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unlockthelore · 5 years ago

Text

whether good or bad

Part 7 of Know-It-All a.k.a the modern AU snippet series that no one asked for. To find other parts of the series, follow the know-it-all tag.

In hindsight, Amane knew that he was worrying for nothing but seeing her profile picture pop up in his DM list made his anxiety spike through the roof. The glow-in-the-dark stars provided a bit of solace but when they started spinning and blurring, he squeezed his eyes shut tight and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. Asking himself where he went wrong was pointless, he knew the cause of all this —

The damn confession tree.

Day after day, he ran that moment over in his mind but the part that stuck out most was her eyes. Wet with tears rolling down her cheeks, scarlet-red staining her skin and the corners of her eyes as she wept, the unanswered question of why as she looked at him. The satisfaction that he felt shriveled up into dust, non-existent as he was crushed beneath the weight of her sobbing. Each cry grating to his ears, pressing the knife in his chest deeper and twisting as she said she’d go home.

All he wanted to do was help her. There was no reason that she had to go through rumors and laughter behind her back. Yashiro was too good for that. True, she had her faults. But her idea of love was fairly harmless. Someone who returned her affections. Something she told him in confidence and he just —

Amane laid still for a few moments until he groaned and threw down his hands on either side of him. The warmth from where she laid was long gone, honey and strawberries still pressed into the sheet of his pillow. He nestled his cheek against it and closed his eyes, curling his fingers to brush against the palm of his hand. It wasn’t the same but if he imagined enough, it was like she was there with him. In the darkness, he could admit his deepest fears and his good intentions. Hope that she would trace his jaw with the tips of her fingers, wind her arms around him, keep him close to her heart —

Everything that he didn’t deserve.

Yashiro didn’t know and if she did, would she still look at him the same?

Would any of them look at him the same?

His own fingers weren’t like hers. Yashiro knew how to hold his hand just right, make all of his doubts and fears disappear with the squeeze of her fingers, the pressure grounding him to the moment before he slipped into the atmosphere. Her voice, quiet and imploring, reassuring like a lullaby and wrapping around him — a song that he would never grow tired of.

Amane forced his eyes open before he lingered too long in the fantasy. Yashiro wasn’t here and though he knew, he trembled as if a cold chill ran down his spine and the knife twisted deep in his chest to where his heart was aching to snap. He reached for his phone, curling his fingers around it and pressing the cool screen to his palm. It dispelled the heat, made him shiver, but he needed the brush with reality.

Lifting his phone overhead, he frowned at the screen then turned it on, scrolling through his new notifications to find her name.

Why was she still online?

His gaze flicked up to the tiny numbers in the UI.

10:58 reflected back at him and he frowned, glancing at her icon. To his surprise, she still hadn’t changed it. A daikon drawn by Shijima with Yashiro’s trademark hair clips and their school uniform. It was a joke that he played, changing her icon to it and it took her a few days to find out. He smiled to himself, remembering sprinting down the hall as she chased after him with her fists waving in the air.

When she caught him and squished his cheeks, musing up his hair, and he laughed all the while as she threw half-hearted punches at his stomach.

Returning to reality, Amane inhaled deeply. He felt like he took a punch to the stomach even seeing it. Would it mean something if she actually changed it? What would it mean for them?

He tried to tell himself that he wouldn’t get answers like this. That beating himself up wouldn’t bring him any closer to understanding — any closer to her either. Squeezing his eyes shut, he felt along the side before letting his eyes open as he clicked the icon.

nenehime#1113 — direct message with hanako#0724

nenehime no stargazing tonight I guess

nenehime amane

nenehime about earlier can we talk?

nenehime …please

Amane stared at the line of messages. Reading them once, then twice, then a third time for good measure.

“What the hell…” He muttered aloud, bolting upright and shuffling back until his back was pressed against the wall, his knees tucked close to him, and phone cradled in his hands.

She wanted to talk to him?

Why would she want to talk to him after all of this?

And she was worried about stargazing? Wasn’t that what caused this the first time? The two of them watching the sky, falling asleep at one another’s side, waking up and talking — he set it in motion with telling her how he felt.

Even if it was indirectly. And Yashiro — good, sweet, idealistic, silly, nurturing, present Yashiro had simply told him they could. She didn’t run from him then, stayed long enough to eat breakfast and talk with Tsuchigomori before leaving.

The next day at school, all was normal, they laughed and talked. He hung off her like a barnacle, ignoring the way her fingers brushed against his elbow or her head would tip back to rest against his shoulder.

When no one else was around and it was just them, and his hold on here would linger. Wrapping her arms around him and tucking her face against his shoulder, letting him stand as long as he wanted. Quietly reminding with gentle sweeps of his fingers along her back that they had to get to class.

The halls would be fairly empty and no one would notice their hands linked at the pinky. Stealing those tiny moments with her at his side, it felt selfish, as if she were just humoring him because she was Yashiro, and her friends were important to her. She would give all that she had for any of them.

He’d seen her do it time and time again.

So perhaps she was just entertaining him. Trying to do this to make him feel better.

Because she’s pitying me.

Amane shook his head vehemently, pressing the top of his phone against his forehead, as he took deep breaths. Trying to fill his lungs with as much air that his head wouldn’t have time to think those poisonous thoughts. Yashiro didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve doubt and skepticism and belligerence and poison.

She doesn’t deserve to be treated like this.

Part of him wanted to put down his phone, ignore that he saw it, dismiss it and hope that she would do the same. Closing his eyes, her own tear-filled ones could be seen at the back of his eyelids and his heart clenched.

Amane?

He gritted his teeth and curled his hands tighter around his phone. He never wanted to hear her sound like that again. Confused, hurt, practically falling apart at the seams and turning into sea foam right before his eyes when she was just here — and it was all his fault.

Dragging in a deep breath, Amane sighed heavily and his vision was blurry as he tried to squint past the moisture on his eyelashes and the heat pricking at the corner of his eyes.

nenehime#1113 — direct message with hanako#0724

hanako yeah

His phone dropped to the comforter and he buried his fingers in his hair, pressing close in on himself until he was curled in a tight quivering ball. Wasn’t this familiar? Shuddering and shivering in the dark, his nails pressed to the crown of his head, pain sparking through him and barely registered against the torrent of thoughts.

Where did he get off asking for something like this or allowing something like this?

What would she say?

Out of the corner of his eye, a little sunspot showed and he pulled his hands away, dragging his wet palms against the side of his pants. Hesitantly reaching for it and his heart seized at her name, and the part of a message.

nenehime i know that the way i left was kind of weird. well no, it was really weird. do you mind if I call?

Well, at least they were both acknowledging that what happened was odd. Although he couldn’t blame her. If someone sang-said that they loved him, he would’ve been skeptical too.

For entirely different reasons but nonetheless. Did he want to call though? He didn’t trust his voice at the moment or his ability to not laugh it off, potentially hurting her and himself even more. And it was one thing to poison himself but he wasn’t going to poison her too.

Turning his phone over in his hand, he sighed and pressed the back of his head to the wall. Staring up at the constellations, his gaze lingering on Gemini.

The stillness of his room was almost suffocating, the darkness encroaching on him and he’d never felt this alone. Inhaling deeply, he held his breath until his heartbeat was pounding in his ear coupled with a scratching noise. Even as he took a breath, the scratching continued and he frowned, glancing his door.

Brushing his fingers along the darkened phone screen, he shuffled to the edge of his bed and stood up, padding across the cold floor to the door. Opening it, he glanced down at the rabbit staring up at him curiously with a twitching nose and perked up ears.

“Mokke…” Amane sighed, smiling faintly as the rabbit hooked his claws in his pants legs. Thankfully, they weren’t too sharp or it might’ve hurt. Reaching down to gather them up in his arms, Amane brushed his cheek against their fur and sighed. “What’re you doing up here? Did Tsuchigomori go to bed already?”

“Nope,” said a smoky voice from down the hall.

Amane peering around his bedroom doorway at Tsuchigomori leaning against the wall, his unlit pipe between his fingers and resting at his hip. He half wanted to ask what he was needing but Tsuchigomori had a way of silencing him with a glance. Studying him quietly then averting his gaze, bringing his pipe to his lips despite the lack of smoke coming from the opening.

“Mokke’s running low on food,” the wiry bespectacled man said after some time, turning on his heel and starting down the hall. “He’s your responsibility, Amane.”

“I know that,” Amane grumbled, tucking Mokke close to his chest as the rabbit licked at his chin. He couldn’t stay mad at him. Besides, it wasn’t his fault that he relied on Amane for food. Although Tsuchigomori did spoil him now and again, even if he wouldn’t admit it. “It’s late though, so I ca—“

“Nope,” Tsuchigomori interjected, leaning against the banister. “I need you to go to the Bookstacks, Yako left her portfolio and Misaki’ll have her head if she doesn’t bring it in.”

Amane huffed, narrowing his eyes. “Tsuchigomori, I’m —“

“Sulking?”

Neither of them said a word. Amane’s eyes wide and his vision blurring as he stared at Tsuchigomori. The latter looking back at him impassively, an unreadable look in his eyes as he held Amane’s gaze for a moment then slowly turned away.

“Food for Mokke, Yako’s portfolio,” Tsuchigomori’s voice carried up the staircase, bouncing off the walls and reverberating in Amane’s ears shaking him down to his core. “You know where the spare key is. Take your bike.”

With that, he was gone with only Mokke and the lingering smell of stale smoke to show that he had been there before. Amane’s heart hammered in his chest and his steps were robotic, his body numb as he walked in his room and set Mokke down on his bed.

Flicking on the lamplight on his desk, the dull orange-yellow glow chasing away the shadows across his desk. It was bare. But he remembered all the books that were lying there before and his door opened enough for him to see the hall. See her reaching for the string for the fold-down latter, that look of determination and her tongue poking at the corner of her lips.

He could’ve said something sooner but he just watched. Her determination was always a bit charming even if he felt it was misplaced sometimes. Maybe because where he would give up, she would keep going and he wanted to know how he could do the same.

Tearing his gaze away from the lonely hanging string, Amane looked at Mokke curled up on his bed. Their ears flopping and brushing against the screen of his phone, likely cuddling closer for the warmth.

She’s waiting.

He took a step, then another, his legs feeling like lead and it was times like this that he wished he was in the atmosphere. At least nothing could weigh him down. No past, no present, no future, no emotion, he’d be entirely free to just be.

But none of them would be there. It’d just be him in the vast emptiness of space.

And she wouldn’t be there to bring him back to the ground.

Standing at his bedside, his gaze transfixed on his phone, his fingers twitched and opened then closed tightly in a fist — caught between reaching and staying where he was. Questions of if he deserved if, if this was right, if this was something he could do were forced to the side.

How many times did he have to remind himself that Yashiro didn’t deserve this?

And he had to face up to the music.

Reaching out, he scooped his phone in his hand as carefully as he could without waking Mokke. Opening the direct message thread and staring at the message that she sent, the insertion point blinking at him curiously.

nenehime#1113 — direct message with hanako#0724

hanako meet me at 4pm

He locked his phone and shoved in the pocket of his jeans, searching the floor beside his bed for a long-sleeved shirt and tugging it over his head. Shaking out his hair when it fell in his eyes, his bangs pinched between his index finger and thumb as he lifted it and brushed it away from his eyes.

He’d have to cut his hair again.

Or you could ask her to do it.

Amane pocketed his wallet next. He would trust Yashiro to cut his hair, wouldn’t he? The last time someone tried to cut his hair, he’d been spitting mad, batting away and the whole thing was a shitshow. Would he just sit there for her and let her run her fingers through his hair? Snip away the pieces that grew out too long, comb through what was left, dust off his shoulders then show him his reflection with that little triumphant grin?

He would.

And he smiled at the thought, petting Mokke’s head and leaving his door ajar to let him out when he needed to explore. Pocketing his bike lock key, taking the steps two at a time and peering into the sitting room where Tsuchigomori sat by a lamp light with a book in hand. He didn’t look up but he pointed forward, the line of his finger connecting with the web-shaped bowl on the cabinet by the doorway.

The keys to the 4PM Bookstacks on a keychain with a little medallion shaped like a cup of hot chocolate, its pristine and frozen smiling face making Amane smile in return. Scooping them up and tucking them in his pockets, he pretended to miss the way Tsuchigomori eyed him as he left. From the corner of his eye, he saw the bespectacled man lift his hand in a half-hearted wave but there was nothing but silence between them.

It was comfortable like this. Amane wasn’t used to grand shows of affection and displays of care, and Tsuchigomori was cagey at best. But they understood one another and he knew somewhere that Tsuchigomori cared.

As ornery as the old bastard could be.

Stepping out into the front yard after toeing on his shoes, Amane embraced the cool air as it pricked his lungs with every deep inhale. The door creaking shut behind him and the lock clicking into place before he slipped the keys in his pocket, jogging around the side of the house to find his bike propped up on its back wheel against the gate. It was still locked in place as it’d been before, looking like a rocket preparing to take off with how it pointed toward the sky.

An image of jumping on and pedaling, taking off into the skies and far away from his neighborhood and the world below crossed his mind. But he had somewhere to be, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

Undoing his bike chain, he hid it in the bushes and walked it out onto the street, hopping on and starting his ride through the streets. The streetlamps dotting the roadside both ways lit his path like a runway and he pedaled harder, half-lifting off his seat and tipping his head back, the wind whipping back his hair and for a moment he felt weightless.

As if he were flying, and the sky was all that much closer.

The moon hung heavy in the sky and the stars twinkled overhead, the fluorescent lights engulfing him made it harder to see but the shadows made them brighter. He coasted around the corner, checking about the intersection before crossing, the streets quieter aside from the stray cat or chirping insects. Tires screeching against the pavement, his chains rattling as he stopped halfway down the block and his flight came to an end.

Standing outside the bookstore, piles of dusty old texts piled high to the windows until they were completely entombed, only the faintest glimmers of sunlight would make it through, and she was just a tiny light outside of it. Her hand clasped around her other wrist, rubbing up and down her arm, likely to ease the chill. Her other hand occupied with a shopping bag dangling by her side. Dressed in the same soft white blouse hemmed with pink lace and blue shorts, her sneakers hastily tied instead of double-knotted. Amane smiled, leaning against his handlebars, his arms crossed and chin resting atop them.

He was sure that he was making that face. And was thankful for the lack of a spotlight on him. At least she didn’t see him just yet but —

What was she even —

He pulled out his phone, glancing up at her before checking the screen. A number of messages from both Tsuchigomori and Yashiro herself filled his screen.

Oh.

He totally forgot to check it. Pocketing his phone, he gripped his handlebars and slowly dismounted, walking it over. Her gaze flicked from one end of the street to the other before she noticed him, her eyes widening.

He froze in mid-step, the rubber digging into the palms of his hands uncomfortably and the burning sensation set in. His knuckles straining with how tightly he held onto them, searching her gaze with his own. She said nothing for a long while, the distance between them felt like an abyss and he swallowed thickly. Unsure if he should step forward or keep it where it was, a stiff breeze nearly threatening to knock him over with how stiff he was.

“Tsuchigomori said that you were going to forget to pick up food for Mokke,” Yashiro said quietly, lifting the shopping bag.

Amane blinked slowly. Was…

Oh.

This was it.

The olive branch.

Amane’s eyes widened and he lowered his bike to the ground, numbly stepping toward her as he reached out to take the bag. The colorful packaging of Mokke’s usual brand of food catching his eye and his breath hitched in his throat. As the bag slipped past her fingers to his own, he let it fall between them, taking her hand instead. Her eyes widened and he saw it in the low lighting from the nearby street lamps.

Unshed tears glazing ruby eyes, worry and vulnerability coupled with uncertainty, and he wondered if she could see the same in his own. His hand trembled as she grasped it tighter and tugged him forward, his face pillowing against her shoulder.

Breathing in honey and strawberries, along with something earthy, melting as her fingers curled in his hair. Her arm winding around his back and clutching the sleeve of his shirt, pinning his left arm to his side. His right hand resting against her lower back as he hugged her tighter, pressing their bodies together and muttering muffled apologies against the lace of her collar.

“Amane…” Yashiro muttered after sometime, and his name never sounded so sweet and treasured before. Her hand settling on his shoulder as she leant away from him, brushing her fingers against his cheek and the underside of his jaw. Her eyes drooping at the corners and lips pressed together in a frown. Oh no, what’d he do to cause th— Her finger swiped at his eyes and pulled back, the moisture catching on his skin chilling him.

Was he..?

He pulled back his hand hurriedly, scrubbing at his face.

His hand wet as he pulled it away.

Fuck.

“Amane…”

He rubbed at his eyes furiously, trying to erase any evidence that they were —

“Amane!”

Hands seized his wrists and his heart leapt into his throat as they were guided away, Yashiro staring up at him with a worried look that made his heart drop to the pit of his stomach.

“I…” He was breathless as he spoke, his eyes misting and he lowered his head, tucking his chin. “I’m sorry…”

Yashiro lowered his hands and he could hear her sigh, her hands clasping his own. “Key please?” she prompted, holding out of her hands as she let go of one of his own, keeping the other interlaced with hers.

Amane barely registered the question but Yashiro was patient, holding out her hand mouthing the words until her voice caught up with his brain and he nodded slowly. The key was somewhere in the jumble of his pocket and bumped against the inner lining of his pants, its jagged outline grazing his outer thigh through the cloth before he pulled it free. Gently pressing it into her hand and dropping his gaze to his feet as she turned, the lock to the Bookstacks turning with a loud click and a humming chime as the door opened.

Yashiro returning the key to his pocket and taking his hands in her own, leading him inside. The Bookstacks were daunting in the dim lighting, towers of books surrounding him on either side, placed in large bookcases and stacked along the windowsills blocking anyone from peering through the pane. Even the view from the door’s mosaic glass provided only a sliver of a walkway but Amane knew the path through the veritable maze. Finding several of the makeshift lanterns and lighting them, the jingling of his bike’s chain catching his attention as he peered around one of the bookcases at Yashiro wheeling his bike through the door. The shopping bag in the basket and the door closing and locking behind her with an echoing finality.

When she glanced up, their eyes met and he felt his heart skip a beat. Stepping around the bookcase he’d been peeking from and pressing his back to it, the cobwebs tickling the back of his neck and his heart pounded.

Was she still here?

Did that mean she was going to stay?

Chancing another look around the bookcase, his heart leapt into his throat as he found her looking back at him. Yashiro shrieked, the sound echoing off the walls and his bike nearly falling from her hands before he grabbed it by the handlebars, effectively bringing his face closer to hers. He never really liked when she was afraid. To say that he hated it wouldn’t be an understatement.

Her hands clasped tightly to her chest, eyes searching his face just as much as he was searching her own.

“What are we doing, Amane?” Yashiro asked after some time, breaking the silence between them and posing a question he had no concrete answer to.

What were they doing?

Amane shook his head, unable to voice a reply. His eyelashes felt wet against his cheeks as his eyelids shut tightly, his lips pressed together as he fought not to say the wrong thing. But there was so much that he wanted to know.

What did he do wrong?

How can he fix it?

Did she know how sorry he was?

Would she forgive him?

Did he deserve her forgiveness?

None of that was her fault. It all started with him.

Amane propped up his bike against the bookshelf, opening and closing his hands at his sides before inclining his head further inside. Leading the way to one of the sitting areas where lo and behold, a folder with Yako’s familiar scrawl was sitting on the coffee table between two arm chairs and across from a couch. The couch itself looked like it’d seen better days but it was so comfortable that Tsuchigomori didn’t want to throw it out. And he said that it gave the room character.

What kind of character the dusty old brown thing could give, Amane wasn’t sure, but he never failed to throw himself onto it every time he visited. This time no exception but instead of sinking into the quickly warming fabric, he sat upright. Yashiro’s presence felt close at his side and with a sideways glance, she was sitting beside him, nearly pressed against him with the closeness between them.

There were arm chairs, foot stools, even the table but she chose to sit right beside him. Amane swallowed thickly, emotions bobbing in his throat, and bitterness on his tongue as he focused on the flickering light from the lamps reminding him of flames dancing in the open air.

“When you confessed to me then that day,” Yashiro said with a mixture of bitterness and fondness in her words. “I was happy.”

Amane swallowed, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her hands clasped tight in her lap, one over the other and squeezing until the pale skin of her knuckles was turning red.

“It was perfect… like a scene from a movie, and you sounded so genuine,” she laughed breathily, blinking rapidly as she tipped her head back. “I wasn’t sure… we’d been friends for awhile and I… I… wasn’t sure if I’d be good for you. To you. You… you always pointed out how I was… about crushes and love. That anyone would do as long as they returned my feelings and that…”

Her voice trailed off and Amane tried to spur her into talking with his mind, staring at her intently, trying to find the words that she was holding back. It was true that he often called her out on it. That she didn’t truly love the people that she claimed to. It was an obsession and sometimes, she caught herself by saying it outlaid. Only to realize after several failed attempts at gaining the affections of Minamoto Teru, Kou’s older brother and their upperclassmen, that the problem therein lied with her.

And as satisfying as it was to see growth in her, the loss of her fairy tale innocence cleaved his heart in two. Hurting her wasn’t his intention. And she’d harm herself if she wasn’t careful. Yashiro’s soul was good, her very being was good — sometimes a little overzealous but at the core, she had good intentions. In love, she could’ve been manipulated to do anything.

The idea of someone taking advantage of that kind heart made Amane’s insides burn. Irony creeping up on him, wrapping around his shoulders in a taut cape, and clinging to him like a second skin. Wasn’t that what he’d done?

When he “confessed” to her that day.

Yashiro lowered her head, shadows darkening her eyes and her hands trembled in her lap. “Not just anyone would do…” she whispered, splintering his heart into pieces as she looked at him fiercely. The unshed tears glazing her eyes with a thin sheen making him forget how to breathe. “And I was happy, Amane. I was happy it was you.”

A dam broke and the tears rolled down her cheeks, her voice echoing off the shelves with her quiet sniffles and he was painfully reminded of that da.

“And then you laughed like it was a joke. Said you were right, that you weren’t my type and that it proved the others wrong…”

Her chin tucked, her tears fell and dotted the couch, the small space between them filled with tension that he felt if he reached for there’d be a wall there. A barrier keeping him from her like always.

But that wasn’t true. It was just his own indecision and the pain twisting in his chest, keeping his arms pinned to his sides, wound tightly with thread made from his guilt.

