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project-paranoia · 3 years

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Live Watch: Thousand Autumns Episode One

Oh wow someone got the good... guzheng? Something in that family of instruments anyway. They got the good music for that. And the animation is beautiful and beautifully synchronised to the clip excerpts.

And the imagery! The opening with the symbol of the Dao, and then main character number 1, Shen Qiao, all in white, in a fantastically and subtly ornamented outfit - I love the textures of the cloth they put in on the animation here, cloth and clothes textures are so easy to get wrong and they’ve done it beautifully here. I think this is supposed to be Shen Qiao’s original sect leader/zhangjiao outfit and he looks properly leaderly in it.

And this, followed by a closeup of Yan Wushi’s hand holding the ring of contention, and then Yan Wushi himself, very handsomely rendered in 3d animation - and again I have to voice my appreciation of the cloth textures. That’s actual subtly 3d brocade textures they’re rendering there, with the correct flow for how cloth hangs on the body, and the correct variances of light on the areas with thicker brocade and it is, frankly, very impressive. And they didn’t lose colour saturation doing it either, making that purple robe look suitably luxurious. The shiny hair ornament and one sidebang in white is a nice touch as well. As are the hints they set right in the opening that Shen Qiao and Yan Wushi are ... opposites, and complements, linking them back to the Yin/Yang balance of the symbol of the Dao.

So much love for this opening song it’s so good. Also going to be a pain to translate accurately with a proper sense of the poetry of it, but so good.

Alright episode 1 proper, 风雨欲来. The coming of the wind and rain, literally, I think. Maybe even the foreboding or oncoming storm, if you’re going for the feel of the term instead of literal translation. Oh. Oh that opening montage with the bird’s eye view and the fog and the high mountains - I was so taken by this scenery I sketched and tried to paint it at least 3 times. It’s a very moving shot. Also very much in the grand tradition of xianxia/wuxia, and also, even without a word, hinting at the traditional stance of the Mt Xuandu sect - to 出世， to remove themselves from the world to cultivate in the seclusion and clarity of the literal peaks above the clouds and dust of the world.

Oh. Oh that opening shot. The challenge to combat by Kunye to Shen Qiao. The.. subtle and ornate embroidery and brocade and patterning on Shen Qiao’s sect leader robes is so awesome. The wave motifs repeated in the 3 layers of robes, even on the hair ornament/冠 in his hair, the resolute look on his face! The closeup shot of the 山河同悲 sword - and what a name for it. A sword named for, if I may be excused poetry in translation - compassion and pity and fellow feeling for the griefs and pains and trials of the world as encompassed by the mountains and rivers - what a blade, and what a name, and what a bearer that would be worthy of it. A very good hint, at the kind of person Shen Qiao is, even before they have him open his mouth.

The contrasting costuming decision for Kunye et al is also very nice, hinting at the cultural differences between, say, the peoples that live on the central plains and the more nomadic groups living on less kindly land, shown in the different materials available/preferred - leather, furs, etc vs cloth, silk, cotton etc

And the fight choreography! So nice! The 3d animation works really well here,in that there’s no limitation to the capabilities of human bodies and it’s possible to really show in the visual medium the knock out drag down fight between 2 people whose martial - and quasi magical - capabilities are already at potentially mountain splitting levels. Not to mention also, showing that a Shen Qiao who isn’t being handicapped by sabotage... really can wipe the floor with Kunye if he wants to. And then, of course, once the fight gets to Half-step Peak and they’re out of sight of inconvenient witnesses, the signal for the ambush. And then the effects of the sabotage take hold.

Ah, flashback to 20 years ago, to provide the audience with the world info we need to understand the rest of the story. Not to mention also informing us why Hulugu would even bother. Or why Kunye coming in to challege Shen Qiao is so narratively important. And also introducing the ring that so many would fight over later.

Yan Wushi’s character introduction.. is quite something. As is Yu Shengyan’s. Ah, Shizun, congratulations on exiting your 10 year cultivation seclusion, would you like the highlights on the changes in the world in the past 10 years? But also a good show of character, because they have him not even looking at Yu Shengyan, but looking away in the distance, and telling him to only tell the most important bits, he’s not interested in useless words. Also serves as a nice introduction to some people who’ll be important later, and giving us a time marker for when Shen Qiao ascended to the sect leader post - 5 years ago, after the death of his shizun Qi Fengge. Ah Yan Wushi, your characteristically arrogant attitude - aside from Qi Fengge, who in life was worthy of being the first among all the wuxia world, the rest are not worth even mentioning. And here too a little hint that Yan Wushi might care a little bit in some way for those who are his, including his disciples - He tells Yu Shengyan that this location, this Half Step Peak that they’re at, because of its physical characteristics, is good for him to cultivate to the next level of understanding/enlightenment of the martial arts used by Huanyue Sect.

I love it whenever they hint that the more... developed characters whose martial arts are very good have improved senses. A little flow of blood in the water, Yu Shengyan notices something is wrong, looks at his shizun, and receives a nod of affirmation that he perceived correctly and should take action. And then after that, they come upon a body of one of the Mt Xuandu disciples, and Yan Wushi’s verbal remark that today, Mt Xuandu is troubled and not pure and clean. And then Shen Qiao literally falls from the cliff top - and the pan up makes it very clear that for most people, this is a lethal fall.

And then the surviving ambushers attempt to finish the job when Yu Shengyan checks whether Shen Qiao is still alive... and Yan Wushi takes the training opportunity when he sees it, and tells his disciple to use his strongest techniques to take on the remaining assassins. And then, when Yu Shengyan can't quite wipe the floor with them... criticizes his lack of growth, as might be expected of Yan Wushi, and steps in to really wipe the floor with the assassins, as might not be expected of Yan Wushi. Also doubles as a really nice display to the audience of his level of strength. In fact.. listening to the voice, I think one of those assassins appears, unhidden, in later episodes. Heh. Plot continuity, a nice one. As are the assassins having common sense, recognising Yan Wushi's infamous technique, and running before they're cut down.

Ahahahaha yes Yu Shengyan, your shizun really had you pick that fight for training, and he's really about to pick up Shen Qiao and have him rescued on a whim. Also nice to review, on rewatch for the details, that part of this whim is perhaps curiousity as to Shen Qiao's ability to survive and/or recover, as hinted by the thin thread of strength provided by the Zhuyang Ce, that Yan Wushi identifies as the thin strength keeping him alive, despite the aforementioned lethal fall.

Heh. Yu Shengyan – and maybe Huanyue Sect's other job – information gatherers aka spies.

Ah, Yan Wushi, you really are fascinated by people's reactions under stress, aren't you.

Shen Qiao awakens! Oof, the amount of damage – can't see, amnesia – damaged or even broken meridians – the donghua doesn't mention how much time passes, but given that Yu Shengyan mentions that Shen Qiao's broken bones have only just finished healing – could not have been a matter of days. Weeks, maybe even a month, minimum. Unless Yu Shengyan meant that the bones have only just been set – which could mean a few days. And then the mindscrew from Yan Wushi, telling poor amnesiac Shen Qiao that, yes, your name is Shen Qiao, oh, and you are one of my disciples from Huanyue Sect! Someone sure is hasty to put his poke the injured person plans into action! Ah Yan Wushi, if you could please give Shen Qiao a break, he just had a near death experience! But also – the scope of the injuries – yes, it benefits Yan Wushi's plotting but also – Shen Qiao was injured beyond the scope of ordinary medicine? Yu Shengyan has to be stationed to basically care for him until he is able to awaken – and presumably recover – appropriately!

Alright, time marker, 3 months after previous events.. okay. Shen Qiao can walk, some, though the animators were careful to make it a clearly pained walk, in comparison to how he was moving pre-Kunye fight. And then of course the blindness, which may also explain how they've animated him moving with more cautious steps. And the coughing, and the eyes that can't focus – all in all, a detailed and careful show of how badly injured Shen Qiao still is. Can't help sniggering at every 'shidi' I'm hearing him say though. And Yu Shengyan... yes, really, even though you and your shizun can't quite believe it, there really is a person this kind and considerate of other people.

The appearance of the weiqi board motif! Strategy, and planning, and part of the arts of the refined gentlemen..and the hint of how Shen Qiao is perceiving/visualising the input that he hears, since he can't see right now. And the hint that he might be using qi to help sort through what he hears – well enough that he can identify it's a weiqi board, and even the piece being placed. Very Awesome. Especially when they show Yan Wushi possibly testing Shen Qiao's capability to perceive the world around him by hesitating and purposely not putting down his piece.. and Shen Qiao very naturally picking up the piece – black, the correct colour and the one Yan Wushi was about to play – and putting it in the correct position on the board that Yan Wushi was about to place. Is it any wonder that the next thing Yan Wushi checks is the state of his recovery?

And then we have Yan Wushi's characteristic multipronged planning – creating trouble for Hehuan sect, training for Yu Shengyan, testing opportunity for Shen Qiao. Very excellent, any and every outcome has benefit to Yan Wushi.

Ah the encounter at the medicine shop. Hm. Okay, the sharing of the medicine is clearly a hint to Yan Ziwen of some kind that he and his should be especially cautious tonight, perhaps even to run for their lives tonight. Though it's maybe a hint in the actions, and not the words, because the words don't sound suspicious at all. Neither do the actions, if you were watching as a observer and didn't know Yan Ziwen's paranoid character – a blind person would unsurprisingly wish to be extra careful where they put their hands. And at night, on the attack... for all that Shen Qiao can't quite see, and is currently relying on the rest of his senses... he can tell that something's off about Yu Shengyan's actions. And then... Shen Qiao remembers... the sword, and what Qi Fengge taught him. And then the confrontation, and the near strangulation by Yan Wushi... Shen Qiao has such a nice literary register to his speech. Four word phrases even under severe near strangled stress, with the right philosophical meaning to make his point to Yan Wushi. And then the reveal of Yan Wushi's plotting. Very nicely done.

And now, the first of Yan Wushi's many many invitations to Shen Qiao to forsake his daoist path and join Yan Wushi's ... evil sect is not the right word. Demonic path is technically correct but has moral overtones that don't fit. Join Yan Wushi's cultivation path, maybe. Join and get bloody revenge on everyone who's wronged Shen Qiao – and already there are so many of them. And we the audience wonder for half a second – is he going to do it? Is this going to be a revenge story? And Shen Qiao flat out refuses in words, in the first of many times. And then Shen Qiao walks away from Yan Wushi. Here the animation is a delight again – the audience gets to see the little micro expressions that flit across – he's actually walking away?! And then Yan Wushi does his dramatic gifting of the bamboo stick. And too, a few seconds later, the reveal of their movements being spied on by Duan Wenyang, and Yu Shengyan's orders to continue searching for .. something. Ah, the plotting in Thousand Autumns. Always a delight.

#山河剑心 #thousand autumns

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alpineglowx · 3 years

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I'll Do The Same {Din Djarin x OC} Chapter Eight: Illuminance

pairing: din djarin x female oc

warnings: none

* * * *

“What Clan is she from?”

“Kryze.”

“... Kryze.” Thell thumbed at her lip from her spot in the cockpit. “Clan Kryze. Duchess Satine was one of their leaders, right? The previous Duchess of Mandalore during the Clone Wars.”

The Mandalorian was still as always in his seat, his gaze focused on coming in to land on the ocean planet. Thell could only see so much past the steam and mist that perpetuated the surrounding area.

“Sure,” was his only response.

Thell cocked a brow, opening her mouth to say something else, but decided against it. Her mother had told her stories of the Mandalorian clans, and her former master had been obsessed with their culture. She wondered briefly if she knew more than the Mandalorian sitting only a few feet from her, if he only knew so much about his ery Clan.

But what had he been before Clan Mudhorn? Had he been part of another clan? And the obsession with his Creed, his strict rules regarding secrecy and removing his armor. They all boggled Thell’s mind. Maybe she could ask him after they left this planet.

It bothered her that he had barely said a word, like he usually did, while they had been flying from Tattooine. Why would he go out of his way to figure out this thing with her?

They landed a few moments later, and Thell pushed herself up from the seat, still feeling that stinging pain in her lower back. But the medicine she had taken early on was taking effect, and she desperately wanted to talk to the people they were meeting. She went to grab the child, to hold him like she usually would when they went off ship. But Mando beat her to it, carefully placing the child in a satchel he wore against his hips. Thell watched him with a cautious eye before asking, “Did I say something?”

The Mandalorian made his way to the ladder as he responded softly, “No.”

“Oh.” Thell bit at her lip, standing awkwardly in the cockpit.

Sensing her silence, Mando turned, and Thell could see Grogu’s eyes peeking at her from the bag.

“What’s wrong?”

Thell cleared her throat, readjusting her cloak. “Oh, I just usually held him. I still can, if you want.”

He stepped closer to her, and for a split second, fear overwhelmed her. But he was gentle as he grasped her shoulder, tilting his helmet down.

“The last time I came to this planet, the kid and I were nearly killed twice. If the wrong people see my face, or his, they would try to shoot us on sight.”

The grip on her shoulder was still loose, and Thell felt goosebumps along her arms.

“So... what you’re saying is... you don’t want me to get shot because of the kid.”

He shrugged, just tilting his helmet the tiniest bit. “You could say that.”

Thell rolled her eyes, giving him a playful smirk. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

He had turned the other way, stepping just one foot down on the ladder.

“Where would I be without my babysitter?”

The comment had meant to be a joke, but Thell could only feel a hesitant blush creeping into her skin.

With her blaster tucked into the back of her waistband, and an old piece of Mando’s armor strapped chaotically to her chest, she made her way into the village with Mando and the kid.

It was a fishing village through and through; Mon Calamari and Quarren seemed to be the main residents beside the occasional human. They had seemed to land right in the middle of some sort of black market port; vendors lined the sides of the walkways, offering various trades and goods as Thell walked with Mando. Every part of the dock seemed to be drenched, even when multiple fishing boats and ships came in, spraying them with sea water.

They entered a shabby restaurant, lined to the brim with Trask’s natives, slurping away on seafood or bowls of chowder strung in pipes across the ceiling. With the crowd, and the added dim atmosphere of the place, Thell couldn’t help the trepidation that surged through her veins. Out of pure instinct, she kept her right hand concealed under her cloak, ready to draw her weapon if needed.

Thell nearly jumped when she felt his hand on her back, drawing her closer to his side.

“Stay close to me,” he said softly. “It doesn’t look like they’re here yet.”

They sat at a table far from the center, far from wandering eyes. The kid was holding a spoon, sloppily digging into a bowl of chowder. After a minute of struggle, Thell rolled her eyes and scooped into the soup, offering it to Grogu. He made a small humming noise, looking at her with a slightly amazed expression, to which she only shrugged and smiled back at him as he chewed contently on the food.

“Here they come,” she heard Mando say quietly, and watched him as he rose to greet them. Three warriors dressed in blue and white Mandalorian armor approached him before slowly removing their helmets.

“Mando,” a woman with red hair and bright green eyes said with a kind smile. “Good to see you again.”

The Mandalorian only dipped his head in greeting before acknowledging her two other companions.

“Are you taking my earlier offer?”

Thell’s ears pricked. What offer had she made him?

“No. I’ve come for something else.” His gaze drifted to Thell, and she stared back at him dumbfounded, and sat in silence for an awkward moment as they gathered around the table.

“Thell,” she said, extending a hand.

“Bo-Katan. Good to meet you. These are my colleagues, Koska Reeves and Axe Woves. How can we help?”

After greeting the other two, Thell fished her necklace out from under her cloak.

“This was my father’s. I never met him... My mother never spoke about him. But Mando, he knew the symbol, the symbol for Clan Eldar.” At the name, she watched Bo’s eyes light up, and hope stirred in her chest.

“There was someone on Tatooine that recognized my last name, Sai’Lya. He said that you could help me find out about my father.”

Bo raised her hand, motioning to Thell to pass the necklace. When she did, she inspected it carefully, rolling it between her fingers and allowing her colleagues to examine it as well.

“Is your mother Mandalorian?” she asked, her green eyes flickering back to Thell. “What’s her name?”

She shook her head. “She wasn’t... but her name was Seba.”

It seemed as though a shock wave passed through Bo, because she suddenly went rigid, blinking fast and passing looks between her colleagues. Thell felt the breath catch in her throat.

“What?” She asked, almost desperate. “What is it?”

“Eight years ago, I gathered together the Clans that were willing to become part of the Mandalorian resistance against the Empire. One of those Clans was Eldar. They were smaller than most, but fierce, and I remember their symbol.” She lifted the necklace, letting the metal gleam in the restaurant's soft light.

“There was a great warrior among them, I remember him well. His name was Theldar Avan. We worked closely together during the rebellion. At the time, he had no family with him, but he talked greatly of the woman he loved... A woman called Seba.”

Chills raced up her arms. “My mother.”

“Yes,” Bo affirmed, with a somewhat sad smile. “But from what I gathered, he had ruined things between them long ago, and she didn’t want to see him. But he often talked of his child, the one with big, sparkling brown eyes and wild copper hair. He always said she was the reason he kept on fighting.”

Her whole body was trembling now. “Is he... is he still alive?”

“No, unfortunately,” Bo said, and Thell’s heart sank. “At the height of the Rebellion, he sacrificed himself to rescue war prisoners on an Empire base. I... I don’t believe there was any way he could have survived the explosion.”

Suddenly her hand was reaching forward, clutching Thell’s closed fist.

“Your dad... he was a war hero, Thell. He died fighting for the light, for a galaxy where you would be safe.”

Thell couldn’t stop the tears that were escaping. She had never even known him, nothing but the necklace, and all the information was overwhelming and beautiful all at once. Here was someone who knew her father, who fought alongside him, and she was speaking of him with such honor and credit. So many of her burning questions had been answered, and even though he had been dead for a quarter of her life, she felt like she actually knew him now.

And it suddenly felt like all eyes were on her. And they were. All five of them, even little Grogu, were staring at her.

“Excuse me for a second,” she said before sweeping out from the table, gathering her cloak over her shoulders and heading straight for the entryway. To her relief, she couldn’t hear anyone get up and follow her, so she dashed down the first empty alleyway she saw. There was a tower of empty crates to her left, and a spot where she could sit and cry where no one could find her.

Growing up, she had become good at this. There was only so much space on the Razor Crest, only so many private areas, so she felt as if she was letting out two months worth of emotion as she curled up on the cold pavement, surrounded by distant sprays of water and the smells of ocean life.

Theldar Avan.

She had been named after him. He had known who she was. He had loved her.

Thell cried, head tucked between her knees, until her eyes felt raw from rubbing at them. It was only when she sensed a presence coming towards her, and loud stomping, that her senses came back to her.

Whipping out the blaster from under her cloak, Thell pointed it directly at the stranger, standing several feet above her.

“Careful there.”

When Thell raised her head, the Mandalorian was standing above her, the Beskar steel glinting like diamonds in the dim sunlight. He looked like he had the night they had met, the night he had stumbled in on her holding Grogu in that living room. Except now, she knew him, knew what color his hair was, knew how both protective and kind he could be. He was no longer a feared bounty hunter in her eyes, but something, someone, greater. In fact, it calmed her immensely to see him of all people.

His baritone voice nearly calmed her, and also made her realize how much of a mess she must have looked like. Thell wiped at her eyes again, but she knew he had seen her cry before, so she stood anyway. Pain nipped at her lower back, and Mando seemed to notice, because he bent down to help her before she collapsed.

“S... Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you’d shot at me,” he said, sounding sarcastic through the mask. He stepped back just a bit to allow her more space. Even in all her emotions, Thell threw him an amused sideways glance and smirked.

“You okay?”

Had she not just been sobbing, Thell might have beamed ear to ear.

“I... I just got a little overwhelmed, that’s all,” she explained. “I didn’t know anything about my father before today. I had no idea he was involved in all of this.”

“Your father sounded like a brave man.”

Thell wiped away a stray tear on her face. “Yeah. He was.”

“I would have been honored to fight alongside him,” he said suddenly, and that’s when Thell beamed. “I don’t like the Empire any more than they did.”

“Mando...” Thell began softly. “Thank you. And thank you for bringing me here. I feel more... complete.”

He straightened at her words, but quickly looked to the side, keeping his hands loose around his waist.

