#(She had fancier treats as she got older but as a little girl

[gamebird]

@rembrandtswife (I can't tag you for some reason)

But here are my current loves. They were hatched out just this spring. The rooster is inventively named "Dude" and his sisters don't have names. Although they do have fancy anklets so I can tell them apart from their mother, who didn't run outside for treats like these two did.

These are asils, which is a breed originally bred for naked heel fighting in southeast Asia and India (these particular ones being more of the Indian type, Rajah asil). They don't fight - at least not intentionally. Dude had four brothers but one day they all chose violence and on that day I was very glad I was home, as I separated them before they could do much damage. His brothers went to my father's house where they enjoy separate pens, and my father has sold two of them to other fanciers. They are a difficult breed to manage because of how early they decide to fight and how serious and to-the-death they are when that kicks in.

But they are gentle and charming with people, less prone to manfighting than other breeds, and they tend to live a long time. My last one, Sunny, had a respiratory disease from the day I got him at the age of 6 months and died of it finally 8 years later. I am hoping Little Dude makes it past 10 years.

My dad has a lot of strains of game chickens. He fought them when he was younger (and so did I, we're talking decades ago), but now that he's in his age he enjoys raising them and selling them to people. They're very pretty.

I currently have Dude, his three sisters, his mother, a roundhead hen named Legolas (or Leggy-lass, or optionally 'Butthole Woman' because she was very mean to the other chickens but now that the asils are older she is okay with them), and a buff orpington named Buffy, whom Dude has decided is too big and threatening and he has tried to kill her even though he was raised with her, so I have her in a separate pen and put one or two of the asil girls in with her from time to time as company.

Buffy is entirely innocent in this and has done nothing to deserve his aggression. She's going on four years, which for her breed is fairly old, so I'll just keep her until she passes rather than try to find a different situation for her. I have two pens, both with runs like you see in the background of the picture. So I keep Dude in one and her in the other.

Next month most likely the asil girls will go to my father's. That will be for the breeding season. Dude doesn't need to get it on with his sisters and mom. I will then just have Dude, Legolas, and Buffy, so maybe I'll pick up a hen or two. My dad has a couple of truly ancient asil hens I might take on if they can be safely integrated. He doesn't tend to keep them if he's not able to use them in breeding, but I have them entirely as pets so I don't care if they don't lay anymore.

I could go on and on about chickens but this is enough.

#chickens

[morethanaprincess-a]

@electricea​ said:  🍇 - what kind of jelly would you be willing to eat by the spoonful right out of the jar?

Ask Sonia an unhinged question because it’s Friday night and this is now a dashcomm party

“I quite enjoy eating grape jam, or I think this question is referencing jam, from the jar! It is a Novosonian export, alongside our wines and chocolate. I also like raspberry jam and champagne-orange marmalade.”

“But if I have a choice of spreads to consume right from the jar? I’ll choose Nutella. I grew up being scolded for the habit but once I figured out where it was kept in the kitchens, it was a challenge keeping me out of there when I was little. But when I was well-behaved, I’d be allowed Nutella spread on biscuits or baguette.”

#more-than-a-princess answered #electricea #(unhinged question meme) #(Did you expect anything less from the Princess of a country whose major exports are chocolate and wine?) #(She had fancier treats as she got older but as a little girl? Put nutella on bread. Or biscuits. Or cake. She's happy.)

[dp-medio-muertos]

The Many Names of Death (in México)

(banner images by @andrei-skelepina)

Her most well-known name is “La Catrina”, an elegant, upper-class lady, wearing a hat full of feathers to represent the social inequality rampant in the early 1910s when José Guadalupe Posada drew her (“La Calavera Garbancera”, had been her real name at first [Source ESP / ENG]). But from then on, this identity became forever associated with Death. La Muerte.

She takes you whether you’re rich or poor, “good” or “evil”, it doesn’t matter. Whatever we built in life stays in the world of the living, as we take nothing to our graves. Hence why she’s “La Igualadora” or “La Democrática” because she evens any ridiculous score you thought you had in life.

How funny these names came from a more modern era when the Nahuas/Mexicas believed anyone who died a natural death could liberate their soul after several trials to the Lord and Lady of Death (Mictlantecuhtli & Mictecacíhuatl) to acquire a new form of existence in the underworld, in the Mictlán. (Source ESP / ENG)

But despite Death being amoral, uninterested in what we did in life, it doesn’t mean she doesn’t enjoy a good chase in later representations. She’s now shown as someone to run away from, to deceive, to escape. In the end, the game always ends the same. Her thin and bony appearance is seen often in poems (as we mentioned in our Calaveritas post here) dedicated to her cunning, soul-hunting skills. But don’t be fooled: “La Calaca Tilica y Flaca” (the frail, skinny skeleton) is anything but weak.