“It was a joke to you,” Yashiro muttered, the betrayal quieting her voice but he heard her loud and clear. She shuddered and curled her fingers in the hem of her shorts, keeping them there for a moment before unhooking one to pound her fist against the back of the couch. “Ah! I wanted to hate you for it.”

He startled at the burst of anger, the furious look in her eyes quickly dying as she met his gaze. Her eyes drooping at the corners and her face scrunching, crescent fallen as she turned away from him.

“I wanted to…” She murmured, setting her hand over the damp dark spots on the couch as if trying to hide them from view. “I just… I wanted to know why you did that to me.”

A thousand reasons quickly lined up for a chance on Amane’s tongue but they died one by one. None of them were good enough. And whatever excuse he came up with, it wouldn’t heal the damage that he wrought.

“… Then you told me why. People were spreading rumors, talking about me because of what I did for Minamoto-senpai and the other senpai and… and…” Yashiro chuckled weakly, brushing her fingers through her hair and combing it to one side. “You were trying to protect me but…”

He wanted to ask bitterly if he was trying to protect her. The real reason was —

“What hurts the most is that you were trying to protect me from you.”

His eyes widened, the poisonous words corroding and he looked at her with wide eyes. How did she…?”

“It kills me inside…” Yashiro lifted her head, her gaze flicking in his direction and holding, and it was like she was seeing through him. Her eyes creasing at the corners with worry and his lips parted, trembling. No, not that look. “How much you hate yourself. And how far you’d go to protect me even if it means you’re hurting yourself.”

Amane pressed his lips together, the slight twitch in his lips and he wanted to look away. His chest swelling and his heart aching, the burning behind his eyes that he tried to blink away before she saw. But she did see. The distance between them closing as she inched closer.

“Amane…” Yashiro sighed, his name said with such care as if it would break if spoken any differently. As if he would break. Her hand lifting from the damp spots, fingers gliding over the back of his own, not minding the stiffness and reflexively he turned his palm upward to lace his fingers with hers. “When you sang with me, when we woke up together, every day since that day…”

He almost wanted to beg her not to ask. As it was, he wasn’t sure if he could keep it at bay.

“What were you trying to tell me?”

Amane wasn’t sure what expression he was making but her other hand palmed his cheek, and the wetness smeared cross his cheek let him know what it might’ve been. Squeezing his eyes shut would’ve deprived him of the view of her face and only filled him with the one that he saw in his nightmares. The pain that he caused because he cared, and the feelings that she had were put to the side in comparison to protecting her.

He’d been wrong.

He knew that well.

To hear it from her only slammed the last nail in the coffin.

“I didn’t care if anyone else thought it was wrong,” Amane admitted, his voice straining and on the verge of breaking. “I just… I wanted them to stop talking about you because I didn’t want you to hear that and be sad or…” He panted, breathing raggedly, shaking his head minutely.

His chin lowering but her hand kept his head leveled, her lips moving and mouthing for him to keep going. His vision was swimming and he leant into her hand, blinking and the tears tumbled down his cheeks, soaking into the space between her palm and his skin.

“I’m fine with being your friend,” he nodded shakily. “I am.. I am but… I do. I do and I… putting my friendship with you at… I didn’t want to hear you say…” He cleared his throat, grimacing. Her thumb brushed against his cheekbone, catching another stray tear and he squeezed the hand clasped with his own.

“I didn’t want to lose you because I told you the truth and I almost did because I covered it up as if it was a lie…” He spat the last word out with a huff of a laugh, blinking rapidly to try and clear his vision. “And I’m sorry… Yashiro, I’m.. I’m so…”

Her hand fell away from his cheek, resting at his shoulder and guiding him closer. Smoothing over his back like the tide and the tears came anew, his shoulders trembling as he buried his face against her neck. Letting go of her hand to wrap his arms around her and hug her close to him. Her hold him anchoring him to this moment and keeping him on the shore rather than letting him slip below the tide.

The silence was punctuated by his sobs and her soft whispering, her fingers combing through his hair, tangling in it and her lips brushed against his ear as she rocked him to and fro. It was only after he calmed down did he hear the melody being hummed in his ear. His face warming as she sang softly.

“In other words,” she sighed, her breath warming the shell of his ear as she shifted to press a kiss to his temple before pulling away to hold him at arms length. “Please be true…”

He gave another ragged sob as she cupped his face in her hands.

“In other words…” She gave him a watery smile, leaning forward until their foreheads pressed together and their shadows melded into one person. Her eyes locked with his own and there was nowhere else he wanted to look. “I love you.”

He sniffed harshly, dropping his head to her chest and hugging her tightly, shivering as her arms wrapped around him and her hair draped over him. The ashen teal locks tickling his cheek and her presence shielding him.

“Thank you, Nene…. Thank you.”

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #yugi amane #yashiro nene #hananene #know-it-all

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angelicthor · 6 years ago

Text

the noughties

decades dance: final part

pairing: steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes

summary: unrequited love was painful. To have to endure it from two people was something else. Loving two super soldiers that didn’t return your feelings was agony but what if they did? Events unfold when Tony plans to throw a party for every decade Bucky and Steve missed out on.

warnings/genre: +18 only, explicit smut, fluff

masterlist | decades dance masterlist

When you told Bucky and Steve of your desire to bring your relationship out in the open, both were more than eager to go through with it, wanting everyone in the compound – hell, everyone in the world – to know that you were theirs and they were yours. You all decided that the best time for your big reveal would be the next and last party; the atmosphere would be relaxed, you could just walk in together without having to awkwardly make an announcement of your relationship and act like you normally would with each other when no one else was around. When people asked you could easily explain, there wouldn’t be a single spotlight moment for the three of you and that took a lot of the pressure off.

It had been a calm week in the compound and things were better than ever; between the team, between you and the boys, everything just seemed to be falling into the place so well, the divide that was ripping the team apart completely healed and the only thing you wanted now was to be able to be open with your friends, your family, about the love you had for your soldiers. So, when Tony decided that Friday would be the perfect time for the final decades dance you had to try and curve your excitement, biting down on your lip to stifle your squeals of delight, not wanting raise people’s suspicions as to why you were so elated for the party.

Wanting to wear matching outfits, you all thought of something the three of you could go as that would be recognisable, in the end you finally relented as going as Fred, Shaggy, and Daphne. They were some of your favourite films after all and absolute comedic gold; they were one of the first films you had shown the boys at one of your very first movie nights with them and the thought made you smile and just how far you’d come together.

You declined Nat and Wanda’s offer to get ready with them, telling them you’d meet them in the party and getting ready with Steve and Bucky instead – not that they knew that last part. The truth was that since the events of the last party you had hardly left each other’s sides and that included at night, you no longer held onto the fear of being caught by your teammates, much more concerned with being held by your boys.

Zipping up the lilac go-go boots, you cast one last look at yourself in the mirror, the iconic purple dress stopping at the top of your thigh, the tie-front creating a deep-v that showcased your cleavage, green chiffon scarf tied around your neck completing your look. Your turned to Steve and Bucky who were already shamelessly admiring your outfit, eyes lingering on your bare thighs and exposed chest, particularly interested in the scarf and you could feel their minds coming up with oh so many filthy possibilities.

Your thoughts weren’t exactly any better as you took in Steve and Bucky and honestly, sometimes you really hated how they could make something so damn simple seem so sinfully sweet. Steve was wearing a white polo shirt that tested the strength of its seams every time he moved, the material threatened to give at any moment and you wondered if he knew you could actually buy clothes in his size. Paired with a pair of blue denim jeans Steve looked the picture of Fred whereas Bucky was the double of Shaggy, the green t-shirt pulled tight across his chest, the brown corduroy trousers showcasing the tree-trunks he called thighs and you had to fight to stop your mouth watering at the sight of them.

How the hell did I get so damn lucky?

Bucky strode towards you, breaking you out of your shameless ogling when he wrapped his arms around your waist, chest pressed against your back as he peppered kisses along the sensitive skin of your neck, your eyes drifting close at the feeling of his soft lips. You jumped when you felt Bucky’s hand coming up to cover your eyes, incapable to see anything but feeling his breath fanning over you; “Relax Doll, me and Stevie have a surprise for you.”

Smelling the mild scent of Steve’s cologne, you could only assume he was now standing in front of you with whatever your surprise was and you couldn’t stop the amused smile that played at your lips as you tried to figure out what exactly they were up too.

“We figured we needed a little something extra to pull our outfits together, so…” Steve trailed off, Bucky’s hand pulling away from your eyes and you blinked, adjusting to the sudden light that hit you. When you saw what Steve was holding, you erupted into a fit of giggles, the boys joining you as you reached out for the Scooby-Doo plushie in Steve’s hands.

Cradling the toy to your chest, you stroked over the fur before thanking them both; “This was very sweet, thank you,” You leaned forward to press your lips against Steve’s to which he eagerly responded, hand burying itself in your hair to deepen the kiss.

“Hey! It’s from both of us you know?” Bucky called from behind you and you could practically hear the pout in his voice causing Steve to smirk into the kiss.

Detaching yourself from Steve, you turned on your heel to face Bucky, who was indeed pouting, lips pursed, arms crossed against his chest as he playfully glared at you and Steve. “Aww baby, I know you did,” You couldn’t help but tease him slightly for his childishness, trailing your hands up his arms before wrapping them around his neck, pulling him down to you and crashing your lips against his.

“Are you sure you guys are ready for this?” You asked them both, pulling away from Bucky and linking your hands through his and Steve’s.

“More than ready, babygirl,” Steve answered assertively, not a glimmer of doubt in his mind as he brought your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of it.

Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist, kissing your temple as he murmured: “Let’s give ‘em hell Kitten.”

You gave them both one last glance, seeing nothing but steely determination in their eyes and nodded, making your way down to the party, your hand still in Steve’s and Bucky’s arm still firmly wrapped around you.

The party was in full swing when you arrived, the dancefloor packed with patrons who already were on the tipsy side. The décor was nothing too different to what you were used to in your regular parties; not much had changed since the noughties but there were still TV’s and computer screens stationed around the room which showcased the highlights of the decade – the launch of Twitter, Facebook, and YouTube, the historic election of Barack Obama as president, Apple debuting the iPod.

You spotted Nat, Tony and Sam at the bar, their costumes once again completely perfect. Nat was dressed in the yellow jumpsuit as The Bride from Kill Bill, Tony was dressed in Justin Timberlake’s iconic denim suit complete with cowboy hat and part of you wondered if Pepper was wearing Britney’s denim dress but the bigger part of you was shocked at the fact that he was (somehow) pulling the look off. But it was Sam that took the prize once again, dressed in André 3000’s green ensemble from his ‘Hey Ya!’ music video complete with a centre-parted bob.

The three of you made your way over to your friends, no once detaching yourself from Steve and Bucky but gripping the Scooby-Doo toy tighter, your nerves starting to bubble under the surface, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the boys as Steve squeezed your hand in reassurance and you knew everything would be ok; not matter what anyone said of it, you would always have Steve and Bucky and that’s all that mattered.

Tony was behind the bar fixing drinks when you approached, his eyes darting to Steve’s hand entwined with yours and Bucky’s that was still gripping your waist before he placed Nat’s drink in front of her, “Natasha dear, we won – Pay up Samuel.”

Natasha and Sam both turned to look at the three of you at Tony’s words, a smirk growing on Nat’s lips as Sam’s face contorted in disbelief. “Oh, come on! Seriously?” Sam muttered to himself, forking out two twenty dollar bills and reluctantly handing them over to Tony and Nat. You, Bucky, and Steve could only watch on in complete confusion, not having the faintest idea what was happening but knowing it somehow involved you.

You all shared a look off bewilderment before Bucky spoke up, “Uh, what?”

“We were betting on how long it would take for you guys to finally get it on,” Nat stated as if it were the most obvious thing.

“Yeah and I cannot believe you guys finally grew I pair, I’m out forty bucks cause of you!” Sam chimed in, pointing a finger between Steve and Bucky, annoyance lacing his voice but you knew there was no real bite to it. It did, however, cause more bafflement between you, Steve, and Bucky, your jaws practically hitting the floor as he heard of your friends bet.

Noticing your expressions Tony decided to have some mercy on the three of you and explained everything with a sigh; “We just had enough of watching you pine over each other and not doing jackshit about it, so we decided to push you a little in the right direction. No better way to let loose and reveal your undying love then a party, right?”

“Wait, wait – so all these parties were just a set-up?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing right now.

“’Fraid so sweetcheeks,” Tony answered nonchalantly, sipping on his drink without a care in the world.

“You remember the girl that was chatting up Barnes at the first party? Yeah, I told her to go over there,” Nat informed you, watching as your eyes widened to near comic proportions. “There’s nothing like a lil’ jealousy to get things moving.”

“At the last party, you didn’t send Brad over to me, did you?” You asked, voice shaking slightly as you recalled Brad’s unwanted advances, Steve and Bucky stiffening beside you as they also remembered.

Natasha shot-up in her seat, brows furrowed as a steely resolve settled on her face, eyes blazing with anger, “God no, and he’s never coming near you or here ever again, don’t worry.”

“Yeah and even if Romanoff didn’t put the fear of, well, her into him. I had him fired and all his accesses revoked, there’s literally no possible way he can get near you anymore,” Tony informed you all, watching as the three of you relaxed at the news.

“I still don’t understand how you found out we loved Y/N, the only people me and Buck told were each other.”

Steve’s statement was met with the incredulous stares of Nat, Tony, and Sam before Sam jumped from his seat, suddenly very animated as months of frustration came to light. “How we found out? How we found out!? Are you kidding me right now? Jesus Christ, you’re all about as subtle as a marching band – you may as well have walked around with hearts floating around your heads. Do you have any idea how annoying it was to watch you pine after each other and not do a single thing about it?”

Bucky opened his mouth to interject but Sam wasn’t having any of it, apparently needing to get this off his chest, “Fuck me, and then there was that time when Y/N stopped hanging out with the pair of you – my God it was as if she had died the way you carried on. You got that you still lived with her, right? Like she was literally in the same building as you the whole time? You may as well of had a violin quartet follow you around and play the worlds saddest songs, dear fucking god.”

Sam collapsed back on his chair, head resting on the bar, as he kept angrily muttering to himself, seemingly exhausted after his explanation to Steve and Bucky about how obvious they had been about their feelings for you and the three of you could only stand there as if you were being told off by your mother, faces burning hot with embarrassment.

“Honestly, it was kind of a public service getting you guys together, I don’t know how long the rest of the team would have survived if we didn’t.”

You had no reply for Tony and neither did Steve and Bucky, the three of you standing their processing everything that had been said to you before you began to giggle, trying but failing to stifle them as they turned into belly-clutching laughter, tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

You had been so concerned with what your friends - with what your family would think about you loving two men that it completely escaped your attention that they knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes. They had seen you at your very worst and very best and they loved you regardless. Of course they were going to accept your relationship, they accepted every single part of you and there would be no acceptation with this. You had been so foolish as to think they wouldn’t, that you wasted so much time trying to hide and being so scared about what they would think when you could have been walking around, clear as day, with Bucky and Steve by your side, and not one of them would have had anything bad to say. If you were happy, they would be too - that’s how families worked.

Steve and Bucky eventually joined in with your laughter, the sound too contagious to fight and soon Nat, Sam, and Tony were all cackling too. Your raucous mirth drew the attention of some onlookers who shot you all strange glances but you paid them no mind. You all were finally able to calm yourselves, laughter dying down as you dried the tears that had leaked onto your cheeks, panting harshly as you caught your breath. You moved to sit at one of the bar stools, Steve and Bucky following you to sit beside you as Tony went about making the three of you drinks.

��I can’t believe you threw six parties just to try and get us together,” You muttered as Tony placed your drink in front of you.

Tony shrugged, acting as if it was nothing in typical Tony Stark fashion; “It was worth it – that is assuming you are actually together…”

“We are,” Steve didn’t hesitate in answering.

“Definitely together,” Bucky added and you could only bit down on your bottom lip as you tried to fight the rising heat in your cheeks.

You saw the smirk that pulled at Tony’s lips but, thankfully, he didn’t say anything more and the conversation finally shifted onto something other than your relationship. The night went on and so did the party, the other Avengers coming over, sharing their congratulations and relief at the fact that you, Steve, and Bucky were finally together. It was a perfect night, better than any of the parties that came before it because you could finally be with Steve and Bucky – you wanted to snuggle? Then you could. Wanted to share a kiss? There was nothing stopping you.

Towards the end of the night you found yourself cornered by Nat and Wanda who were eagerly trying to pull information from you concerning your relationship but you weren’t paying them an ounce of attention, far too focused on your boys chatting with Sam and Clint on the other side of the room.

“Look at her, she can’t take her eyes off them,” Nat not-so-discreetly whispered to Wanda who giggled in response.

“She’s not listening to a word we’re saying, how rude.”

“Too busy thinking about getting fuc-”

“I can hear you, you know,” You cut Nat off, give them both a pointed look.

“Wow, never would have known,” Nat’s tone was laced with sarcasm and you couldn’t help but light-heartedly roll your eyes at her. “So,” She drew the word out and you knew exactly what she was going to ask you, “what’s it like being in bed with two super soldiers?”

Your eyes flashed between Nat and Wanda, the pair of them looking back at you with unadulterated glee at the prospect of getting all the gossip out of you. “I am not talking about my sex life, no chance,” You tried to sound stern but the bright smile on your face gave you away.

“Come on, Y/N! We’re your best friends, we deserve this, you’ve kept us in the dark so long. That’s just not what friends do,” Wanda exclaimed, attempting to sound hurt but failing miserably. They both knew you were going to spill the juicy beans to them and so did you.

“Fine! Fine, I’ll tell you!” Your friends practically squealed with delight as you relented, “It’s just, so incredible, you know? I have no idea how to word it but they’re just so in sync with each other, it’s mind-blowing.”

The girls let out a high-pitched scream, dancing on the spot as they fangirled in front of you and you couldn’t fight the grin that broke out as you thought about your soldiers and what they were capable of.

“What about the rest of it, is everything what you thought it would be?”

Your eyes darted once more to the boys at Nat’s question before you started to pick at the fur on your plushie, a soft smile playing at your lips as your mind raced with every memory you had with you and the boys; every date, every ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’, every ‘I love you’ shared, every moment spent together. You knew in your heart of hearts that what you had with Steve and Bucky was it for you, there was nothing else.

“It’s so much more, I just – I love them both so much, I didn’t think this would ever be possible but now that it’s happening I know for I fact I can’t ever go back. This is more than I ever could have hoped for and I have no idea how I ever got so lucky but I sure as hell am not letting either of them go again.”

You quickly wiped away the tears that were forming in your eyes, shaking your head as you let out a chuckle when Wanda and Nat both wrapped their arms around you in a tight hug, “We’re so happy for you Y/N.”

“Yeah, now we don’t have to watch you mope around the place ‘cause you aren’t getting dicked down.” You could always trust Natasha to lighten the mood.

Your girl-talk was interrupted by Tony, offering you to fix you a drink and looping his arm through yours to lead you towards the bar, “So I wanted to ask you something and feel free to tell me to but out if I’m over-stepping here.”

You arched a brow at the man but nodded your head, silently telling him to continue, “Well, I figured that none of your living quarters were designed to fit three people and FRIDAY tells me that you’ve all been holed up in your room for the past few weeks so I was wondering if you wanted a whole new floor that would be better designed to fit three. I can have it done in a week once you give me the ok?”

If anyone ever tried to tell you Tony Stark was self-centred you were going to punch them square out.

You moved towards him, dropping the plushie on the bar and wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug which he reluctantly returned before easing into your touch, “I’m taking this as a yes?”

“I mean – I’d have to ask Steve and Bucky but I’m sure they’d be on board,” You spoke into Tony’s denim-clad chest and you felt him hum in affirmation, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head, “Tony? Thank you. For everything. I have no idea how to repay you.”

“Just make the most of it, kiddo. All I want is for the three of you to be happy; if anyone deserves that, it’s you guys.” Every now and then Tony Stark would let down his armour, all of his armour, and you could see the real man underneath – the true hero that Iron Man could never compare too and you owed him everything.

Tony looked over your shoulder and a smirk grew on his face as he shot you a wink to your confusion, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

You jumped when a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, Steve’s head resting on your shoulder littering your neck with kisses as Bucky appeared before you, a sinful smirk tugging at his lips that caused your stomach to flip, “Come dance with us kitten?”

You nodded at Bucky’s request, letting him take your hand and lead you to the dancefloor, Steve still pressed against your back as you went. The was starting to change as you approached the others already dancing and you gasped when you heard the familiar opening to one of your favourites, ‘I’m a Slave 4 U’ blasting through the speakers in the room and part of you wondered if this was Tony’s doing too.

Your body started to move of its own accord, pulling Bucky flush against your front by his belt causing a sharp gasp to fall from his lips as you started to grind back onto Steve, his hands tightening their grip on you as you felt his cock start to harden in his jeans. Bucky’s thigh slotted between your open legs, your crotch grinding with every roll of your hips and you started to palm at Bucky’s length, throwing your other arm over Steve’s shoulder to pull him closer to you. With Bucky and Steve’s bulky forms both surrounding you no one could actual see what you were doing on the dancefloor but it sure as hell wouldn’t take a genius to figure it out.

Steve’s lips lightly trailed from your collarbone to your jaw and you tilted your head back to give him more access, his hand sneaking up your torso to gently squeeze at your breasts. Bucky leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours as he whispered the filthiest promises into your ear, his normally steel-blue eyes blown black with desire.

“You like this kitten? Like rubbing that wet little pussy on my thigh whilst everyone watches? Fuck babygirl, you’re soaked, I can feel every inch of you through my trousers,” You whimpered at Bucky’s words, winding your fingers through his chestnut locks and giving them a gentle tug, “Do you want us to fuck you right here baby, let everyone know just who you belong to. Let every single one of them know just how well you take mine and Stevie’s big cocks. Oh fuck, you’d love that wouldn’t you? Dirty little girl.”

You were practically shaking in their arms and when Bucky growled out that last sentence you knew you couldn’t take it anymore, “Fuck, take me to bed. Please, please sergeant! I wanna go to bed, please!”

Your panties were clinging to your cunt with your wetness, hardened nipples poking through the thin material of your dress - you needed to be fucked. “I don’t know kitten, why don’t you ask Captain.”

“Steve – Captain – please, please fuck me. Need you both so bad.”

Steve groaned into your neck, harshly jutting his hips into your ass so you could feel he was as desperate for you as you were for him. “Yeah Princess, don’t worry we’ll take good care of you,” Steve’s voice was gravely with desire and you could have sworn you could cum from the sound alone.