“We should get back.” Thell went to nod, just lightly, before he looked down at her again. Suddenly his hand was raised to her head, gently tucking away a wisp of wild hair that had flown in her face. The same thing her mother did so many times over. She briefly wondered if her father had done it too.

But Mando doing it, such a simple action, made Thell’s heart swell with thankfulness. In a galaxy where most everyone she knew was dead, she was glad to have at least one friend. Even if it was this gruff, quiet man behind a mask that was slowly starting to make her feel less alone.

“If you’re ready,” he said, lowering his hand.

Taking a deep breath, Thell looked towards the sun, the direction of the restaurant.

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

. . . .

“I do have some good news for you,” Bo said softly, leaning forward. “... Your father’s armor survived.”

“What?” Thell felt her heart pound in her sternum again, threatening to break free.

“He was on a stealth mission when he died, so he left his Mandalorian armor at our base.”

Thell let out a shaky breath. “Do... Do you have it?”

“I don’t. But your father had many friends in the Resistance. He had one good friend, his best one in fact. His name’s Bolie. If there's anyone who has your dad’s armor, it’s him. Last I heard, he was camping out somewhere pretty discrete.”

“Where?” Thell asked eagerly, almost jumping out of her skin. The man next to her snickered lightly.

“West region of Pasaana.”

“Pasanna?” Mando interjected, nearly scaring Thell and Grogu both and leaning forward. “That’s all the way in the Expansion Region. Do you have any idea how much fuel it takes to get there?”

Bo shrugged lightly. “I didn’t tell you you had to go there. Besides, what else have you been doing these past two months? Flying across the galaxy, I suppose?”

Her colleague leaned forward. “I would think a man of your reputation would have more than enough credits to get by, Mando.”

“Oh, shut it,” the other girl said, playfully elbowing him in the arm. Bo seemed to roll her eyes at the scene.

“We should be on our way,” the Mandalorian spoke, beginning to stand. He strung the satchel with the kid back around his shoulders, going to the main table to pay for their food as the others stood.

Thell felt a soft grip on her arm, stopping her from turning the other way. Bo was looking back at her with serious eyes.

“How long have you been with him?” She asked. Innocent question enough.

“Two months... But it feels like a lifetime.”

Her lip curled at one side. “I’m sure, after all you’ve been through. You know about him, don’t you?”

“Uh... Not too much. The guy barely speaks to me about his personal life... But, what do you mean?”

“You know he is a part of the Children of the Watch.” When Thell only looked at her blankly, she continued, tilting her head down so she could hear her better.

“The Watch broke off from Mandalore... They are a group of religious zealots that follow the Way of Mandalore, ancient Mandalore. That time has been long gone from us, from the other Clans. They have stuck to the ways of the past, and unlike us, do not believe in showing their faces. Secrecy is their faith, their bout at survival.”

Thell blinked, sending a quick sideways glance at Mando before returning her attention to Bo.

“What’s so bad about it?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard him speak of the Way, haven’t you?” Thell nodded. “Then you can see how important it is to him. It is the most important thing to the Watch. I respect him as a warrior, but I do not agree with his following. The Watch is more of a cult than anything, Thell, and he has allowed it to determine every decision he makes. It is a dangerous thing for him to be involved with... and to have been raised in.”

Bo hung her head, readjusting her hands on her waist. “The first time we met, I thought he would blast me through when I removed my helmet. He even told us we were not Mandalorians. His ways are twisted, Thell.”

“... But the kid. He cares about him. Wouldn’t you say that’s... unlike what the Watch teaches?”

“I suppose. Honor to family is about as Mandalorian as you can get, if you call them a family.”

Thell let her eyes wander back to Mando and Grogu, who sat at the opposite end of the restaurant.

“I would... How’d you guys connect, anyway?”

“He was told to look for more of his kind for what to do with the kid. I told him to bring the kid to Ahsoka Tano, one of the last Jedi. She would know what to do. Has he told you anything about that?”

Thell shrugged. “In passing... I guess. He mentioned that some woman told him that the kid has to choose his own path. She couldn’t train him.”

“Strange,” Bo said, her eyes drifting. “Do you know of his plans for the child?”

Thell sighed. “Not really. It feels like we’ve been going in circles trying to run from everyone that’s after us.”

“Well... whatever happens, I hope you three stay safe. He may be part of the Watch, but he’s no less honorable, and brave. He deserves a good life with that kid.”

Once they were aboard the ship, Thell kept Grogu close to her, cuddling him to her chest as she sat in her own seat. The kid had fallen asleep on their walk back to the ship, snoring softly. As not to wake him, Thell deigned to just keep him in the seat with her.

The Mandalorian was in his own pilot’s seat, gloved fingers flickering over controls and switches. His movements were normal to Thell now, after two months. They were in the air and flying through the clouds, Trask disappearing behind them like a lost memory. Mando set the coordinates for Pasaana, and leaned back in his seat, watching the blue and white streaks of hyperspace fly by. It was only when they were in space that Thell finally spoke.

“Mando?”

He cocked his head over the seat for just a moment to let her know he had heard her.

“Why are you doing this?” Thell asked, leaning forward. “All this stuff... with my family.”

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the cockpit window. It had become so quiet in the ship that Thell could hear Grogu snoring beneath her cloak.

Finally, the Mandalorian spoke, and Thell could swear he had removed the mask, because he sounded more human than he ever had, his voice ricnnh and full of emotion.

“I wasn’t able to save my parents, and neither were you. But you deserve to know who they were.”

#mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x oc #angst #fluff #din djarin fanfiction #fanfiction #star wars #mandalorian fanfiction

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cecilspeaks · 4 years

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169 - The Whittler

Let us go then, you and I When the evening is spread out Against the sky And pick up some Dell Taco for dinner. Welcome to Night Vale.

Beyond our town, past the Sand Wastes, in the Scrublands, sits the old general store. An oaken cabin style A-frame with boxed windows and a covered patio. On the porch there sits a swinging bench and upon that bench sits an elderly man, his face crumpled like a discarded letter, his eyes like tire tracks hidden beneath the shady brim of a straw cowboy hat. The old man holds a block of Elmwood the size of a potato in his right hand, and in his left, a carving jack. He whittles away at the knot of food, shaving off small corners, making detailed lines and indentations. The wood is all his world. And this world is quiet in his lap, on his bench, on his patio, before his general store amid the Scrublands past the Sand Wastes, which curl about Night Vale like the gentle but calloused hands of a father holding a newborn. As the old man whittles, he whistles sad songs with no words. But all those who hear the notes know they are bout loss. That they are about loneliness. But no one hears those notes. Not yet. No one sees the old whittler, nor his general store far out in an uninhabited stretch of desert. Not yet. If they did, they would wonder how an old general store, which was not there yesterday, was suddenly here today, a shop that by all accounts had weathered decades of abusive heat, wind, and isolation. They would hear his sad song, and the universal language of wistful sorrow would hide from them their understanding of time.

Let’s have a look now at sports. This Saturday night, the Night Vale High School Scorpions basketball team begins the district tournament. The Scorpions, having finished the season 18-2, earned the number 1 seat this year, but face some tough competition in their bracket. In the first round, they must battle another basketball team. This is logical, because most basketball tournaments feature other basketball teams. But the other basketball team is considered weaker than the Night Vale Scorpions, because a series of accumulated numbers indicates this is so. Should the Scorpions make it out of the first round and into the semi-finals, they would likely battle the number 4 seed, Nature. A tougher matchup to be sure, as Nature is unpredictable and ubiquitous. Nature’s style of play is best described as capricious and random, sometimes showcasing an array of flashy skills like sunny days, crystalline lakes, and otters. But Nature is a lockdown defensive force with effective momentum stoppers like lightning, quicksand, and poison ivy.

And in the finals, the favorites to compete for the title are Night Vale High School versus themselves, perhaps the toughest battle of them all, as each player must confront their harmful secrets, painful pasts, and darkest nightmares. Themselves are able to match the pace and power of Night Vale’s offensive and defensive sets, and we expect an excellent game. Good luck, Scorpions!

Most days the Scrublands are absent of humans, unapproachable and hostile. Today is not most days, as a line of Night Vale citizens has formed outside of the general store to see the old whittler and his wood menagerie. Parents ask for photos of their children with his work, and he only whistles and nods nearly imperceptibly. It could almost be interpreted as a slight twitch of the neck, rather than an affirming nod, but interpretations grow liberal when want is high.

Fathers and mothers snap pictures on their phones of children accepting gifts of wood figurines from the old man. The kids stare into the thin black ellipses that pass for his eyes, searching for the charming smile of elderly approval. But instead, seeing every single constellation of the night sky inside slits as thin as thistles and as black as tar. The historic expansion of the universe cannot be fully understood in words or even human thought, but it can be comprehended in the eyes of the tanned, wrinkled stranger.

The old whittler does not charge a penny for any of his work. He does not smile nor accept the many thank-yous coaxed out of the young ones by their manner-minded handlers. Nor does he accept requests. Children have many mascots, heroes, and cartoons that they love to possess via keepsake totems, and they repeatedly ask the old man for whittled representations of their favorite things, like Pokemon characters or one of Pixar’s anthropomorphic cars, or even Ted Allen, host of Food Network’s long running cooking competition “Chopped”. But the old whittler only carves what he carves. And he carves tiny horses, little cowboys, old-timey wagons, armadillos, tigers, tractors, almost anything you can think of. He finishes his sculpture of a koala bear and hands it to Amber Akinyi, who looks at her husband Wilson Levy, who is holding their sobbing, screaming 16-month-old baby Flora. The couple smiles together, never knowing that this balsa koala is everything they could have ever wanted beyond a loving family. Wilson begins to cry at the simple beauty of this craft. Amber begins to cry at the feeling of being understood, and young Flora stops crying as she fawns over the 6-inch tall antipodean marsupial, cartoonishly gnawing on a eucalyptus leaf.

The whittler also carves people. Small human figures, yes, like firefighters and ballerinas and clowns, but also actual people. Harrison Kip told the old man he wished to be happier in his own skin, and the old whittler grabbed Harrison’s cheeks and brought Harrison’s round, soft face before his own crinkled countenance, and Harrison screamed. He screamed in fear of what the old man was about to do. He also screamed in joyous anticipation, and the two screams were discordant like adjacent keys pressed simultaneously on a church organ. The old whittler pressed his knife against Harrison’s chin and began to pull the blade back, using the force of his thumb and the trunk of his forefinger. He repeated throughout Harrison’s assenting and defiant shouts, and after a few moments, Harrison stopped yelling and stood. His jaw squarer, his nose thinner and longer, his shoulders broader. And Harrison smiled.

Soon, the whittler began carving houses, roads, and city buildings. They were larger than the koala, much larger, for they were full-sized renditions of these things. He sliced and sawed away at block after block of red oak, hackberry and peachwood, forming new arteries of city travel, whole blocks of residences, and even cultural landmarks and venues. And the town of Night Vale, in a single late morning, began to expand into the distant and uninhabitable Scrublands of our desert.

Let’s have a look now at horoscopes. Gemini. Bury yourself in your work today, Gemini. Pile that garbage high and rest your weary head beneath its odorous, but comforting weight. Cancer. No more Mr. Nice Guy, Cancer. Today you are Mrs. Disinterested Lady. Get out there and be uninvolved in everything. Leo. You’re the talk of the town, Leo. Word after word is about you, and it is juicy! Like a rare steak, like a blood orange. Juicy like 2008 coutoure. Whew! You should hear what they’re saying. Virgo. You are not what you seem to be, Virgo. You seem to be a blackberry shrub, overreaching and prickly. But really you are a human, squishy and small. Continue to be the thorny fruit-bearing bush, though. Libra. You seek balance, Libra, but you are as lopsided as wealth disparity graph in an economist’s classroom. Share your worth, distribute your value fairly and compassionately, Libra, for the villagers are sharpening their tools. Scorpio. Hey Steve, love you pal!

Sagittarius. Your (-) [0:10:42] in relationships is going to be your downfall, Sagittarius. You’re an obsidian monolith, towering over everyone, absorbing all light, except the faint reflection of those who want to know what glows inside your stony façade. You don’t have to be a diamond, Sagittarius, or even quartz. Just try for salt lick, OK? I think you can achieve that.

Capricorn. Oh the games you play, Capricorn, you wicked little sea goat! You naughty caprine ocean dweller with your horns and scales, vexing us with your riddles and labyrinthian logic! The stars offer no advice for you, Capricorn, only envious praise. Aquarius. Put your money where your mouth is, but wash that money first, Aquarius. It’s been in so many other people’s mouths, ever since we added Jolly Ranchers as legal currency. Pisces. You’re swimming upstream, Pisces. Figuratively speaking, of course. I mean you are a human who does not need to actually swim upstream for food or a mate. Get out of the metaphorical stream and avoid the damage you’re going to do to your body and soul. Except for you, Tim. You’re a woodchuck, who is literally swimming upstream. I don’t like you, Tim, because you are eating my tulips. You can drown. Aries. Fake it til you pretend to make it, Aries. Taurus. Don’t hide your feelings, Taurus! Frame them! Display them ostentatiously on the wall. Mount them on plinths behind velvet robed (-) [0:12:33]. Curate an exhibit of your feelings, Taurus. Charge admission.

And now the news. The Night Vale City Council deliberated today on whether the old whittler in front of the old general store in the Scrublands was friend or foe to our town. Those voices arguing in favor of the old man celebrated the huge municipal expansion he was creating so quickly onto undeveloped land.

“This new infrastructure would have taken us dozens of years and millions of dollars to deploy, and he has accomplished it all in half day!” these voices said in unison. “Plus,” they added, “he whittled a little army man for my kid, a bracelet for my wife, and a sweater for our cat. It’s everything we ever wanted!”

The dissenting voices, and they were few, could only argue that he failed to acquire proper permits for any of this construction, let alone an outdoor vendor’s license which is mandatory even for giveaways. Excepting restaurant samples, marketing promotions, and military dispersion of chemtrails. The many-voiced, uni-bodied creature that is the City Council, huffed in nearly unanimous support for this old man. His sad whistling, his prolific whittling, and his beneficence to our city. “Did you see?” said there of the voices, “that inside the general store there’s everything you could ever need. Cans, boxes, shelves, counters! Walls. It’s amazing. Everything is craved from a single block of wood, and it’s all connected! No glue or bolts or rivets anywhere.” “He’s a deft hand,” concurred four other voices. “How does he even find single blocks of wood that huge?” wondered a solo voice aloud. “Whatever!” the entire City Council roared in unison. “That old man is a superb whittler!”

And now financial news. [hysterical laughter Ha ha hahahaha hahaha every-everything’s fine! It’s just dandy! Uh, thank you for asking.

And now back to our top story. Out in the Scrublands, an entire wooden suburb has grown from the withered hands and sharp knife of the old whittler, who has for the first time today, moved from the porch of his general store. He stands now upon a stage, a round platform on the center of a great amphitheater, which he personally carved deep into the cracked, red rock of the desert floor. The people of Night Vale gather and sit on wood plank rows, which curve in a semi-circle around the old man on the stage. Each person in attendance holds in their hands a whittled object given to them as they entered the audience space. The items are all different, esoteric, and unique, each item and unexpected gift of the whittler. Each item the very thing they have always wanted, even if it was never what they thought they wanted. They hold gently their presents, protecting them with their very lives. The whittler, with his straw hat still shading his keyhole eyes and riverbend mouth, stands before the people of Night Vale who sit in an arena of his own making, each cradling a beloved statuette of his own making. The old man reaches out and takes the hand of his bride. She, of course, is of his own making as well. She is craved of weeping cedar. Her veil, though entirely wood, is somehow translucent, and her sorrowful eyes are faintly visible behind the intricate work of the whittler’s blade. The old man whistles once again, and the crowd whistles along with him. They know the song now. It lives in them like longing, like blood. Like a soul. They know every word of the wordless (-) [0:16:51], and the notes of loneliness spread across the Scrublands to the mountains’ edge and echo back in the key of hope, with a lilt of contentment and satisfaction. They will only be happy when he is happy and he is, indeed, happy. As the whittler clutches the hand of his newly carved betrothed, the clouds part, revealing the happiest thing of all: The weather.

[“Embroidery Stars” by Carrie Elkin http://carrieelkin.com/]

Into the Scrublands I went, myself already as happy as I could ever be for I was with my own true love, my husband. I journeyed to see the whittler for myself, as an effort of journalism, a chronicler of interesting events. I wanted for nothing. My happiness cannot be improved. Or so I believed.

When I arrived, the whittler more than 100 feet a way, and through a mass of thousands, greeted me with a nod so unobtrusive, I believed it to be a trick of the eye. But from the distance, I could see the whole of the universe in those dark eyes under dark shadow, behind the final violet of sunset. I knew he meant me.

Carlos and I stepped to the podium, and the old man opened his palm to reveal an original carving just for me. I had hoped it was a Nintendo Switch, but it was a [sea plane] [0:23:05]. Carlos, like a child on Santa’s lap, cooed and asked the old man for a superconductive supercollider. And the old whittler, his burlap cheeks heavy with gravity and history, reached into the breast pocket of his (-) shirt and handed Carlos a tiny wooden rose. Carlos hugged his rose to his chest, and I my (sea plane). The whittler took the hand again off his bride and gazed upon her, her veiled eyes met by his boundless stare. They stood like that for more than an hour, not speaking. The only sounds were the cicadas chirping and the crowd whistling.

But the tune faded, and soon only the cicadas cut through the silence of a still desert twilight. And one of us, Larry Leroy, stood and walked on to the stage. He touched the old man’s shoulder. The old man did not turn. He did not speak. He collapsed into black ash. Then his bride, then the seats beneath us, it all gave way to crumbling nothing. Then the buildings and roads and even the general store turned into ash. Finally, every one of our object dissipated, like Eurydice almost free from Hades. A gentle cool breeze arrived to sweep our hope away.

We returned home, wordless, with occasional whistles of the whittler’s tune, once again in a sad and lonesome key. Our cherished gifts, we told ourselves, were nothing more than baubles, ephemera, however blessed or magical. They were mere things, not love, not family, not true love, they were objects, toys. Props. Distractions. They were everything we have ever wanted, because we could hold them, see them, touch them. We can no longer do that, but we can remember what it was like. The rough of the wood against the soft of our hand.

Stay tuned next for our new game show: “Name all the nouns!”

And as always, good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Give a man and a fish and he’ll wonder what your deal is. Teach a man to fish and he’ll ask you once again to please leave him alone.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #wtnv transcripts #episode 169 #the whittler

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lees-choice · 4 years

Text

Cherry Wine

Pairing: Stucky x abusive!oc, platonic!stucky x black!reader, sam wilson x reader, platonic!avengers x reader

Summary: Bucky and Steve are in a relationship that isn’t very good for them.

Warnings: Domestic Abuse, polygamy, angst, fluff. (trying a no dialouge thing... hope it works xxx)

Based on Cherry Wine by Hozier (who’s a literal god btw)

When they had first met her, Raina had been nothing but sweet to the two of them. She was a secretary at STARK industries, and Pepper had introduced the three of them a few months back. They then decided to begin dating and everything was fine for a while. They were happier than they had been in a while. Everything was beautiful. Everything was great. Until it wasn’t.

it looks ugly, but it's clean

It started small.

Raina moved in with them at the tower and was embraced with open arms by their friends. Everyone was happy that the two men had found someone that completed their lives. No one was happier for them than you and Sam.

You had met Steve when he had first come out of the ice. You were in an art museum, having to complete an assignment for your Art History class when you stumbled across the man out of time. You could tell that he was both uncomfortable and intrigued by all that surrounded him, and you took it upon yourself to help him out.

From that day forward, you two became best friends. He came to you for pretty much everything, from catching up on pop culture to cooking to helping him through his nightmares. And while he was down in D.C., he met Sam Wilson. Everything they went through with HYDRA and SHIELD had only brought the men closer and Sam became another important person in Steve's life. The two of you had met when you went to go see Steve in the hospital and Sam was at his side. You instantly hit it off and soon enough had become a couple.