The hairless skull gave her the name of “La Pelona” or “La Calva” (the bald one), while others wrote odes to her lack of teeth, calling her “La Chimuela” or “La Sin Dientes” as names that reveal her toothless smile. Others steer away from her stench, foul and rotten. “La Apestosa” or “La Hedionda” (the smelly one) they’ll call her while giving her the stink eye.

And again these newer denominations don’t steer too far from older roots and sound similar to how the Mayans from Yucatán referred to Ah Puch as “The Stinky one”, one of the names of the lord of death and disease, ruler of Xibalbá (the underworld… yes, Xibalbá is a place, not a deity) [Source: ESP / ENG)

But now we don’t talk about trials and tribulations, though we do talk about Death in our everyday struggles. “La Chingada” or “La Fregada” (the ruined one) we say colloquially when we feel like it takes us to a darker place when things are not going our way. (“Me lleva la chingada”, “me siento de la fregada”, we exclaim even when something gone wrong won’t call for our real demise.) We even have sayings such as “no hay que cargar con el muerto” when we don’t want to carry an old burden.

To die can be to “petatearse” (lay to rest on a petate or resting mat), to “chupar faros” (take a smoke before being shot), we say someone “(lo/la/le) cargó el payaso” (was carried by the clown, as riders in the rodeo when they got hit by the bull); someone who dies, “estiró la pata” (stretched a rigid foot), “colgó los tenis” (hung their sneakers on the lightpost cables, as people do when someone dies in some neighborhoods), or “felpó” (to refer to torn clothing).

But death can be treated as something more respectful, with fancier names: “La Dama de la Guadaña” (the Lady of the Scythe), “Doña Huesos” (Mrs. Bones), “Doña Osamenta” (Mrs. Skull), while there’s some room to show affection: “La Amada Inmóvil” (the still lover), “La Malquerida” (the badly-loved one) or “La Niña Blanca” (the white little girl).

There’s plenty of respect and some even call her the Santa Muerte (Holy Death), adoring her like a saint, asking for favors, for protection, and honoring her in many ways, mainly in barrios like Tepito in which she even has shrines and temples dedicated to her. (Source ESP / ENG)

No matter what we call her, how we portray her in art or poetry, how our sayings or legends go, there’s this sense of familiarity with Death, as if she were someone we’ve always known and can invite for a drink or have a nice chat with, goof around, show your sorrows.

In the end, as we say “Al diablo la muerte mientras nos dure la vida.” (To hell with death while life lasts.)

#day of the (half) dead #día de (medio) muertos #day of the dead #día de muertos #dia de muertos #díade(medio)muertos #dayothe(half)dead #inspiration for the danny phantom event #mexico

[just-some-random-blogger]

Here’s My Problem: I Can’t Get You Out Of My Head

Seventeen + BTS Detective!Jeon Wonwoo x Actress!Reader Characters: Jeon Wonwoo, Jeon Jungkook, Kim Mingyu, Chwe Hansol (Vernon), Seungcheol (S.Coups), Chan (Dino), Yoon Jeonghan Summary: Wonwoo’s cold and calculating personality makes him a top detectivee. He’s currently in the middle of a murder investigation when he meets you, his favorite actress. His mind goes gooey when you’re near him though, and it messes things up for everyone. Can he deal with his dilemma? Word Count: 5k+ Warnings: Mystery, fluff, angst, detective au, actress au, TRIGGER WARNING graphic depictions of violence, stalking, killing, obessession, etc.

A/N: I’m going for that fall out boy/the 1975 kind of song title, ya feel me. And just like my Hoshi fic, I made Jungkook and Wonwoo siblings just because they have the same last name hekhek

And in case you start thinking otherwise, yall this is a work of fiction that does not represent reality at all.

Playlist:

Forget About It - All Time Low

Oh My! - Seventeen

Dream Girl – SHINee

I Love You 3000 – Stephanie Poetrie ft. Jackson Wang

Red Moon – KARD

Love U – Monsta X

Touch – NCT 127

Focus On Me – Jus2

Blue Flame – Astro

Psycho – Red Velvet

Let’s Not Fall In Love – BigBang

Slow Dancing In The Dark – Joji

Try Again – d.ear ft. Jung Jaehyun

Guess Not – eaJ

You Calling My Name – Got7

The Jeon brothers were popular in their neighborhood for being swoon worthily good looking. They were so popular in fact that girls from other schools in their proximity came around just to glimpse at them on the school bus.