The boys pulled you across the room towards the elevator, their pace increasing as their desperation did before Bucky muttered ‘fuck it’ under his breath, hoisting you over his shoulder as you let out a small squeak when he began to sprint, Steve hot on his tail. The doors to the elevator opened and you stumbled inside, the doors closing as you heard Natasha yell out a sing-song ‘Goodbye’ before Bucky set you on your feet, pushing you against the wall and crashing his lips against yours.

Bucky pinned your hands above your head, forcing his thick thigh between your legs, your dress riding up over your hips and exposing your lace-covered core to the strong muscle beneath you. Steve was reclined on the wall next to you, the picture of nonchalance as he crossed his ridiculously huge arms across his chest, staring down at you with a raised brow and quirked lip. “Aw Princess, you getting a lil’ frustrated over there?” Steve mocked you with a pout, sea-blue eyes twinkling with amusement as you whined against the assault Bucky was currently doing on your exposed neck.

Before you could retort, the elevator pinged and you were at your floor, Bucky and Steve wasting no time in hauling you towards your room and dropping you on the bed with a bounce. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips as you watched them both shed their clothes, mouth watering as more glorious skin was revealed to you, thoroughly enjoying the show they were unknowingly putting on for you.

Once they were completely free from their clothes, they turned to you, sinful smirks darkening their faces making them look positively sinister, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. Stalking towards you, Bucky pounced on you first, lifting you up and straddling you on his lap as Steve crept up behind you, kneeling on the bed as his nimble fingers found the tie of your dress, quickly pulling the bow free and sharply exhaling as the flimsy fabric fell away from your body, leaving you in nothing but your lingerie.

Throwing the dress aside, Steve’s hands wandered up to your lace covered breasts and up towards your neck, slowly unravelling the green scarf from around your throat, smirking as you released a shuddering breath at the feeling of the soft material dragging across your flesh. “Are you gonna be a good girl for us, Princess?” Steve murmured into the skin of your shoulder, lips caressing your skin with every word he spoke.

Whimpering, you rolled your hips against Bucky’s thigh at Steve’s words, craving friction against your throbbing clit and Bucky’s hands shot out to clutch your hips with an iron grip. “Fuck Stevie, she’s soaking,” Bucky groaned out, his hands helping to guide you forward and back on his thigh, clenching the muscles to add to the unbelievable feeling.

“Oh fuck, I’ll be good, I promise!” You moaned at the stimulation your sensitive nub was receiving, spreading your legs wider as you pushed down harder on the thick muscle beneath you, throwing your head back on Steve’s shoulder and pressing your lips against his, tongues tangling in a passionate kiss.

Steve’s hands travelled to the back of your bra, skilfully undoing the clasp and throwing the garment to the side, your bare breasts free from their constraint and bouncing with every thrust of your hips. Your cunt clenched as your orgasm built within you, the pressure in your stomach building until you were frantically swiping your dripping pussy over the coarse hairs on Bucky’s thigh and when the material of your panties was suddenly ripped away from you by his hand you knew you were done for, hips stuttering as you cried out into Steve’s mouth, your release soaking Bucky’s leg but he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

You collapsed onto the bed in a panting mess, a dopey smile on your face as your euphoria rushed through every nerve in your body. Steve got to work ridding you of the boots that were still on your feet, kissing each calf as they were freed from the shiny plastic, Bucky lightly trailing his fingers up and down your arm to bring you back from your high.

Steve joined you on the bed, laying on your other side and it was then that you noticed both Steve and Bucky’s very prominent erections straining against their stomachs, swollen head’s an angry red and already leaking pre-cum. The sight alone caused your arousal to return ten-fold, your body seemingly forgetting about the orgasm it just had.

Both attacked your body with kisses, tongues and teeth leaving marks on all the skin they could reach before Bucky pulled away, “Tell us what you want Kitten.”

He sounded as breathless as you felt and you bit your lip as you shot him a coy smile – you wanted to try something new tonight. You crawled on top of Bucky, leaning over him as you spoke, “I want you and Captain to fuck my pussy, Sarge.”

“Ok babygirl, who’d you want first?” Bucky asked, clearly not understanding what you meant and you had to stifle a giggle at his cluelessness. It was nearly innocent.

“No Sergeant, I want you both to fuck me - please?” You watched as the penny started to drop for the both of them, incredulous looks painting itself across their faces, “Need you both to fill me up so good, make me yours, only yours – please Sarge?” You mouthed at Bucky’s jaw, feeling the God of a man shudder beneath you.

“Fuck, fuck - ok Kitten, whatever you want, babygirl.”

You turned to face Steve, his jaw locked so tight you were scared it would break under the pressure, his eyes so black they nearly looked demonic, “Please Captain?”

“Buck, get the lube,” Was his only response and you knew you had him in the palm of your hand – there really was nothing these boys wouldn’t do for you.

Bucky scrambled towards the bedside table, pulling out the lube and hastily throwing the bottle to Steve who quickly squirted some onto his hand, generously coating his length before Bucky did the same. Laying down amongst the pillows, Bucky settled down before you moved to straddle him, your back facing him as you sank down onto his length, even with the lube and your wetness it was still a stretch – your soldiers were both well-endowed, that was no secret to you.

The sight of your ass was too much for Bucky to be able to ignore and before you could even realise, Bucky’s hand was cutting through the air before giving a resounding smack to the globe of flesh causing you to inadvertently bounce on his cock, the both of you groaning at the feeling. You shifted your legs, hooking them over Bucky’s parted ones as you rested against his chest, tilting your head to the side to give him access to your neck and shoulder.

Steve moved to kneel between your parted legs and Bucky hooked his arms under your knees, spreading them further apart and pulling them up to your chest. Leaning forward, Steve gave you a quick kiss before murmuring against your lips, “Tell me if I hurt you Princess.”

You nodded your consent; eager to have them both filling you up in the most intimate way, to have them both fucking into your cunt, to have them both fill you with their cum. Steve pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, pushing down on Bucky’s length that was already buried inside you, giving himself enough room to push inside you slowly.

The feeling was unlike anything you had ever experienced, eyes rolling into the back of your head as Steve’s girth nestled beside Bucky’s in your hot, wet pussy. Normally, either of the boys left you feeling rather snug, but now, with both of them filling you to the hilt, the thickness of both their cocks hitting every damn spot you had was enough to have you seeing stars and they hadn’t even started moving yet.

Bucky’s grip was bruising on your legs, his abs tightening beneath you as you tried to compose himself and Steve was no better, tendons tightening on his neck as his face flushed red with the strength it took to reel himself in and stop himself from fucking you into the mattress right then and there.

“Fuck Princess, s-so fucking tight,” Steve ground out, Bucky grunting in agreement.

“Pl- oh god- Please fucking move,” You moaned wantonly, certain that if neither of them did anything soon than you would melt into a puddle of unresolved desire on the bed.

Steve was the first to move, subtly thrusting his hips into yours, testing the waters. When the three of you groaned at the feeling, pleasure shooting through every cell of your body, the boys started to gain a rhythm – Steve driving his hips forward as Bucky fucked up into you. Your hands wrapped around Steve’s broad shoulders, head thrown back onto the pillow beneath you as you arched your back to try and pull them deeper inside you, needing more, digging your nails into Steve’s back and leaving angry red marks in your wake.

“Faster, please fuck me faster,” You could barely speak, the words escaping you on a breath but you knew they had heard, Steve groaning as Bucky’s grip on you tightened further before they followed through with your request, rocking their hips into yours harder and faster. The headboard banging against the wall with their increased efforts was nearly drowned out by your high-pitched cries, the animalistic growls coming from Bucky mixing with the deep grunts and groans that Steve emitted.

Your second orgasm seemed to build quicker, whether it was because you were still sensitive from your first or because your pleasure seemed to be heightened like no other climax before you with the feeling of two cocks hitting every sweet spot you had, making your head spin with every roll of their hips into you, you didn’t know and you sure as hell didn’t care – far too focused on the incredible sparks within you that seemed to set every synapse you had alight.

Steve’s mouth descended on your breast, suckling at the nipple before nipping at the hardened bud, jolting when he felt your cunt clench around him in response. Leaning back, filthy praises began to spew from his sinful lips which only served to propel you closer to the edge, “God, such a good little slut, aren’t you Princess? Just fucking dying to take her soldiers cocks into that tight little pussy and milk ‘em dry, aren’t ya dollface?”

The coil in your stomach began to tighten, the muscles in your legs and abdomen starting to shake as they tensed and Bucky’s hand danced down the skin of your thigh towards your glistening core, coating his fingers in your wetness as he circled your clit with the cold digits of his metal hand. You writhed under his ministrations as Steve’s words washed over you, “You gonna cum for us doll? You gonna fucking scream and let every fucking person here know who’s making you feel so good? Oh god, come on Princess, fucking cum for us – show ‘em who you belong to.”

That was all you needed to finally let go, the most powerful orgasm of your life rushing through you, mouth falling open in a silent scream as your brain struggled to process the euphoria flooding it, body spasming, nails raking down Steve’s back as you bucked your hips into theirs to try and prolong your high.

Your release was all the motivation Steve and Bucky needed to succumb to their own orgasms; Bucky biting down on your shoulder as he snarled, his hips snapping up to yours a few final times as his cum coated your walls, the feeling yours and Bucky’s cum coating his cock too much for Steve as his cock erupted into your twitching pussy with a shout, his hips stuttering into yours a few final times as he came down from his high.

With a groan, Steve slowly pulled his length out of your core, careful not to hurt you as he collapsed onto the bed. Bucky helped you to separate yourself from him, your legs feeling boneless and completely useless to you as he laid you down on the bed beside Steve, joining you seconds later.

Every inch of you had a pleasant ache and you could feel your mixed releases coating your thighs and leaking from your still-pulsing pussy, you definitely would be in need of a shower before you passed out tonight, the stickiness between your legs more noticeable than ever before.

“You fucking squirted,” Steve sounded beside you, his voice groggy as if he’d just woken up from a seventy year nap. You turned your head towards him, actions still languid, you didn’t have the energy to show your mortification, your cheeks flushing the only reaction you could afford.

Steve let out a chuckle, the sound bleary as Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss under your ear as he murmured into it; “It was very hot Kitten – we’ll be making you do that again, don’t worry.”

Deciding you needed a shower before sleep claimed you, you shot Steve your best puppy-dog eyes that you knew made him melt and asked him to help you, to which he of course agreed. As Steve carried you towards the bathroom, Bucky set about changing the sheets and cleaning up the mess the three of you made; sometimes their stamina really was a god-send because you were in no shape to be standing, never mind changing the sheets and showering by yourself.

You showered quickly, propped against the wall as Steve dragged the soapy sponge across your blissfully bruised skin, washing away all evidence of your previous activities from between your legs. When Steve was just finished washing the suds off your body, Bucky stepped into the shower, the both of them swapping positions so that you were cuddled into Bucky’s chest whilst Steve washed himself under the spray of water.

“That was incredible babygirl,” Bucky pressed a kiss to your temple, hands gliding up and down your back as if he was trying to feel every inch of you, as if he hadn’t just done exactly that.

When Steve was done, Bucky went under the water, quickly washing himself as you leaned back against Steve, fatigue starting set in your limbs, making them feel heavy and your bed was calling out for you to join it once again.

“We love you Y/N. More than anything in this world, don’t know what we’d do without you doll,” Steve stated as if it were one of the most obvious truths of the universe – two plus two equals four, the biggest planet in our solar system is Jupiter, and Steve and Bucky love you more than anything in this world of the next.

Steve’s sweet words reminded you of what Tony had offered the three of you and you knew you wanted, now more than ever, to ask them if they wanted to live together. Exiting the shower, Steve and Bucky both towelled you off, sharing gentle kisses with you as they did before they slipped one of their shirts over your head and carried you back to bed.

The fresh sheets were a welcome blessing, the cool cotton easing the prominent ache in your muscles as you relaxed into the mattress, Steve and Bucky moving to snuggle into either side of you. Your legs became a tangled mess, Steve playing with a strand of your hair as Bucky drew senseless patterns on the skin of your arm.

“You know, Tony offered to give us our own floor if you wanted to…” Your voice was barely above a whisper but you knew they had both heard you, the pair of them stopping their actions as silence overcame the room.

“Like, we’d be officially living together kind of thing?” Bucky questioned, uncertainty lacing his voice.

“Yeah - only if you both want to of course,” You hastily added, doubt beginning to set in your mind.

Maybe they thought it was too soon…

Steve broke your train of thought by pressing a loving kiss to your lips, “I’d love to live together Beautiful.”

“Getting to wake up to you every morning? I’m in,” Bucky chimed in and you felt tears start to form in the corners of your eyes. You never in a million years thought this would be a possibility, but here you were, wrapped up in the arms of the two men you loved most in the world planning your future together.

You fell asleep that night with a smile etched onto your face, their murmurs of ‘I love you’ the last thing you remembered hearing and you intelligibly mumbled ‘I love you too’ before falling into a deep slumber.

The sunlight streaming through the windows woke you the next morning, for once you were the first one awake and you took advantage of the rare opportunity, shamelessly taking in the sight of Steve and Bucky’s sleeping forms beside you, Bucky’s hair fanned out on the pillow around him as he let out soft snores, Steve’s face buried in his pillow, a slight pool of drool evident next to his open lips.

You smiled softly at the sight, it was rare for either of them to look so carefree, normally weighed down by some thing or other – Captain America held the responsibility of the Avengers themselves, a task he didn’t take lightly, he was their fearless leader and he did whatever he needed to even when it was the hard call and the Winter Soldier carried more ghosts than you would ever know, the guilt still ate away at him and you doubted it would ever stop, he would be forever haunted by a past that wasn’t his choice.

You would never be able to help Captain America or the Winter Soldier, but Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes? You’d carry every single one of their problems if it meant just one more peaceful night for the both of them.

You admired their sleeping forms as you made plans in your head for the day; you’d have to tell Tony you accepted his offer and start to shop for furnishings, maybe a trip to ikea was on the cards.

That’s sure to be eventful.

Your thoughts were cut short by Steve and Bucky both moving towards you, Bucky burying his face in your neck, soft breaths tickling your neck as Steve moved down to use your chest as a pillow, his arms tightly wrapping around your waist.

This was definitely something you could get used to. And now you could.

#steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve x reader x bucky #bucky x reader x steve #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #steve x reader x bucky smut #angelicthorwrites

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tassium · 5 years ago

Text

#TAYLOR SWIFT APPRECIATION LIFE

PART 2 - Fearless

(click here for part 1)

So. This was supposed to go up yesterday. But then work ate my soul. And THEN it was supposed to go up this morning.... and I slept half the day after how tired I was from work eating my soul.

So! My timeline is all sideways but I’m GOING TO MAKE THIS HAPPEN DANG IT.

Without further ado, let’s get into @taylorswift‘s sophomore album.

1. Fearless

This! Song! I love this this song so much, oh my gosh. It opens perfectly - that drum hit and then that iconic guitar riff, which bleeds into TWO lead guitar pieces and then her VOICE comes in and just. Aaaah, I am a heart-eyes emoji over this song, honestly. I love the way it builds, the way it goes from, like... yeah, all the instruments are involved in the first verse, but they kinda kick it up a notch for the turnaround into the second verse, and then... the chorus hits. The drum build into the first chorus is so fun, but it’s not my favorite one - that title goes to the drop at the end of the third verse. The drums behind “capture it, remember it” are the best thing e v e r.

This song for me is absolutely all about the instrumentation, if you couldn’t tell. I like the lyrical content, and I think Taylor delivers a great vocal performance, but the production overshadows all of that for me. This song is definitive dancing-around-my-bedroom countrypop for me, and I think it is the ideal way to kick off this album.

2. Fifteen

I have... kind of a love/hate relationship with this song. I always have, thought I have to stay I’m a LOT less bitter about it than I was when it first came out. I won’t go into the gory details of it, but suffice to say that 15 was the age when I kind of... self destructed a little (it was the Disorder finally rearing its ugly head) and I was super bitter about the idea that for some people being fifteen meant ‘feeling like there’s nothing to figure out’ and first dates and meeting new best friends when I was like. Literally falling apart at the seams.

BUT! Now that I’ve grown up and started to come into being A Person with a metric ton of perspective dumped on me along the way, I think this song is really cute and endearing and nostalgic for a life I didn’t have, but in a good way. ESPECIALLY is this true when I listen to “in your life you’ll do things greater than dating the football team” and remember that this album came out a year after Taylor won the horizon award (”definitely the highlight of her senior year” oh my god don’t get me started about that speech)

And you know what? Time really can heal most anything.

3. Love Story

This album is just packed with iconic guitar leads, and I love it to pieces. This track is another excellent example of Taylor’s habit of building a track from softness into something a little more intense. I love her vocals on the second verse especially (that little oh-oh! in the middle just fills me with an unexplained joy) and then... there’s the fiddle turnaround into the bridge, which. If you read part one of this series, you know I have an obsession with those. (And it comes back for the play down to the outro, which. yes, good, I’ll take it.)

I’m something of a Romeo and Juliet fanatic, so maybe that’s part of what draws me to this song, I like the idea of a happy ending to the concept - Marie Kondo says throw it out if it doesn’t bring you joy, so. You know.

4. Hey Stephen

*Dreamy sigh* god I love this song. It’s such a feel good jam, and there are parts of it that I just find delightful, even though objectively they would drive me crazy in another setting (that electronic church organ sound in the background is one of them). And then! Taylor is just! so cute! that GIGGLE at the end of the bridge. Gosh. Who legalized this?

I think my favorite vocal thing that Taylor does in this song is the last post-chorus that leads into the actual final chorus and the way she leans into it. And if I was pressed to a pick a favorite ‘ad-lib outro’ thing, it would be this one.

5. White Horse

This song is such an interesting track to have on the same album with Love Story - they’re just total opposites and I think it’s an excellent choice of alternate narratives. (And yes, I’m aware that Romeo and Juliet isn’t technically a fairytale, shhhh)

I don’t have particularly strong feelings about this song until the bridge, because I love the bridge so so much. Honestly this song feels like a more mature version of Should’ve Said No (and if you read the first part of this series you know how strongly I feel about that song so...) Because it has the same sort of “you say you’re sorry but it’s too late for that” feeling to it.

Overall this track is an excellent example of lyrical storytelling - especially that “small town there in my rearview mirror disappearing now” is such an evocative lyric. I don’t have hierarchies for any of Taylor’s albums, but if I tried, I think this track would settle comfortably in the upper middle.

6. You Belong With Me

I. Love. This. Song.

It wasn’t until this listening to the album, actually, that I realized how much of this album contains more mature versions of the messages from the first album. Like, tell me this song isn’t like a more assertive version of Invisible or Teardrops on my Guitar. This feels like Taylor looking back at those experiences and saying ‘hold up, i’m not letting this happen again, get BACK HERE and let me tell you how I feel!’

But. Listen. We need to talk about this music video. This music video is like the ultimate coming of age ten movie condensed into 4 minutes. Tell me I’m wrong.

Never in my life have I felt so connected to Taylor Swift than during that dancing-in-her-bedroom scene. that’s exactly the kind of shenanigans I STILL get up to to this day. (Also, I will fight anyone who says they don’t love the Junior Jewels shirt.) I vividly remember seeing this video for the first time and thinking that having the Other Girl played by a brunette version of Taylor was just. Brilliant. And of course we have the classic scene of the girl entering the school dance and stealing away the boy for the happy ever after - still not sure why he would have that piece of paper with him, so I’ll just chalk it up under suspension of disbelief.

...But, really, Taylor.... who holds books like that?

7. Breathe

This song fills me with such a melancholy feeling - not that I’m complaining, because I love this song to pieces. It’s permanently connected to one of my friends, because we recorded a cover video of this song at about 1am the night before I left the first time we met in person.

I love love love Colbie’s harmonies on this song - a whole lot better than how I felt about some of the male harmonies on the tracks from Taylor’s debut.

I don’t have a lot to say about this song, but that doesn’t mean I love it any less. I like the more stripped down quality to the song, even though it’s not really that stripped down - all the same pieces are there, it’s just all in how they’re applied.

8. Tell Me Why

Once again, what an arrangement! I love this song for the lyrical content, yes, but this is another song that I love for the instrumentation more than anything.

Speaking of the lyrical content, though, this song is a look at a surprisingly toxic sounding relationship for Taylor’s usual topics. A lot of the things about this track sound like classic abusive tactics - though I don’t think that’s exactly what she’s trying to portray. This song doesn’t even have to be about any kind romantic relationship in the first place. It could just as easily be about a toxic friendship (god knows I’ve had enough experience with that to know just how applicable this song’s lyrics are)

But to talk about the music as well, real quick, just. The fiddle opening!! and the drums!! and the tasteful small additions of steel guitar! and Just. so much about this track that I love. Is it just me or does it seem like this album has a much more driving backing track on most of the tracks than we saw on the self titled?

9. You’re Not Sorry

It’s fascinating to me that Taylor paired this song with the previous track for her album lineup - they’re very similar themes - but this song seems... angrier, almost. That’s not quite the word I’m going for, but I don’t know what word I AM going for, so it’ll have to do.

I just. need to talk about Taylor’s vocals on this song. This is another one I would love to hear Taylor perform with her current vocal abilities, because I feel like it would be absolutely outstanding. There are spots in this track (’tired of being last to know’ and ‘there’s nothing left to beg for’ in particularly) where she leans into them a little bit, but I feel like given just a little bit more, they could really knock it out of the park.

10. The Way I Loved You

I have... mixed feelings about this song. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike this song, and I think it builds really beautifully, but... It’s just not one of my favorites. I just don’t have particularly strong feelings about this one either way. I’ll still sing along to it in the car just as intensely as to any of them, and there are moments of it that I like - the almost military beat in the second verse and her strident delivery of “he calls exactly when he says he will” is a very nice piece, but... overall, it’s just not my favorite.

11. Forever and Always

THIS SONG HOWEVER. heck man. I love this song. I will go ham for this song anytime any day. There are so many good choices in this track - the drumming is brilliant and I think Taylor’s vocals on this song are better here than on the previous track, which makes it kind of refreshing.

Favorite parts include the bassline in the first verse, the way everything drops out from behind “coming down to nothing” except for the drums, and the “you didn’t mean it baby, I don’t think so” instrumentation, which builds up into the solo so well - and then we get the bridge. which is. just. stunning. I have no other words for it.

I love this song!!!!