You loved each other through all the madness with the Accords and Bucky. You had given Tony hell when you had heard that Sam had been arrested because you knew.You knew the pain that Steve had gone through since he woke up , and the pain he felt whilst searching for Bucky. Of course you had sympathized with Tony over the death of his parents, and his became a pain you understood. Another person you sheltered, another person you would protect until the day you were lowered into the ground.

oh mama, don't fuss over me

Of course you were happy for your soldiers. To see them so in love with another person made your heart swoon in happiness, as you wanted nothing more for the pair. So when Steve and Bucky came to you and Sam to ask your opinion on inviting her to live them in the tower, you encouraged the two of them to follow their hearts. She had been sweet enough when you had first met, laughing with everyone and charming you all. But there was something. Something about her that hadn't rubbed you right. You could feel something in your gut that was inexplicable, but you knew.

You always knew.

the way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine

Raina began to question every aspect of their daily lives. Who they went out with, when they were coming back, why they weren't answering their phone. At first it seemed like she just cared a lot. Maybe too much.

Soon, she had control over when they left the house. Who they saw. When they talked. Steve and Bucky began to see less of their friends at the tower, instead spending more time on their floor. It was a fairly new relationship, though. It was normal for couples to be stuck to each other at this point. Right? This was normal.

open hand or closed fist would be fine

The first time she hit Bucky had been after a dinner the three had with you and Sam. You had invited them to your floor for a couples night, much like those you had done weekly before Raina had become a part of the equation.

Maybe they were a little too comfortable loving on you and Sam. All the hugs, kisses, touches. You were so close with each other that none of you realized how often you would press a kiss to Bucky's arm, or Steve's arm would land on Sam's chest in laughter, or how you all seemed to hold on to each other throughout the whole night. But she had seen it all.

They weren't being fair to her. They had embarrassed her. Ignored her. How could they? Did they want to fuck you? Sam? Had they already?

A sharp sound filled the air. Bucky's eyes watered as Steve opened his mouth to yell, to protect the man that he loved. But she, she was just so angry. Her hand still raised, eyes stern as she turned to him. His throat went dry, his body shook. He couldn't do anything? Why? Why had they done that to her?

calls of guilty thrown at me

That hadn't been the first time Raina had found issue in the way the interacted with you, and it wouldn't be the last. Maybe they just shouldn't see you? It wasn't fair to her. They would stop.

Why did they take so long on missions? Were they trying to get away from her? They needed to call her more often. Maybe step back from the team. They owed her after all. Who else would love them like she did? Who else would love them?

all while she stains the sheets of some other

They had made her. It made sense. They were always busy with their duties on the team. With therapy and charity work. With training and paper work. It made sense. They couldn't get angry. They didn't deserve to be upset or sad. They had to let her do as she pleased, because they couldn't leave her. They couldn't leave the only person that would ever care for them. Did she care for them? Of course. The stains on their carpet? glass in their skin? she loved them.

but she loves, like sleep to the freezing

She wasn't like that all the time. Only when they made her angry. All they had to do was not make her angry. You didn't understand. Sam didn't. No one did. You were all jealous, wanted to take her from them. They couldn't let them. She was their fire. Their warmth. For too long they had been lost in the cold, and finally they had someone who would drown them in fire. Unfortunately, they didn't realize that fire burns bright. And always leaves scars.

and it's worth it, it's divine

All you could see was red as you screamed louder than you ever had in your life. Your lungs burned, your throat ached. How could she? How could she lay her hands on the two men that loved her most in the world? How could hurt them and treat them like they were nothing? How dare she? The air broke as someone whimpered. They were still here. They were still hurt, suffocating in a love they had believed would cure them. Natasha would deal with her. You had two men to care for. Just like you always did. Just like you always would.

They layed between you and Sam, curled into one another, finally breathing in the fresh air of your love. The purple and blue of their skin was now so bright you couldn't believe there was a time you in which you hadn't seen it. You couldn't believe that this had happened. Hands in hair as you braided, cooing them to sleep through their nightmares. They would be okay. They had you and you would love them for as long as they would let you.

the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

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pcttrailsidereader · 4 years

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Four Months Alone of the PCT

I posted this on this website about six years ago and just recently re-read this interview from a blog called ‘The Hairpin’. The interview, with Myla Fay, a 25-year old thru hiker, is a good read and I thought worth re-posting. My favorite story was her account of the hiker who found chapstick on the ground and used it to counter crotch chafing. A few minutes later a woman walked by and asked if anyone had seen her pina colada chapstick. From that point forward his trail name was “Penis Colada.”

Myla attended Carleton College in Northfield, Minnesota as did my daughter … which came to light when I forwarded this interview to my daughter as part of my desire to have her hike a section of the PCT several summers ago (which she did join me for a lengthy stretch).

By Jia Tolentino

How did you get into long-distance hiking? I grew up in Maine and spent a lot of time outside, and when I was a kid, we went up to Blue Hill every summer to hike and swim, camping in Baxter State Park and backpacking in the White Mountains. And in high school I did some incredible trips with the Chewonki Foundation: one was a 400-mile white-water canoe trip that ended in the tiny Inuit village of Kangiqsualujjuaq in northern Quebec. I always liked the outdoors, and backpacking felt like a good fit. I was also always interested in long-distance hiking as a more structured way of traveling. I spent a summer alone in India once and felt overwhelmed by all the decisions and planning involved in traveling. With hiking, your trip is organized around managing food and water and covering distance, and there’s less of an expectation for fun and relaxation. I like the part of backpacking that’s monotonous and challenging. How long had you been thinking about hiking the PCT before doing it? I heard about the PCT my senior year in college, but during and after college I was focusing on school and work: I worked as a designer in Minneapolis and New York, which I liked. Then I wanted to work on my own projects, so I moved back to Maine and set up a printmaking studio in the basement of a rural Zen Center. But it’s difficult to make any money from printmaking and it’s also difficult to live and work in isolation. I felt unsure about what I wanted to do, so I made a list of things I never regret doing. I realized that I never regret spending time outside, traveling, and challenging myself, so I decided to hike. I don’t think any 90-year-old would look back on life and regret hiking the PCT. Did you know you wanted to go alone? I might have considered it if I had known someone willing to drop everything and go hiking for four months. But I liked the idea of hiking alone anyway. Being alone is wonderful because you never have to compromise. If I felt like swimming all day, that’s what I did.

How long did it take to get ready? I only had about three months to prepare. Most people spend around six to 12 months getting in shape, dehydrating food, and planning. For me, I bought gear and read “Yogi’s Guide,“ which has advice for thru hiking—tips for hitchhiking, choosing campsites, resupplying, etc. It also outlines motel and grocery options for each town. I bought my food in towns and mailed food ahead when the next town was too small to resupply.

Do you have to be in good shape before you start a hike like this? Or could you just tough it out and get better as you go? You don’t have to be in good shape to start a hike, but it helps. It also helps to be young. No matter what shape you are in, hiking 10 to 12 hours a day is going to be hard. I thought that after hiking for a week or two I would just be “in shape,” but I was surprised that my fitness continued to improve.

I also never stopped having some degree of pain.

What was the gear you started with and the gear you ended with? Anything you packed that you realized was useless? I started hiking in desert heat and ended my trip snowshoeing through six feet of snow, but surprisingly I used most of my gear in all situations. After a month I bought a solar charger on trail to charge my iPhone, which was a real luxury. I also bought a dress from Goodwill along the way. It was comfortable to wear hiking and convenient for peeing outside modestly. I added various warm layers as I went north—a rain skirt (which is lighter, more breathable, and easier to put on than rain pants), an emergency blanket, snowshoes, long underwear, and bread bags to wear on my feet for warmth. I eventually ditched my mace, bug spray, and a mouse-proof food bag because I felt they were unnecessary, but not everyone would agree. Now that I have a better idea of what I need, I revamped my gear for my upcoming trip on the CDT. I have a post on my blog about the new gear, and also have my gear list on my website, if anyone wants to read.

What about trail food? How’d you deal with it? Did you filter your water the whole time? What are the worst and best things you’ve tried on the trail? Food was hard to plan for because my preferences and hunger changed constantly. Sometimes I had five extra pounds of food when I arrived in town and other times I ran out. One of the benefits of buying food as you go (rather than mailing it) is that you can easily make adjustments. I hiked with a girl who mailed all her food and by the end, she literally gagged every time she ate a Clif bar or oatmeal. I think having a variety of food on trail is important. I cooked ramen with PBR once when I arrived at a road crossing where someone had left a few beers for hikers. I was out of water, so I used the beer, and it was surprisingly delicious. At the end of trail, I ate snickers dipped in cream cheese and I thought it tasted like chocolate cheesecake! One of the worst things I tried was cold instant coffee mixed with oats. I was trying to pack up quickly in the morning and didn’t want to heat water. Needless to say, it was disgusting. I also once ate a spoonful of dry protein powder at night because I was starving and low on food. It felt similar to the cinnamon challenge. How much more do you end up eating than normal? What are the cravings you develop after long hikes? I ate a TON of food. Granola bars, mini pies, peanut butter, Nutella, tortillas, ramen, Cheezits, candy, muffins (squished), pop tarts, nuts, and anything else that caught my eye in the grocery store. All hikers fantasize about food, mostly about fresh fruits, vegetables, pizza, and ice cream. I daydreamed about Slurpees a lot. There is no food guilt on trail. All notions of what, when, and how much is appropriate to eat disappear. Instead of cutting calories and dieting, hikers worry about not eating enough. I ate 3,000 to 6,000 calories a day, and it was incredibly refreshing. The downside of eating so much was the stomach aches. Sometimes I would eat a whole sleeve of Oreos, which tasted delicious, then I would feel awful for a while. It’s a lot to ask of your body, to process all that food.

Did you see a lot of other solo hikers? Did traveling alone made you more open to meeting random people? Travelling alone does make it easy to meet people. Most hikers start alone, and many hike in groups for various lengths of time. When I started, I wanted to hike alone to challenge myself and rely on my own decisions. I became more open to meeting people over time, and by the end of trail I found a balance between independence and community. Who were the coolest people you met along the way? Everyone I met had an interesting back story—one couple worked in Antarctica, one girl sold her house to live out of a backpack, there were Marines who hiked to deal with PTSD, and people who left their high-paying jobs because they didn’t want to devote their lives to work. One of my favorite characters on trail was a retired guy from New Jersey. He lived years without health insurance or hot water, and took ice-cold hose showers every day at home, even in the winter. He told only one person he was hiking the PCT and always camped alone far off trail. He didn’t own a phone, but carried a small radio to listen to baseball games. Every time he went into town to buy food, he bought a glass, because he only drank beer out of a glass. He was also a scavenger. Once in town I gave him part of a cookie and he just packed it away for later. Another time he told me that he carried a cube of bouillon for an emergency meal. I told him it didn’t have any calories, and he said, “But it sure does fill you up!” I should mention that there are more men than women on trail, and most people I met were white and middle class, so unfortunately trail culture is not too diverse. How many times were you ever truly scared, and why? Most of the time trail felt very safe, but I had a couple moments of being spooked. I almost stepped on a rattlesnake. I once got lost looking for a spring at night without my pack. I got dangerously cold during a snowstorm. These situations were all preventable had I been paying better attention. Some hikers do end up in truly scary situations. One girl had a mountain lion stalk her at night, and another guy ended up lost on a snowy cliff where he couldn’t go forward or backward. Oh my god. A lot of people on trail carry a SPOT device with an emergency button that activates a search and rescue response team. They are expensive and I personally felt safe without one, but a few people did use them on trail.

What about weather conditions? You had to hike at night sometimes because of the heat, right? The PCT covers a diverse range of terrains and temperatures. In the desert, it reaches 110 degrees, and water sources are sometimes 30 miles apart. I carried 1.5 gallons of water at a time. Hiking at night is much cooler and requires less water, so many people hike early and late (resting midday). Night hiking is beautiful but spooky. Some huge bugs and rodents that come out at night. And then there was the extreme cold: I’m reading a blog post where you did sit-ups in the middle of the night to stay warm. What’s your least favorite and most favorite weather to hike in? I still prefer hiking in desert heat over the cold Northwestern weather. In Oregon and Washington, I dealt with rain, hail and snow, which is dangerous without adequate food and gear. Most people carry down jackets and sleeping bags, but down is useless when wet. When it is cold, taking breaks is not an option. I knew one couple who hiked over 24 hours without stopping because all their gear was wet and it was snowing. They would have become hypothermic if they stopped. Can you tell me some hiker code? What’s the jargon like? There are lots of phrases specific to thru hiking. Some are practical (“slackpacking” is hiking a section without a full pack, “hiker hunger” describes the extreme hunger after hiking, “vortex” is when you spend longer than expected in town). A lot of them are meant to be funny (“Vitamin I” for ibuprofen). “Cowboy camping,” sleeping under the stars, is one of my favorite terms. It’s basically a fancy way of saying “I am too lazy to pitch my tent and I doubt it is going to rain tonight.” My friend “Scrub” has a more extensive list of hiking terms on his blog.

That’s his trail name: does everyone have one? Everyone gets a trail name, usually given by another hiker. Part of the idea is that you can leave your other life behind and be someone new on trail. And there’s other stuff like this: trail angels, trail magic, what does that mean? A “trail angel” is anyone who helps you by offering “trail magic.” It could be a day hiker who gives you an apple or someone who drives you to town. There are established trail angels who help hikers each year by leaving food or sodas on trail or even opening their homes to hikers. There are also some trail magic events, where angels make burgers or pancakes on trail for a day or two. It is hard to overstate how incredible it is to come upon fresh hot food or cold sodas after being out in the woods for a few days. The terms seem right. How was your emotional state going into the hike, and during it? What was the default state of each day? I was much happier on trail than I was prior to trail. Some of that may have had to do with the endorphins released from exercise. I also gained a lot of confidence in my body and my ability to troubleshoot difficult situations. By the end of the trail, I felt I could do anything. I certainly had moments of frustration, crankiness, and misery, but I always preferred trail to home.

Wow. What did you do to pass the time? It wasn’t too different from regular life. Sometimes I listened to music or books, sometimes I worried about logistics, sometimes I wondered what to do with my life. I thought about family and friends and remembered things I had forgotten. Sometimes I played games with other hikers, sometimes I counted my steps, sometimes I brushed my teeth for an hour. What are some good stories you heard on the trail from other people? There was a huge snowstorm in Washington that coincided with the government shutdown, and some hikers decided to road walk the last 60 miles to Canada to avoid deep snow. Rangers stopped them because it was illegal to be in the park during the shutdown. So after hiking 2600 miles, they quit because of a triviality. I also heard a story about a girl who saw a mountain lion sitting next to the trail. She roared at it, like you are supposed to (you never want to let a mountain lion know you are scared), then kept walking past it only to realize that there was a switchback in the trail and she had to pass it again. And then, there was a funny story about a hiker I never met who found chapstick on the ground and used it for crotch chafing. A few minutes later a woman walked by and asked if anyone had seen her pina colada chapstick. From that point forward his trail name was “Penis Colada.” That is a great story. What was your favorite part of the trail?

The last four days on trail were my favorite. I snowshoed on fresh snow through the most spectacular scenery on trail with a boy who I like very much. It was new and exciting and beautiful and romantic. What about the least? Southern Oregon was my least favorite part. Everyone talks about how Oregon is flat and easy, but my feet were hurting so it didn’t feel easy. In my opinion, it was also the least spectacular part of trail, just woods and ponds.

What was your favorite pit stop? One of my favorite stops was Buck’s Lake, a small town in northern California. I got off trail to apply for a job. I didn’t end up getting the job, but I stayed with the most incredible trail angels. They were welcoming and made burgers with heirloom tomatoes and peach cobbler and fruit salad. They also took me out on their pontoon for sunset to drink white wine and listen to the Beach Boys.

What did you miss most while you were hiking? Fresh fruits and vegetables, and my friends and family. How did this hike physically affect your body? I lost about 5 to 10 pounds by the end, despite gaining muscle. My breasts mostly disappeared and my feet grew a full size. Women usually lose less weight than men, which is an advantage on trail. What about your hair? My hair was crazy on trail. I was trying to grow it out, but it was a bad length for hiking: long enough to tangle and too short to pull back. I had dyed it before trail and wanted to let the dyed part grow out. I also decided to stop using shampoo, in part thanks to articles like this. Needless to say, my hair was a bleachy, greasy, tangled mess. I cut it off when returned home. Before or after, did you have a lot of people telling you that they wanted to hike the PCT too? Or were people more like, "You’re nuts!” A lot of people say something along the lines of, “Wow, that’s amazing! I could never do that!” But hiking is kind of like drawing. People say they can’t draw, as if it’s a mysterious talent, but both drawing and hiking are just a set of skills anyone could learn. If you are interested in hiking the PCT or another trail, I would encourage you to go ahead and do it. I think it is almost always a positive experience, although returning to regular life is difficult. People sometimes romanticize long-distance hiking, but I was just walking. Some people work 8 or 10 hours a day on spreadsheets or washing floors and few people say that is amazing. What’s your favorite picture from your PCT hike?

This is a campsite on an exposed ridge in northern California. The sky was smoky from a nearby fire, but I could see well enough to watch a meteor shower. It’s hard to choose one photo, but that was a good night.

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ladyoutlier · 5 years

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A Demon’s Demons

In which Hell reunites Crowley with his Falling pains.

[Read on AO3] | [Read My Other Fics]

Prologue

In the deepest pits of Hell, below the torture cells and the mail room, existed a hallway that had been forgotten for longer than the Earth’s existence. Back when Hell lacked design and it was only a plane of fire and brimstone, this hallway was one of the first structures the Fallen created through their agonizing pain and scorched beings. As their wings burned and their chests collapsed with hollowness from their lack of Grace, the hallway came into existence as a way for them to rid themselves of the pain. They could hardly stand as a threat to Heaven when so horribly crippled from their Fall.

So the hallway became endless and gained many rooms that branched from it—one for each of the Fallen. And in these rooms, each newly born demon ripped themselves apart, tearing their Sins from their being. The Fall became a memory, moving into the past rather than living with them in every second of the present. The pain was gone, and the Fallen could live again.

Their Sins remained in their rooms behind doors with a thousand locks that were boarded up with a hundred planks. Left to the depths of Hell to be forgotten as the place of horror built on top of it for the next six thousand years. However, it was not gone. It merely continued to stir below the floorboards, waiting for someone to return. And after the End of the World was thwarted, someone who had never quite forgotten the hallway did return.

The hallway was dark and dusty but far from silent as Lord Beelzebub, accompanied by their right-hand demon Dagon, walked down it. Even through all the precautions, the doors rattled angrily as the Sins demanded to be freed. There were not a lot of things the Lord of Flies feared. Board meetings with Satan after particularly low months were one. A demon immune to holy water was another. And the Sins of a past better left forgotten were the most feared of all.

Still, one does not rise to Beelzebub’s position without the ability to press on in the face of fear, and so they walked on, footsteps echoing down the hallway barely audible above the smashing and banging of an army of Fallen’s Sins. The way forward and the way back were both consumed by darkness as the light flickered ominously above the two demons as they walked. Unlike the Sins, the dark didn’t trouble them. Those of Hell were all too familiar with it.

Beelzebub stopped before a door and gestured to it. “This izz the one.”

Dagon, Lord of the Files, looked to the door. A glowing signature that rather resembled a cursive letter ‘J’ burned above it. The door shook, and the chains barring it shut rattled. Dust puffed from the door’s seams as the Sins slammed against it from the other side.

“Shall I open it?” Dagon asked. “There’ll be no getting them back in there once it’s opened.”

“We may not be able to destroy Crowley, but that doesn’t mean we have to do him any favorzzz. If he wishes to live on Earth, let Earth have all of him.”

Dagon nodded and produced a crowbar. Board after board began to fall, clattering to the ground in a racket that was still drowned out by the noise of all the Sins. As the barricade weakened, the Sins behind the exiled demon’s door grew increasingly aggressive, pounding harder and more frequently. An eternity of waiting was coming to an end.

As the last board fell, Dagon’s crowbar became a key, and the locks and chains began to clatter to the concrete as well. There were still about ten locks on the door when the Sins busted it open. The dark spirits they embodied soared out from the crypt of a room in a frenzy.

The hallway, although it was as deep in Hell as it could get, froze over. Screaming far too high pitched to be heard brought a chill to the hallway’s only occupants. Not from the cold, but rather from the distress of the Sins. They were only held together by the knowledge that those particular Sins tearing about were not their own.