The younger of the two, first name Jungkook, was an all around remarkable fellow. He was good at sports and academic, making him popular not only for his looks but as well as his athletic achievements.

The older Jeon on the other hand, Wonwoo, was far more reserved and mysterious. He excelled in his classes and was a top student in his class, but whatever loudness or extroversion his dongsaeng had, he did not possess.

It was somehow a match made in heaven for the brothers. They complimented each other and helped where they could.’

It was unsurprising the two began extremely different careers after graduating, Wonwoo having studied criminology, and Jungkook, filmography. Never did the two brothers think they would get an opportunity to work with each other having left the academic scene, until Jungkook finally got the greenlight to start production on his childhood dream project: a murder mystery film.

To be honest, it was an old, black and white mystery film that shaped the brothers into choosing their careers. Having been so fascinated with solving puzzles since he was younger, Wonwoo remembers vividly how amazed he was at how intricately woven the movie he watched with his brother was. And his said brother, Jungkook, found so much splendor in being able to watch such things, that he told himself he wanted to be someone who made those for a living.

And now here they were years later, working on a murder mystery film together.

Jungkook hired his brother to be as a specialist on set. To be honest, Jungkook thought his hyung would be a little bit more excited about it when he was going to be helping Jungkook not only live out a childhood but as well as be on set for a production he actually enjoyed the genre of.

In fact he had to beg Wonwoo to agree to work with him. Wonwoo argued he was in too deep with real life cases to be focused on the fictional case Jungkook wrote about.

And to be fair, Detective Jeon did not reach his rank for nothing, but neither did Director Jeon earn his reputation for nothing.

Still, the only reason why Wonwoo agreed to his brother because of you.

His favorite actress.

"Hyung," Jungkook calls his brother from the couch, "you should watch this drama. It's really good."

Wonwoo was too busy with his English homework to care.

Jungkook ate some chips and turned to his brother that was sat by the far off desk, "Hyyuuunnnngg!"

Said hyung grumbles, "I'm busy."

"Ya, the girl is really pretty."

"Good for her then."

Jungkook scoffs.

After Wonwoo had finished his homework, he decided to watch with his brother, not before scolding him of course. "You know, you'll be in the last year of your college soon too, so you better stop wasting your time watching dramas."

Jungkook rolls his eyes, "I'm literally studying filmography. This is studying for me."

"Aish, what do I know," Wonwoo hisses, grabbing some chips from Jungkook's bag. Once he turned to the screen, Wonwoo felt his eyes widen slightly. "You're right, she's pretty."

"Right? I'll hire her for my murder mystery movie," Jungkook says, nonchalant.

It amazes Wonwoo, even after months of working behind the scenes on this film, that he gets to see you in real life.

Even right now as you acted out a dialogue with another famous actor, Kim Mingyu, it felt surreal when he remembers you're actually just a few steps away.

Jungkook was initially baffled by how star struck Wonwoo was to meet you. I mean, he expected his brother to maybe fan girl, but he flat out blanked when you introduced yourself. For the first time in Jungkook's life, he saw his brother had no wits with him. It's still so hilarious to him that Wonwoo lost his so-called mysterious grace when you smiled.

"Cut! Good take," Jungkook called. He then went over to his brother who was holding a paper bag. It was obvious to anyone Wonwoo was holding some lunch.

Jungkook smiled. He extended his hand out, clearly expecting whatever his brother bought was meant for two, "what is that?"

Wonwoo scowled and moved the brown bag away, "it's not for you."

"Aw what? You bought food just for yourself."

"No. I bought this for-"

"The country's sweetheart," Jungkook teased and wiggled his eye brows.

Wonwoo deadpans and replies dryly, "Yes. Mingyu asked me to buy the sandwich I had the other day."

Jungkook raises his brows and crosses his arms.

Wonwoo clears his throat, "and yes. I bought an extra for her. Why? Can't I?"

Jungkook sneers and slaps his brother's shoulder, "homie is whippedt, with a T."

"What are you? A prepubescent teen?"

"I am cool."

"Ya, is that the sandwhich?" Mingyu calls, suddenly near them. Wonwoo's breath hitches when you smile and wave his way.

Jungkook sniggers softly and decides to watch it play out.