Bonus commentary from the platinum edition:

The piano version of this song is so much more heart wrenching than the standard version. Her delivery is so much softer (those soft high notes are my favorite), there’s a lot more hurt in her voice, and I love her harmonies over her own vocals. Beautiful. Especially the bridge, those harmonies and her delivery of those lines... I get chills every time.

And. Listen. It’s called the piano version, but the strings added onto the second half is such a good choice. A++

12. The Best Day

Okay, so. Listen. This song is absolutely every bit as saccharine as people say it is, but I really think it’s entirely a choice. From my perspective on it, it’s supposed to read as if it’s got the point of view of someone much younger than Taylor’s, what, 18 years at the time of release? I love the line “I’ve got my big coat on” because that’s SUCH a great choice for a line about a five year old.

Now I just. Need to talk about my FEELINGS about this for a second.

u g h god this song kills me every time. From hearing other people talk about this song, it seems like it doesn’t hit you as hard if you aren’t a daughter or if you don’t have a good relationship with your mom. I am privileged enough to have a great mom, just like it seems Taylor does, and so I can barely listen to this song without crying through half of it.

Then again, that might just have more to do with the fact that I’m a total crybaby.

13. Change

WHAT AN OPENING. I will never not love the way it just blazes into life from the word go and then goes a little softer for the verse, as if giving you a moment to breathe before it throws that chorus at you. There are some incredible examples of instrumentation choices in this song (it all comes back around to the drums for me, I don’t know what it is)

And then there’s that one note - which, comparatively speaking, isn’t really impressive, but it certainly blew me away the first time I heard it. The build-up to it is so well done, with the quiet bridge-y bit leading into the explosive drop into the full chorus and then that instrumental outro-- be still my heart.

Time for the bonus tracks! All six five of them. >.>

14. Jump Then Fall

I love this song. This is tied to a friend of mine as well, primarily because of the line “I realize your laugh is the best sound I have ever heard”, which is also my favorite line in this song.

There’s a quality to the instrumentation at the very beginning of the song that makes me nostalgic for the days of recording tracks off youtube and ending up with these horribly compressed versions of them - even when i’m listening to it on spotify part of me questions if I have a corrupted mp3.

I can’t not smile while I listen to this song, especially to the second verse - “I like the way you’re everything I ever wanted” is the cutest thing ever and if you disagree, get out of my face.

There’s something so youthful and fluttery and cute about this song, it makes me feel as if I really am the one with this unbearably huge crush on someone in the best shivery way possible.

15. Untouchable

I didn’t know until I was listening to @stateofswiftpod (and yes i’m going to continue repping them because. amazing.) that this track is a COVER. I was blown away because... okay. Listen. I looked up the original version and... Taylor worked magic with this track. The original really is just... an average to mediocre pop punk song, okay? It’s exactly the kind of vibe I’d normally be into but then it just. doesn’t hold me.

But Taylor’s version is just Stunning. Her vocal delivery is spot on, and the final chorus makes me so happy, with the alteration of the melody. Honestly, her mind. To think that she listened to the original song and heard the potential for this piece of musical art just blows me away.

16. Come In With The Rain

This isn’t one of my favorites - honestly I have no strong feelings about any of the remaining bonus tracks - but there is something about the message of this song that hooks me. The idea that you’ve been wishing and hoping and thinking about something so much for so long that you’re just. tired. Too tired to keep worrying about it, so you just leave the path for it open and let yourself focus on something else.

17. SuperStar

This song also kind of fascinates me. The concept of Taylor as the fan instead of the star, set at possibly the very last point in her life where she could realistically sing the bridge - “I’m invisible and everyone knows who you are” - is just... there’s something about it, you feel? It’s like a time capsule from that exact time of Taylor’s life, and it’s wild to think how many people feel like this about her now.

18. The Other Side of the Door

I’ve elected to ignore the obvious read of this song where it’s just. Young failure to communicate and unhealthy relationship dynamics.

Here’s my take on the song: It’s about that feeling where you want things to go like a 90s teen movie, but that ideal teenage experience isn’t real, it’s all fictionalized for those exact movies. And you know that’s the case, you know that it’s all too good to be true, but you’re still kinda salty about it.

Side note, I really like the delivery on the ending lines, with the way it kind of contrasts against the music behind it.

Roll credits, we’ve made it to the end of another album! I don’t know about you guys, but I need a break. So I’m gonna do that, and we’ll be back with another review after a word from our sponsors.

Next up: Speak Now

#taylor swift #fearless #album review #taylor swift appreciation life #Our Lady and Savior Taylor Swift

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koganphrancis · 6 years ago

Photo

Camless Episode 2 Recap

(I can’t give a credit to the gif maker because they deleted their post right after I saved this gif and before I could click back and get their Tumblr url, so, sorry! If anyone else would be interested in giffing this moment, please do-looks like there might almost be some butt crack in it for us, and that would officially make this the most interesting moment in the episode.)

Once again the best thing I can say about this episode is there was not even a whisper of a mention of Terror ;)

But the rest of the show-I really don’t recognize anything from what the show used to be. This is truly like a brand new Showtime show using some of the same actors from Shameless. No one reminds you of how their character used to be. They’re all like those Lego people Emmy’s always bragging about using when she directs episodes-plastic and stiff and lifeless.

Also, this episode had zero sex scenes, which must have been confusing to its core audience that keeps insisting the show is still worth watching. I’m sure they missed the tits.

Like last week, I’ll just run down the characters, if I can stay awake.

Frank. Ugh. They gave him this incredibly moronic scene in The Alibi where he rallies his fellow white men against “reverse racism” and you could see how hard Macy was working to try to grind out the lines, but it just stunk. I’m sure the showrunners think they’re coming up with cutting edge social commentary here, but they’re not. The audience has long been clued into the fact that Frank’s motivations behind his machinations are to serve one thing and one thing only, and that’s Frank himself. He will go whichever way the wind blows. If not being a Make Southside Great Again cretin would’ve got him some money in his pocket, he would’ve been making speeches against everything he was saying last night. Archie Bunker was an iconic character in the advancement of social progress because he did believe the shit he said, and the audience was in on the fact that he was dead wrong. When Frank says racist bullshit, it’s not “shameless” it’s not commentary, it’s a lazy fuck wanting something for nothing. It has nothing to do with improvement or education of the viewer. Shameless has this unrealistic view of itself being a show “about” something, and when it inevitably fails to hit the mark, they just guffaw and say we weren’t supposed to take it seriously, it’s just a comedy, it’s just Shameless. Well, you’ve cried wolf too many times and I can’t take anything you say as meaningful.

Also, this and almost every other storyline last night took the most laborious routes possible to get the characters to their next plot point. Frank only got involved in local politics because he needed beer money (what happened to his one beer a day with the new liver? Oh yeah, that was a different character on a different show). And why the fuck would the patrons of The Alibi put money into anything Frank’s going to be in charge of? Are they that stupid?

Fiona and Bored Their lack of chemistry continues to astound. Their conversations make no sense. Bored clearly doesn’t give a shit what Fiona does, so why does he insist on giving his opinion that, once it pisses her off, he just drops it? Why say anything to begin with? And I only watch their scenes once, so I might be wrong on this, but he leaves me with the impression that he squints every time he speaks. It’s as if he saw Dirty Harry at an early age and vowed to himself if he ever became an actor, his delivery of all his lines would be just like Clint growling out, “Do you feel lucky, punk? Do you?”

Anyway, Fiona’s circuitous route has her going to the Gallagher house to find shoes she left there when she moved into her own apartment. The fuck? You gotta try so hard as a writer these days to get any of the family together-it’s another piece of the “old” show that is missing more and more lately, and really ripping the show apart at its already weakened seams.

She has a big power meeting with a commercial real estate developer now that Ian’s bail money is burning a hole in her pocket. (And, the fuck? Ian turns down her offer to post bail so she figures he had his shot and if he changes his mind and wants-or worse yet NEEDS-to get out of jail he’s shit out of luck? They could’ve had her make sure he understood it was a one-time offer, but no.) Anyway, for said meeting, she’s wearing what looks like a kimono from a day spa and to complete the look she needs the pair of red fuck me pumps that she finds in a small box that looks like it’s only holding said pumps and one work boot. She left that behind? Couldn’t squeeze it into the new place?

When she arrives back home at the Gallagher house, she finds Liam sitting on the couch and asks him why he’s not at school. (Forget that, why isn’t SHE taking care of him, she’s his legal guardian!!!!) He tells her he got kicked out because of Frank, Fi asks what did he do, Liam says, “The moms”, clue laugh track that this show totally needs now. Fiona brings Liam along with her-he clues her in to how rich folk talk, and she tells the real estate guy Liam’s her intern, a prodigy, cue laugh track. She has a bullshit meeting with the guy, tries to throw her boyfriend’s name around to prove she has clout (and hey, he has a last name now! It’s Kellogg, but who will bother to remember that?), uses her patented Fiona looking at real estate phrase when she says a building he showed her has “good bones”. She’s so obviously bullshitting the guy and we can see her losing her money happening a mile away. She, however, thinks she’s playing the dick just right. There’s a scene towards the end where she’s begging to throw her $50K at him, but he says you need $100K to get in, and she says she has it??? I couldn’t be bothered to go back and watch it again to see if at any point she indicates where she’ll come up with twice the money she has, I’m just assuming she’s going to gamble the entire apartment building and lose it all. And that WILL be believable because she has no business experience that’s not straight out of fantasyland and the only thing that will bother me is they seem to be setting it up that Bored is right and she should listen to him like a good little woman.

Lip Lip’s storyline is no longer about Lip, it’s about all the people he keeps taking on as projects. Last night Xan abandoned the Ball twins she was babysitting to run off with a stolen wallet (what is it with this show thinking child endangerment is funny?). To nitpick-if Liam was supposed to be in school, shouldn’t Xan have been at hers too? Last week they made a point of saying she forged a note to her teacher to go to Brad’s wedding...

Anyway, since this new show thinks it’s normal for 24 year old guys to do nothing but parent kids that aren’t theirs and be a one man support system for their mentor and their sponsor (but not their brother), Lip’s taking on a new project, being the reluctant sponsor of a drug and alcohol addict who has an adorable baby. Lip tries telling Brad that “Gallaghers aren’t sponsors, they have sponsors” (I’m so sick of “Gallagher” pronouncements like that), but in the end, he can see the guy has no one, so he steps in. And if I could trust this show for one minute I’d be intrigued by this (it’s much more realistic than the whole Xan bullshit)-it’s interesting to think Lip can relate to the baby being with the dad while he was passed out for two solid days more than he relates to the dad-but I just feel like they’ll handle it badly and I’m not going to get attached to the baby or the dad.

Debbie She’s shrilly screaming for equal pay and equal rights, but I get the feeling all of that was her circuitous route to meeting this season’s love interest. It’ll be interesting to see if she keeps up her crusade or if all that’s forgotten once she’s getting sex.

We first see her rattling off statistics from computer print outs, which is a refreshing change from Ian memorizing the Bible overnight, but still. The stats she’s reading are unfair and horrific, but the people she’s telling them to are in no position to change things. Debbie takes her “cause” to job sites where again, she’s shouting into the void, since no women are working there and even if they were, what does she expect them to do? This whole “Norma Rae” thing makes no sense because licensed workers ARE unionized and if the jobs she’s visiting are using under the table workers, no one wants this loud mouth teenager and her baby carriage calling attention to it. What is she trying to accomplish?

So, like I said, all the screaming is probably just the set up to her meet cute with the chick she thought was a dude. Said chick comes to the Gallagher house (claiming she found it because Debbie was screaming her full name and saying she was a welder with a vagina-so good to know everyone in Chicago would know where that person lives...) and does the “big reveal” that she’s a woman. Debs/Emma is all, “Dafuuuuuck?” and Alex winds up asking her out for a drink. At home I’m thinking, “Aw, damn, Alex, you’re gonna get roofied!”

Carl Carl is moronic as fuck this week-more so than usual. He tries to see his local congressperson (who is secure in his seat and not running in the same election as Frank’s tampering with, I guess?) and is told by an assistant the list of things Carl will need to get a recommendation for West Point and to come back in 9 weeks. Carl totally ignores most of the list, the scholastic and athletic achievements-does he really think he’ll get in without it all? Can’t he just ask Ian what he’ll need to do? Oh wait, no one knows Ian-I’m thinking of that other show again.

He starts on a quest to find volunteer work (since court ordered post juvie hours don’t count-cue laugh track), and asks at the first place “if it pays”. Right there, he’s too stupid to get into any reputable school, why are people wasting their time with him?

He winds up working for a retired veterinarian who uses an unconventional but cheaper and effective way to euthanize dogs. The show goes totally off the rails, having Carl “rescue” them and taking them home to die a “natural” death in his basement instead. Is the writer so stupid she doesn’t know that that’s just forcing the dogs to live out their days in pain, or are we only supposed to think it’s Carl that is that stupid? Either way, why go there Shameless? Why drag innocent dogs into your “it’s Shameless!” world of the unfunny?

Kev and Vee Their painful role as the show’s family sitcom portion continues. (side note: I was cackling with glee when I heard Bob Saget will be making a guest appearance-I called that Full House vibe from the start!) They’re checking out preschools and the first place they go, the woman who runs it is dressed as a full on fairy princess. As if that wouldn’t be enough of a red flag to GTFO. When they hear the cost of tuition, K&V flip out. Because, ya know, they had no idea daycare/preschool was expensive? Have they been hit with the same stupid stick as Carl? They get a lead on a Catholic school that’s in their price range, but there’s only one spot! What to do? Easy, just tell their obviously not identical twin daughters that one of them always has to keep out of sight at school and that from now on, they’re both “Amy”. Cue laugh track.

Ian Oh man, why isn’t Cam gone already? This week starts with him performing the prison yard triple wedding. He’s speaking in the cadence and manner of a preacher, yet he’s only been to 2 weddings that he can recall? Does he watch You Tube videos of sermons now? It makes no sense! Anyway, a guard tells him he’s made bail, and all lame, choreographed hell breaks loose as the prisoners want “Father” Gallagher to finish the ceremony.

Next time we see him, he has at least half an inch more hair and he’s being released back into society, wearing the clothes he was arrested in 9 months ago. The handmade God Loves Fags T shirt is better than some of the things I’ve seen Cam wearing in real life lately, but I digress. Geneva is waiting for him and is jumping and yipping all over him like an overexcited puppy. He tries telling her, “I really wasn’t done in there-those guys need me.” She’s not listening as she tells him “so much exciting stuff has been happening” (off screen-there’s nothing exciting happening on the show itself)-”We have sponsorships now, we’re in 45 states, 1 mil strong on Insta, we’re getting some of the conversion centers closed down.” And, just, you lost me with the hyperbole. Say they’ve spread to 3 states or something believable, not almost the entire continental US. Anyway, she tells him they crowd sourced his bail and asks if he’s ready to face his public. He just looks dazed and confused. A little group is waiting for him behind a (as in one, solo) police barrier.

Next time we see him, he’s being delivered to the Church of Gay Jesus in a luxury SUV. People are waiting there to greet him too-some wearing unintentionally hilarious masks of Ian’s face-well, really GJ, but come on, that’s Cam!!!

Geneva asks him if he’s okay and he says “Yeah, just used to being in lock up.” Again, Cam’s not giving us much to work with, but I guess we’re supposed to see that he’s already overwhelmed and doesn’t want to be part of this anymore? Geneva introduces him to a bunch of workers for the GJ movement that have actual titles-they’re practically a corporation now, then drags him inside where he’s going to make a press statement and take selfies with donors that gave one thousand dollars or more for his bail. Ian looks down at the index cards with his statement and reads aloud, “My harrowing and abusive time in jail? Prison was inspiring...” Geneva is officially his new Terror and dismisses anything he has to say. She tells him to just emphasize his oppression as a gay man and the daily violence he endured.” Which, yes, hello, that actually WOULD be his experience in jail, but the show chose to make it cute and sweet. Grrrr.

Ian doesn’t have a reply to that, I guess, so he looks at a map on the wall with a bunch of pins in it and asks what it is. Geneva tells him it’s where they’ve blown up vans, and they’re going to do more in his name. He seems genuinely upset. Guess he’s missing out on the fact that he could meet more fireman if he keeps blowing up vans-opportunity missed, John Wells!!!

Another disciple comes up to Geneva with an old timey prison striped shirt for Ian to put on for his statement. Just like Jerome wore for so many scenes in Gotham. I don’t know if the show thinks it’s a clever nod to Cam’s other job every time they do something like this, but to me it just pulls me out of the story and I go off on a thought tangent yet again, thinking about how much more realistic Gotham had handled all Cam’s prison stuff. But I digress. Ian says, “Am I allowed to take a piss?” which, really? That’s how the kids talk these days? He wouldn’t say “go to the bathroom”? Whatever. He goes into the bathroom, stares at his reflection because that must be in his contract, stuffs the prison shirt into the trash, flips down the baby changing table, and uses it to escape out the window, flashing the camera a shot of those ugly ass blue shoes with the gold heel coverings.

In his final scene of the night, Ian is sitting in the dark in the Gallagher kitchen, undoubtedly thinking about the huge-probably life altering-mistake he made. I’m referring of course, to when TPTB at Gotham sold him on the “Jerome has an unknown twin!” storyline. Carl comes up from the basement and the two of them share the most awkward scene since the British version of “The Matches”, as told by Eddie Izzard: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qfw60qXtOH0 Oh look! He’s wearing a spa kimono-like garment too!

Anyway, Cameron and Ethan stiltedly say some lines as if neither of them has ever acted before, and Carl goes to make his escape quite rapidly, but not before we get proof (not that we needed any) that no one’s been visiting Ian in prison, and that when Fiona visited, she didn’t bother keeping him up on family news in the 9 MONTHS he’s been gone.

Ian: Who’s the girl in my bed? Carl: Peyton List? (I know I was confused-Lip’s been sleeping in Ian’s bed, Xan’s over in the corner where Carl and Kassidi-remember her? She’s dead now-slept.) Let me try again:

Carl: That’s Xan-Lip’s kid. Ian:... Doesn’t really react to that either. I HOPE what all this is driving at is that Ian doesn’t feel like he belongs anywhere anymore-he doesn’t want to be part of the huge nationwide movement that Gay Jesus has turned into, he shouldn’t want to be in jail/prison even if there will always be gay men there, he doesn’t belong at “home” where they don’t even have a bed for him and all the kids except Liam are out of the nest now. For Ian, home is not a place, it’s a caring, loving man with blue eyes and an ass that won’t quit...

#Recap #Season Nein Episode 2

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olgagarmash · 4 years ago

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Kansas mental health providers look to the future with new hotline looming and COVID-19 pandemic fading – The Topeka Capital-Journal

Decades ago, travelers entering Topeka would have seen an unexpected motto beckoning them as they pulled into town.

“Welcome to Topeka, Kansas, the psychiatric capital of the world.”

The city’s credible claim to that title was in large part predicated on the presence of the world-renowned Menninger Clinic, whose iconic clock tower loomed in the background of the sign.

Karl Menninger’s eponymous institution was a heavyweight in the behavioral health world, bringing top-flight researchers and practitioners to Kansas, although the facility eventually left for Houston in the 2000s.

In 2021, community health centers in Kansas are seeing a marked uptick in interest due to strain brought on by the COVID-19 pandemic and improving attitudes toward mental health more broadly.

That could increase further next year, when the 988 crisis line rolls out, with a goal of making mental health support as easy to access as other core services.

But these forces come after years of funding and staffing challenges. Now, providers are looking to new models as a way to ensure the sustainability of their services going forward.

More:Feeling off? Here is how to know when to seek mental health support and where to turn.

“We have had the history as a state of being a national leader,” said Kyle Kessler, executive director of the Association of Community Mental Health Centers. “And so for us to get the infrastructure back in terms of our workforce and our priorities in behavioral health and helping healthcare overall, we can be a national leader again.”

Demand for mental health services on the rise — even pre-pandemic

It is no secret that the COVID-19 pandemic has prompted widespread concern about mental health, with anxiety and depression increasing during the last year due to lockdowns and uncertainty about the virus and the economy.

Even before the pandemic, community mental health centers saw a 10% increase in patients since 2016.

Throughout much of 2020, those numbers actually dropped off for some groups, with residents confined to their homes. For providers who deal primarily with children and young adults, schools weren’t in session to refer individuals in need of care.

But that trend is beginning to change.

For Family Service and Guidance Center in Topeka, director Brenda Mills noted that the previous high-water mark for calls to their crisis services line was 89. Recently, that number was over 120.

Karen Smothers, director of clinical operations for FSGC, noted that young people who previously had a difficult time in a school environment actually were helped by the pandemic, as they had less of a need to socialize and engage with their peers.

Students who needed the most support were those who felt isolated without their usual social and school environments when the switch was made to remote learning.

More:Damon Parker is a championship wrestling coach. He’s battling for his mental health.

Now, with a return to physical classes, albeit with disorienting mitigation efforts, both groups of youths are feeling adrift and in need of support.

“When classes resumed, I think it’s just maybe a clash of everything going on between the youth who were feeling really withdrawn before trying now to resume their routine,” Smothers said. “And then in the meantime, the youth who typically would struggle now are being thrown back in the classroom, and are having those same conflicts again.”

Normally, early summer is a quieter time for the clinic, as school ends and families go on vacation. Not this year, however.

“Right now we’re slammed, we’re absolutely bursting at the seams with referrals,” Smothers said.

‘We need to see real commitment’

It is likely that demand will further increase over the next year, with mental health advocates in Kansas well aware of the national rollout of the 988 crisis line.

Lawmakers approved $3 million to help the three crisis lines in Kansas currently operating expand their staff and infrastructure.

But currently 30% of all calls are sent out of state due to high volume, according to Monica Kurtz, vice president for external programming at the Kansas Suicide Prevention Headquarters in Lawrence.

This often comes down to a lack of staffing. More than 100 hours of training are needed to ensure workers, either volunteer or paid, have the tools needed to answer calls from Kansans in distress.

Sending calls out-of-state isn’t ideal, Kurtz said.

“We do pretty strongly believe that Kansans are best served by Kansans,” she said. “We have a better idea of what goes on in our state, and what resources are available for folks.”

But KSPHQ has seen a 50% increase in calls in recent years, and the rollout of 988 could see that number double or even triple as it becomes more established.

The funding, included in the state budget, puts Kansas ahead of other states in getting 988 up and running, Kessler said.

But Kurtz pointed out that a more aggressive funding proposal — which would add a 50 cent-per-line surcharge on Kansans’ cellphone bills — stalled. The extra funds from that bill could have expanded response services, particularly in western Kansas, she noted.