As the Sins fully grasped their newfound freedom, they gained direction and skyrocketed down the hall, eager to return to the being they haven’t seen since the Fall. He wouldn’t be hard to find. Long ago, they had been one after all.

Dagon and Beelzebub were left in the hallway alone. Although the Sins of every other demon remained behind all the other doors, this one spot in the hall had become eerily quiet. Yet, without the presence of the Sins, both demons felt more at ease.

“It izzz done,” Beelzebub began. “For his sake, I hope the betrayal waz worth it.”

As the Sins piloted their way through every layer of Hell, the demons occupying them all felt a rather uncomfortable shiver down their spines. As one might imagine, this was hardly a normal occurrence. An uncomfortable demon was as much an oxymoron as a faithless priest. Something quite devious had occurred, and all the Fallen of Hell were glad they weren’t on the receiving end of it.

Only God could make an angel Fall from Heaven. To Fall from Hell, on the other hand, required a whole lot less divine intervention as Crowley was soon to find out.

Chapter 1: Sharing Secrets

Meanwhile on Earth, an angel and a demon that had chosen humanity over their respective head offices were taking a nice after-dinner stroll through Green Park to where the demon had left his Bentley. They had many conversations over the years stemming from humanity’s true nature to the brain mass of aquatic animals. On this particular day, they were talking about their favorite decade of human culture.

“‘Course the mid-1800s were your time, angel. You haven’t updated your wardrobe since then.” Crowley eyed Aziraphale’s outfit and smirked. “Me though? Big fan of the 1960s.”

“The youth did become rather rowdy during that time,” Aziraphale replied, tearing off a piece of a leftover dinner roll to throw to a duck crossing their path.

The warm summer air was beginning to cool for the year, and this evening was a prime example of that. Although something else entirely might have been bringing the chill to Green Park on this night. Something that was currently racing down Piccadilly as they spoke. Regardless, it was a beautiful, romantic evening, and many couples could be spotted sharing body heat on the sporadic benches along the walking path.

Crowley very much wanted to share one of them with Aziraphale, but he shook that thought out of his head. There was one thing about the 1960s not at all related to human culture that he really didn’t like. One specific event in 1967 that keep him from moving too fast on those thoughts.

“Only you would describe the turf war between the mods and rockers with a term as mild as rowdy.” Crowley rolled his eyes with a shake of his head. “Oh, loved the chaos both sides brought about, although never could decide who had the most style.”

“Which side wore the suits? Found that to be a bit more charming than the leather jackets,” Aziraphale asked, wrapping the remainder of the roll in his handkerchief and tucking it into his pocket.

“The same side that rode scooters instead of motorbikes, so they lost any points they gained from attire there. I mean, really? Scooters? Who ever looked at one of those and thought that was the best way to get around?”

“Madame Tracy’s was a bit on the slow side. We would have straight up missed Armageddon had I not taken things into my own hands.”

“Exactly! The things have always been useless.”

“Seems like there were benefits to both sides then.”

“Why I never chose a side myself. Wanted the best of both—”

Crowley was harshly interrupted mid-sentence as a part of himself he abandoned over six thousand years ago finally caught up to him. He came to a complete standstill, and Aziraphale took a few more steps forward before looking back at him.

“Crowley, dear, are you alright?”

The demon stood petrified in place, mouth agape, as if he had just been shot through the neck which, in essence, he had been. He sputtered out a series of syllables which essentially translated into nothing before clutching his chest and falling to his knees.

Needless to say, Aziraphale panicked. His eyes went wide, and he ran up beside the demon and kneeled down to him. He clutched Crowley’s shoulder with one hand and his face with another. “Crowley, Crowley. Look at me! Oh, Heavens above. You have to tell me what’s wrong!”

The demon jittered rather irregularly. His sunglasses fell to the ground, revealing that his eyes were darting about in a similar fashion. Merely two words escaped his lips. “Holy fuck.”

Aziraphale gave up on holding Crowley’s shoulder, deciding instead to use his hands to cup Crowley’s face. “I’ve never seen you in such a state. Please, try to calm down. Take a breath. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on!”

“T—thought we all had forgotten about that.” A smile briefly flashed over Crowley’s face before falling back to distress. “I mean, I did. Until now that is.”

“You’re going to have to elaborate a bit more on that. Forgotten what?”

Crowley took a few breaths, slowly regaining his composure. The pain seemed to be subsiding. He pulled Aziraphale’s hands off his face. “Not—not here. Let’ssss just get sssomewhere more private.”

A few onlookers began to crowd. One lady, looking to do more than gawk, came up to the two.

“Is he alright?” she asked Aziraphale.

“Fine. Peachy.” Crowley answered for him. “Mind your own businesssss, lady. C’mon, angel, let’sss go before we attract a crowd.”

Aziraphale did not correct him that is was indeed just him that was gaining attention, and instead helped the demon to his feet. Crowley marched off in the direction he parked, and Aziraphale turned to apologize to the woman. However, neither did Crowley get that far or did Aziraphale get out his apology before the demon let out another garbled yell and fell back to the ground.

“Do you need me to call an ambulance?” The woman asked.

Crowley ignored her. “Aziraphale, just get us out of here.”

“But with all these people watching?”

“Who caresss? They’ll write it off as a group hallucination. I can’t—not here.”

Aziraphale blinked his eyes, coming back to grips with how dire the situation was with Crowley sprawled out in pain on the pavement. Yes, this called for quite the miracle despite how many witnesses were about. “Yes, alright. Very well.”

He snapped his fingers, and both he and Crowley disappeared from Green Park and appeared back at the familiar Soho bookshop. The demon growled and pounded the floor with his fist. Aziraphale, once again, went to his side to aid him.

“Crowley, please tell me something. You’re worrying me sick!”

“Worrying you? That’s the issue? Want to swap placesss?”

“Gladly. If it would at all help you!”

Crowley was silent. He looked down to the floor, huffing out heavy breaths. Once again, he seemed to be at a pause in the pain. It was almost as if—

“Well, aren’t I lucky?” the demon sneered.

“What do you mean by that? You aren’t answering any of my questions, Crowley.”

“J—just stay here. Don’t go anywhere, okay? I’ll tell you.”

“Of course, dear. I don’t plan on leaving you alone when you’re in such a state.”

“Yeah, well, yeah,” Crowley fumbled. “Listen. To put it briefly, Hell’s reunited me with all my Sins, and it’s rather painful.”

Aziraphale straightened up. “Reunited? I didn’t know it was possible to separate.”

“Demons have been doing it since the beginning. Falling hardly felt like warm, summer days and cool breezes. Left most of us unable to do much of anything. So we lobbed off the part causing the pain and moved on.”

“I see…”

“And Hell just handed me a box full of the things on my desk, and my Sins were right on top.”

“Why are you not then…” Aziraphale gestured with his hand. “...crying out now like you were a moment ago?”

Crowley made a rather strange expression. He cocked his head, curled his upper lip, and squinted his eyes which were still certainly visible due to his sunglasses being left behind in the park. A dozen or so words formed from his mouth before he landed on one. “You.”

“Me? What about me?” Aziraphale became rather flustered. “How could I be influencing this at all.”

“You have an, uh, angelic aura. Whole Falling pains revolving around us, well, y’know, losing that.”

“Oh.” The angel’s eyebrows furrowed, and an introspective look took over his face. “So, quite literally, my presence comforts you.”

“Yeah, I guess you could put it like that.”

“In that case, I won’t leave your side until we get all this sorted.”

Crowley’s eyes widened, and he babbled for a moment before pulling himself back into a neutral, less readable appearance. “This isn’t going to be as easy as you think.”

“Well, I’m involved either way. If I’m going to stay next to you to keep you from being distressed, I might as well provide my assistance in any other way possible as well. We’re in this together. Our own side, remember?”

“Using my own words against me, huh?”

“It’s only what you would do.”

“And since when did you start acting like me?”

“Oh, 1601 after I lost a coin flip with you, I believe,” Aziraphale said with a smug grin which became more serious as he returned to the topic at hand. “What exactly are the difficulties here? You were separate from your, um, Sins before. Can you not separate again?”

“Few issues with that.” Crowley stood up, feeling like himself with Aziraphale near. “Nowhere to box up the Sins once they’re out, and we wouldn’t even get that far. It’s a messy process. Removing them, that is. Highly doubt this body would survive that, and unless Adam’s handing out more, I’d be shit out of luck considering Hell’s not going to be keen on giving me one. You know, since they put me in this situation.”

“I see how that makes this tricky.”

“Tricky. Yeah, just the word I’d use.” Crowley rolled his eyes.

“We’d have to find some sort of get around, or an alternative solution.” Aziraphale gestured for Crowley to follow him and began walking to his backroom. “If you didn’t experience the pain, there would be no reason to go through the separation process. As we’ve discovered, my aura neutralizes it, but if we could find a way to cancel it out without my presence being necessary, you could simply continue on as normal.”

Aziraphale paced about his backroom. In all sense, having this conversation here rather than in the storefront made no difference in terms of privacy. The shop had been most definitely closed while they were out for dinner. Rather, the angel simply had a better time thinking clearly in this room. It had been where Crowley had talked him into thwarting the Apocalypse, and it was where he had studied Agnes Nutter’s book. If an idea were to strike him, it would be here.

“Are you just pondering out loud, or is this leading somewhere?” Crowley asked, taking a seat. “‘Cause I have absolutely no clue how to do what you’re suggesting.”

“Well, you could atone for them.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no. Yeah, uh huh. Sorry, no.”

“It is how humans overcome their own sins.”

“Yeah, but not human, am I? And I’ll tell you, there was plenty of trying that right after the Fall.”

“Perhaps, that was too soon. The meaning wasn’t there yet.”

“Wasn’t there yet? Oh, if you were anyone else, you stupid bastard.”

“Crowley, please calm down. I didn’t mean any offense by it. I’m only trying to find a way to help you.”

“No. I’m not—I’m not having this conversation. About atonement. About the Fall. None of it.”

Crowley stood and made an effort to leave the room. He got about as far as the doorway before the distance became too great, and he found himself gripping the doorframe in agony. Aziraphale took his arm, and despite his best attempts to shake him off, the angel’s persistence won out and he was returned to the couch. They were both silent as Crowley slowly relaxed.

“I know this is beyond personal,” Aziraphale began. “It’s why I haven’t asked once in the six thousand years I’ve known you. I always thought that if you wanted to tell me, you would. But I’m afraid that’s a luxury neither of us can any longer afford due to our current predicament and this information’s relevance to it. I enjoy your company quite a lot, dear. However, I think we would both quickly tire of the companionship if we could never travel further than ten steps from one another. And I’m your friend, Crowley. After all we’ve been through, you can tell me anything. So please tell me, what did you do to Fall?”

Crowley continued to sit hunched over from his place on the couch, showing no signs of having heard anything Aziraphale just said. Of course, he had. He just wasn’t sure how to react yet. If he had ever thought this conversation would be happening, he would’ve straight up avoided Aziraphale that day in Eden and on every day after. But it was too late for that, and now here the angel was asking something of Crowley he had never intended to give.

He would do anything for Aziraphale and had made a point to show it back in 1941. Crossing consecrated grounds to avert a mere discorporation was crazy, yet he would have done it a million times over. Actions were easy. Aziraphale was the focus. Questions were not. Which was really funny to him in a not at all funny way.

What Aziraphale wanted was something Crowley had been keeping to himself since, well, forever. It was impossible to give, but impossible hardly mattered when Aziraphale was involved. It was impossible for an angel and a demon to be friends. Yet, Aziraphale had said it himself. They were friends. And perhaps that mattered a bit more than keeping secrets. So Crowley decided to share a conversation only God and him had heard before.

“Look, angel, I really didn’t mean to Fall.” He broke his statue-like stillness to look to Aziraphale. “Really just found myself in a mess I couldn’t get out of.”

They were only a few words that hardly went into the specifics, but they still revealed quite a bit. More than Crowley had ever let anyone else know. That was for sure. For one, that he really wasn’t all that into the doom and gloom schtick Hell promoted. Of course, Aziraphale had already come to this conclusion many, many years ago. A demon could hardly show as much good as Crowley had over the centuries without coming across as a bit less than thrilled with their current employment. Still, this was delicate territory, and Aziraphale definitely recognized that.

“What kind of mess exactly? Would you be willing to tell me the story? Your version of it that is.”

Crowley looked up to the ceiling and bit the interior of his cheek. They were bad memories, and he’d much rather bury them in the back of his mind than share them to rot in Aziraphale’s instead. He didn’t want the angel’s pity or worse, his disappointment, but he had already decided to commit to this.

“Listen, before I tell you any of this, you have to remember that this was a different time,” he began. “Things like betrayal and hate and evil didn’t really exist yet. Wasn’t obvious like they are now. This is what made those things exist. So there’s good reason I didn’t see any of them coming.”

“I’m not going to judge you, Crowley.”

“You say that now.” The demon let out a sigh. “Really this whole mess of horrible events started with a chat with a soon-to-be Satan.”

[Chapter 2]

#Good Omens #Gomens #Ineffable Husbands #my writing

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roseaesthethiccc · 6 years

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BTS Reaction: Soulmate AU Pt. 1

An alternate universe where each person has a "One True Love", and each pair has a way of finding out who their soulmate is, and a set of rules that come with it. You are soulmates with a BTS member.

Genre: Fluff and a bit of angst

WARNING: Kinda mentions the pasts of some of the members, many of which may be triggering. Please be careful.

Seokjin:

"I can't believe I just got scouted!"

When you first heard those words echoing in your head, suffice to say you were definitely surprised (and maybe a little scared, you totally didn't drop your coffee during your lecture). It was especially surprising to hear these words in Korean, a language you'd been learning for the past four years after feeling a strong connection to the culture and language of the country.

After you heard it, you quickly excused yourself from class and left, heading straight to the bathroom. You were at least a bit sure that you weren't crazy, so you had to figure out what was happening. You stood in the stall after locking yourself in, and began thinking to yourself. It seemed weird, but also natural to you.

"....Hello?"

There was a short pause. You believed for a moment that maybe you actually were crazy, maybe you just thought in another person's voice who you've never heard before. That thought was quickly abandoned.

"Umm...did you just talk to me? Am I crazy?" The voice finally responded.

"No, I'm hearing it, too. What's going on?"

Another awkward silence. You were starting to get tired of those.

"Umm....Are yo-"

"WAIT! IS IT YOU??" Another pause. "I THINK I'VE READ ABOUT THIS BEFORE!!!"

"...What?" You thought about it for a moment. "OH WAIT."

Yoongi:

You hummed that familiar tune for the 10th time today, one you never really got tired of. It was always sort of there, not really leaving the back of your mind; the exact same song that you've known your entire life.

Your condition was extremely rare. It was like something only you and they shared, something only for the two of you. It was special, like something you'd never heard before. No song was like it, nothing could replicate the familiar beat that you'd always heard in your head.

You sat in the silence of your study at 8 pm, bags evident under your eyes, and exhaustion overtaking your whole body. You had a tendency to work on things late, continuing to develop and develop something until you were absolutely sure it was perfect. This took up almost every minute of your free time during the day, and taking almost no time to relax had taken a toll on your body. You were becoming legarthic, weak, and frail. But there was no time to worry about it now.

Once again, the highs and lows of that exact song filled your thoughts. You were so tired. The calming of your song relaxed you, until there was no way for you to stay awake anymore. Slowly, you lowered your head onto your desk, amid papers and documents strewn around, and finally took a rest. Your eyes closed shut and your breathing slowed, finally taking time out of your day to let yourself go.

You really deserved it.

Hoseok:

The ticking wasn't always there. It mostly just gradually started, getting louder and louder in your head. Usually it's just in the back of your mind, you've gotten very used to it since it's been developing the past few years.

But it's only when you want the silence, the silence that you used to be so accustomed to, that you sort of hate the ticking. Of course, you're grateful to have a soulmate. You've read the stories of people who never had a way of knowing their soulmates, people who were born without those ways. It was rare, but it happened, and you were happy that you didn't have to deal with that.

But it still got annoying.

You stared at the numbers on your wrist, ever constantly ticking down, down, down...

60 days. 60 days until all of this was finally over.

You were ready. So, so ready for the constant ticking to be gone. But not only that....you were also ready to finally meet them. That one person that would make it all be worth it. You imagined who they were, what they did, what they were like every day.

You were so ready.

Namjoon:

You usually used logic to explain things. Everything was meant to have a reason to exist, everything that happened fell in place for a reason; a logical reason, an easy answer to everything.

But this could not be explained with logic. Not even science. Love could be explained; chemicals in your body that made you feel certain ways. Science, math...they could give you an answer to almost everything, but not this.

Soulmates were unexplainable. The random ways everyone had of finding their special person, the determination that came with it in order to look for them, the inexplicable joy when you would finally meet that certain person; none of it could be explained.

That didn't stop you from trying to find them. If you could find that one person, that one person that was chosen especially for you, maybe you could find a way to explain it. You didn't feel right if you didn't have a reason set in place for something. You needed a reason.

The sudden taste of blended spices and ingredients sprinkled over your tastebuds once again. You smiled. You had no idea what the taste was from, but you still smiled anyways. At least they had good taste in food.

You wanted to meet this person quickly, to finally give yourself some sort of closure. It's not like you weren't excited or happy to meet them, because you were.

Of course, your soulmate was to be your other half. You wanted to be able to bond with them, to be able to talk to someone about your thoughts, to have deep conversations.

This time, you taste something sweet and cold. Chocolate, most likely. You smiled.

You love sweet things.

Jimin:

You were quite worried at this point.

For the 5th time today, your stomach growled loudly in pain. It was barely 8 am. What the hell were they doing?

It's been like this for the past week. Long fits of stomach pain and loud outcrys from your body were enough to tell what was happening. But why was it happening?

You wondered if maybe your soulmate was in some sort of situation. Maybe they couldn't afford food at this point, maybe they were just sick...but something in your heart told you that wasn't the case.

Needless to say, you were definitely worried. Every few months, something like this would happen. Aside from the severe pain you felt, there was also extreme panic. What if they got sick from this? They're killing themselves. You don't want that to happen, but you don't know how to stop what's happening. You're powerless right now.

You're a bit hunched over while you walk, not really paying attention to anything else because of your overthinking. As a result, you didn't see the bike coming towards you at top speed, and you didn't hear the shouts of warning coming from your left. You were too engrossed in fretting over someone you haven't met yet.

Your left leg decided to be hit the hardest from the accident. You weren't very clumsy of a person, so you weren't hurt very often, and this was the first major accident in a long time.

Regardless of your own situation at the time, you still continued to worry. Worrying for them. Worrying about them feeling more pain. Worrying for their health and wellbeing.

You just wanted them to be okay.

Taehyung:

Ever since you were a child, all you loved was being creative.

Photos captured your eye, loving the soft tones of certain things warming up your heart.

The paintings of the Renaissance inspired you to no end, as well as the work of Van Gogh and many others. Creativity was amazingly beautiful to you.

You never thought you were all that good at things like that. Nevertheless, it didn't stop you from trying your best at it. You always felt the best when making something. Whenever paper was running low, you turned to your own skin for your canvas. It wasn't until that one day that you realized your drawings were accompanied by something else.

Small characters appeared under your most recent creation, a drawing of a soaring bird. But you couldn't understand them, they were in a language you couldn't understand.

You knew why they were there. Occasionally, you would find small notes or reminders that weren't present before. You'd downloaded a translator on your phone for this exact moment.

"It's beautiful," the words said. You smiled. You were about to write something back when you saw a black inked line beginning to form. You watched as the character strokes slid onto your skin, you've begun to love this handwriting.

"Please keep making them. They're so pretty to me." You understood why. Whenever you found little surprises on your skin, you always felt better. Those were always beautiful to you, and you hoped for the same for your soulmate. You picked up your pen again, relying on your translator for help, and began writing a small message in response.

"Only if you keep on writing to me!"

Jungkook:

Silence has been a part of your life since the beginning. It was as if your vocal cords were constricted, held so tightly that not a sound could be made. You couldn't speak, and it was like that for such a long time that you'd grown used to it.

