road which emptied out onto a paved lot. It was the parking lot and service access to the Beacon County Power Station. The huge structure with its high walls and impressive towers strung with multiple electrical lines stretching out in all directions loomed before her. Even without focusing, she could now feel the energy source pulsing from within those walls, beckoning her inside. She was on the edge of town. She had never intended to wander this far. It was a miracle her feet weren’t killing her. Kira reached a hand up to rub the back of her neck as she considered her situation. He knuckles bumped against something familiar. The hilt of her sword. Strapped to her back was her sword. She had no memory of picking it up as she left the house. She didn’t know if she had grabbed it absently or by reflex. She was just glad she did. Looking ahead of her, she saw a metal door on the front of the power plant. It stood out from other entrances in that it was painted bright blue, and it had been ripped off its hinges. It was tilted at an angle, hanging precariously from an upper hinge that appeared ready to give out at any second. There were scorch marks and a hole where the door handle should be, and a streak of melted metal down the front and pooled on the ground which no doubt had formerly been that handle.

Kira swallowed hard. “Well, I shouldn’t go in there, that’s for sure.”

Kira stepped carefully over the demolished door as she ventured inside the plant. The place looked even bigger on the inside than it did on the outside. She was surrounded by large devices and machines she couldn’t begin to identify. Small signs on the wall provided arrows pointing in various directions toward things like dynamos, generators, turbines, and condensate pumps, whatever those were. No directional sign pointing the way to any monster-controlled, possessed electrical zombie chick, unfortunately. Even if there had been, Kira doubted she would have spotted it among the multitude of warning and hazard signs posted liberally at gate fronts and along the walls reminding workers that at any moment they were less than a few inches away from things that could kill them instantly. Delightful.

Before Kira was a wide hallway beneath a high ceiling, with extension into smaller hallways, leading to different areas separated by chain link fences bearing more warning signs about painful death awaiting around every corner. Where to start? Kira was finding it hard to focus among the ongoing track in her head playing the all-time favorite tune of What am I doing what am I doing oh God what the hell am I doing?

“Um…hello?”, she said, feeling like an idiot the second the word came out. But she didn’t know what else to say, considering there was no one around. Somehow that didn’t seem right to her. Well, duh. She had a scrunched door with a melted handle behind her and giant power things in front of her, any one of which could have an unspeakable monster’s energy minion hanging around them. Whoever worked her was probably a little busy at the moment.

Kira tried to focus on the original energy source that had drawn her here. There was too much interference, too much input to hone in on it. From a distance, the unnatural energy stood out. But here, with an abundance of energy pulsing and surging all around her, it was impossible to make out. As she ventured forward, Kira even thought she could feel a different kind of power flowing beneath her feet. She looked down and saw only concrete floor. Keep it together, Kira, she thought. It was advice she was going to have a hard time following. The silent air was cut with the sound of a powerful electrical discharge. As if lightning had struck from inside the building, the air was suddenly filled with static and the stench of ozone. The lights faded in and out, the temperature spiked, making it harder to breathe, and Kira thought she heard the sound of a man screaming.

“Okay, investigation time’s over”, Kira said. He phone was in her hand and she was already dialing for help. She was about to press the button to call her mom, but stopped. “No”, she decided. “If I’m going to call for backup, I know exactly who it is I want.” She swiped the screen as she had a million times before, saw the photo of the face that had brought her comfort so many times, and pushed the button beside it.

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