And while legislators can take another whack at the issue next session, Kurtz said she was uneasy with having to ask legislators to maintain funding each year.

“It’s not enough to just say it with your words, we need to see action,” she said. “This is a critical issue, has been a critical issue for the last decade. And we need to see movement on it, we need to see real commitment.”

Staffing challenges hit providers across Kansas

Advocates argue funding hasn’t kept pace for community mental health providers either.

From fiscal year 2007 to fiscal year 2020, funding for community mental health centers fell by 16%, according to the Disability Rights Center of Kansas. That’s despite those facilities serving 30,000 additional patients.

And funding struggles can mean staffing issues, particularly for facilities that compete with other states to attract high-level practitioners.

That includes Four County Mental Health in southeast Kansas, whose offices are mere miles away from the Oklahoma border.

Executive director Greg Hennen said he had an administrator leave to go across the border, where she made more as an entry-level therapist than she did as a more senior worker in Kansas.

“Right now, yeah, Oklahoma kills us,” Hennen said. “Their master’s level therapists are starting out $20,000 higher than we can start ours out at.”

More:Menninger clock tower could soon be demolished; owner hopes buyer will step forward

About 1.3 million Kansans live in an area where the U.S. Department of Health & Human Services deems there to be a dearth of mental health workers.

Even when facilities have an adequate number of therapists, finding entry-level workers can be a challenge. Mills noted that she often has to compete against fast food outlets and big box stores.

“It was tough before the pandemic, but it has gotten worse,” she said.

For Hennen, the struggles have meant fewer personnel in area schools. While districts might want counselors around three times a week, the lack of staff might mean someone is there only once a week.

And in Topeka, Smothers said they have had to lean on more telehealth and group therapy sessions, at least for some patients, in an effort to triage care and deliver the required services.

“I don’t know what to expect a month from now or two months from now,” she said. “It feels like uncharted territory.”

Could new model boost mental health treatment?

Mental health advocates are hopeful that a potential solution is in the cards.

In 2014, Congress approved an experimental program for clinics, one designed to increase partnerships between mental health facilities, hospitals and law enforcement, as well as offer 24/7 crisis care and beefed-up substance abuse treatment.

In exchange for using proven, evidence-based strategies to advance those goals, facilities would get a higher Medicaid reimbursement rate — meaning more money to boost their bottom line.

Kansas wasn’t an initial participant in the so-called certified community behavioral health center model, but two of its neighbors, Oklahoma and Missouri, were. The program has since become permanent and has expanded to dozens more states.

That has compounded the challenges for providers in border regions, like Four County Mental Health in southeast Kansas.

But Four County elected to go it alone, obtaining a grant from Washington to begin the process of converting to a CCBHC model — the first provider in Kansas to receive that backing.

“It really has a nice impact not only on the patient, but also on the community in general,” executive director Hennen said of the facility’s early experiment with the program.

More:History Guy: Topekan Menninger changed how society views the mentally ill

The new model means more of an emphasis on integrating behavioral health with other care. After an individual sees a psychiatrist, they can walk across the hall to a primary care physician to address high blood pressure or diabetes.

And while this may mean more money is spent upfront, providers argue there is a cost savings for society as a whole on the back end.

“You may be spending more on behavioral health care, but all of a sudden, you’re saving money on the primary care side, particularly where hospital inpatient hospitalizations and (emergency room visits) are concerned,” Hennen said.

State lawmakers approved more money to help get Kansas facilities formally approved as CCBHCs, allowing them to eventually access the greater funding opportunities that title allows.

Some providers are already laying the groundwork to become CCBHCs. Central Kansas Mental Health Center, for instance, got a $4 million grant to expand their services earlier this year.

Advocates aren’t yet ready to rechristen Topeka as a global behavioral health capital. But they do profess a genuine excitement for the future for Kansas’ mental health system.

For Mills, the director of Family Service and Guidance Center, the growth in mental health awareness has been building for some time.

“It maybe took the pandemic for people to recognize that, though I think some people were getting it before,” she said. “But this has been a long road to try to get this awareness and education out there about how critical the need is for people to be mentally healthy.”

If you or someone you know may be struggling with suicidal thoughts, you can call the U.S. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-TALK (8255) any time day or night, or chat online.

source https://wealthch.com/kansas-mental-health-providers-look-to-the-future-with-new-hotline-looming-and-covid-19-pandemic-fading-the-topeka-capital-journal/

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king--flvcko-blog · 7 years ago

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A$AP Rocky Talks New Album, Under Armour Deal, and His Deep Love of Flowers

Our interview with A$AP Rocky was supposed to take place backstage after an A$AP Mob concert in Philly, in a quiet, empty room, but in the moment, Rocky had a better idea. “We need to capture this chaos right here,” he said, gesturing around his dressing room, still packed with Mob members, girls, security guards, other unidentified loiterers, and even (according to A$AP Ferg, anyway) a loose mouse. “Let's embrace the chaos,” Rocky suggested. “Rolling Stones in 1967, feel me?”

He took his spot in the middle of a leather couch, surrounded by his old friends from Harlem—Ferg, Nast, Ant, and Twelvyy—and started methodically breaking down a small mound of weed as he spoke in a post-concert rasp. Every so often, he'd tease me for asking so many questions. But some of them he didn't mind so much: GQ Style had collected them from a few of Rocky's notable friends and admirers, with a promise of bringing back answers.

The chaos Rakim Mayers attracts is a result of his charisma, which is raw and uncut. It is el puro, perhaps the purest of any star in pop culture—Hollywood, music, fashion, whatever. And given that Rocky's mom named him and his elder sister, Erika B. Mayers, after Eric B. & Rakim, it was only natural that a kid who seems to crank up the color saturation whenever he walks into a room would channel his God-given wattage into rap music. From the beginning, though, Rocky also established himself as a style innovator and made fashion an inextricable part of his music. In his breakout video, for “Peso,” he repped hard-edged, gothic-leaning streetwear like Black Scale, as well as more established avant-garde fashion like Rick Owens and Y3, while rapping, Raf Simons, Rick Owens usually what I'm dressed in. That was back in 2011, long before he cemented Simons's unlikely hip-hop-icon status with the song “Raf” this July. It's not a stretch to say Rocky is partially responsible for making European high fashion as much a part of hip-hop and pop culture as streetwear.

In the six years since he first appeared on YouTube, everything he's touched has taken on a sort of magical flyness. He's put out three successful solo albums; recorded hit songs like “L$D,” “Yamborghini High” with the A$AP Mob, and “Fuckin Problems” with Drake, Kendrick Lamar, and 2 Chainz; stole scenes in the surprise-hit indie film Dope, co-starring Shameik Moore; and launched a creative agency, called AWGE. Later this year, he'll appear in Anthony Mandler's Monsterand he'll begin a wide-ranging, long-term collaboration with Under Armour. He's become a rap star, a fashion godhead, a music mogul, an actor, a designer-entrepreneur-influencer—a true creative in universes where everyone calls themselves creatives.

Now, after two years spent racking up all those hyphens, he is ready to return to the first thing that made him: rap music. But things are a little different this time. In January 2015, Rocky's best friend, business partner, and mentor, A$AP Yams, passed away in bed at his Brooklyn apartment from an accidental prescription-drug overdose. Rocky was there the night of Yams's death and was among those who found him. A few months later, in May, Rocky released At.Long.Last.A$AP; on the album cover, Rocky's face bears Yams's signature purplish red birthmark. This new album will be Rocky's fourth, but his first ever made entirely without the guiding presence of Yams.

When we met in London for the GQ Style cover shoot, Rocky was deep in his work zone, trying to finish the record. He was keeping his phone turned off, more or less, so he could try to complete the LP before jumping to Milan for the Gucci runway show and then returning to the States for a long tour with the Mob. He's 29 now—he's seen a lot, and even his friends have questions about where he's been and where he's going next.

GQ Style: The first question comes from Mahershala Ali: “Considering you were named after Rakim, one of the greatest MCs of all time, what legendary MC would you name your child after?”

A$AP Rocky: Wow, that's a good one. Let me think on it.

You're punting on the first question?

Yeah, but only because it's so good.

All right, we'll come back to it. The second question comes from Dior designer Kris Van Assche. You may have heard of him.

Rocky: Dior boys.

A$AP Twelvyy: From Paris!

Kris asks, “What was a typical Friday or Saturday night out for you like when you were a teenager?”

A$AP Ferg: Fighting in clubs.

Rocky: Oh, you want me to tell them the Santos story?

Ferg: You love telling that story.

Rocky: All right, one time in Santos [Party House, a New York City nightclub], it was like 2008. We took the train from Harlem. I had on this Marc Jacobs shirt, these D&G pants—'cause I was wearing D&G back then—and Marc Jacobs sneakers. Ferg, you had on the black Acne pants, with the blue jean jacket, and Nast, you had the blue jean jacket with the seam, with the black Acne pants, and the black Timbs, with the Super glasses on, with the 'fro, 'cause you was on your Jay-Z shit, trying to wolf up. A lot of A$AP members were there that day. I'ma come clean, we was in the club, and A$AP Bari was trying to talk to some dude's girlfriend. Next thing you know, the dude got mad. He looked like some wrestling dude. He was big, with long hair. He's like, “What?!” to everybody. We was like, “Yo, chill,” but he kept going crazy. So [Harlem-based visual artist] Jay West put him in a headlock, I snuffed him, he fell, everybody kicked him, we all dispersed, we ran.

A$AP Nast: Let's talk about the Ferg punches.

Rocky: Don't forget about the Ferg punches! Ferg said, “Don't touch my friend!” Boom, boom, boom! [laughter]

Ferg: I did not say that.

Rocky: That shit was echoing through the man's body! When the dude got up, the first person he spot was me with the pink shirt on, so he just start charging, like a mad raging bull, and he grabbed my head. Now we on the motherfucking dance floor, fighting like females, pulling each other's hair. I'm biting this motherfucker's thumb and pinkie and shit, going crazy, snuffing him. This motherfucker must've been on mollies and liquor. Next thing you know, I just see feet running my way. Ferg came through. Nigga said, “Get off my friend!” Ferg was mad concerned. It was sincere. He was like, “Get off my friend!”

Ferg: I did not say that.

Rocky: So then, we all leave out the club. We outside. Your man, he was a manager of the club, so he come out, bugging out with his security guards. He throw ice at all of us and hops in a cab. We run down on the cab, take him out the cab, and start beating him up while we're screaming “A$AP!” So that's how everybody knew us back then. Next question.

What's your number one priority?

Right now, it's music. Last year was businesses and developing all our new artists. Playboi Carti went platinum. Smooky MarGielaa is on the rise. Twelvyy album came out. A$AP Ferg mixtape came out—he always got number ones and bangers. Nast, Addie, up next. Cozy Tapes Vol. 2 is out right now. Now it's all about me making music again.

What do you say to people who say that you're “more fashion than music”?

I can see why they think that sometimes. I really wanted to take time out to show people I was an entrepreneur. I'm a businessman—you gotta take me serious. I can't help that I look good doing it. But if you just look at my catalog from this year, everything I get on, I body. I'm selective about what I get on. I'm particular. I wasn't really featuring with other artists. But this year, I'm showing niggas stop playing me, stop sleeping on me. I'm the god of this shit.

So when we saw you in London recently, you were on a phone-off lockdown, making an album. What was the vibe—the starting point for the new album?

My new album is really about testing new sounds. People are scared to test new sounds, so they go with what's current 'cause it's the easy thing to do. The top 100 songs sound a certain way. People cater more to that because it's a bigger demographic behind that, or it's a guaranteed demographic behind that. I prefer to experiment and have my crowd grow with me and to reach new crowds. I don't just rap—I actually make music. That's why it takes time. These sonics represent me.

Did you go to London for the sound of London, or was it more just getting away so you could focus?

Both. London has a cool sound. I always record in London. But I needed to get away. London's my second home.

When do you want to put the album out?

ASAP—no pun intended.

This year?

Yes, sir.

Your travel schedule is intense. When you're always on the move, where's your center, or your home? Do you ever wake up in another hotel room and wonder, “Who am I?”

Fuck no. Sometimes I do wake up like, “Where the fuck am I?” But not “Who am I?” I'm the same nigga I was when I went to sleep.

You've had relationships with Dior and Gucci. You seem to have a personal relationship with Raf. How do you characterize those connections?

Sometimes it's business, and sometimes it's friendship. Raf had me flying out to Antwerp so I could smoke my weed and just catch a vibe with him back in 2012 and 2013. I've been looking at him and [Rick Owens's wife and muse] Michèle Lamy for advice. Michèle Lamy is like my fairy godmom.

What do you and Michèle talk about when it's not Paris Fashion Week double-kiss time?

Art. She's the reason I got all these diamonds in my mouth. She had hers since 1985. She puts me on. She tries to make me evolve as an artist. She encourages me to do more things outside of musical arts—more contemporary art. She taught me the difference between masters and Renaissance and contemporary and Pop art. It's been a journey. Raf, we talk about collections, we talk about his favorite scenes—what rave scenes inspired most of his career.

Do you talk with them about, like, feelings and personal stuff? Or is it mostly art and the industry?

Yeah, Michèle Lamy be hooking me up with all type of models—not all type of models, but her friends who she thinks is sweet. She says, “You need to meet her, she's a nice girl…,” and I go meet her. They either crazy or nice.

Here's a question from Raf Simons.

Oh, it's lit.

“Dear Rakim—”

Oh, that's my guy. That's the lord right there, big bro.

“If you could not do what you're doing now, what would you do? What's another life dream of yours?”

If I wasn't doing this, to be real with you, I'd probably be an interior decorator.

Nast: You could be a florist.

Rocky: Yeah, I could. I have such good taste. I love flowers. I think decor value and feng shui is important. If not, I'd be a video director or a film director. But my whole life, I just wanted to be a rapper. That was it.

The Balenciaga sneakers that you wore in our shoot: They're a little controversial, and I would like to know why you like them.

I seen those early, and I like them 'cause they remind me of a Raf Simons sneaker, and on top of that, those shits are fire—

A$AP Ant: Shit is trash—

Rocky: He's hating 'cause he got the fake Rick Owens Balenciaga shits. I don't fuck with them shits. I only fucks with the ones I got. I call 'em the Larry Davids, you feel me?

You've been wearing a lot of yellow recently—shoelaces, hoodies, et cetera. What's the deal?

You ask a lot of questions. I'm just preparing for a final test, that's all.

Okay, well, the next question is from Shameik Moore.

That's my son.

“What advice do you have for getting more creative with your personal style?”

Nast: Wear what suits you and not what's trendy.

Rocky: Yeah, but when we wear stuff that suits us and not what's trendy, it becomes a trend. So that might be confusing for people. I would just say that everybody's different. Everybody got different body shapes and whatnot, so I would say stick to what you know fits you best and what you feel comfortable in, even if it's not in style. Just wear whatever makes you feel cozy.

Nast: That's kind of what I just said.

Your creative group, AWGE: First of all, how do you pronounce it? Second of all, what is it?

Nast: That question we don't speak of.

Rocky: The first rule of AWGE is you never repeat what AWGE stands for. Second rule of AWGE is, whenever in doubt, refer to the first rule. So there you have it.

Is it not “A$AP Worldwide Global Enterprises”?

Nah. You on some bullshit. That's sacred.

What have you learned about leadership since the Mob's rise into the public consciousness?

Fellowship. Brotherhood. I try to manifest leadership into anything I do as an entrepreneur, as a businessman. But when I'm doing music, it's the element with the brothers. We all lead by example and lead each other, so I lead and follow, too, you know?

You just announced a new deal with Under Armour. Why Under Armour? And what can we expect?

People would assume, with me going into a business deal with a sports brand, that it would be all about designing or curating a line—making things more lit. But what I liked about Kevin Plank, the CEO of Under Armour, was that he had a vision. He gives, gives, gives. When you donate or you do charities, it's not about showing people “Look, I'm doing this.” I was in a shelter myself. And I know that when people be donating and shit, you ain't get no fly shit at Christmases and all that. You don't see no money. Pardon my French, but you don't see no money. So I really want to make a difference. So I got with Kevin and Under Armour so we could open up real rec centers with fly shit in them. Not hand-me-down toys and technology—new stuff. And programs for kids to learn to become entrepreneurs, designers, athletes. They can screen-print their own tees and sell 'em from the store, get that commission on it. I think it's smart. Those kids need laptops and phones today—that's their platform. So I want to do something that's really gonna make a difference, as opposed to fronting with the cameras like, “Ah, I'm doing this, doing that.” We gonna show and prove when we go and design uniforms. We're gonna start in New York, the tristate area, 'cause that's where I'm from. And then go to different junior high schools and high schools throughout the country.

But commerce being commerce, you're going to have to sell some stuff to fund those programs. So are you gonna design a line with Under Armour? A$AP Rocky sneakers?

I'm talking about giving away to schools. That's not selling, bro—you don't make any money off of that. What are you talking about? I want to facilitate ways for kids to get better education without calling it education, 'cause that shit sounds boring. I want to make a way for being smart to be cool. There's nothing wrong with being a thinker. Where I'm from, being smart has a negative connotation—that means you sold out, that means you're a geek. I'm just trying to say, “Fuck all that. This is the plan: You are the future, that other shit is the past, so let's make a better way.” And if I feel like designing some shit with Under Armour, I will.

Question from André 3000.

Oohhh, it's lit.

“What hidden talent do you have that only your parents or close people know?”

Twelvyy: He's good at playing Pokémon and shit. Yo, you see him with like 500 Pokémon cards.

Nast: He's the best at double-Dutching.

A hidden talent—something maybe only your mom knows.

Well, we might have to call my moms, then. [pauses to think] I display mostly all my talents. Right? I'm creative, intricate—angelic at moments. You gonna make me sound real conceited right now talking about myself. Why don't you tell me what it is?

Well, there's a second question from 3000: “What hobby or craft would you like to be doing that is completely outside music or fashion?”

I want to design furniture. Maybe a sofa. Or a bed.

Ferg: You did design one of your beds in the house.

Rocky: I know I did, but I want to sell my joints. That was just me testing.

Switching gears: What does God look like?

Everybody has a different God. I don't know if God is a female, male, or even in human form. I pray to somebody. Religion is deep. Everybody got a different God, but I just respect everybody for their beliefs. It is what it is. I'm more spiritual than anything. Because I find flaws and contradiction in a lot of religions, respectfully, and I just take the good out of all religions and try to practice to be a better person.

You pray every day?

Yes, I pray every day. I pray over cookies. I say my grace, straight up and down.

You've experienced loss in your family. A few times over the years, as far as I know, and then you guys as friends and collaborators and a crew experienced the loss of Yams. Do you feel like you've grieved, or did you just keep working?

Keep working. I'm not gonna lie. Because if we grieve it, it might take everything out of us. [long silence]

How'd you get the scar on your face?

When I was 15, I had a fight with some niggas in the Bronx, on Arthur Avenue. This older guy gun-butted me while we was fighting. He was trying to rob my Pelle Pelle jacket. I still kept it, though. It was bloody. My sister Erika bought me that for Easter. I wasn't about to give my shit up. Fuck outta here. If you've ever seen Jim Jones's “Certified Gangsters” video, he had it on in black. I had it in white with the colorful Easter P's on it.

All right, so we're back to where we started—the question from Mahershala Ali. “Considering you're named after Rakim, one of the greatest MCs of all time, what legendary MC would you name your child after?”

Twelvyy: Yambo?

Ferg: Yami's not a MC, though.

Twelvyy: What you mean?

Rocky: No, he was a singer, bro. He was an R&B singer. As far as rapper…I'd probably name my child Pharrell.

Ferg: I knew he was gonna say that.

#rakimworks.#q'd

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myselfinserts · 4 years ago

Note

I still remember the day I met you…

Odette was frustrated. She’d had to drop three clients in a single month because they kept cancelling mere seconds before their appointments were meant to start. She was struggling with getting a new version of the Atelier’s multi-tool to work properly in time for the testing phase.

And now, she had a three week long job starting that day at ten, and because of her summer temp, she had no idea what the real name of the client was. The only reason she had accepted this client in the first place was because Harper said Kasumi needed a favor for a friend. And for whatever reason, they'd neglected to put a reasonable name on the lists.

Were it not for the fact that Harper chased off an attempted thief just a week ago, she’d have sent them back to Ena without a second thought.

“Alberi,” she said firmly. “You will tell me who it is that I’m seeing today right now.”

Harper shrugged, taking a swig of their coffee. “It’s on the memo, boss. I already gave it to you.”

“'Battler Jewels' is not a name! It's a pseudonym based on a video game character and fancy rocks!"

"Say it three times fast before the 10 o'clock shows up, Allard. You're smarter than this."

Odette rolled her eyes, letting out a long groan. "You think saying 'Battler Jewels, Battler Jewels, Battler Jewels' is going to do anything-" She paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "I hate you so fucking much. A shitty pop culture reference on top of pop culture references? How juvenile. I should defenestrate you right now for this bullshit."

"Oh, you're feisty," Harper teased. "I like that in a goddess."

"Just who is this Beetlejuice imposter you're having me work with? Because I'm about ready to cancel their appointment."

They set down their drink with a sigh, leaning back in their desk chair with their hands behind their head. "I can't legally tell you, because this is supposed to be hush hush, but I can give you a hint. I almost put the fake name as 'Even Hansen'."

Odette felt her stomach drop. But not unpleasantly so. Just hearing the character name invoked the image of unruly, dark black hair and a red beanie. Lovely eyes bordering between amethysts and tanzanite. The star struck smile on that stupid face whenever she would walk into a room. She could almost hear the singing voice now.

"I'm going to make Kasumi pay me double for this," was all she said.

Harper burst into laughter. "Send the bill to Eira! She'll gladly pay triple!"

Odette ignored that comment and went to her work station to prepare. She only had half an hour left until the client walked in.

This was strictly professional.

Right away, Odette knew this wouldn’t be an easy job.

Granted, it was far easier than her usual fair these days. She wouldn’t be doing anything extreme like redesign an entire hero ensemble or prepare new coding for whatever computer system needed it. But it wasn’t going to be easy on her quirk. She could tell just by watching as the client walked in dragging a garment rack filled with clothes and a small carry on bag behind him. He was clearly uncomfortable in that black cable knit sweater. And the way he moved in those pants screamed agony. He looked nice, save for the iconic red beanie, but in no way was he happy in those garments.