It's not like you hated your situation. You'd gotten out of certain small situations due to what you have, although it was still always awkward whenever someone spoke to you, expecting you to respond. You couldn't really explain anything unless you wrote it down, that's just the way it was.

Being an introvert, though, it was mostly in your favor.

If you wanted to stay in silence, you could, and nobody would blame you or force you to do anything else.

You did feel a bit guilty, though. You knew that soulmates had the same or similar types of conditions. It sort of felt as if it was your fault for your soulmate having to suffer. Your type was sort of common; losing a function of your body until you met your soulmate. You felt bad for whoever it was, but you hoped they could at least communicate with people, unlike you. You hoped they were having an easier time doing literally anything that involved other people.

One of your interests was music, and you felt a bit bitter towards the fact that you couldn't sing. Music was beautiful to you. The blending of notes and keys brought you several emotions all at once, and you felt sad for not being able to convey them. You were eager to someday meet your soulmate, so you could finally be able to express yourself with your own voice, and not just through words on paper.

You imagined how their voice would be, would they be able to sing? Would they be able to convey their emotions to others? Would they forgive you for bringing them misfortune in the form of a soulmate condition?

Would they have a beautiful voice?

A/N:

Sorry about the Seokjin one. I don't really know much about Jin's past or his interests so his turned out really short. I could make this again in the future if someone wants to give me suggestions on Jin's part! Also, I will eventually make a part 2. Thanks for reading lovelies 💜

#bts #v #jungkook #jimin #yoongi #namjoon #seokjin #hoseok #bts v #bts jungkook #bts suga #bts jimin #bts rm #bts jin #bts jhope #bts reactions

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wlwtsubomi · 5 years

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literally no one:

me: oh? yall want osas? yall want osas writing? yall want vague exploration of only one of osas places culture? yall want fuckin SORIN?

Sorin had been granted the day off. It was all just happenstance. Conan had been keen on staying in his room, despite the resulting argument he had with the Queen. In the end, she caved, and Conan already had other guards to watch over him. So one guard’s disappearance wouldn’t mean the end of the world, nor would it affect him too harshly. Hence the day off.

And that’s when it started.

The sky had been a sickly dark gray the entire week leading up to this-- clouds churning and growing with a promise spoken on the edge of their biting cold wind. Mothers spent the week curiously glancing up, as if checking up on it, before herding their children back inside.

(Earlier this week, when Conan wandered through town with Sorin close on his heels, he’d pointed out flocks of birds nesting in the rocks that surrounded the natural shoreline. He’d stated that birds did that whenever a storm was coming in.)

So it’s bad luck (or maybe it’s good luck?) that once the rain finally falls, Sorin is there to see it.

It starts off slow-- a few on and off drizzles that send local Valkirans scuttering for cover. Sorin isn’t stupid, so he follows their lead. So now here he stands under the overhang of a bakery’s roof, watching the scene unfold with rapt interest. Then the storm begins to build, as if someone was manually turning up some sort of invisible crank, until the rain was falling down so harshly that Sorin swears that the impact of the raindrops on the road is sending vibrations up his body.

(He knows, realistically, it’s not possible. But it feels like it.)

Water gushes down the sides of the roads, in long canals that have been carved out long ago-- presumably for this very task. The water that flows through it is dark and murky, reflecting the overcast and the shadows which had been stretched over the land. He can’t help himself from staring into one of the canals, which is just in front of him. He sees his own reflection, and despite it blurring and streaking with the water’s movement, it leaves him entranced.

He’s been officially in Valkarie for two years and Sorin still can’t get over the novelty of rain.

It may have been months since he’s spoken them, but there’s years worth of song stuck beneath Sorin’s tongue, and it’s simply instinctive for him to begin whispering under his breath. He absolutely isn’t doing it justice, but it’s Patudan Cahntec; a traditional Ruresic song which literally means ‘flood song’. Originally, it meant to celebrate the first flood of the year, and the beginning of crop season. It was a song that welcomed prosperity and growth and thanked the Gods for another year of harvest.

But in the years following the Idarist War, in the years that Sorin grew up in, the song was only sung by the desperate.

Sorin had been one of them.

(He remembers spending hours-- days even, kneeling upon the long streams that have since dried up. Despite the rocks that dug into his knees and the sun that beat on his back unforgivingly, he remained. He remembers his palms being outstretched and sprawled out against the hot dirt, wondering if he could’ve been pressing up against mud if only things were a bit different. He remembers the song flowing from his lips on an endless loop. Less of a song, and more of a plea.

As if by him saying them, they were some sort of omen that were destined to happen, and it would force the Gods’ hands to come through and give them what they needed.

It never worked.

The water never came and Sorin remembers waking up in a carriage with hundreds of other sick and injured people.

He remembers staggering to his feet, ignoring the protest of Valkarian nurses with their too pale skin-- untouched by the desert sun, and the groans of those who simply couldn’t do more than cry and let death claim them.

He remembers how pain had raced up his entire body, and how he had smeared blood on the white curtain that kept the sand out as he pulled it back. He remembers looking out, his eye falling upon the still smoldering ruins of Ruresi-- a once flourishing kingdom that fell to the clutches of an unfair war and never quite recovered. A once sprawling kingdom which had been gripped so tight by a forced draught and famine that a single flame sent the whole place falling down, to be covered by the sand in hundreds of years.

He remembers staring at the smoke that continued to pour off his home in the distance and murmuring a last plea for the Gods to bring water-- to put out the fires and bring down the dam so at last Ruresi can rebuild.

The only water he got was the salty tears that started pouring down his cheeks.)

Someone taps his shoulder, and Sorin is forcibly brought out of his memories with a jerk. His throat closes up and the song is strangled into submission. His hands immediately fly over for his sword, but is reminded that he had left it at the castle when he’s left groping uselessly at empty air. A civilian stares up at him, her hair frizzy with the humidity that rain always brings and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The smell of bread and confections roll over Sorin, and he realizes that she’s probably the owner of the bakery he’s taking cover under.

“Sorry ma’am,” The words come easily to Sorin, and he straightens himself up, “I hope I didn’t disturb you. I can move if you wish.”

She shakes her head, clutching her blanket closer. She’s shivering. Sorin realizes with a start that he is too. “No, you’re fine. I was just wondering what you were singing. I’ve never heard it before, and well, it sounds so beautiful,” She slowly meets his eyes, “What is it?”

Sorin has years of experience that help keep the surprise from showing on his face. His response is quiet, as if if he were to speak any louder he would somehow ruin the moment, “It’s Patudan Cahntec. It’s Ruresic.”

“Ruresic?” The woman echoes, and her eyebrows have shot up to her hairline. She mouths it to herself a couple times, seeming thoughtful, before she sighs, “I don’t think I’ve actually heard of that language before.”

“It’s understandable,” Sorin assures. And he truly means that. Despite the influx of Ruresans in Valkarie, Ruresic was a minor language at most, and mishmashed gibberish at the least. Due to Ruresi’s origins as a city established by groups of people all hoping to escape the Sunfire Drought, their respective languages have blended together into one.

Ruresic.

Maybe it wasn’t completely original, and maybe even the words that were Common Valkarian were a bit too rolled to seem proper, but to Sorin it was a language through and through. Shame the others didn’t see it that way. It was just barely deemed a proper language only eight years ago-- with a council (which in Conan’s words, were more of a performative thing than anything) getting the Valkarian King to add it to his Official List of Uxordran Languages at the very bottom. A footnote.

Sorin sighs softly, and watches his breath as it escapes him. That’s another thing he’s still fascinated by. Someone softly clears their throat to his left, and he turns to see the woman is still standing there. She’s shuffling her feet and biting her lip, and Sorin wonders what she’s waiting for.

Once he realizes it’s him she’s waiting for, he can’t stop the soft warmth of being wanted that spreads through his chest, but he can forcibly smash it down. Expert technique. Amazing.

“Do…” His words are hesitant. Sorin’s words trail off and his eyebrows furrow. He isn’t exactly the pinnacle of proper social interaction, so he struggles with his words for a bit. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he finally finishes his sentence, “Do you want me to continue singing?”

The woman chuckles a bit, “If you don’t mind. Why else why would I willingly stand out in the rain?”

He is about to say they aren’t actually in the rain when he reconsiders it and actually ponders her request.

By no means is this a true, proper flood. Valkarie gets rain all the time, consistently puts out crops all around the year, and as the central point of the kingdom, doesn’t rely on the crops they’re putting out. There isn’t really a reason for him to be singing it right here and right now.

But he had been singing it a few moments prior. And just like how where he’s singing isn’t the same from where he’s sung how many years ago, he isn’t the same Sorin from all those years ago either.

He isn’t the Sorin who didn’t know anything about himself other than the fact that he longed to see the floods told on the raspy breaths of his elders. He isn’t the Sorin who had just lost everything, and home was just a scarf that still smelled then of smoke and cheap perfume.

He’s a completely different Sorin.

Right now, he’s a Sorin who’s a step away from standing in the rain, and is being offered a chance to finally sing to the waters he’s been given.

Maybe this downpour isn’t the salvation that Sorin quite hoped for, nor is it the too late apology from the Gods who failed him. But there’s still a song to be sung, and it’s still raining.

So he takes a deep breath, and lets a melody that’s been etched into his bones flow.

#go crazy aaa go stupid aaa #also who is this mystery bakery lady? idk man #osas #wash speaks

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valentinewheeler · 5 years

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2018 Book Recap!

If you follow me on twitter you saw this already, but here’s my favorites I read this year.

They weren’t all 2018 releases, but they’re what hit my kindle/bookshelf and stood out! In reverse order, basically, of when I read them. Check out the list below - it’s a little eclectic.

The Good Neighbor: The Life and Works of Fred Rogers (Maxwell King) - My toddler is ALL ABOUT Mr. Rogers. Turns out he was just as wonderful in life as he was on TV. If you’ve got a small person in your life who loves him (or you were one), I recommend this deep dive into his life and legacy.

Blackfish City (Sam J. Miller) - This sat on my kindle for months before I opened it, but once I passed the first few chapters and got into the world, I blew through 90% in a day. Beautifully woven storytelling, deep worldbuilding. Infrastructure, plague, and culture clash: three things that win me instantly. PLUS a nonbinary POV character!!

A Conspiracy of Truths (Alex Rowland) - I hate unreliable narrators, and yet, here I am, in love with this book. I finished the audiobook (which is BEAUTIFULLY narrated!!) and actually yelled out loud when there wasn’t any more. WHAT A WORLD. Economics, legal drama, and grumpy characters: three more things I can’t resist in a novel.

A Duke by Default/A Princess in Theory (Alyssa Cole) - I hadn’t read much romance until this year, and I don’t know why because turns out I love it. Or at least, I love Alyssa Cole’s work. Both of these had great heroines and super fun supporting casts. I loved both of them equally. I want the next one immediately.

Witchmark (C.L. Polk) - Everyone said I’d love this. EVERYONE WAS RIGHT. Magic! Bikes! Social class based on a false meritocracy! MURDER! MAGIC-SCIENCE BLEND! REALLY FREAKY PAYOFF! Read it. You’re missing out if you don’t.

Spinning Silver (Naomi Novik) - Now, I’ve loved Naomi Novik’s work for about fifteen years. I knew I’d like this one. What I didn’t expect was to have to lie down for a few hours to contemplate it after reading it in one go. I love a main character who ISN’T traditionally sympathetic but you love anyway. Beautifully woven folklore and feeling.

Legend (and sequels) (Marie Lu) - I love YA dystopias with all my heart. This was such a great one. I loved the characters, I loved the setting, I loved seeing the broader world than is usually seen in a post-apocalyptic setting (how DO other governments handle the end of the old way??) Just a delightful read.

Fuzzy Nation (John Scalzi) - I tried to minimize my white men on my reading list this year, but Scalzi is always an exception. I LOVE the original work, and this is a beautiful update. But then, legal battles in space will always win me over. Love it just as much as HBP’s, which is a pretty high bar to cross.

Forest of a Thousand Lanterns (Julie C Dao) - This took me a while to get through, because it was so, I don’t know, filled with impending doom? This little book had such a dark, blood-soaked voice, and I love a fairytale retelling that DOESN’T go how you expect. Absolutely worth reading. Lush setting, high body count.

The Poet X (Elizabeth Acevedo) - If I had known this was all in verse, I wouldn’t have picked it up. So I’m really glad I didn’t know that. If that turns you off, listen to the audiobook. A phenomenal performance. What an immersive experience this book was. It’s stuck with me for months after reading.

The Book of the Unnamed Midwife (Meg Elison) - I love post-apocalyptic stories. This was a brutal one. Explores how different communities deal in the face of disaster, and not for the weak of stomach. But one of my favorite PA books of the year for sure. Bought the sequel and finished both in one day.

An Extraordinary Union/A Hope Divided (Alyssa Cole) - The other set of her books I devoured this year. The first slavery-era US romance I’ve read that didn’t leave a sour taste in my mouth. The way she builds her characters and their bonds is just SO #goals.

Orientalism (Edward Said) - I’ve been meaning to read this for a while, and I finally made it through this year. A little dated, maybe, but a dense brick of really interesting thinking and history. A classic for a reason!! The audiobook is GREAT.

Americanah (Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie) - I love a character who is lying to herself! And I love a book where the backstory is meted out in drips and dabs. A dive into communities I know very little about, some of which are right around the corner from me. Ifemelu is a completely solid character, one that feels ABSOLUTELY real.

Trail of Lightning (Rebecca Roanhorse) - If you’ve read her short fiction, you know she’s a master. This lived up to it. Post-apocalyptic Navajo monsterhunters? Exactly as awesome as promised. The mythology and worldbuilding are perfection.

The Calculating Stars/The Fated Sky (Mary Robinette Kowal) - THESE BOOKS! I love alternate history, I love space, I love characters who confront prejudice within themselves and without! Every character makes SENSE, even when they’re awful! All the science feels absolutely real! I WANT TO GO TO SPACE

The Book of M (Peng Shepherd) - My goodness, I read a lot of post apocalyptic novels this year? This one has one of my personal fears - memory loss that can’t be stopped. Another great blend of science and maybe-magic and spirituality (?) and how humans cope with weird, horrifying, tragic things.

Alexander Hamilton (Ron Chernow) - I figured before seeing Hamilton I needed to read the book, and I’m really glad I did. Super engaging, with just the right blend of anecdote and data. After reading this I definitely annoyed my mother and my spouse during the whole musical by whispering trivia at them.

War Against All Puerto Ricans (Nelson Denis) - I’m ashamed to say I knew very little about the history of Puerto Rico. After reading this book, that really pisses me off. The US really did PR wrong, and continues to do so. A vital read for anyone interested in US history.

Cinder/Scarlet/Winter/Cress (Marissa Meyer) - Apparently people have been into these for years and I’m just hitting them now. Fun YA, a genre I’ve missed (I like all this hard-hitting, serious YA, but sometimes over the top silly is absolutely necessary!). Spouse and I enjoyed pointing out all the absurd fairy tale tropes.

Station Eleven (Emily St. John Mandel) - !!! I’m ALL ABOUT books that weave together multiple stories that you KNOW how to intersect somehow but you don’t know HOW IT WILL HAPPEN! Post apocalyptic, weaving stories over fifteen years, all connecting to the life of one guy as the apocalypse hits. GREAT.

All God’s Children Need Travelling Shoes (Maya Angelou) - Yes, I’m well past missing the boat here. But I’m catching up. My goodness, she’s a beautiful writer. And the period covered in the book is spellbinding and brutal and painful and gorgeous.

Cooking is Terrible (Misha Fletcher) - Okay, do you have like twelve minutes and four dollars to cook dinner every night? THIS BOOK IS FOR YOU. Easy recipes in non-threatening form, with going off-script absolutely encouraged. I read this start to finish and have been referring back FREQUENTLY as I cook.

Front Desk (Kelly Yang) - THE MIDDLE GRADE BOOK I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED. Oh, this was wonderful. I want to give this to every ten year old I know (which is actually none?). Mysteries! Racism! Badass middle schoolers! Intra-community problems! Three-dimensional characters! YES!

Edge of Nowhere (Felicia Davin) - SPACE ROMANCE! Teleportation! Cafe-owning lesbians! Sweet big stoic guy/small angry disaster guy romance (my FAVORITE KIND)! SPACE SPORTS! Space HEIST!!!! Alternate dimensions! YES.

Everything I Never Told You (Celeste Ng) - This one hurt. What real, beautiful, flawed, horrible characters. All their choices made sense in context, all their pain felt real, and I didn’t want to leave them when the book ended. Content warnings for child death. The 1970s have never felt so close.

Little Fires Everywhere (Celeste Ng) - I usually hate books that start at the end, but this one earned it. Disaster rich people are kind of my jam, especially when they have consequences. And again the characters were the stars. I felt like I knew everyone, and I loved them even when they were awful.

Into the Drowning Deep (Mira Grant) - I’m never going in the ocean again. Mermaids have been ruined forever. Terrifying. Great characters, some of whom die horribly. Scary scary unending horrorshow. But oh, what a way to go. Gory fun filled with great representation.

Uprooted (Naomi Novik) - I was so delighted by Spinning Silver I almost forgot that I loved this one NEARLY as much! Scary forest, plenty of fantasy/fairytale tropes turned on their heads. Disaster love interest. Competent, frustrated main character. A+.

The Beauty that Remains - There were a lot of dead friends books this year, and this was my favorite in the not-police-related category of those. Strangers whose lives weave together around the deaths of three people close to them all, and the band that brought them all closer. Gorgeous.

An Indigenous People’s History of the US (Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz) - Another one that’s absolutely vital in filling gaps in the history I’ve learned of this country. Engaging writing and strong voice. Didn’t give me any warm patriotic fuzzies, that is for sure.

Company Town (Madeline Ashby) - Floating future town! Unions! Murder! Loved it.

The Underground Railroad (Colson Whitehead) - I know the boat on this was a couple years ago, but what a chilling, brutal, beautiful book. The slight speculative element was just the perfect touch to give it a flavor of myth, if that makes sense. Steel yourself before reading.

River of Teeth (Sarah Gailey) - HIPPOS! IN THE MISSISSIPPI! This was a DELIGHT from start to finish. Leverage on HIPPOS in the Wild West?! YES PLEASE.

The Wanderers (Meg Howrey) - Astronauts on a simulated mission to Mars basically all break down, as does everyone around them. I adored this book. I loved the thousand POVs because each one was its own distinct voice. I loved the different ways everybody fell apart!

Infomocracy (Malka Older) - WORLDBUILDING!!!!!! Future elections, future political system, future tech, all brilliantly built. I need to read the sequels, but I haven’t managed to work up the brainpower I know they deserve!!! READ THIS if you like scifi political minutiae (I DO)

The Poppy War (RF Kuang) - The first half is Tamora Pierce, the second half is George RR Martin, but better. This was nothing like what I expected. Absolutely staggeringly, brutally beautiful. What a bold novel. Will buy anything else she ever writes sight unseen.

Warcross (Marie Lu) - This is what I wanted Ready Player One to be. Virtual reality gaming with real life consequences. References and fantastic characters. The sequel is just as good.

Zeroboxer (Fonda Lee) - BOXING IN SPACE! Secret science!! MYSTERIES!! All things I love.

Dread Nation (Justina Ireland) - GREAT. Zombies during the Civil War. A heroine who takes no shit and instead takes zombie heads off. COMBAT SCHOOLS. SUPER GREAT.

An Ember in the Ashes (Sabaa Tahir) - I didn’t expect to love this the way I did, but I devoured it, and the two sequels, each in about a day. This felt like all the best parts of old-school fantasy novels, the thick kind you shoved in your backpack in seventh grade, but BETTER. And I love a good Evil Roman!

Space Opera (Catherynne Valente) - Queen meets Hitchhiker’s Guide! This was a JOURNEY from start to finish, a glorious, absurd, delightful meditation on fame and Eurovision and what it means to be worthwhile and human and a person. YES.

The Broken Earth (NK Jemisin) - More like the BROKEN ME after reading these. Periapocalyptic fiction, absolutely 100% deserving every award and more. Content warning for very small child death brutally described, and more horrors. NK Jemisin goes HARD.

American Islamophobia (Khaled A Beydoun) - Could not put this down. I learned an astonishing amount, especially about the historical place of Islam, Muslims, and Islamophobia in the US. A hard read, but worth the work.

All the Birds in the Sky (Charlie Jane Anders) - Okay, I have to admit it, I have no idea what was going on in this book. But that didn’t stop me from loving it!! Witches and technology and animals and weird apocalyptic nonsense! DELIGHTFUL

Anger is a Gift (Mark Oshiro) - Another YA book that pulled no punches. What a phenomenal look into the way kids and communities of color move through the world, and how the world moves against them.

History is All You Left Me (Adam Silvera) - SO MANY DEAD FRIEND BOOKS THIS YEAR. A great use of the start at the middle, work both directions format, it covers both the time before the death of the MC’s ex and the fallout. I wept through most of it.

White Tears (Hari Kunzru) - Horror, and the villain is essentially appropriation. Very satisfying! The author’s love of music comes through. A nerdy, scary, millennial read.

Love, Hate and Other Filters (Samira Ahmed) - Loved this. Melded teen interpersonal drama, family expectations vs. dreams, and confronting the world and the way they see you all at once, woven together in a beautiful way.

A People’s History of the US (Howard Zinn) - Obviously this is great. I listened to the audiobook, narrated by his son. Sobbed through the child labor chapters. Cheered at the union chapters. Loved it.

Thornfruit/Nightvine/Shadebloom (Felicia Davin) - I LOVE WORLDBUILDING. This is a fantasy on a world that doesn’t turn, so night and day are DIRECTIONS, not times. SO COOL. And I adore the main character. Small Angry/Large Shy is the BEST ROMANCE TROPE. The magic and language is beautifully developed.

Tempests and Slaughter (Tamora Pierce) - Look. I’ll read a gonorrhea brochure if Tamora Pierce writes it. So you knew this would be on the list. But it earned its spot! I love Numair in the Daine series, and he’s a tiny ball of feelings in this. I need more.

Unfamiliar Fishes (Sara Vowell) - I’ve always been interested in Hawaiian history, and though this was a little light and memoir-y for my taste, it contained a shocking amount of information that went down easy in her light, friendly style. Absolutely worth the couple hours it’ll take you.

The Only Harmless Great Thing (Brooke Bolander) - Elephants! Memory! What it means to have value! What we owe other beings! Radium! Sharp and dark and deeper than it has any right to be.

#book recs

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atypicalkataangist · 6 years

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Aftermath

Type: Oneshot [Family] Summary: Aang enjoys some time with his newborn son. Word count: 1792 Author’s note: This is actually one of my favourite stories so far! I hope you enjoy it as well! :)

It was amazing. Beautiful. The best thing in the world.

There had been so much pain. So much angst, so much screaming. So many tears. Now there were tears too, of course, but now they were the good kind of tears. Tears of love and hope.

He was sitting on the edge of his sleeping wife's bed, watching the both of them sleep peacefully. Her and the small bundle of joy that she was holding in her arms. Her newborn son. Their newborn son. He didn't leave her side since she gave birth to their son not two days ago. He was just sitting there by her side, kissed her, held her hand and told her over and over again how much he loved her and Bumi, their infant son. The king of omashu, after whom he was named, a close friend and ally of them had passed away only a few days before Katara went into labour. And with quite some hair sticking out haphazardly as he left his mother's womb, he kinda reminded them of the mad genius, despite the obvious fact that he was a newborn baby, and therefore really handsome and cute.

Aang hadn't been able to turn off his loving smile as he watched his small family sleep calmly. He had no words to descripe the pure feeling of bliss and happiness that he had felt since he had held his own son in his arms for the first time.

Katara was fast asleep; Bumi however seemed to be waking up, which his caring father couldn't help but notice. Bumi's whimpering slowly became louder, so he got up and took him out of his sleeping mother's arms with extreme caution. Katara however somehow noticed, slowly opening her sleepy eyes. She would be a great mother. Her Intuition was amazingly strong, already.

He smiled at her and gently kissed her forehead. "Go back to sleep, Sweetie. I got him.", He whispered as not to awake her even more.

She nodded and kissed him weakly before going back to sleep, still completely exhausted by the process of childbirth. "Thanks, Sweetie." It had been way, way harder than she had imagined, but it had already been worth every contraction, every impusle of pain that had been shooting through her body systematically for more than 12 hours straight. She just needed some rest, that was all. And if Aang could help her with that, he was happy to oblige.

Little Bumi grizzled while his proud father held him in his arms, rocking him back and forth oh so slowly to calm him down and get him in a sleepy mood again. They slowly wandered through the southern air temple's infirmary rooms. It was the middle of the night, no, almost sunrise, so he got an idea and went for the balcony, sitting down against the outer stone wall of the infirmary. The view was amazing; they could overview the whole southern air temple archipelago from up here. It reminded Aang of the great childhood he had spent here; He still couldn't believe that the tiny creature he was holding in his own arms was indeed his son. "Maybe", Aang whispered to the sleepy little boy in his arms, "maybe this will all be yours, one day. Maybe you will be the next airbender. Maybe... You will continue my culture. But no matter what...", he smiled while a tear ran down his cheek, holding the baby in his arms closer, yet still tremendously careful as not to hurt the tiny life. "...no matter what, my son. I will always love you. You and your mother, you are the centre of my life, and nothing shall ever come between us, alright Buddy?" The only response he got was a bunch of childish sounds in baby language. Aang smiled. They understood each other no matter what.

"Hey guys, mind if I join you?"

Aang was kinda ripped out of their conversation as he quickly turned his head to the hollow doorway to the balcony, seeing no one other than his Brother-in-law standing there.

"Sokka!", Aang stood up as quickly as he could without risking to bring Bumi in an umcomfortable position, smiling warmly at his best friend. "You finally made it!", Aang whispered as not to wake him up. "I think there is someone who wants to meet you... Sokka, say hello to your nephew Bumi. Bumi, say hello to your uncle Sokka..."

For a moment, Sokka was speechless, which was an incredibly rare occasion. As Aang slowly turned his son to give the tiny bundle into his Brother-in-law's arms, Sokka simply gulped and whispered. "Aang... That's just... Wow. Congratulations, seriously." Aang simply nodded, grateful, before Sokka took a closer look at his nephew, and cautiously tickled his chest with his finger, to which Bumi responded with a soft burp and a giggly sound. "Well hello there, big guy, I'm your uncle Sokka. One day I'll teach you how to use a boomerang, aaand tell the funniest jokes aaaand how to get all the Ladies..." He was interrupted by Aang sarcastically clearing his throat, offering him a seat next to him. Not too quickly of course, they sat down next to the Avatar.

"Okay, okay. I guess your parents can teach you pretty cool stuff, too. They're my sister and my best friend, after all." He grinned at Aang, who returned the smile.

"No, seriously, Aang. I'm so happy for you guys... You really deserve this and I have no doubt that you will be outstanding parents."

"Thanks, Sokka. I appreciate that." Sokka offered him Bumi again and Aang instantly took his son back into the warm, cuddly protectiveness of his arms, even though it was of course not the same as his mother's bosom.

"Aang, there's this other thing. I want to make a long overdue apology to you."

Aang was surprised. "You're Apologizing? What for?"

"For... Everything. I mean, I've been kind of an ass to you and my sister every time you showed some affection for each other. And when you got married, I... I kinda felt like I was left out. You two... You three are a family now, you know? There's no more room for creepy uncle Sokka anymore.", He added with a sad Expression. "And I completely understand. And when you told me that you got her pregnant... My sister... My little sister... I kinda snapped. I'm so sorry Aang. You didn't deserve any of this. I know this comes months too late, but I guess I just can't turn back time. I see now how happy you are with each other, and If you want me to be around for big guy here...", He shortly drifted off into baby speak again, "I'll be there."

"Oh Sokka...", Aang simply whispered with a gentle tone in his voice, "of course we want you around! You're his uncle! And besides that, you're my best friend- and Family. I didn't know you felt so guilty. Don't worry, seriously, everything's fine between the both of us." He padded his shoulder with his free hand. "I don't know how I would react if my best friend would tell me that he got my little sister pregnant...", He chuckled lightly. "But let's not get into detail here...you know?"

Sokka smiled. "Yeah. Good idea. Thanks, Aang."

"No Problem, buddy." They sat there silently for the next few minutes, watching the sun rise and listening to little Bumi's grunting baby noises. All of the sudden, Sokka could hear Aang sob silently.

"Everything alright, Aang?"

The Avatar nodded. "Yeah. This is just so much to process... I mean, it feels like only months ago that you two freed me from the ice, and now I'm holding my own son in my arms. It's just incredible."

"I guess you're right. But I just wanna let you know, if you and my sister will ever need some time for yourselves, Suki and I would be honored if you dropped him off at our place. He will be some good practice for what'll be coming to us too, eventually."

"I really appreciate the offer, Sokka. We'll keep it in mind, I promise."

Aang couldn't let his eyes off of the little bundle of joy, the pure, innocent product of his love for Katara, that he was holding in his own arms. He loved the little guy from the bottom of his heart. Nonetheless, the baby boy needed his mother as well, and began to whine again, a bit louder than before.

"I bet he's hungry...", Aang mumbled.

"I guess that's rather a job for Katara...?", Sokka goofed.

"Yep. Come on, I guess you wanna talk to your sister, as well." They got up pretty quickly and entered the infirmary again, to find Katara up again, sitting in her bed and stretching her arms in the direction of her husband and her infant son, smiling at them lovingly, but tiredly as well.

"Hey Sweetie. I guess he's hungry again.", Aang tried to fill her in, but she was one step ahead of him with her motherly intuition. He climbed into bed next to her, kissed her forehead and carefully reunited their son with his mother. She grinned as she also discovered her brother standing in the doorframe to the balcony. She quickly kissed her husband to greet him before grinning at her brother. "Who're you talking about, Sweetie? Our sweet, little guy here, or our big hog standing right there?"

They all had a quick laugh together before Sokka went a few steps towards the Avatar-family bed and smiled happily at his sister and her new family. "Hey, Sis. You alright?" In his opinion, she looked still very exhausted, had dark circles under her eyes and her hair was all over the place. But at the same time, when her eyes wandered to the little life she was holding in her arms, she looked so incredibly happy. Happier than he had ever seen her before.

She nodded while smiling at her brother. "Even better. You did get to meet your nephew, right?"

"Yep, Aang introduced us to each other. We... OOGIE!" Sokka quickly interrupted himself and turned around, jamming his eyes close to avoid seeing his sister exposing her breast to feed her hungry newborn.

"Oh Sokka, grow up.", she rolled her eyes, still couldn't help but laugh.

Maybe some things would never change.

And maybe it was just right that way.

#kataang #kataangtag #kataang week #avatar #family #fluff

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geminimoonbeamx · 6 years

Text

In the Land of Gods and Monsters: Part 1

A/N: Okay, so this story is going to be time jumping from past to present a lot, so at the beginning of the chapter I’ll usually let you guys know “when” it is. There is going to be a lot of major drug use and violence in this story- if that triggers you, this one isn’t the one for you. Apologies.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: As with all of my stories there’s a permanent warning of cursing. I have a mouth like a sailor and express myself through the word fuck. Pretty explicit Drug Use in this one, mentions of Organized Crime and Violence.

Summary: You knew what you were getting yourself into when you met Bucky Barnes. He was a known wise guy. A feared mobster. Everyone in the neighborhood knew his name. Funny, in retrospect, you think that might have been why you couldn’t help but be drawn in like a moth to a flame. This first and foremost, is a love story. Blood stained and littered with bullet holes, but the story of how you fell in love with the man none the less. Mobster!BuckyxPlus Size Reader

And I remember when I met him, it was so clear that he was the only one for me. We both knew it right away- National Anthem, Lana Del Rey

-Past-

It had all started when you’d been introduced to Wanda Maximoff.

It was a wonder the two of you hadn’t met each other earlier, you ran in a lot of the same social circles for years. You knew of her, like most people did. Was aware of the basics, at least. Not to fuck with her- or her silver haired twin brother. Everyone who was anyone who didn’t want to get their brains blown out knew who their father was. Erik Maximoff, Magneto. Mr. Metal; he got that nickname from the slew of bullets he liked to leave in his wake.

It had been a night when you’d gone out clubbing with your friend Kitty, who just so happened to be fucking her brother Pietro. It was supposed to be a fun time; the drinks had been flowing and the music pumping loudly in a way that to everyone else had been hypnotic- but to you had just given you the starting a of a migraine. You’d been up the entirety of the previous night studying and all you wanted to do was get the fuck out of there. Fucking college. Why did getting an education have to be such a drag?

So you’d sat in a booth, sipping idly at the vodkacran in your hands. Trying to force a pleasant smile. At least Kitty seemed to be enjoying herself, Pietro’s face was buried in her hair and by the faint blush that dusted her cheeks; you knew whatever he was whispering to her must be some kind of wicked because you’d seen that girl do body shots, topless- without a single inhibition.

“I’m gonna’ go to the bathroom” You announce, yelling over the music as you stand, straightning the back of your dress.

“I’ll go with you” Kitty insists weakly, you can tell the last thing she wants to do is move from her place, move from the mouth on her neck so you roll your eyes with a laugh and tell her that you could survive this one alone.

After making your way through the crowds of winding bodies, you find yourself in the line for the busy woman’s restroom. You huff and cross your arms as prepare for the wait.

“Fucking ridiculous, right?” You perk up at the voice, seeing that it belonged to a long haired brunette that looked even less amused to be there then you did. She was sucking on the end of a cigarette boredly, looking like a supermodel as she half leaned against the wall.

“You took the words right out of my mouth” You agree, assessing the dozen or so women in front of the two of you. “Like Christ, you’d think they’d have more then one bathroom available. Cheap bastards”

That ignites a laugh from the girl who nodded “Right? That’s why I hate coming to this place- the drinks are strong, though. That’s a plus”

“Ahh, guess even this cesspool has a silver lining”

She snorts unceremoniously and you can see her eyes assessing, appraising you in the dingy lighting of the hallway “I like you, I’ve seen you around a bunch- I’m Wanda”

Oh, you were fully aware of who she was, but you nod as though it was knew yo you anyway and take her outstretched hand.

“Y/N” You smile, shaking it before sighing “This is absolutely ridiculous- ya’ know what. Fuck this” You stress the word fuck before stepping out of the line. Desprate times called for desperate measures and you weren’t about to spend the next half an hour waiting with a bladder full of vodka “I’m going out back”

You’d been a…less then classy teenager and had peed in your fair share of alley’s before.

What you didn’t expect, was for Wanda to follow you.

And so that’s how your friendship had blossomed, both of you drunk in your party dresses. Laughing at the absuridity, shivering in the frigid New York cold as you squatted in the dirty, damp back alley of the club. Talking, giggling about everything and nothing. About the fact that you guys were pissing in an alley and anyone could pass at anytime.

After you pulled your panties back up, you did a couple lines of coke off her phone, and that was it. Your friendship was sealed. The white powder like some kind of glue.

You spent most of your time with her after that, the two of you just clicking. You think it had something to do with the fact that even though everyone seemed to know her name, her parentage- she really didn’t have any friends. Outside of her brother, you were the only other person she really ever spent time with, and so within a few months, it was like the two of you were joined at the hip. After the time that you’d let Wanda know that you weren’t ignorant to who exactly she was, you knew who her father was and she’d smiled and told you she’d understand if you didn’t want to be her friend.

You’d rolled your eyes at her “Of course I want to be your friend, Wanda. I just want us to be honest with each other, thought I should tell you I knew. You’re not your father, what he chooses to do with his time really has nothing to do with us and our friendship.” You’d shrugged it off. You’d grown up in the city, the mafia culture wasn’t anything really new to you. She’d looked at you with a little bit of guarded awe and you had a feeling she’d been through some shit that stemmed from her dad. You’d insisted the two of you go to Mellairno’s after that because the joint that you’d smoked was making you crave a slice of pepperoni and well, that’s how you ended that conversation. High and eating pizza and ignoring all of the blood that her last name was stained with. Unbeknownst to you, you’d earned her trust that night.

Certain…things came with being friends with Wanda. Parties, the lavish kind that you’d only seen in movies was one. Where women wore dresses that were equivalent to your tuition and the most infamous men in the city gathered, somehow managing to seem both insanely fucking imitating and yet…relaxed? In their fancy suits, gambling, laughing with cigars hanging out of their mouths.

It was weird to behold, to experience. To meet, shake hands with people you’d only ever heard of in feared whispers.

You’d never been timid, you lived by the words your Ma’ had told you, repeated to you since you were little.

“Don’t you ever shrink yourself, Y/N. This world will try to make you small- but we L/N women aren’t built small anyways” she’d also said something along the lines of “hold your head up high, because your boobs are big and your spine will bend crooked if ya’ don’t” after that but you liked to cling to the first one. Sounded more philosophical.

You weren’t small. Not physically- with your curves and soft tummy and thick thighs. And most definitely not mentally either. You were charming, and funny and could talk to just about anyone about just about anything. Your presence was electric and you’d never had an issue with making friends. You’d been warned, many a time before, wasn’t always a good thing. Tended to get you into trouble.

Trouble had always been a friend of yours. Well not a friend, really…more like an buzzing fly in your ear. You know, that annoying bitch of an acquaintance that wouldn’t leave you alone? You just attracted it, and you kind of assumed that’s why Wanda seemed to be so enamored with you(her brother Pietro was pretty sweet on you, too, but that was a whole other ball game that you didn’t even want to touch).

“Y/N, what about this one?” Wanda asks your opinion as she comes out of her walk in closet, clad only in a pair of lacy panties as she holds a black dress up to her front, her head cocked in question. Youre at her large vanity, fixing the last of your makeup and you turn to her, looking it up and down before nodding.

“I like that one way better”

“Me too! No bra?” She runs a hand along her lean, slim body through the fabric of the dress and you snort and laugh. She was really gonna’ test both her brother and father’s resolve- because without a bra her nipples were going to poke straight through that material.

She liked to push her boundaries with them, liked to make sure everyone knew that she was going to do whatever the fuck she wanted to.

“No bra” You agree as you put on a nude shade of lipstick, because it was her life. And you’d support her- even if you were going to deal with a mob(all the puns intended) of guys all night.

You’d decided on a dress a little less wild then Wanda’s; it was a deep wine colored number. Long sleeved and off the shoulder, stopping mid thigh; showing off your curvy leg that you elongated with a pair of pumps. Yeah, the shoes you wore were uncomfortable, as were the spanx that held your tummy in, but damn, was it worth it. You looked good, and you knew it.

Beauty was pain, and that was a known fact.

After a few bumps of coke and a couple shots with Pietro; a pregame of sorts, you were on your way. Out of their huge fucking house(which was till new to you, because hardly anyone you’d known growing up had a house. Having a house? In New York City? Is like owning a unicorn, honestly)

The party was held at one of Brooklyn’s infamous “Social Clubs”. The ones that everyone knew of, but no one talked about. Where Cadillac’s and sports cars lined the street outside and if you weren’t there by personal invite you didn’t even go fucking near it because of the hulking bodyguards that stood at the entrance. Of course, you slip right past them with a smile, your arm linked with Wanda’s, Pietro on the other side of you, a hand on your lower back. Sandwiched, really, in between the Maximoff’s.

You couldn’t help but feel a little bit…untouchable. And who wouldn’t get off on that feeling?

The atmosphere inside is elegant. Not as uptight as some of the parties Wanda had dragged you to before, but still. These people had money, were important and dangerous and they made it known. It wasn’t even their attire- it was their presence. The way that they all held themselves.

Wanda had taken it upon herself to point everyone out to you, to name them all. So that you could know who you were drinking cocktails with, she’d warn you. Most everyone you’d seen at other gatherings; Her father of course and the blond that hug off his arm. Raven- his latest wife, who was just a few years older then you and Wanda- they were at a table talking to Tony Stark.

“Hot-shot. Trying to fill his dad’s shoes. Howard Stark was not a nice man” Wanda had whispered once “Tony’s okay though. Total know it all, man-slut, but he’s okay” You’d laughed hard at that. Wanda really wasn’t the…social type. Everyone was always just “Okay” to her. “Cool” if she really liked them.