“Hello Gladstone,” Odette greeted as pleasantly as possible. “It’s been a while.”

“Like, far too long, Clem,” Harper added, putting a long drone on the ‘far’.

“It sure has. Thank you so much for squeezing me in.” Clement smiled as best he could. “I brought a spare set of clothes to change into, but I came in this to, uh...hehe...”

“You’re clearly uncomfortable.” Without waiting a second, Odette had Harper take the clothing to the back and took Clement to the fitting room. He insisted on keeping the carry on. “So you’re what exactly was so hush hush that it required a fake name?”

Clement blushed slightly. “Ah, that. It’s not technically a legal thing yet, but it kind of is?” He chuckled nervously. “I asked Kasumi that if she managed to get me an appointment with you, she put a fake name down so I could surprise you. And also keep my cover.”

“Cover?”

“See, no one is supposed to know I’m here until the official production starts.”

Ah. It’s an actual job that brings him to Paris. How quaint. “Am I allowed to ask what kind?”

He smiled. “A TV show. I’ve got a role as part of the main cast. We’re only booked for one season at the moment.”

She nodded in understanding. “And I’m guessing that these garments you’re wearing and brought with are your character’s typical attire?”

“Yes, and I hate it,” Clement whined. “The person in charge of costume design refuses to tell us what’s in the fabrics, but whatever it is, I’m the only one allergic to it. We don’t have time to fire them and find another designer and I’m at risk of being replaced if I don’t get this fixed.”

Odette narrowed her eyes. “There’s at least half a dozen labor laws being violated here.” Her gaze slowly turned soft. “Take off the sweater and let’s see the damage. I’m guessing you have Mither’s healing water with you?”

“Never go anywhere without it.” Slowly, Clement set his hat aside, and carefully removed the sweater.

It took all her restraint not to gasp at the red blisters and rashes forming all over his back, shoulders, arms. The way his chest moved tightly as though it were hard to breathe. Odette carefully examined the damage, slipping on a pair of gloves so she could get a better look safely. “What the fuck did those bastards do to you?”

“I don’t know, but I’m already putting together a case to take to court, since they refused to fix this when I asked. They threatened to fire me until I said I’d fix it myself.” His smile had completely vanished now, replaced with absolute dejection. “Kasumi and Ena said they’d take care of getting me an appointment and finding a lawyer. I just need to make sure I keep this job until we’re ready to submit the case.”

Everything was starting to make a little more sense now. Odette’s job was to find out what the materials were made of and make sure Clement didn’t lose his job.

This wasn’t just a favor. This was another one of Ena’s little schemes.

“I suppose I could help provide a bit of leverage,” Odette said. “There’s a shower just past the breakroom for employees. Let’s get you out of these horrid things and washed up. Then I’ll take your measurements. You’ll be coming in daily so we can make sure the replica wardrobe fits and is comfortable.” She wrinkled her nose. “I just hope I don’t have to touch these things too much.”

“You and me both,” Clem agreed. “If these are miserable on me, I hate to think what it’ll feel like for you. No one deserves this torture.”

“Abolutely agreed.” She took him by the arm and dragged him to the showers, leaving him alone to get cleaned up and to prepare for the measuring.

Harper was just coming in to refill their coffee when they saw her come out of the showers. “Not gonna stay and watch him?” they teased. “He grew up nice, didn’t ‘e?

“Shut the fuck up, Alberi,” Odette hissed. She absolutely refused to agree with them, no matter how true the statement may or may not be.

She had a job to do.

When Clem came back for the fitting, he was dressed in a very nice navy blue suit that felt like heaven under her hands. Odette wanted to keep it so that she’d have something nice on hand to touch in order to reset between the hell fabrics. But she kept herself under control and kept to her work, measuring out every seam and stretch in preparation for the task at hand.

Clem smiled softly, watching her work through the reflection in the mirror. “I still remember the day I met you… On the roof of U.A.”

“Your cat was startled by me until you assured him I was a much better cuddle companion than yourself.” She smirked. “How is that cat doing?”

“Mr. Pickles is fantastic. Thanks for asking.” He hummed softly. “He’s currently at my apartment. Probably napping.”

“You have an apartment?”

“Yeah, production’s going to last a year. Figured it was cheaper than renting out a hotel room and eating out every night.”

“Smart move.” She relaxed a little. She wasn’t sure why she’d been so tense. Probably the stress. She’d have to go to bed early to make sure it didn’t affect her work further. “It’ll certainly make it easier to have Harper stalk you.”

“Oh god,” he laughed. “I wouldn’t mind though. It’s nice to see you both again.” His face flushed pink. “It’s really good to see you. I...missed you.”

Odette stopped for just a second. She hadn’t been expecting that. “I...suppose I also might have missed having you around. It was nice having someone worship the ground I walk on.”

His laughter grew, and Odette swore she heard him snort. “Glad to see your confidence matches your height now. You used to be shorter than me. You’re what now, 6′ 2″?”

“6′ 3″,” she corrected. “Renegade was none too happy about it at first, but then burst into the whole ‘our little babies are growing up’ charade. Papa was quite annoyed, though I feel he agreed with the sentiment in concept.” Odette smiled playfully. “What about you, petit idiot?”

“5′ 11″. Stopped growing a year into college.”

“A pity. You missed out on the Gladstone Giant Gene.”

“I guess I did.” His face grew bright red. “But...I don’t mind. I’d rather look up at the stars than tower over them, you know?”

Odette scoffed, her smile never disappearing. He wasn’t being subtle. But he wasn’t overstepping any boundaries either. No, this felt like their initial conversations. Simple banter and playful chit chat, with a little added boost to her ego thrown in for good measure. It was simple. It was comfortable. It felt natural.

When did I start missing these little jabs?

“All done,” she said finally, writing down the last of the measurements. “I think that’s all for today. I’ll be working on the first few garments for the rest of the afternoon. Come in tomorrow and I should have at least one outfit prepared.”

Clement nodded, slipping his beanie into his carry on. “Thanks Odette. I really appreciate this.”

“Not at all. Anything for an old friend.”

“Yeah. Right. Of course. Uh...” Nervously, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a piece of paper with his name, address, and contact info on it. “I know that you probably will get it from Harper already but...if you need to contact me...or if you ever just wanna stop by and say hi-”

Odette snatched the paper immediately. “As if I’d pass up another chance to kick your ass at poker.”

Clement’s eyes lit up. “Yeah. Yeah, sounds great. And I can make us dinner. If, uh, if you like.”

She nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Great! Great. I’ll, uh...I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Ten sharp.”

“I’ll be here early. And I can pick you up something on the way if you want?”

“I have plenty, but thank you for the offer.” Without another word, she lead him to the front, checked him out, and sent him on his way.

Harper peeked up from behind her computer, wiggling their eyebrows. “So? How’d it go~?”

Odette rolled her eyes. “He’s still an idiot.”

“But...?”

“...But I suppose he’s still my idiot as well.” She headed toward the back room. “Now get back to work. Ena’s got a job for us.”

“Perfect!” Harper cheered.

Odette just sighed and went back to work.

Never a quiet day at the Atelier.

#myselfinserts #mybnhaocs #friends ocs #the au of class #days of future class #had the feels in this chilies tonight #and wanted to imagine some sweet sweet reunions #Anonymous

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phancystuff · 7 years ago

Text

Trying to Remember How it Feels (To Have a Heartbeat) 1/7

Pairing: Dan/ Phil (Phan) Summary: Dan moves into a new apartment in London and, though it’s a step up from his old apartment, his landlord gives him strange warnings while he’s touring the place-- something about the last renters leaving because of ghost sightings. But, Dan doesn’t believe in the supernatural. He quickly changes his tune when he meets Phil Lester, the ghost haunting his apartment. Well, if haunting means quickly becoming the best friend he’s ever had. (Title from Harry Styles’ song Two Ghosts) Notes: This is the first part of my Spooky Week Special! This fic is almost 100% already written and I plan on updating it every day until Halloween. Please note that, although this fic has the warning of major character death, it is not in any way graphic. Tags/ Warnings: ghost au, Halloween, major character death (obv. it’s a ghost au lol), depictions of panic attacks, angst, fluff, HAPPY ENDING, mentions of suicide (it happens in a movie they watch)

Read it on A03 Completed fic masterlist here

Dan woke up that morning in a mood, which is never a good thing when you’re supposed to do something particularly adult-y. Something like tour a new apartment because the one you’re currently living in is literally falling apart at the seams and your neighbors drill ridiculous DIY projects at all hours of the day. Dan’s YouTube channel had been doing pretty well lately, too, and he could finally afford a better apartment. He had made it hard on himself in the beginning by refusing to get a roommate, but he liked his space. It didn’t matter, anyway, it was finally time for him to move up in the world and trade his current hamster cage for a slightly bigger one. And yet, there Dan was, the morning of an apartment tour, on his third coffee, and still feeling like someone had hit him over the head and shoulders while he was sleeping. Sickly sweet Starbucks lattes weren’t even touching his exhaustion; it was that serious. So maybe that’s why, later when Dan was touring this potential apartment, he couldn’t be bothered with the stupid things that were coming out of the landlord’s mouth.

The white, middle aged man, who had introduced himself as Paul, had just closed the door to the master bedroom and was leading Dan to the kitchen when he glanced back at Dan. “Yeah, I just want to give you full, fair warning. The last renters left because they kept seeing a ghost.”

“You don’t say?” Dan hid his eye roll, answering uninterestedly. He didn’t know what the landlord was playing at, but ghosts didn’t exist and this was a nice apartment. He couldn’t be scared away from it. It was an old building, but it had recently been renovated and featured new, shiny appliances. The space wasn’t huge, but it would work perfectly for a 26 year old, single YouTuber. It had a great view of the city and an elevator to aid in the moving process.

“Yeah, ghosts! I mean, I never saw any ghosts, but I do get a weird feeling when I walk around here.” Paul rambled on and Dan leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at him. “From what I hear, the last landlord that owned this property didn’t carefully inspect the place and it ended in some poor bloke dying. Not really sure how; it was back in 2010. But, obviously, everything’s ship shape now.” The man trailed off, gazing around at nothing in particular.

“Uh huh,” Dan answered politely, but distractedly, crouching down to look at the controls on the impressive-looking stove. He wasn’t really listening.

“Oh, yeah! The stove is new and state-of-the-art--” as the landlord barreled into more information about the admittedly nice stove, Dan totally forgot about the weirdo’s ghost comments.

***

A week later, Dan was moving into his new apartment. He had spent a few days weighing his options, but had ultimately decided to apply for the flat that Paul had showed him. The application had been accepted quickly and now Dan was staring at his new home with a large, heavy cardboard box in his arms. Thankfully, his parents and younger brother were kind enough to give up their Saturday to help Dan out. They were hoping to get it all done in a day. Dan glanced back toward the street and felt overwhelmed by all of the boxes, furniture, and stuff in the moving van. As he made trip after trip from moving van to apartment, he felt increasingly thankful for the elevator in the building.

Dan, his parents, and younger brother were in and out of the apartment all morning with boxes and furniture. “Fuck, Dan, when did you get so much shit?” Alex collapsed on the sofa that the four of them had finally fit it into the far corner of the lounge. He glared at Dan, who just rolled his eyes at his moody teenaged brother. Dan couldn’t really say much; he was moody too when he was sixteen. Dan was just glad that he didn’t start his YouTube channel until later in his life. Less cringe-worthy stuff on the internet, that way.

“Sorry Lexy,” Dan put emphasis on his little brother’s childhood nickname, “How about you let me know what I don’t need and I’ll bin it. Would that make you happy?”

Alex puffed out a breath, “Yeah, start with the shoes. You have enough to make the average girl jealous.”

Dan crossed his arms, “sexist little punk.”

“Self-absorbed twat.”

“Wanker.”

“Assho--”

“Boys! Enough.” Their mum suddenly appeared at the opening to the lounge, looking at her offspring disappointedly. “Daniel, you’re 26, you should know better.” Dan looked down at his toes, feeling more remorseful that he was 26 and was still being disciplined by his mum. Alex just looked smug, until their mum turned to him and crossed her arms. “Alex, Daniel is your older brother and he needed our help today. So don’t complain. We’re family, we help each other. That’s what family does.” Alex rolled his eyes in response.

Dan collapsed next to Alex, letting a sigh escape his lips. “Thanks for helping me, you guys. Even though some of us are annoying little pillocks who should be locked in a room until their bodies are no longer being ravaged by hormones--” he looked pointedly at Alex-- “I really appreciate the help.”

“Well, of course you need help, it’s not like you can afford movers on a YouTuber’s salary.” Alex snipped, shoving his shoulder against Dan.

Their mum looked between them with exasperation, throwing her hands up. “I give up! Brothers! So nasty to each other!” She turned around, exiting the flat to get more boxes. Alex giggled.

Dan looked at him unbelievingly. “Did you really just giggle?”

Alex met his stare with furrowed brows, “No, I didn’t fucking giggle. Why would I giggle? The only funny thing here is your career path.” Alex shoved himself off the couch, “come on, you lazy fuck. You aren’t gonna pass all the work off on us.”

“Will you stop being such a prick?” Dan also pushed himself off the couch, already forgetting about the giggle that he had very clearly heard. Instead, he was thinking about offering to order pizza for everyone so they could have a much-deserved lunch break.

***

Later that night, Dan worked in his new bedroom, making his bed and unloading the boxes that had been haphazardly stacked about. The whole process of bringing in his stuff had taken the better part of the day and then his family stuck around to help Dan start to unpack. They didn’t really get far with it, before Dan was insisting that he could handle the unpacking part and that his family had done enough for him. Of course, Alex had made a relieved sassy comment that Dan had ignored and Dan’s mum checked and double-checked that Dan was ok to do it alone. Dan’s dad suggested going out to dinner and everyone had been more than happy to comply.

His family left long ago and Dan was alone in the apartment. It seemed so big and empty. Every footstep seemed to echo. Dan hated new places. It would get better when his stuff was unpacked and arranged. Until then, Dan just blasted some Vampire Weekend and rifled around in the boxes marked ‘bedroom.’ Whenever Dan moved somewhere new, he set his bedroom up first. The bed was the most important thing, especially since it was pushing 10:00 PM and Dan had gotten up disgustingly early that morning. After the bed was made, Dan went through the process of setting up his computer. Connecting to the internet was blessedly easy, but that was because the internet provider had already been in a couple days ago to install the router and ethernet jacks. Dan had stressed to them how important it was to get everything sorted and they had complied.

Fixing up his bedroom also included building his video background, which was always one of his favorite spaces to decorate. Of course, the iconic butt chair was there. He hung fairy lights around his bed frame and delicately put various knick knacks on display on his bedside table. Posters were hung, clothes were folded and stuffed into his chest of drawers, books were fitted into his new bookshelf, bedsheets were smoothed down, and slowly the boxes disappeared. Dan broke them down and slid them in the hallway, promising himself to take care of the pile rather than trip on it for the next two weeks. Before Dan knew it, it was 1:30 AM and he was crashing, quickly.

Dan silenced Ezra Koenig and tore off his clothes, changing into soft pajama bottoms. He lay down on his bed, groaning at the feeling of his aching body sinking into a blessedly comfy memory foam mattress. Dan had paid a small fortune for the bed, but it had been so worth it. He slept like a baby in it. Dan got out his phone, checking his social media accounts for any important updates. He reblogged some fanart on tumblr, watched some of his friends new YouTube videos, and liked some tweets. Dan himself tweeted, ‘of course the first thing i set up in the new flat is my bed. it’s where all the magic happens and by magic i mean sleep.’ Dan spent a few minutes replying with sassy comments to fans, before feeling his eyelids start to drift closed.

“Ugh, the lights. Gotta get the lights.” Dan murmured to himself, forcing his eyes open. He rolled to the left, aiming to get out of the bed, when the lights were suddenly off. Dan perked his head up, looking around in the room that had just been plunged in darkness. He couldn’t see a thing. He groaned, thinking about how he would already have to contact the landlord about electricity problems. “Stupid faulty electricity,” Dan pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. “Whatever, it can wait until morning.” Dan pushed the bedcovers down, wiggling under them. They were barely over his body when sleep overtook him.

Dan slept late and when his eyes finally cracked open, the sun was obnoxiously brightening the room. Dan put ‘dark curtains’ on his mental shopping list and pushed the covers off his body. He lay there for a second, observing the ceiling (and praising the lack of cracks in it).

Moments later, his feet touched the floor and he remembered the electricity the previous night. Curious, Dan pushed himself out of bed and padded over to the light switch on the wall. He flicked it experimentally and watched the overhead lights come on and off, on and off. They were working perfectly. There must have been a brief, scarily coincidental, power outage the previous night.

Dan went into the kitchen and made a coffee and popped some toast into the toaster, thanking both his past self for packing some food to sustain him as he moved in, and his mother for unpacking the food immediately. Dan got out his phone as he waited for his breakfast and sent a quick text to his mum. ‘Bless you for unpacking my food.’ She sent him a heart emoji without hesitation and asked him about his first night. He made light conversation about unpacking and sleeping, but quickly said goodbye to her in favor of breakfast.

Dan opened up the notes app in his iPhone, looking at the list of video ideas he had going. Although he had tons of unpacking to do, he was due for a new video soon. He didn’t want to spend a lot of time with a script or with editing, so he figured it was time for another video in his “Quick and Dirty with Dan” series. For these videos, he would essentially set up a camera and rant/ philosophize about a subject for five minutes. He only edited out the “um’s.” They were fun. People cared about his opinions on things, surprisingly. Dan composed a quick tweet: ‘any requests for a quick n dirty?’ and he watched the responses flood in. Of course, plenty of his fans suggested lewd things, inspired by the name of the series. Several tweets said ‘Donald Trump’ and there was no way that Dan was going to fall down that hole. Dan scrolled through his replies, munching on a bite of buttered toast. One tweet jumped out at him and he thumbed the text, liking it. ‘Talk about your experience with/ opinion about the supernatural! Like ghosts, not the show lolol.’ Immediately, Dan recalled the weird conversation he had with Paul the landlord about the ghost that apparently haunted this apartment. It would be a perfect story to include in his video.

When his toast was eaten and cup of coffee was drained, Dan tottered back to his bedroom, maneuvering around boxes. Dan made his bed and changed into his signature black outfit. He set up his camera and lighting equipment and sat down in his chair, checking the viewfinder to make sure that his video background looked agreeable. Dan pressed record, speaking his regular greeting of “Hello internet!” and barreling into the topic of the supernatural.

Three or four hours later, the video was being uploaded onto YouTube. Dan’s more scripted videos took much longer to create, which was why he really liked this series. Dan left the video to do its thing and went to unpack the kitchen, blasting Britney Spears and singing along badly. “Toxic” came on and Dan picked up a wooden spoon, holding it to his mouth and purring out the first words of the song, “baby, can’t you see?” He danced around the kitchen. About halfway through the song, Dan noticed that he was hearing double. There was another voice under Britney’s that wasn’t his own. It wasn’t a particularly good voice, either. It missed some of the notes entirely. Dan furrowed his brow and picked up his phone, checking that Spotify hadn’t accidentally given him a weird, cover version of the song. It hadn’t. Dan paused it and silence enveloped the kitchen. He pressed play again and the song was back to normal, Britney back to her sensual self. Dan felt a little unnerved, thinking about the electricity and the weird mystery voice. He considered exploring the apartment a little, checking closets and corners for possible squatters. In the end, he didn’t do anything of the sort, laughing at himself instead. He needed to get the place set up, then maybe Dan wouldn’t feel so jumpy.

Dan paused Britney and checked the status of his video. He was surprised to find that it had already uploaded successfully. He was impressed with the internet speed. He scrolled through YouTube comments, liking a few clever ones. He rarely replied to YouTube comments, unless one was especially funny. He didn’t find any funny ones, but did notice quite a few that looked exactly identical.

‘Umm wtf ghost at 1:33??????’

‘YOU BETTER BELIEVE IN GHOST STORIES, DANIEL, YOU’RE IN ONE!!!11! 1:33’

‘1:33 Ghost. Ghost. Ghost.’

‘Seriously, what the fuck is that at 1:33??’

Dan rolled his eyes at the comments. These weren’t new on the world of YouTube. People loved creepy things and once one person commented a timestamp and a ghost sighting, it was like a disease. Dan clicked the timestamp on one of the comments, fully expecting a shadow or stuffed animal falling over.

Instead, Dan felt like his heart stopped.

He paused the video. He suddenly felt hot, heat prickling across every inch of his skin. In the video, in the dark doorway of his bedroom, there was an unmistakable figure. A man. He was barely a glimmer, but, boy, was he there.

Dan stared at the screen, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. There was literally no fucking reasonable explanation for what he was seeing. Dan tried to rationalize it, but was coming up with nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Instead, he was thinking about the landlord’s comments, the mysterious giggle that he thought was Alex, the electricity problem, the strange voice he heard while singing “Toxic.” Dan started shaking. He was afraid to play the video and watch what the figure would do. But he had to. Curiosity ate at him. Slowly, shakily, Dan pressed play and watched the entryway. The man looked up at Dan in the video. Dan blanched at the man’s pale skin, dark hair, and piercing eyes. He didn’t look unfriendly, watching Dan with curiosity. In the video, Dan was saying something about “the idea of ghosts scaring the diddly heck out of him,” and Dan saw the ghost’s mouth quirk up in a smile, before he was simply phasing out of frame.

Dan paused the video and released a breath that he had been holding.

“Sorry for intruding on your video.” Dan screamed, actually screamed, jerking violently in his chair. It pitched back and he crashed to the floor. The room echoed with the sound of the loud crash and Dan felt momentarily dazed. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering if someone had slipped him hallucinogenic drugs without him knowing. Alex would probably get a kick out of doing something like that. Suddenly, a figure came into Dan’s view, looking at Dan upside down. It was the figure from the video. The ghost? The hallucination? Dan’s eyes widened at the man. He looked… concerned. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Are you all right?” Dan noticed the voice had a Northern tinge, and now was really not the time to notice such a fucking stupid detail.

“Me? I-I-- well, I-I. Are y-you? Ghost? Who, who, who are you?” Dan stuttered pathetically, trembling all over. He felt cold and hot at the same time. He wondered briefly if he had a fever. Maybe he hadn’t woken up yet and this was a dream.

The figure covered his translucent face in equally translucent hands. “Oh god, I’ve really muffed this up. Of course you would be frightened.” He removed his hands from his face and stared down at Dan. “Won’t you get up? We could go to the lounge? I’ll introduce myself properly!”