With her father and Tony were a few others, some you couldn’t recognize and some you could. James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers-

“Everyone calls him Captian America. Funny, huh? Real golden boy, he’s the one I told you about? The one who makes all those donations all over the neighborhood? Brooklyn’s hero” Wanda rolled her eyes as she whispered it to you “Don’t let those baby blues fool you though. He’s gotta’ nasty temper”

Noted, you file it away like you did with all the information she gave you. He didn’t look so bad, with his quaffed blond hair, nice suit and boyish smile. He looked nice- but it wasn’t hard to imagine that those pecs that were the size of your head could do some serious damage. Your eyes drift then, to the man standing beside him. He’s nearly as tall and definitely as built. His wide shoulders are adorned in a dark, fitted suit jacket. His sharp jaw is clean shaven and looks like it could cut fucking diamonds and his dark hair was slicked back. If all of that wasn’t enough to make you believe that this man had won the genetic lottery- his eyes shined silver in the low light of the club.

You think, that he was ,maybe, the most beautiful human being that you had ever laid your eyes on.

Wanda lets out a low chuckle “That’s Bucky”

Your eyebrow raises humorously “Bucky?”

Not the name you would have put to that face. Huh. All these nicknames…

“Yeah, James Buchannan Barnes. Hence the Bucky”

Bucky…Bucky Barnes…that was a name you’d heard before. One that had been uttered with trepidation. Seeing him, matching that face to that name- it didn’t fit. How could someone so damn handsome be capable of even half of the horrors that you’d heard he’d committed.

“Like the Bucky Barnes?” Is all your lame mind can think to say.

“Yep” Is all Wanda confirms, before pulling you to the bar.

Even the devil was angel first, you think. You wonder if Lucifer had had a jaw line for days too.

You were starting to get used to these parties. Getting the hang of the motions. Of the kisses that were pressed to your cheeks by people you hardly knew and the wandering hands of men you definitely didn’t know. You politely learned the art of squirming away. Poor Wanda, she had it ten times worse- men who claimed that they remember when she was just “this tall” eyed her like she was a piece of meat.

They didn’t have the balls to touch her though. Even if her father wasn’t eyeing the room like a hawk- they still wouldn’t have. He had eyes everywhere and God save the man who touched his baby girl. Mafia women were off limits. Many a man had earned themselves holes in their heads for not abiding to that law.

You liked Wandas father- well liked him enough. There was something dangerous and predatory behind his eyes that you choose to ignore, only because if you focused on it too hard you don’t think you’d ever be able to be in the same room as him.

He takes both of your hands in his and presses his pins againts them, tenderly-

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the room tonight, Y/N” he tells you in that thick Italian accent.

“Be careful, don’t let your wife hear that”

He smiles, squeezing your hands for a moment too long and Wanda gives you a sideways look and a silent gag. She liked to tease that if she’d met you a few months earlier, before his latest marriage, you’d be be wife number six.

“Would that mean you’d have to call me mommy?” That had earned you a hard shove.

You feel kind of like a show pony, when they introduce you to new people this way. You hope your hair still hangs prettily and that you don’t have lipstick on your teeth as you shake hands with Tony Stark. Well, you go to shake hands with him but he kisses the top of your right hand, much like he’d done to Wanda who’d given him the most dead panned look a humanbeing could give another humanbeing.

He doesn’t release your palm until your dragging t away and even then he’s leaning in too close for comfort, the smell of liquor on his breath.

“And who’s your friend, Wanda?”

“I?” You start as you take a step back from him “am not drunk enough”

That makes him chuckle, his glassy eyes amused “Well, we can fix that, baby”

‘Don’t call me baby, I am not your baby’ the iconic movie line plays in your head as you look him up and down in a way that’s far from impressed.

“I think I can manage on my own, but thank you for your generous offer” you try to keep it sweet and nice, fully aware of this man and his power but sarcasm drips from your tone like honey.

“Feisty, huh? Figures- anyone who hangs out with this one has to be. Princess of snark- aren’t you, little witch” Tony either A) has a giant set of cajones or B) is way too drunk because he flirts with Wanda without a care in the world, completely unafraid.

“You would know all about snark, huh, Stark?” And Wanda- well she eats that shit up. You’ll ask her later about the way he strokes her arm and the darkened look she gives him in return.

Somehow at these shindigs, you always end up alone. Wanda and Pietro are the only two people that you really know, and they get pulled away from you eventually. You don’t mind it, really, you understand, but you can’t help but feel a little awkward as you sit at the bar, sipping on your drink and playing idly with your phone.

“You look like you’re having even more fun then me” the smooth, deep voice startles you so much that you almost jump in the stool.

You’d been paying so much attention that you hadn’t noticed the man who’d sat down beside you. The man with the gray eyes…

Oh fuck, your mind cries. It’s him. James Buchannan Barnes. Bucky.

“I’m having a great time. This is just my face, unfortunately” you manage to say, after a moment.

“What’s unfortunate about it? It’s a nice face” how was his voice even real? You wonder. Strong and soft- it sounded like chocolate tasted.

“Why thank you, but I’ve been told I have a serious case of RBF” you tell him, trying to keep your cool infront of the devastatingly handsome man. Trying not to look at him to much as you drink in his features- from that jawline to the one hand that’s sheathed in a leather glove that he rests on the top of the bar.

One of his thick eyebrows quirk in confusion.

“Resting bitch face”

He lets out a hard, smooth laugh at that, before offering you another drink- your vodka soda empty. You nod and he turns to the bartender, who he knows by name and asks for –

“Another vodka soda?-”

“With lime” you chirp in addition and he smiles.

“With lime, for the lady. And a whiskey neat for me”

The bartender whips up your drinks at record speed and tries to refuse the twenty that Bucky all but studs into the front pocket of his apron.

“So what’s your name, doll? I haven’t seen you around before”

Doll, huh. That’s one you didn’t hear a lot- and you tended to get called an array of pet names. You had an inkling that it had to do with your baby face.

“It’s a big city, I’m sure there’s plenty of people you’ve never seen around” you sip on the drink, and you could kick yourself. You really didn’t mean to be such a smart ass- especially not to a man like him. Curse your mouth and it’s mind of its own.

He chuckles though, light heartedly “Nah, I have a thing for recognizing people. I’d remember you”

This motherfucker was smooth as hell, you realized. A real lady killer- which was no surprize with those looks.

You just half shrug in response and shoot him–

“Hmm, maybe you’re losing your touch, Mr. Barnes”

If you weren’t so busy trying not to stare at him, trying not to be a creep or let the nerves on your stomach overflow you would have noticed the look in his eye. The way he seemed to be all but digesting you with his gaze.

“Bucky- Only the people I don’t like call me Mr. Barnes. And you see, that’s not fair. You obviously know who I am, and I can’t even get your name?”

“Bucky” you test it, rolling it off your tongue, almost like a trial. It fits him a lot more then you thought it would “I don’t think there’s a person in this place who doesn’t know your name”

“Well damn” Bucky whistles, eyes glued to the side of your head “Here I was, workin’ on my anonymity”

The giggle that bubbles in your throat is genuine because really? “A little late for that, don’t you think?”

He opens his mouth, his pretty pink lips parted with a slight grin. Like he doesn’t exactly know what to say, and Pietro seems to beat him to it.

Coming out of nowhere, approaching the two of you, fast and silent like he always was. Fuck, the kid was like liquid. You were never prepared for him.

“Pietro! What did I tell you about making your presence known so that you don’t give me a fuckin’ stroke?”

He just chuckles, his hand going to your bare shoulder “Sorry, baby cakes. Ninja habits die hard”

You give his cocky statement a “har-har”. Little shit.

“Bucky, man, it’s good to see you. How are you doin’ tonight? I haven’t seen you in forever” Pietro reaches over to clap Bucky’s upper arm before shaking his hand in earnest, his other hand still in your shoulder. That’s just how he was. Touchy. The touchiest SOB you’d ever met.

“I’ve been real good, Piet, thanks. Just gettin’ some work done. I should be around more now, though, my schedules clearin’ up” His eyes keep flashing to yours as he speaks and you feel hear creep up your chest as you continue to look away, taking long sips of your drink.

“That’s really good to hear! We’ll have to get the guys together and catch up”

“Yeah, kid, sounds great” Bucky tries not to sound too distracted, but he can see that pretty flush creeping up from the neckline of your dress.

“Oh, Have you seen Wanda? I can’t find her fuckin’ anywhere and you know how she gets when she’s left alone for too long” Pietro sounds way too worried about his twenty three year old twin as he turns his attentions to you.

“Pietro, she’s a grown woman she’s fine” you wave him and his over protectiveness off.

“Come help me look for her” He insists, and you sigh when he gives you that face and a boyish “Please”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that”

“And you’re the best, and you’re too nice to say no to me. C'mon” Pietro pulls at you, giving Bucky a small salute like gesture before he’s off, already at the end of the bar before you’re even standing all the way up.

Jesus, you think. You can never keep up with this kid.

You roll your eyes before looking back to Bucky who seems to be watching the exchange with amusement? What is that in those steel like orbs?

“Thanks for the drink, Bucky” you smile as you slide off the bar stool “it was nice to meet'cha-”

“Wait” He stops you in your tracks, his voice like an anchor “You never told me your name”

You hesitate for just a moment, feeling your heart beat thudding strongly againts your chest.

“Y/N” you toss it, and a coy little smile over your shoulder before you’re walking away. You can feel him watch you leave, practically feel his eyes on your back- and just for show, you make sure there’s a little more swing in your hip then usual.

@buchonians @kelly96q @missrobyn81 @iamwarrenspeace @docharleythegeekqueen @geekyweed @beccavesper @buckysforeverprincess @yslbucky @prettybubblesintheair @4theluvofall @huntressxtimelady

I’m already having such a blast writing this one. I’m going to have to mess with cannon MCU characters a bit to make them fit in this world (hence Erik Maximoff and not Lesschner) but it shouldn’t be anything too major. Plus this is an AU sooooo? How did we like that first introduction with Bucky? And her friendship with Wanda? Let me know what you guys are thinking so far!

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cravingwitandwisdom · 6 years

Note

All of the space asks, my dear 😄

Damn okay, here we go.. ♡ Comet - what are you currently frustrated about? Capitalism Back hole - what are you most afraid of? That one day, when I'm old and burned out I'll ask myself the question "was it really worth it - this life, this mess" and I'll know it wasn't. Galaxy - do you have nicknames. What are they? Daniel always calls me Mary Poppin or just Mary. Here I'm known as Grace and irl some folks call me that too but my name is actually Grachella. It's hard to pronounce so most of the time people make their own version l and that's okay, too. People at my voulenteering work sometimes call me Frochella because we all give each other nicknames and I kinda love that. Star - what songs do you feel describe you? Drops of Jupiter by Train, Bored by Billie Eilish, idontwannebeyouanymore by Billie Eilish, Dust by Frank Ocean and many many more I can't think of right now.Moon - are you currently reading any books? I'm currently reading (finally reading!) Lotr. I own the books forever and it was time for an adventure. I just started reading Today I am Alice yesterday. It's a biography about Alice who has multiple personalities. It reminds me of a girl i know, the story. Its not a pretty one. Planets - if you could go anywhere, where would you go? Right now I'd go to Mexico. Daniel is there for two months now and I feel like I miss a part of myself.Mercury - describe your aesthetic. Sometimes I live in the 90s and I'm turning up 2pac. Fila's on my feet and a Casio watch on my wrist. I let strands of hair fall down the front of my face while the top is tied in a quirky little ponytail and the back hangs loose, barely reaching my shoulders. Sometimes I live in the 60s. I wear long skirts and tie bows in my hair. I listen to The Civil Wars and feel infinitely soft. The pain and the sorrow, the loss - there's purpose in the ugly parts of life. Sometimes I'm an African queen. I tie my hair in a turban and wear the colours of nature. I radiate elegance. I feel deeply connected to my roots and dance to Gyptian or Jah Cure. I talk in my mother's tongue. Sometimes I am an Victorian witch. I wear a long black dress, the crocheted choker i wear is elegance itself. I cover my body with crystals as I chant a spell or pray to Gaia. See.. I don't think I have one aesthetic because I don't think I'm just one person. Venus - whats your favourite tv show? Shameless, Rick & Morty, Westworld, The Tudors, GoT, Gossip Girl, The Handmaids Tale, Vampire diaries and The Originals. Earth - if you could be anyone else for a day, who would you be? Oh I don't know. Mars - if you could change one thing about yourself, what would you change? The numbers on my bank account. Or maybe that I'd be a minimalist.. one or the other hahaha Jupiter - if you had to pick one colour to use for an entire week, what colour would yoi choose? Black for everything. Saturn - how far would you go for those you care about? 9.229 km or 5734.635 miles Uranus - what would you say is your greatest achievement? Climbing a mountain and then sleeping on the mountain in a hammock, in the middle of the Amazon. The mountain wasn't very high but I never did anything like that before. Neptune - describe yourself in one sentence. Did you not just read i cant even describe my aesthetic in a simple way. How do you expect me to describe myself in one sentence? I am so much more than one sentence. Pluto - if you could meet anyone, alive or dead, who would you meet? J.D. Salinger. Constellations - if you could have one talent, what would it be? The ability to take care of plants.. all my plants always die :/Asteroid - when you die, what do you want te be done with your body? I always wanted to give my body to science but since thats not so easy anymore i decided i want to be cremated. Or if its possible by the time i die, I'd like to be buried in a biodegradable burial pod that turns my body into a tree. Aquarius - whats a topic you enjoy learning about? Languages, science, mythology, philosophy, spirituality, witchcraft and culture are a few things popping into my mind right now. Aquila - do you prefer to read books or watch movies? I read more than i watch movies but i do enjoy a good film every once in a while. Aries - what is something you enjoy doing? Sleeping. Auriga - if you had to pick one villain from any media, who would you rather have to face and why? Delores Umbridge is a foul despicable toad-like villain i have great abhorrence for. Bootes - if you could have any animal, wild or not, fake or not, which would you want? A thestral or rather a herd. Cancer - how do you want tp be remembered? Often the wise are remembered by their tortured minds. But I'd like to be remembered as wise and free. I want people to reminisce me and think "she lived fully and without remorse, she lived the way she wanted and there wasnt any onther way for her to live" Canis Major - How many friends do you have? I find it difficult to distinct friends or friendship. On Tumblr i talk to some people, people i have been talking to for years. I have some colleagues i hang out with after work hours. Are they my friends? I hang out with friends of friends. Are they my friends, too? I cant answer this question. I dont know how many people consider me a friend. And i, myself, have a hard time figuring out what friendship exactly is. Can anyone teach me the rules? Capricornus - whats a song lyric that you can relate to? "Can you see that im getting bored, giving you every piece of me?" - by Billie Eilish Cassiopeia - whats your favourite quote? 1. "Forget what they told you about bodies and temples. Mine was all roadside attraction, tourist destination. A place mediocre men go to remember how to be good again" - by Ashe Vernon 2. "Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that - I love life. But it is hard, and I have so much - so very much to learn" - by Sylvia Plath 3. "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel" - by Maya AngelouCyngus - if you could go back to any time perion for a couple of days, when/ where would you want to go? The beginning of everything. Gemini - do you have any siblings? How many? 2 half sisters, 3 half brothers, 1 sister and 2 steph sisters. Leo - if you could change the way any movie was made, which movie would you change? Avatar and Death note. Libra - if you could talk to your past self, what would you tell yourself? Stop smoking weed and go do something useful with your life. Lyra - would you rather be feared or loved? I find it hard to receive love but i choose it anyway. Orion - whats your favourite type of weather? The breaking if dawn on an autumn day when the air is gloomy and the meadow misty. When the world is peaceful and leaves are covered with hoarfrost. Pegasus - whats your favourite music genre? I dont think i can pick, i really cant. Perseus - whats your favourite movie genre? Drama and fantasy. Pisces - Describe someone you love without their name. Tall, dark and handsome. Self-righteous. Beautiful brown eyes. Lazy and sluggish. But such a pumpkin. Amazing smile. Incredible kisser. A cute smoll spot on their nose. Game addiction. Cant talk about feelings. Doesn't know how to apologize. Humble and soft. Sagittarius - what do you do when you don't feel well? What do you eat? I sleep alot and i barely eat or i munch on potato chips. Scorpius - if you had to pick someone to betray you, who would you pick? This woman i work with.. she's been getting on my nerves playing the victim all the time. I'd love to have a reason to go off on her. That sounds bad huh? Taurus - What makes you feel comfortable? Hoodies. Ursa Major - if you had to pick any job to have, what job would you want? Physicists or writer. Virgo - what do you value the most- artistic / creativity, musical ability, athletic ability, intellect or work ethic? 1. Artistic ability/ creativity 2. Intellect 3. Musical ability 4. Athletic ability 5. Work ethic Neutron - are you more a leader or a follower? Leader. Supernova - how do you feel about yourself? I try to love myself but its work. Supergiant - whats something you like about yourself? I love learning, knowledge. Im open to anything and I'm curious by nature. Red Giant - would you get into a debate/ argument with someone if you heard them saying something you disagree with or know to be wrong, or would yoi stay silent? I dont shy away from arguments, especially if i know im right. I can get very passionate. What is your favourite smell? What smell makes you feel most comfortable? Lavender, wood smoke, pine and sandalwood. Protostar - give a random fact about yourself. I got a new tattoo just yesterday. A picture will be up soon. Sorry, in took me a while. I dont have a computer rn so i had to do this on mobile. Thank you so much for asking me.

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alluringholland · 6 years

Text

the good die young, but so did this #5 | t.h.

WARNINGS: angst, smut, alcoholism, drug abuse, manipulation, an all around bad time

part 5: sorry (previous)

“I've missed your calls for months it seems/Don't realize how mean I can be/’Cause I can sometimes treat the people/That I love like jewelry”

Present day.

His name was Derek. He was a positive, happy person. I mean like, he believed in fairy tale happy endings, and he believed in soulmates. He was optimistic. He could see the best in you, even when you were at your worst.

I kind of hated that about him.

When we first met, I made it clear that I was trouble and not worth getting to know. Of course, that only reeled him in and he wanted to know what lied behind my mysterious exterior. He's not ugly, so I let him in for that night. Then, I just lost the ability to say no when he asked me out on am actual date. It went on for a little bit, maybe six months or so. In hindsight, it wasn't the best thing to do on my part.

I wasn't really happy with him, even though I logically should have been. If I shut him out, he waited until I was ready. If I ignored him because I was stuck in my own head, he didn’t interrogate me and pester me for information. He brought me coffee when I was doing a shoot. He took me on day trips to the beach. He got me fidget toys and books that would help me combat my rapidly developing social anxiety.

The closer he got, the more I wanted to run. So that’s what I did.

Being me, it was over a text. However, he wasn’t having any of it, so we met up outside my apartment building. To say I wasn’t expecting him to cry was an understatement.

“I just don’t think I’m good for you,” I said simply, unable to look him in the eyes. Maybe I should cry too, so it could look like it hurt me too.

“That’s your excuse?” he said back, voice trembling.

“Do you want a list? I thought you could see everything that’s wrong with me!” I told him, genuinely confused as to why he couldn’t see it my way. “I never call you, you’re always planning the dates, I’m really closed off, I don’t like to do the things you like to do.”

“Well, there’s always time to work on that! I know you’ve got things going on, but that doesn’t mean that this can’t work.” He stepped towards me, offering his hands. “At least tell me what I did wrong.”

I took a step back, folding my arms. “It was never you. Everything is on me.”

Derek scoffed. “Are you really pulling that card?”

Now it just felt like everything I was saying was the wrong thing. How could I get him to leave me alone?

“You’ll find someone better, trust me.”

“I don’t want anyone else!”

How in the shit-

“Can you just ignore the negative thoughts in your head for one moment and just let someone take care of you?” Derek asked, frustrated.

No. I guess I can’t.

“I just need to be by myself for a while,” I concluded.

“You're just shutting yourself away!” he snapped. “You think you can do things by yourself but you can't! You're never gonna be happy if you don't let people in!”

I have let one person in. It backfired horribly.

One thing I liked about Derek was that he wasn't consumed by the toxicity of Hollywood. He was a nobody from a small town in Northern California. He was never interested in celebrity gossip and pop culture. The only thing he used the Internet for was Netflix and video games. Long story short, he didn't hear about my “scandals” through the grapevine, he heard them from me. I thought it would drive him away, but instead it just made him stay, and I didn't get it.