Dan just lay there, trembling. He blinked his eyes over and over, willing the ghost to disappear. He wasn’t awake. He was asleep. This was a dream. He pinched himself. It didn’t work. He slapped himself in the face. Nothing happened.

“Hey! Don’t hit yourself!” Dan jumped again. He stared into a pair of ghosts eyes a moment longer and decided that he should at least pick himself off the floor. He did so, probing the back of his head and wincing at the tender spot that was definitely bruised. Methodically, he picked the chair up off the ground and tucked it under the desk, trying to breathe evenly. It was a losing battle. Finally, Dan snapped, and the floodgates opened. He began breathing harder, the unmistakable feeling of panic sweeping over his body. He felt lightheaded and numb. Dan sat down on the floor, hard, breath coming faster and faster. He pushed himself against the wall of his bedroom, trying to get as far away from the ghost as possible. His breath wheezed out of him, specks of spit flying out of his mouth. Dan pressed his head in between his knees as he lost feeling in his fingers. He didn’t feel real. He was terrified. What was happening to him? “Hey, hey, now. It’s ok. God, I’m so sorry, Dan. It’s ok. Breathe. Slowly, slowly now.” Dan knew that the voice was coming from the object of his fears, but it was good advice. He tried his best to take it, trying to control his lungs. He used every trick he had learned throughout his life of living with anxiety. He imagined that his lungs had legs and were running away and he imagined himself running after them, catching them in his hands. He listened to the soothing repetition of “it’s ok, shh, slowly now” coming from the mouth of the fucking ghost across from him. Dan picked up his heavy hands and brought them up to his own neck, dragging his fingers along the sensitive skin there. Anything to ground him. Anything to make him feel real again. Minutes later, Dan’s breathing began to slow. He focused hard on forcing it to stay slow. “There ya go, good. I’m not a bad guy. I couldn’t hurt a fly, I promise.”

Dan looked up at the ghost who had crouched down in front of Dan’s crumpled form. He would have looked like a completely normal guy, if not for the see-through skin and the slightly hovering body. This was the first time Dan was getting a good look at him and he was surprised, to say the least. The man in front of him was more like a boy. He had long, black hair that was cut into a style resembling cool 2007 emo myspace kids. Interestingly enough, he was sporting a worn, blue shirt and grey sweatpants. He had piercing blue eyes. “You’re a ghost.” Dan’s voice was shaky and monotone. He felt exhausted. Dan realized that his face was wet with tears. When he had a panic attack, he often couldn’t tell the difference between hyperventilating and sobbing. It all blended into one disastrous experience.

The figure looked embarrassed and Dan thought he saw the ghost’s face turn red. “I am a ghost. I’m sorry.” The ghost scratched at the back of his head. “Dan, I feel terribly. I should have realized that you would have reacted like this. I accidentally drove the last renters out and I never even purposefully revealed myself to them. God, I’m just an idiot. I just couldn’t believe that you were a YouTuber and I got so excited to see the camera and--”

“--Ok, ok. It’s, um, ok, I guess.” Dan cut the ghost off. He blew out a shaky breath. “How do you, um, know my name?”

The ghost looked embarrassed again. “Oh, I heard your family call you Dan. That sounds so creepy. Sheesh,” he refused to meet Dan’s eyes. “I wish I could leave you alone forever, but I-- uh-- am kinda tethered to this place. Can’t leave.”

Dan nodded slowly, deciding that, if this was happening and this was reality, he might as well be cordial. “Oh. Well, do you have a name?”

Phil clapped his hand over his face and Dan couldn’t help but jump a little, body still on edge. “I’m really cocking this up. Yes of course I have a name, I’m so rude. Phil Lester, at your service!” Phil stuck his hand out at Dan who just stared at it. Phil slowly retracted it, “sorry, habit.” The ghost coughed, “sorry.”

“Right. Um.” Dan chewed his lip and stared at Phil with wide eyes. What was the proper etiquette when it came to ghosts? He couldn’t offer Phil some tea and cakes, for chrissakes. Dan suddenly remembered something Phil had said only seconds before. “You know YouTube? How?”

Phil smiled a sad smile and crossed his legs. He looked like a monk who had achieved enlightenment with his hovering. “I had a channel back in the day. I had a lot of fun with it.” Phil stared at his legs, picking at the fabric covering his knee.

“Oh! Wow, you were a YouTuber?” Dan couldn’t hide his disbelief. What were the odds that the ghost tethered to his new apartment had also been a YouTube when he was alive? Dan wasn’t even going to dwell on how weird that sentence was. “What was your username?”

Phil met his eyes and smiled shyly, “oh, um, it was amazingphil.” Dan raised his eyebrows. “I know, I know. I made it in 2006.”

“That’s fair; everyone had quirky usernames back in the day.” Dan remembered his first youtube channel name and was briefly thankful that he never made a single video on it. He couldn’t imagine what kind of professional life he could have with a name like ‘danisnotonfire.’

“Yeah, I guess. But mine was particularly silly, huh?”

“Not as bad as danisnotonfire,” Dan said, laughing a little.

“That’s your channel name?!”

“Oh no, no. But it was the account I made when I was 16. I never used it to make videos, thank god.” Silence followed Dan’s comment and he was struck by the sudden realization that he was having a fucking conversation with a ghost. “Hey-- did you turn off the lights last night?” Dan tilted his head to the side slightly and Phil looked abashed.

“Um, ah, yeah. You had just worked so hard and looked so comfy. I just flicked them off for you, it wasn’t hard.” Phil cleared his throat, “electricity is one those things that I can manipulate.”

Dan hummed to himself. “So you were watching me last night?”

Phil’s eyes widened. “Sorry! Sorry! Bad habit! I don’t see many people. It’s just nice to--” He cut himself off. “I think it’s about time for me to leave you alone. You need some space,” Phil nodded to himself, “I need to get out of your space.”

“Phil! Phil, wait! I still have--” and then the ghost was gone, as quick as he had appeared. “--questions.” Dan finished lamely.

Dan looked around his bedroom, almost surprised to find that it hadn’t changed; only Dan’s perception of it had. Everything was too bright and crystal clear, like he had been swimming underwater with his eyes open until that moment. Dan shakily got up off the floor and made his way to the bed, collapsing on it. He didn’t bother to put on different clothes or get under the covers. So, a ghost was haunting his new apartment. What was he supposed to do about that? Let the landlord know? The landlord already knew; he had bloody warned Dan. Tell his parents? His subscribers? Well, his subscribers had already seen it. Curious, Dan pulled his phone out of his back pocket and scrolled through his replies on Twitter. The ghost was literally the only thing that any of them were talking about. Dan checked the views on his video and his mouth dropped open. It was almost to one million views, which was pretty normal for him, but it always took a couple of days for the views to add up to a million. His video was going viral. Dan locked his phone and placed it on the bedside table. What was he supposed to do about this? He began to drift asleep, the exhaustion of his panic attack weighing him down into the mattress. Phil had been a YouTuber when he was alive; maybe Dan would ask him his opinion. Before Dan could consider how odd of a concept it was, he was asleep.

Chapter two

#phan #phanfiction #phanfic #ghost au #halloween #spooky week #spooky week special

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maguneedsalife · 7 years ago

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Nendoroid Yuuri!

Well everyone it’s already time for another figure review! I was gonna put the figma kurisu review here but tbh i was feeling pretty done after I put it on mfc so if you’re interested in that, here’s a link

Anyway, today I’ll be looking at my most recent arrival and 101st figure!

As usual, picture-heavy review under the cut! Had to bring back Aoba’s room for the background because Yuuri didn’t come with a fun insert haha

TBH I’m really gunning for the Victor nendo; at first I didn’t really think I’d want Yuuri because I like Victor more as a character lmao... but! The thought of Victor sitting all alone on my shelf without his husband just made me sad, so I decided to preorder Yuuri to keep him company. And now Yuuri has a long and lonely wait for Victor lmao

Fast forward to today, when I was finally able to grab my packages from the weekend, and Yuuri is here!! I had expected to feel a little buyer’s remorse, since I really do like Victor more--but Yuuri was extremely worth it, as you will see below~

First, let’s do a turnaround!

From the side! You can see that mine has a bit of a seam on his hair... but I don’t plan to display him with slicked-back hair, so it doesn’t really bother me.

From behind! His skirt is actually a separate piece made of flexible plastic, to allow for freedom of movement! And you get a little peek of his tiny butt.... Victor will be pleased

From the other side, you can see that the crystals extend all the way up his shoulder. His two arms are also slightly different colors, which makes it super easy to figure out which hand/arm parts go where!

Closeup on the skirt so you can see that the underside is painted red! There’s also a slight gradient on it. The details on his outfit look fantastic! Even the skates have been sculpted to the tiniest detail.

Here are all the things he came with! along with a white card that I had to put down so i wouldn’t lose the parts on my desk lmao.

He comes with quite a bit! A few arms, a bent leg, and even a tiny katsudon!

Now--let’s try some poses!

Yuuri’s “ta-da!” pose from the promotional pictures! or something like it. One thing I noticed immediately was that Yuuri has a small joint in his hips, so that you can pose him very naturally in motion! I was apprehensive at first considering other Nendos I’ve had with joints in the waist, but Yuuri is very sturdy and holds poses well.

Trying out the “Eros” face, along with a bent arm part and a bent leg. Such eros!! He looks calm and confident, ready to take home the gold! and his husband lmao

I tried replicating the hugging pose from the end of his Eros routine, but his arms aren’t that flexible haha...

Another point of interest: Like Mikazuki and Kogitsunemaru, Yuuri has an extra point of articulation in his upper arm. This allows for a much more varied range of motion!

Moving on, now let’s try...

The shocked face, along with the normal hair!! Oh no, he’s so cute!!!!

The normal hair has a bit of an indent on the side fringe, which allows for...

The glasses to be attached! Though I think mine aren’t on straight... But otherwise, the glasses are really cute!!! I also love that the extra arm articulation allows this kind of pose to be made!

And now for my favorite option parts.... the katsudon!!! The little chopsticks are adorable, and the katsudon looks good enough to eat!! even if I dont eat pork.... chicken katsu for me, please!

The katsudon parts can also be used by other nendos, if they look natural in fingerless gloves! I almost ended up displaying Mikazuki like this, haha...

Trying out the phone part, which is where I hit the first snag... the phone popped right out of his hand!! At first I thought maybe it was supposed to do that, but then I couldn’t get the phone to stay in... I’ll have to glue it back in place, but for the sake of the review I decided to just balance it precariously. Other than that snag, it’s a cute part! The poodle phone case is a good detail.

Taking selfies with friends at the con when you’re all cosplaying from different series

Trying out Yuuri’s embarrassed face on other nendos and.... oh no????

This face part may have given me far too much power.....

Yuuri: Oh, Yurio! Is that you? I didn’t know you were here already!

Raiden: Uh, you must have me confused with someone else. I’m Raiden. Nice to meet you.

Yuuri: Oh.... Nice to meet you too... <-- can’t see shit without his glasses

Aoba: Hey, neighbor! Thought you might want these.

Yuuri: Oh, my glasses! Thank you. (thinking: If I’d had any more mixups on my first day I’d probably have died of embarrassment--!)

Aoba: Settling in alright?

Yuuri: Yeah. Thanks for letting me use your place for introductions...

Aoba: Anytime! You seem like a cool dude, and it’s nice to have someone my age around.

Yuuri: haha, thanks.... (thinking: this guy is the same age as me???)

Clear: Hello! You must be the new neighbor Aoba was talking about! My name is Clear. It’s nice to meet you.

Yuuri: Clear, huh? (interesting name...) I’m Yuuri Katsuki.

Clear: Katsuki-san, your outfit is very stylish. I wonder how Aoba would look in something like that?

Aoba: J-jeez, Clear, do you gotta do this in front of a guy we just met....?

Yuuri: Mmmmaybe I should go

Mink: (staring)

Yuuri: (thinking) oh jeez, this guy’s kinda scary.... what does he want?? Should I run???

Mink: (nodding, as if sure of something) Stay out of trouble, alright?

Yuuri: H-huh?? Oh... um.... thank you. (thinking: he seems scary, but... maybe he’s not so bad?)

I realized I still hadn’t done any proper faceswaps with Yuuri, so I decided to try Mikazuki’s content face.... and it’s a critical hit!!! Yuuri looks so happy to have his beloved katsudon...

Anyway, I think that’s about it for the pictures. Overall, I’m very satisfied with Yuuri! More satisfied than I thought I would be!

Tbh, I like his free skate program better than his short program (who can deny that Yuri on Ice is a good song??) so I was a little dismayed to hear that they were making a FS Yuuri nendoroid too... (and it was an exclusive, no less!). But in the end I’m glad I got this one--way more optional parts and expressions, and since I plan to display him with the glasses/casual hair, this worked out better. I’d like to own the FS version someday just to have more options, but lord knows what the aftermarket’s gonna look like on that one...

A casual clothes Yuuri was also recently announced, so I’m excited to see how that one comes out too! The skating outfits are of course iconic, but since I like taking pictures of nendos in scenes that look natural for them, it will be hard to find good backdrops for Yuuri and Victor...

Anyway, enough on that. Here’s where I’ll be displaying him for now:

He looks so lonely without Victor.... but at least he has his new friends to keep him company in the meantime!

Anyway, that’s all for now! My next review will most likely be when Victor comes home, haha. Look forward to it!

#nendoroid #yuuri katsuki #katsuki yuuri #review #yuri on ice #anime toys #figure review

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matcha-chocolate · 7 years ago

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Prompt: “Your choice of samsteve, sambucky or all caps and adopting! A kitty cat!” by @spooky-redwing ! I know this prompt is literally months old, but I’m going through every single prompt (except “green zucchini” because FUCK THAT.) The upside of me taking ages to do prompts? People forget all about them and they’re like fun surprise gifts!! Or something!

Their apartment made magazine spreads look like a joke. True, everything was second-hand, because Steve was cheap against being wasteful; and there were several huge bookshelves groaning under the strain of Sam and Bucky’s books; and the kitchen had a truly baffling number of wooden cutting boards, wooden spoons, wooden cups-- because Bucky had a thing for hand-made wooden utensils; and they’d had to change from light to dark decor after Steve’s paint spatters and charcoal smudges made Bucky pitch a fit; and Sam had a whole two shelves just for his records and god help you if you touched them without asking... But if you “pulled up the Googles” (Steve’s words) to look up “eclectic hipster apartment on a budget,” their home would have popped up first. It was a Pinterest addict’s wet dream. It would get dozens of “OMG GOALS” comments on Instagram. It was cozy, it was nicely furnished, and it perfectly reflected the three occupants. And then someone (Bucky. It was Bucky.) left the goddamn window open when all three of them were out on separate missions for a few weeks.

Sam got back first; his missions had been Stateside; something about the changing of the seasons really brought out the weirdo costumed villains. Sam had just fought an embarrassingly short battle against “Leaf-al Weapon,” and aside from general bruising, he’d have to contend with the inevitable YouTube videos of him getting dozens of pinecones fired at him. He’d already gotten messages from Steve and Bucky; Steve would be back that night, Bucky, tomorrow. He’d at least have a good few hours to shower, nap, maybe even finally break open the nice whiskey Director Fury had given him for his last birthday... The first thing that Sam noticed was that the rain had blown in through the open living room window. The second, was that the place smelled really weird, kinda... fishy? Sam eased his heavy wing pack off his shoulder and heaved a huge sigh before moving over to the window and sliding it partially shut. So much for relaxing -- he spent 20 minutes mopping up the water and praying it wouldn’t fuck up the hardwood too much. He snapped a picture of the mop leaning forlornly against the wall next to the window, sending it in a text to Bucky with the message “Thanks, man.” Okay, maybe skip the shower and go right to the nap part of his plan. When Sam pushed approached his open room door, he reeled back a little. It smelled like... tuna? What the hell? He barely had time to wonder if something had happened to his emergency rations before he got his answer. A pair of eyes glinted in the darkness near the floor, and Sam steeled himself for fighting an angry raccoon (because that was what his life was like nowadays) when a mew pulled him up short. A cat? A cat wasn’t necessarily less dangerous than a raccoon if it was feral and scared, but... Sam liked cats. Sure, he was the Falcon, but he appreciated the way that cats liked you on their terms. He could dig it. He cautiously flicked on the light and blinked at the intruder. It was small, just a kitten, really. Its coat was grey as the sky outside, the iconic ‘M’ of a tabby on its little forehead. “Hey, little dude,” Sam said softly. The cat looked away and lifted a leg to clean itself with gusto. “Ah. Not a dude,” Sam amended. He moved slowly, but all the same the cat hunched defensively, its ears flattened. Sam stopped by the closet, not moving any closer to the small animal, and checked the cardboard box in the corner-- ah. Sam had an emergency food stash (they all did; old habits died hard,) and one of the things he always had was vacuum-sealed packages of tuna. It seemed the clever little thing had found it and chewed through the packaging to get to the food inside. That explained what it’d been eating, anyway... but... “You been poopin’ in here, cat?” Sam asked, turning to look at his companion. She’d edged away from him, but was no longer scared-looking, merely blinking at him now. Sam was pretty sure from his experience with his sister’s pets that if the cat had been relieving herself in his room, he’d’ve known immediately. That stuff stank. Just in case, he checked his room, telegraphing his movements so as to not frighten the cat-- but she seemed to have forgotten about her nerves pretty quickly, because she hopped nimbly onto the bed and just watched him. “Ooookay, well... you’re weird. Dunno what else I expected,” Sam muttered. After a moment’s thought, he pulled out his phone. Human foods for cats Sam grimaced as he scanned the results; seemed like most things in the house wasn’t great for cats, especially kittens. Not even cow’s milk was great for them! Sam felt lied to by all those Saturday morning cartoons. He was halfway to Googling “nearby pet stores” when he paused. He should be looking for animal shelters, not a place to buy cat food and cat toys. The object of his deliberations was now sitting loaf-style on his duvet, watching with half-closed eyes. Her tail flicked now and then to show her interest, but otherwise she seemed relaxed. Dammit, she was cute, big golden-green eyes and a pink little nose. Dammit dammit. “Stormy,” he murmured, slowly extending his hand for her to smell. He was rewarded with a tentative sniff, which he took to mean she approved of the name. There was one little problem: their apartment building had a strict no-pets rule. Sam muttered under his breath as he found a soft old sweatshirt, carefully arranging it into a little bed for Stormy. “Okay, girl... you can sleep here for tonight and tomorrow we gotta find somewhere for you to--” He was interrupted by her looking away from where he was gesturing, putting her chin on her front paws, and closing her eyes. The cat had gone to sleep in the middle of his sentence. In the middle of his bed. “No,” Sam said firmly, crossing his arms. The cat didn’t even stir. “No, you can’t sleep on the bed. No. I’m not getting cat hair on my sheets.” Stormy’s response was to put a paw over her face. Sam felt his shoulders sag; he was tired, he wanted a nap before the whirlwind of energy that was Steve Rogers got home, and this cat had the audacity to be in his bed being adorable. Not okay. “Okay. You can sleep in here, but you. Are. Not. Sleeping. On. My. Bed.” --- “Sam? Sam, I-- oh.” Steve poked his head into the room through the half-open door and stilled, a fond smile softening his features. Sam was curled up on his side with his back to the doorway, snoring softly. He must have been really tired to have slept through the jingling keys and heavy footsteps that had announced Steve’s arrival. Steve carefully backed out of the room, closing the door most of the way so that the hallway light wouldn’t bother Sam. Sam didn’t stir, but unnoticed by Steve, a small form slipped from the protective cocoon that Sam had inadvertently formed around her, crept to the edge of the bed and nimbly leapt to the floor. When Sam woke with a start in the early hours of the morning, the little cat was nowhere to be found. He felt surprisingly disappointed; he’d been half-dreaming of jingly cat toys, purring and soft little paws. After a quick but thorough check, Sam had to admit to himself that she’d probably slipped back out through the open living room window, off to wherever her real home was. He’d planned to get her a little collar and everything. Dammit. The expression on his face as he settled back into bed was pretty close to a sulk.

“Mornin’,” Sam yawned hours later, shuffling into the kitchen. Steve, who was frowning at a food package of some kind, looked up with a smile. “Sam! You’re up. I thought you might miss the whole day, you were sleeping so late.” “It’s 8:30, Steve.” “I know; I’ve been up for 3 hours already.” “I’m so sorry to hear that,” Sam said dryly, leaning in to kiss the side of Steve’s head. “Way back in the 1960s, they invented this thing called ‘sleeping in,’ it’s a real damn shame you never got to try it.” “Wiseguy.” “One of us has to be, Cap. What you got there?” the last question was regarding the large canvas tote at Steve’s feet. Steve glanced down, a strange look of alarm passing over his features before he could school them. “I got these... uh... hhhhealth snacks. They’re healthy... and you can eat them and-- they’re good!” Steve tore open the package in his hand and popped a few dark green biscuits into his mouth. Sam watched as Steve flinched, grimaced, and chewed like a man eating sawdust. “Looks... tasty,” Sam deadpanned. Steve nodded, entirely unconvincingly. “They’re good! And really healthy.” “Tell me one thing, though--” Steve looked strangely alarmed again. “Yeah?” “Are they healthy, though? You’ve only mentioned it 5 times, I think.” “Oh, ha ha, Wilson.” “And anyway, I was asking about all of that stuff,” Sam continued, gesturing again at the shopping bag. Steve bit his lip and shrugged his shoulders in a would-be casual way. “Oh. I uh--” “Is that... rice?” Sam asked, moving towards the bag. Steve gratefully seized on the assumption, touching Sam’s arm to get his attention. “Yeah, yes! Yes. Rice! I’m... bringing rice... to the potluck this weekend.” “Rice.” “Yep!” “A bag of rice?” “Ye-- no. No, of course not. I’m... going to watch the YouTune to find recipes?” “Are you asking or telling me, man?” Sam teased gently. He knew Steve was a little bit embarrassed about his horrible cooking skills-- especially since Sam and Bucky could throw down in the kitchen. “I’m gonna cook a rice dish. For the potluck.” “Okay, baby. I mean... we got plenty of rice here--” “This is special rice.” “O...kay. And that?” Sam asked, gesturing to the large boxy shape straining the seams of the bag. “Is that a--” “Shelving unit!” Steve almost shouted. “It’s. A little bookcase. Got it on sale!”