But if he had some inkling on who I was or who my ex was, it would be easier to understand why I was doing this. It bothered me that I knew why I was doing this. I guess Barb was right: I shouldn't have thrown myself into dating so soon. All I've done now is hurt a person who didn't deserve it.

4 years ago.

“I still have feelings for my ex. I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry. Please don't contact me again.”

As soon as I sent that text, I grabbed my wallet and car keys and threw my hungover ass out the door. My heart was beating like it had just come back to life. I got in the car and pulled out of the driveway, hauling ass to the hotel I was supposed to go to.

It had been a long four months of being… mostly single. My heart had been shattered when Tom called and decided that he didn't want to do the long distance thing anymore. Of course there was crying and yelling, if he had been within my reach I would have thrown something at him. It was sudden and painful to know that the thing that kept me going wasn't there anymore.

What did I do? Publicly, I went through a dramatic change in style. I cut my hair, wore darker makeup, and I did a Playboy photoshoot butt naked. I walked in Paris Fashion Week. I was booking more and more projects than I ever had. Privately, I went to the closest bar and let someone put their hands all over my body. I woke up in a different stranger's bed almost every morning until one particular stranger stuck around. Their name was erased from my brain as soon as Tom messaged me saying he wanted to see me.

My mind was cloudy from leftover liquor and thoughts of Tom, making it hard to focus on the road. Several people honked at me, to which I stuck my middle finger out the window. My phone was buzzing like crazy, and I wasn't sure if it was my new ex, my old ex, or Nancy. I was too anxious to check, until I was at a stoplight.

I grabbed my phone from the cup holder and looked at the notifications. A short text from the new ex. “Ok lol let me know when you're over it.” Then the light turned green.

I still looked through my phone as I drove. Nancy sent me a voice clip.

“Why did you leave your house? You're supposed to stay out of the public eye for now. Call me when you can.”

Oh yeah, I had a bit of a “scandal” not too long ago. I drank too much at a bar and yelled some obscenities at the same time someone had their phone camera on. My “poised and professional” image was tainted, so the best option was to just stay under the radar. I wasn't good at following the rules, so Nancy got access to the security cameras outside my house, and if I did anything reckless, she would call someone to handle me.

Today was one of those days, but I had a valid reason.

“Tom is in town! I have to see him!” I yelled into my phone as I swerved in and out of lanes. “I'm also a little hungover, so let it be know that I'll probably die for the dick!”

Hopefully it would be good news to Nancy that I'm linking up with someone who was the epitome of purity and goodness in the eyes of practically the entire world. It would either make me look better or Tom look bad. Either way, people would be talking about us. None of this was real, right?

I got to the hotel. Tom had told me over text that someone would be waiting for me in the lobby. I parked and got out of the car. If anyone had followed me, then it would be known in a few hours that Tom Holland and his ex girlfriend were seen together at his hotel in Los Angeles.

That didn't matter.

A security guard in the lobby recognized me, and he escorted me to the top floor of the hotel. My heart was stuck in my throat, and my stomach was turning uncomfortably. Holy shit, this was happening.

The security guard opened the door for me, and I stepped inside the room. I almost vomited out my heart and lungs just from seeing Tom sat in the armchair across the room. I stepped towards him, trying and failing to keep myself calm and collected. My nerves were painted all over my face.

I walked down the small hallway, passing the bathroom. I was at a loss for words.

Tom looked at me, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. He stood up and walked towards me as well.

The bathroom door opened from behind me, acting as the record scratch to kill the moment. I turned around to find a beautiful woman who I instantly recognized emerging from the toilet.

She was in sweats, her curly hair in an unkempt bun, and not a spec of makeup was on her face. She was stunning and radiated beauty. Her presence also made my stomach drop down to my feet and my blood run cold.

Zendaya was just as surprised to see me, given that she stopped dead in her tracks. Her pretty eyes went wide, and she just stood there for a second. Surely she had to know who I was. She had to know what this meant.

She quickly composed herself. “Alright, I'm out.” And she turned on her heel and left the room.

As soon as the door shut, I turned back to Tom. He had a guilty look on his face.

“What was the point of getting me over here?” I asked, feeling dumber and dumber by the second.

“I miss you,” he told me.

“Why was she here?”

“She's my friend.”

I narrowed my eyes. I looked at the bed, the unmade sheets. Then I practically dived for the mattress, which made Tom go a little crazy.

“No!” he yelled as he grabbed me around the waist.

I reached for something to get away, but I only got ahold of the duvet. I thrashed and tried to elbow my way out of his hold, but he was strong. The duvet was pulled back as Tom manhandled me, and I saw what I needed to see.

A tiny bit of red lace under the sheets said more than enough.

“You cheated!” I cried out. “You fucking cheated!”

Tom pushed me against the wall, trying to hold my flailing arms down. “Hey, hey, listen to me!”

“You asshole! You piece of shit!” I yelled in his face. I angrily pounded on his chest with my fists, tears coming out of my eyes.

He grabbed my wrists and cornered me. “Shut up!”

That worked. I froze in my place, now feeling small and trapped.

“I did not cheat, we've been broken up, remember?” he said harshly. “I called you here to tell you that I live here now, and I wanted to work things out.”

I sniffed and tilted my head. “H-Here?”

“Well, not here. My flat isn't ready yet, not for another day. Anyway, that doesn't matter. I've missed you, and I shouldn't have let you go.”

“You're so full of shit. You expect me to believe that when you've got Zendaya’s underwear in your bed?!”

He didn't try to deny it. “What, like you haven't slept with anyone else? She was the only one!”

“So you basically moved on.”

“I tried, but I couldn't. I made a mistake.” He loosened his grip on my arms, and his expression softened. “I love you, only you. I understand if you don't believe me, but it's true. I just want to be with you.”

He gave me those puppy eyes and kissed my hands. He brought my hands to his chest, making me feel his heartbeat.

“I don't believe you,” I said honestly. That was the most honest I would be today.

Why would he want me again? What was it about me that made him pick me over every other person he's probably seen? I wasn't anything worth fighting for. He made that clear only a few months ago.

Tom leaned in and softly kissed my cheek. “Please…” He kissed my jaw. “What do I have to do?”

“Stop talking to her,” I said without missing a beat. I hadn’t even finished the thought before it spilled out of my mouth.

That made him lean back, surprised. “Seriously?”

“I know. I don't like being against other women but… if I see you with her again… I don't know what I'll do.” I paused. “And you can't go out to bars and places like that unless I'm with you.”

“Babe, come on…” He took a step back and thought for a second. “If I can't hang out with my friends, then you're not allowed to hang out with Nessa.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Don't give me that look. She's got you doing all sorts of stupid shit!”

“Oh, like you've never done stupid shit with your friends!”

“Well, I can't anymore because I'm not allowed!”

I pushed him away. It was pointless to come here.

“Hey, I didn't say I wouldn't do it!” Tom called after me as I walked towards the door. When I ignored him, he went after me.

He grabbed my arm and pushed me against the wall again. This time, he kissed me on the mouth. For a split second, I fought back, not wanting anything to do with him. But he was just so enticing and delicious that my body quickly gave in, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. I did miss the feeling, after all. There was nobody like Tom.

Next thing I knew, he was lifting me up by my legs and holding me up against the wall. His hips fit perfectly against mine, and his touch was getting a lot more addicting. I gripped the back of his head with one hand and dug my nails into his back with the other, not wanting to let go. His hands felt up my ass and pulled me in even closer. I missed this, I missed it when it was from Tom.

But then he stopped. He put me down and stepped back. He was breathless, but he looked at the floor.

“Why…?” I whispered, now left wanting more. Was this not what I came here for?

“Let’s save this for when I’m in my new place,” he suggested. “This room has gone through enough as it is.”

I glanced at the bed behind him. I could still see the red lace. Now I could understand why these things happened. We were broken up, we didn’t owe each other anything, simple as that. He did what he had to do to move on, but it seems that it didn’t work, and that was baffling. Why would he pick me over someone like Zendaya?

“So, where are we at now?” I asked.

“Let’s take things slow, yeah?” he replied.

“Good idea.” Everything he said sounded like a good idea.

I went back home with the promise that I would see him later. My legs felt like jelly as I walked through my front door, and my head was spinning with lovesickness. For the first time in a while, I felt content. I had a smile on my face as I threw my shoes off and dropped my bag on the floor.

I went out to the backyard and sat by the pool, scrolling on my phone. The outside world - cyber and physical - seemed so weird now that my little world with Tom was building up again. It was like nothing else mattered.

I felt a small snap of reality when Nessa texted me. My stomach sank a little bit because I remembered the deal I had made. So now I was stuck with a choice.

“We still on for tonight??”

What happening tonight? What was I supposed to tell her? I tried to type, but the screen froze and my phone grew hot. Then, the device restarted on itself, leaving me with the black Apple screen.

“God decided for me, I guess,” I said as I placed my phone on table.

Suddenly, I heard a knock on my front door, followed by it opening. I sat up, completely distracted from my thoughts, and I watched Nancy and Charlotte enter the vicinity. Neither of them looked happy. In fact, they both looked incredibly pissed off.

“You are an irresponsible woman with no regard for the rules!” Charlotte yelled. Guess there was no time for a greeting. “You had specific instructions to not leave the property and what do you do? You get photographed outside Tom Holland's hotel in West Hollywood! Not only that, you were also seen almost causing a crash on the 405! Do you have any idea what you've done?”

“I have a boyfriend again,” I replied softly.

The two women looked at each other for a moment.

“You're talking about Tom?” Nancy asked, and I nodded. “And you didn't consult with us? If you wanted to do another PR-”

“It's not PR!” I snapped as I stood up from the couch. “Some of these relationships in Hollywood are real, you know! He wanted to see me!”

Nancy was about to retort, but her phone started ringing. She pulled it out of her purse and looked at the screen. “Ah, it's your boyfriend's publicist! Can't wait for this conversation!” She answered and went into the kitchen.

“You were supposed to wait for the public to stop talking about the bar incident before stepping outside again,” Charlotte scolded. “You were supposed to speak to one of us before leaving!”

I shrugged. If I hadn't gone to the hotel, what would have happened? Tom probably would have continued to fuck Zendaya, and maybe I would have slept the whole day.

“He's a sweetheart and I have to look better in front of the world,” I said simply. Maybe if I put it in her terms, she would come around. “It'll work. And if not, he and I can see each other privately.”

“But you've already seen each other publicly, that's the problem!”

I rolled my eyes. Enough was enough. “Someone loves me! Tom still loves me! I'm not just gonna give that up!”

“God, you're just as irrational as you were the day he left you,” Charlotte grumbled.

At that moment, the rage boiled over and I was a hair away from slapping her across the face. My hand jerked halfway up to do so, but Nancy entered the room again, cutting the tension.

“I have some things to go over,” she announced, oblivious to the air in the room.

“What'd they say?” I asked, masking my anger.

“They think yours and Tom's reputations balance each other out. You'll make him look more mature and grown, and he'll make you look responsible and down-to-earth,” she explained. “There will be a couple of PR outings where the two of you will act like friends and nothing more. We'll leave the rest for the fans to speculate.”

“Well, I'm seeing him either way, so…” I mumbled.

“But you need to behave yourself in public. No more bars and parties, alright?” Nancy said with a warning tone.

“Got it.”

_____

next.

#tom holland x oc #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #ah writes #gdy fic #album: hopeless fountain kingdom by halsey #i dont do tag lists!#finally a chapter that isnt short as hell #still kinda sad af #i may have put too many personal things in here but that doesnt matter!!!#enjoy mr hoeland and his ladys unhealthy solutions to their problems #remember kids: it only goes downhill from here

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wrestling-fangirl93 · 6 years

Text

You’re safe now- An Adam Cole Fanfiction ~ Part 7

This chapter will have mentions of sex, but not full on smut

Waking up to a completely empty bed this morning kinda worried me. Adam hadn’t said anything about having to work today. Especially since today was our one year anniversary, but as i made my way into the kitchen to get some coffee, i saw a box sitting on the counter. being curious ii walked over to it and picked up the note sitting on top

‘Happy Anniversary baby, here’s a little present for you, i’ll be home tonight at 6, i have a very special night planned for us. The girls are coming by to pick you up at noon so you can get your nails and hair done, i’ll see you soon my love‘

i open the box to see a light blue dress, and a pair of white sandals. i instantly smile knowing how well Adam did at picking it out. i decide to quickly get ready, knowing that the girls would be here soon. i take my coffee back to our room, trying to get aleast some into my system before putting up with Billie and Peyton. i love them to death but sometimes they’re a bit over the top.

i quickly slip on a pair of shorts and a tank top. i had just taken the last sip of coffee, when i hear the front door open

“oh y/n” i hear an Australian accent say

“hey girls” i say as i walk into to the living room

“oh you look cute” Peyton says as she hugs me tightly

“thanks” i say

“come on, we have to go get you beautified for your date tonight” Billie says

“so you know what’s going on?” i ask

“yep” they say

“ugh everyone knows but me” i say

“you’ll love it, i promise, now lets go, we’re meeting Candice at the salon downtown” Peyton says

Candice and I had grown extremely close over the last few months, she’s almost like the sister i never had. I've been able to open up to her, and having her by my side has helped so much

i grab my purse and we walk out to Billie’s car.

“are you excited for tonight?” Peyton asks

“yeah, i can’t believe we’ve been together a whole year. I've never felt loved until i met him” i say

“you’re his entire world. even when you aren’t with him he doesn’t stop talking about you” she says

“my life has changed so much because of him, the last 6 months I've been living with him I've never felt safer, i haven’t had a nightmare in months, the flashbacks i do have are few and far between” i say

“that’s great, you’ve come so far in so little time” Billie says

“Adam has shown me what love really is, before he and I were together i never thought i would know what it felt like to fall in love, to have someone hold me close, knowing that i was completely safe with them. Adam makes me feel that way every time i see him. i can’t help but get lost in those baby blues.”

“awww, you guys are so cute together” Peyton says

“can you just get married already?” Billie asks

“one step at a time girls” i say

“speaking of next steps, do you think he’ll propose soon” Peyton asks

“i doubt it, we’ve been taking our relationship really slow. He told me from the beginning that we wouldn’t do anything i’m not comfortable with” i say

“aww that’s so sweet” Billie says

“tonight i have a surprise for him though” i say

“are you pregnant?” Peyton asks

“NO” i say a little too loudly

“you’re sure?” she asks

“uh yeah. you have to have sex to get pregnant, and we haven’t done that yet.” i say

“you guys haven’t had sex yet?” Peyton asks shocked

“no, like i said he didn’t want to force me to do anything i wasn’t ready to do. and until recently i wasn’t even comfortable with the thought of it” i say

“so you’re going to do it tonight right?” she asks

“that’s the plan” i say

“aww that’s so sweet. i’m sure he’ll be on cloud nine” she says

“are you nervous at all?” Billie asks

“ a little bit, but i trust him completely. i guess i’m mostly scared it will hurt” i say

“it hurts a little at first, but after a few minutes, it gets better” Peyton says

“just don’t say anything to him. i don’t want him to know and only be thinking about it all night” i say

“we won’t” Billie says trying to comfort me

We arrive at the salon and see Candice waiting outside. As soon as i’m free from the car, i run to her and give her the biggest hug imaginable.

“happy anniversary love” she says hugging me tight

“thanks” i say

“any idea what he’s planned for tonight?” she asks

“nope. these two know but won’t tell me anything” i say

“well i’m sure whatever it is you’ll love it” she says

“i know both of them will enjoy their night together” Peyton says

my face turns red, and i look at my feet. I can’t believe she just said that. i knew i shouldn't have told her.

“alright lets go get you even more beautiful for your man” Candice says

“i don’t think that’s possible” Peyton says

“This is the one night Adam will see me with my hair and make up done. he’s never seen me like that before” i say

“really?” Candice asks

“yeah, I've always been ready bad at doing my hair and makeup so i never did it.” i say

“i’ll do your make up for tonight” Peyton says

“that would be amazing. i don’t want to end up looking like Shrek” i say

“that would never happen” Billie says

“oh it could. one day in high school, my makeup looked so bad people called me an oompa loompa for the rest of the year” i say

“people are so mean. the important thing is you’re away from them now, and now you have Adam by your side. and if he ever calls you a mean name i will hurt him” Candice says

the other two agree with her. both promising me that he won’t do anything like that. I had decided that i wanted to cut my hair, taking off about 6 inches. oh boy Adam was in for a culture shock tonight.

“oh my gosh your hair” Peyton says

“you look amazing” Billie says

“my head feels so much lighter” i say

“well you did just chop half of your hair off” Peyton says

i looked in the mirror, seeing my hair had been curled, and was now just barely passed my shoulders.

“time for nails” Candice says happily

“oh boy i feel like a Barbie doll” i say as i pick out a shade of blue that matches the dress perfectly.

before today i had never had my nails done, or really had my hair done. i wasn’t one to pamper my self, and Adam knew that. so i was really surprised when he told me to go enjoy a day with the girls before our date.

“you look gorgeous” Candice says as they put the finishing touches on my nails

“thanks” i say

“its almost 5:00 we need to get you home, makeup done and dressed in an hour” Peyton says

“good thing i live 10 minutes away” i say

“yep now lets go” Billie says.

we get back into Billie’s car and she makes the short drive back to my house. as we pull into the driveway, i can still see that Adam isn’t home. which made me kinda sad

“you okay” Candice asks

“yeah, i just thought i’d be spending the whole day with him. not just a few hours” i say

she hugs me tightly

“i’m sure it’ll all be worth it” she says

I didn’t realize an hour could go by so slowly, the girls had helped me get ready, and had left. while i sat on the couch waiting. and hoping he would come in. after what seemed like an eternity, i hear the front door open. and Adam walks through the door.

“happy Anniversary baby” he says

“happy anniversary” i say instantly attaching my lips to his

“you look beautiful” he says

“you should thank the girls for that” i say

“i’ll keep that in mind” he says

“ready for the best night of your life?” he asks

“the best night of my life already happened. that was the night i met you, but i am ready for an amazing night with you” i say

“alright put this on” he says handing me a blindfold

i start to get a little nervous, but put it on anyway. he takes my hand in his and we slowly start to walk, after a few minutes, he stops me and takes off the blindfold. once my eyes adjust to the light, i realize we are standing in the back yard. but he had set it up to be this little romantic spot complete with candles, and rose petals.

“i thought since i know your dream date is staying home, eating dinner and playing video games we could do that” he says

“this is perfect” i say

just when i thought the night couldn’t be better, he le me over to the table where dinner was waiting for us. my favorite steak. realizing how much effort he had put into tonight made me so happy, making the night even more special.

“i love you” i say

“i love you too” he says

“how did you plan all of this?” i ask

“well the guys helped me decorate, and i had Billie and Peyton distract you for the afternoon” he says

“this is perfect” i say

he smiles, and takes my hand in his. i could feel how much he loved me, it was so evident. and i wish i could have stayed there forever in that moment. but i knew the night was still very young.

After we finished eating, we went back inside. he sat on the couch and i curled up next to him. we had played a few round of video games, with him winning. and i knew it was time to make my move.

i straddled his lap and started to kiss him. he acted surprised at first but didn’t fight it. i felt him pull away after i had tried to deepen the kiss. i stared at him with tears in my eyes afraid i had done something wrong

“hey don’t cry baby, i just want to make sure you’re comfortable doing this, and that you aren’t doing this for me” he says

“I've been thinking a lot about it, i trust you Adam, and i love you more than i can express in words. i wanted tonight to be special. i want this. i want you” i say

“you’re sure?” he asks looking at me, trying to sense any doubt

“positive” i say

he picks me up and carries me to our bed. and gently lays me down..

i had never known how amazing that love could be. the entire time Adam and i made love, there was no pain, there was no fear. it was simply amazing to be in his arms. to feel his body against mine. the entire time he made sure i was okay, and not hurting. or that i didn't want to stop. it was simply perfect.

probably my favorite part was cuddling him right after, feeling his skin against my skin. knowing that he loved me and i loved him. i knew that nothing could pull us apart.

@thebutterflygirl16

#adam cole fanfic #wwe fanfiction

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