“Yeah, you’re always saying you need more space for your books,” Sam agreed, smiling fondly. “Sure am. I’m gonna... watch YouTune--” “YouTube.” “YouTube, yes. I’m gonna watch some... in my room. With the door closed. I need to focus. For the recipe.” “Steve, you don’t have to make up some story if you just want some alone time to jerk off, man. We’re all adults here.” “Wh-- I’m not! Not right now! I’m really gonna--” “Mhm. Okay, whatever weirdo stuff you’re doing, have fun.” Sam leaned up to kiss Steve on the mouth, and then made a face. “Those health snacks taste rank, man.” Sam could have sworn he heard a weird jingling noise as Steve walked away with the bag. --- “Sammy,” Bucky groaned, slumping his considerable body weight on Sam’s shoulder. Sam absent-mindedly pat the top of Bucky’s head, hmmm?ing in response. “I missed you.” “You also missed like 10 showers, Barnes. Jesus.” “I was travelling for a week! No time for luxury.” “Basic hygiene? Not a luxury.” “Yeah, yeah. I’ll shower after you hug me.” “Ohhh, no. Ohhhh no no no no no.” “Take one for the team, Sammy. I been starved for affection and all.” “You were only gone for a month,” Sam grumbled even as he got to his feet and held his arms out to Bucky. “I was gone for a whole month,” Bucky sighed, sinking into Sam’s embrace and breathing him in (Sam was subtly trying not to breathe Bucky in.) “Okay, I feel better. Thanks, Sammy. I... I really did miss you.” “I-missed-you-too-now-shut-up-and-go-shower.” Instead, Bucky made a big show of kissing Sam’s neck and jawline, being as noisy as possible while Sam pretended to hate every second. “Now that I’ve marked you with my scent--” “Aw, nasty.” “--gonna go see how Blondie’s doing.” “Mmm, I wouldn’t,” Sam said thoughtfully. Bucky’s eyebrows crept up. “Why?” “Steve’s acting weird.” “... gonna have to narrow that one down a little.” “Weirder than usual. I think he wants a little alone time or somethin’.” “Oh. Well-- yeah, okay. I’ll go shower and... you can make me a late breakfast?” “Try again.” “I’ll go shower and we’ll make breakfast together?” “Ding ding ding.”

Steve heaved a huge sigh and then made a face as he smelled his own breath. He’d gotten so caught up in reading the ingredients on the bag of cat treats that he’d had to eat the damn things to hide them from Sam. They were disgusting, and even though Steve had frantically rinsed out his mouth in the washroom, the taste lingered. “The things I do for you,” he smiled gently down at the small grey cat curled up on his desk. The kitten, which he’d named ‘Slate’ because of her grey coat, raised her head and watched inquisitively as Steve set out the litter box he’d just bought. She sat all the way up when he hefted the small bag of litter (that he’d claimed was rice to throw Sam off) and filled the box, and before Steve had even finished taping the bag shut, she had trotted over to the litter box -- “Oh, wow,” Steve winced, covering his nose. Such a small animal shouldn’t be able to make such a stink, he thought wryly as he slid his window open a little to air out the room. Slate finished her business, kicked litter over it (Steve was relieved) and then became intensely interested in attacking Steve’s shoelaces as he tried to untie his sneakers. He found himself immensely charmed (even though her tiny claws were really sharp.) He’d never thought himself to be a cat person, but she was rambunctious and clearly unafraid despite her small size. He could relate to that. Listening to her ridiculous mmnyam nyam nyam nyam sounds as she wolfed down kitten food from a bowl Steve had pilfered from their kitchen just made him even more sure. He’d have to find a way to convince the other two to let him keep her. --- Bucky rapped loudly on the door, still towelling his hair from his shower. “Steve? Hey, Sam says you’re jerkin’ it to some cooking videos or something--” “What?! I’m not!” “--but I’m lettin’ you know I’m back. You coming out soon?” Bucky heard a lot of shuffling and a very quiet “Shhh sh sh sh, be good” and ... decided he didn’t want to know. He was tired and wanted to play grabass have a nice breakfast with his guys. Whatever weird shit Steve was getting up to could wait. “C’mon, Steve... Sam said he’d make his blueberry pancakes.” Sam didn’t have super hearing, but he still made a sound of protest from the living room, and Bucky corrected himself again. “Sam said I could help him make blueberry pancakes.” Bucky shrugged and was about to turn away from the door when it finally opened a crack, letting out the overwhelming smell of Steve’s scented candle. Steve was wearing a hoodie, which wouldn’t have been unusual except for the fact that it was the middle of summer and the man almost melted into the floorboards if the temperature crept above 30 degrees. He had his hands stuffed into the pouch pocket, looking shifty. Bucky only took another moment to decide not to ask, yet again. He just wanted pancakes. Sam, on the other hand, paused in the act of washing blueberries. “Why the hell are you wearing a hoodie, Steve?” he asked. Steve was already sweating a little and his whole posture screamed I’m hiding something oh god please don’t notice. “You feeling okay?” he continued, a thread of concern in his voice now. Bucky raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, knowing the signs when he saw it. Steve had probably gotten a bad tattoo or something, and was waiting for it to fade before the other two saw it. (It wouldn’t have been the first time, sadly.) “Yeah, just a little chilly,” Steve said, entirely unconvincingly. Bucky turned a flat look upon him then, crossing his arms. “You’re chilly, Steve.” “A little.” “It’s August.” “Sure is! Autumn’s around the corner.” “You’re sweating.” “Because I’m warm now. In the hoodie.” “You think I was defrosted yesterday, Rogers?” “Jesus, Buck.” “What’re you hiding, Steve?” “Yeah, man. You’re fooling exactly no one here,” Sam interjected. His Single Unimpressed Eyebrow Raise couldn’t be beat, and Steve felt the sudden urge to blurt the truth-- partially spurred on by the fact that Slate, hidden in his hoodie, had just nipped hard at his fingers. She wasn’t happy being bundled up like that, but Steve didn’t trust her alone in his room. There were too many electrical cords to chew, too much paint to get into, too many irreplaceable objects to knock off of tables and break. “What’s with the third degree, guys?” Steve asked, scowling a little. “Okay, fair. If you wanna act like a weirdo, that’s your right,” Sam said reasonably. Steve was in the middle of agreeing when Sam continued: “But you’re on pancake duty now.” Steve slowly took his hands out of his oddly bulgy pocket and began shuffling over to Sam. Slate, no longer being gently held in place, immediately started squirming; but luckily Bucky was too busy getting the rest of the ingredients to notice, and Sam was measuring out buttermilk with intense concentration. “You okay, Steve? Really?” he murmured. Steve opened his mouth to say ‘Of course--’ Unseen to the other two men, Slate leapt out of Steve’s pocket and darted down the hallway-- Steve whirled and tried to catch her-- -- and the bag of flour he’d been sifting into the bowl flew into the air, coating almost everything in a fine white powder. Sam, looking oddly artistic with his long eyelashes now dusted a stark white, slowly lowered his measuring cup and just. Looked at Steve. “I’m going back to bed,” he said calmly. “Because this has to be a nightmare.” “Steve, what the hell was that?” Bucky asked rather less calmly. He’d just washed his freakin’ hair! “Shit-- I’m sorry, guys. I’ll clean it all up, I promise.” “That much is obvious,” Sam said, using his hands to fluff flour from his hair. Bucky grinned at him. “You finally look your age, Wilson.” As Sam puffed up like an angry cat, Steve quickly scanned the floor for Slate. He saw a clear set of little pawprints in the flour and he hastily used his foot to scuff them, not wanting her presence to be detected. In the end, the three of them cleaned up the kitchen together, and Steve finally stopped being weird, peeling off his hoodie. Sam declared that shirtless sweaty Steve Rogers was grounds for partial forgiveness for the flour incident. Bucky kept getting distracted; he could have sworn he kept hearing the faintest patter of small footsteps on the wooden floors down the hall. Steve spent the rest of the evening peering under the couch and in corners, giving entirely unconvincing answers as to what he was searching for.

Bucky’s eyes shot open and he took a second to remember where he was-- not draped heavily over Sam and Steve in one of their rooms, but alone in his bed. He usually slept alone for the first few nights after returning from mission; as much as he wanted nothing more than to be with the others, post-mission nights also meant nightmares, which meant staying away from the last people he’d want to hurt in a dream-induced panic. It fucking sucked. But he’d woken up for a reason. He’d had some of Sam’s mama’s special tea to knock himself into a semi-peaceful sleep, so... Someone’s here. He felt his heart rate kick into high gear, his muscles already tensing for a fight. His gleaming metal fingers inched under his pillow, where he kept a large hunting knife, and-- Something small leapt onto the bed and immediately bit his toe. He just barely kept himself from kicking out in terror, realizing quickly that... it was a cat. A kitten, really, small and dark in the dim light from the outside street lamps. What the fuck? Bucky let go of his knife and willed himself to calm down; unless Hydra had really changed their tactics recently, he doubted the cat was here to kill him. He cautiously moved his foot away from the playful (and sharp) kitten, sitting up in bed to get a better look by flicking on the bedside lamp. It wasn’t very large, but it didn’t seem to know that; it was already crouched for another ‘attack,’ its little tail swishing back and forth restlessly. It seemed to be grey, with dark swirling marks all over its body. It was... kind of cute, actually. “How the hell’d you get in here?” Bucky muttered, feeling the smallest smile tugging at his lips. He’d always liked cats, had wanted to adopt one-- but he assumed the other two weren’t keen on them; plus, their building had a strict no-pets rule. Bucky was watching Little Grey (he wasn’t the most poetic guy, sue him) prepare to attack his metal hand and hid it under his blanket, thinking that it probably wasn’t great for little kitten teeth. Or any teeth, for that matter. He offered his flesh hand instead, cautiously extending it to her for her to smell. She didn’t hesitate before pouncing on it, all energy and an excess of bravery. She kinda reminded Bucky of Steve and Sam, although Sam would vehemently deny being reckless. Yeah, right. Soon enough, Little Grey fell asleep with her tiny head cradled in Bucky’s hand, and the idea that something so small and helpless trusted him ... it was almost too much. He watched her little paws twitch as she dreamed, and even when he fell asleep he didn’t move an inch. He didn’t want to wake her. --- Bucky was spared wondering how he was going to feed the cat in the morning without alerting the others to her presence; the moment Bucky woke, he saw that she was sitting on the edge of the bed watching him. Waiting silently. Kind of creepy, actually. Maybe the cat was more like him, after all. Little Grey jumped nimbly to the floor, trotted over to the door, and let out an impatient mew. “Shhh sh sh sh,” Bucky shushed her. He paused. He’d heard Steve make a similar plea yesterday when he was locked in his room, hadn’t he? The moment Bucky opened the door a crack, the kitten darted into the hallway. He... didn’t know what he’d expected, actually. He almost slipped on the wooden floor; his socked feet didn’t offer much traction as he tried to shuffle after Little Grey. But it was too late. She’d disappeared into Sam’s room, having taken advantage of the partially open door. Bucky bit his lip and tried to make a hasty plan to scoop her out of there without waking Sam up. It shouldn’t be difficult; Wilson was a fairly heavy sleeper most of the time. If Little Grey could just keep quiet... Of course, she chose that moment to really let loose with a loud myaaaah that Bucky could hear clearly even from the hallway. And then two more loud, high-pitched mews followed. He sighed and inched forward, already steeling himself to explain her presence. “Stormy! Hey, you little thing, where’d you get off to, huh? Had me worried.” Sam’s voice rasped from the room, still hoarse with sleep. Well, that was unexpected. Bucky pushed open the door to discover Steve and Sam still tangled in the sheets, yawning and barely awake. “--her name’s Slate,” Steve was correcting Sam. Sam scoffed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with one hand while scooping up the noisy kitten with the other. “This is what you were hiding yesterday, Steve? Stormy?” “If by ‘Stormy’ you mean ‘Slate,’ then... yes.” Bucky entered the room fully, making the other two look up in varying levels of alarm. “I can explain,” Steve started. “You left the window open, and I couldn’t kick her out--!” Sam protested. Bucky just shook his head and shuffled over to join them in Sam’s bed. “Her name’s Little Grey,” he said without further explanation. Steve made a face. “What happens when she gets bigger? ‘Little’ isn’t going to make sense...” “And what, ‘Slate’ is better?” Sam snorted. “What is she, nail polish?” The kitten was already playing, chewing on the string of Sam’s hoodie. He wasn’t even pretending to be mad about it, just watching her with a dopey smile. Steve gestured subtly to his phone on the nightstand, and Bucky picked it up and slipped it into Steve’s waiting hand. Sam didn’t even notice them taking pictures of him cuddling and cooing at Stormy Slate Little Grey the kitten. “Okay, so. She played us,” Sam murmured. “Smart girl.” He looked up at the other two, and, seeing the pleading expression on Steve’s face, handed her over to the blond. She immediately started climbing his shirt, using her sharp little claws, but Steve barely flinched. “So... what now? Bucky asked. “Landlord won’t let us keep her,” Sam muttered. “We just moved here; we’ve got, what, 8 months left on the lease?” Steve sighed, hitching one shoulder higher so that the kitten wouldn’t tumble off. “She can be adopted out real easy, she’s cute...” Bucky offered without any real enthusiasm. There was a long pause. “I mean... we can Internet search pet-friendly apartments, right?” Steve said moments later. “Would be easy,” Bucky agreed. They both turned to look at Sam, who was chewing his lower lip and frowning. “Okay, but one thing. If we’re breaking our lease, and packing up our whole life again for this little cat...” “Yeah?” “I get to name her Stormy.”

#if you're wondering what Stormy's favourite toy is #it's Mjolnir #fic #fan fic #fic prompts #writing #Samstevebucky #All-Caps #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #kittens #cats #Marvel #my posts: the posts that hurt the most...s #me: I'll fill all these prompts!#also me: *swings between banging out 5 prompts in a week to taking 3 weeks on 1*

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thatguysamaniac-blog · 5 years ago

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In roughly a week a swathe of 30-40 somethings are going to relive and re-start a habit in a bid to re-misspend a misspent youth. There is a swell of hype in niche pockets of the Internet as people get more and more excited for the launch of World of Warcraft Classic. But why? Why is there the familiar toot-toot of the hype-train on the horizon for a product that is over a decade old, has a newer shinier iteration currently out and available to play, and a product that held marmite-like, positive and negative criticism when it was out. Just to clear things up I have bought my ticket (ed: and a train drivers hat, matching t-shirt, undies and socks and the special edition coke cans) and I am on the hype train! I am genuinely looking forward to Classic, but my goals and approach are going to be massively different to it, as will it be for much of the community. So I'm gonna play a little bit of devils advocate here... Upon launch many, many people will just be diving in for the pure nostalgia of the game, and very few of us will (ed: should) spend the amount of time and effort that we previously had done in the original WoW. Especially since because of our demographic, most of us are now grownups* with grownup commitments. Being an adult aside, and just comparing current WoW and Classic WoW, part of what I have seen about why Classic has such a following, it that current WoW (retail) sees a bit of backlash in regard to how it plays nowadays, it is considered "dumbed down", the game has streamlined, homogenised, and refined itself to large degree making interaction minimal, levelling, dungeoning and raiding are all infinitely more accessible, and faster. The game has become easier, where, in classic, you would have to learn an individual enemy boars moves so you know how to kill him before he killed you, now you kill several boars, and don't even have time to read what moves it did on you. Where you used to chat to your guildmates or just general chat and group together and adventure your way to a dungeon, it has now been replaced by a couple of button presses followed by a teleport to the dungeon entrance. In short the game has become more of an action fantasy RPG, than an MMORPG. This is in part Echoed by my friend and fellow WoW classic returnee Joldrath: That being said, as we are all grownups* with grown up commitments, is Retail actually just the game we need for our hectic lives?! Is it WoW for adults? The game is so refined that it now sectioned off up into bitesize chunks, rather than the infamous 16-hour junk food stuffing, poop-socking sessions. As with most things on the Internets nowadays, hype lives in a bubble, and a select few loud voices are the ones that get heard. Does Classic exist just for these voices? Does this only exist for private server people? Is it just for streamers? The private server community and the streamers go hand in hand and the tin foil hat theory is that Blizzard just wanna cash in on this... Private servers have been running for years, and streamers sit on their ad revenue, when Blizz ain't even getting a subscription. Will Classic just be a way to regulate private servers will it be World of Warcraft: public private server edition. Probably. The thing is the WoW from 2004 did not have the influencer/content-creator machine to work with, but it did have a lot more eccentricities, character builds and fun to be had in that fashion, that in all honestly it is going to be a great place for content creation! 15 minute bites of "Look at this build kill this thing" or "10 Paladins take down Ragnaros". But is that the reason the folks diving into nostalgia want to play it again? Probably not. For me, part of the nostalgia was that this game was emerging, new builds were coming out, people discussed strategies and new patches brought all sorts of shenanigans with them. WoW was a sandbox playground allowing for meta-gaming of all kinds and involving everyone in the community. With WoW Classic we are getting the final patch of WoW, we are getting "phases" where content is opening up but nothing more, and I think that may be a drop off point for a lot of people, "what's next" is very much a thing in WoW hence the plethora of patches, content and expansions that's essentially kept WoW going and with a few other games created the Games as a Service Hellscape we now live in. What we are getting is a little slice of life, a snapshot of WoW as it existed for maybe a few months (?) and a few things will cycle around it. Yeah, don't worry, I hear myself "Finally, WoW Classic, what's next?", but that is definitely a thing, and I'm sure it's not just me, I wonder what the hook will be to keep people on if there is nothing around the corner... or is there? One hot topic is, what will happen after the phases? simply a reset and start the phases again? there is debate that based on it's success will Blizz just dive into The Burning Crusade and so on... Or it is also speculated that there could be some horizontal development continuing development but keeping the lvl 60 WoW classic experience, Could we see Death knights join us at lvl 60 or could we see Paladins on the horde side? Maybe some pandas could join the fight? Could we see tweaking to see viable Ret-lol DPS?!?? There was also a suggestion that WoW Classic could potentially enter seasonal play, akin to that of Diablo 3 with buffs and effects and such at lvl 60, changing up gameplay. Personally I would love to lift a couple of the non-gameplay elements from modern WoW, Specifically the overhaul to the character models to make them prettier, and hand-in-hand, I heart my transmogging and would love to allow collecting those looks at lvl 60 be made viable (without the masses and stacks of bank room being used up by mats you need to just go to a dungeon in Classic). In any case I do hope there are plans post final phase, given the world we live in for the effort/time we have made with our lvl 60 this time round, it would be nice to have new challenges and change-ups to actually look forward to. So do we need WoW Classic? Based on my grumpy contrarian ramblings above: all we are getting is a non-updated game intended for private server veterans and content creators that due to its time sink qualities will mostly be inaccessible to the commitment-laden nostalgia crowd that actually want to wallow about there! What is the pull to bring people back and, and then stay back? I am fully a part of the mid-life-crisis-got-commitments-nostalgia crowd, I got shit I need to do! I actually spend my evenings with loved ones rather than skulking in "my mom's basement". I cook food rather than picking away at luke-warm kebab on a Molten Core run etc etc. So why should I look forward to a game known to be a time-sink when I can a similar dopamine hit from Retail or even just any other game. Jesus fucking hell, Richie Who's a Debbie Downer! Ha, well unfortunately much of the above is true and quite honestly when this was announced, I immediately thought and realised this was going to be hyped behind a lot of rose-tinted glasses and to echo my parting statement from this post after the announcement, I was always going to play it, just to dip my toe-in at the very least. WoW was arduous, it was not an easy game. And I had to ask myself a few hard questions like: Why do I want to play that grind again? Can I find the time to play again? Do I even want a faithful recreation of that game from 15 years ago? What do I want from another WoW experience!? And Boom! that was the question that re-ignited my passion to play! Personally I love the Paladin class, I played my Blood Elf Paladin at from the first expansion onwards, but in WoW I (badly) played a Mage. I think what I want from WoW Classic is... Drum roll... ...wait for it... ... "Redemption" ... ... ... geddit? Cuz redemption is the name of a paladin spell?... ...Fine whatever, geez... I want to experience the original paladin or play WoW Paladin: Classic Flavour. I wanna do the Paladin Horsey quests (at least the alliance version), I want to do the multitude of Paladin-ish quests in the game, the Scarlet Monasteries and the Scarlet Crusade through Hearthglen, and on to getting Exhalted with the Argent Dawn. And so I realised that I have almost set myself a Goal, a path to go through the game with My goal will simply be lvl 60 hitting the iconic Paladin quests along the way. As much as I have had a grumble about what WoW classic is and if we need it, but it cannot be denied that when WoW came out it was so impactful on everything (media, games, etc), and perhaps this resurgence of Classic can rekindle some of what sparked that zeitgeist. Wow is old, and that cant be denied, just have a look at her face, her non existent nose, and the world is the same, jagged polygonal models, scenery with seams etc etc. However most of the time it can be very beautiful, Each zone has a different flavour, musical theme, and atmosphere, and its hard to any parallels that rival this even today. And it's Huge, yes you can argue that today its huger, with all of the additional zones being added in, but in all actuality because of the addition of flying mounts the world is just so much smaller. Recently I had a chat with Thatguyer, Doppelganger, discussing about how that leap from 16-bit to 3D was so impressive and awe-inspiring, but nowadays you can almost feel like you are just playing an N64/PS1 game, just with smoother graphics. What is the next leap in games? Where do we go from here? logically it should have been VR/AR, but is too much of an ask for the consumer, despite it being forced into our eyesockets. I would argue that mainstream MMO machine of WoW was a leap at that time, moving to online play but at the same time generating community spirit was a massive turning point for games. The traction it gained led the way for the online console experiences and ultimately the community based games we see dominating the Twitch-osphere. Is there more that revisiting this monolith can change/teach the new generation of people who think playing computer games is a job? As the hype-train has been getting ever closer to its destination, I have had to change my news-getting methods, where I used to haunt/feature on WoW Insider, it is now a shadow of it's former self. I have been looking to Podcasts, Reddit and even joined Discord. In particular I wanna give a shout out to countdowntoclassic.com and a big shout out to the shows host Josh on @count2classic who has kept the hype train running with interviews with Class leaders, the original designers and generally great WoW Classic content! It has been a bit part of what is making me excited about Classic! Anyways right, I guess see you in Azeroth? Love and Seal, Judge, Rave, Repeat. Richie X *Grownups absolutely use the word grownups, we're definitely not three cats in a trench coat, fake nose, glasses and a hat. No sir.

http://www.thatguys.co.uk/2019/08/wow-classic-do-we-need-this.html

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olgagarmash · 4 years ago

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