"Thanks, hyung," Mingyu states. Wonwoo and he were close because Jungkook and Mingyu were friends after working so often with each other.

Wonwoo turns to you but looks away when you catch his eye. He clears his throat and finally gains the courage to turn back, "ya... I got you a sandwich too."

Mingyu, who had gotten his sandwich at this point turned to the remaining one in the bag, Wonwoo, you, then pushed the sandwich your way.

You gratefully take the bag and turn to Wonwoo with a grin, "you didn't have to get me one."

Wonwoo scratches his nape, "... the thing is, I wanted to."

Mingyu and Jungkook turn to each other with wide eyes. You chuckle and feel blood rush up your neck.

"You know actually--" Wonwoo starts but gets cut off by his phone ringing. Jungkook eyes him hotly, trying to telepathically tell him not to answer it, but Wonwoo does anyway.

Mingyu rolls his eyes as Wonwoo begins to get into a deep conversation with whomever is on the other line.

Once he's done, Wonwoo turns back to his brother and says, "there's been another murder, I have to go."

Jungkook only nods and doesn't stop him, not that he would, not thay he could. It was terrifying to know that his older brother was so close to bringing a serial killer in.

It started long before production to Jungkook's latest project began. Missing person reports for college girls began to get filled, soon after these girls would be found dead. Initially, theses cases were treated separately since the incidents were scattered all over the city and were seemingly random. It had only been a few months since authorities announced the murders were done by the same person.

It was Wonwoo who spearheaded the investigation.

Wonwoo was on his way to his car to get to the latest crime scene when he was pulled from the back of his coat.

He quickly turn to see what it was holding him back and felt his cheeks burn at the sight of you panting and smiling, "hi."

Wonwoo raises a hand.

You huff, "detective Jeon."

"Yes."

"To be completely honest with you, I'm not sure if you like me or not. You don't really pay me much attention, but when you do you're awfully sweet when you're not avoiding eye contact."

Wonwoo opens his mouth but closes it right after.

"I understand you're a very busy person, and again I'm honestly not sure if you even like me, but I wanted to aks anyway: would you accompany me to a party next week?"

Wonwoo audibly gasps to which you gasp and giggle to. At this point, Wonwoo's face is burning, he can feel it, but he manages to nod, "I would love to."

You break into a smile and nod, "okay? Okay."

"Okay."

"Okay. Next week, friday, okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay good."

tIt was honestly not tha good, considering Wonwoo couldn't stop thinking about it. How was his brain going to get through this crime scene before him when all he could think about was you. It was a real problem. Every time he looked into the room, he found something that reminded him of you, the laundry scattered in the bedroom floor, the posters of celebrities on the wall (to be fair there was one of you in the room), the trinkets on the table. Your everything was fogging his head.

He was lucky Hansol was as sharp as ever because it seems not even the putrid smells in the air was snapping Wonwoo out of his trance.

The date- was it a date (YES IT'S A DATE HYUNG -Jungkook)- came both quickly and agonizingly slowly.

Wonwoo wore a new suit he brought just for the occasion, and for that he was grateful, because this party you took him too was a lot fancier than he had anticipated. It was apparently one of those exclusive events that select people got invited to.

To say Wonwoo was intimidated and out of place would be completely accurate. He was never a party goer, even in college, but if it meant he got to see you dressed up in a rose gold dress and red lipstick then count him in.

Wonwoo tried to stay as close as you as possible-- not for any perverted reason, but so he wouldn't lose you and to protect you from anyone who would dare attempt anything perverted.

You forced him to dance though he never really danced much, but much like the reason why this party was appealing, he enjoyed dancing because of you.

Bless your soul you noticed how awkward Wonwoo looked and decided to call it quits for the dancing. The rest of the night was then spent drinking champagne in the venue's tiny balcony. It was honestly the first time you two had talked by yourself, and though it was awkward, your heart skipped at how Wonwoo described his passions with his deep voice and how he clumsily complimented you.

Honestly, you thought Detective Jeon was the most attractive man you had ever seen, both outwardly and inwardly. He had been nothing but a gentleman around you and never treated you like a distant celebrity, though the many times you've been told how much a fan of yours he was. You wanted to kiss his lips as he continued to speak, but you controlled yourself.

The most that you gave him was a kiss on his cheek when he called a cab for you. Wonwoo would've drove you home had you not specifically told him not to bring a car cause you two would be drinking.

It was still an amazing night regardless.

Page 6 of the newspapers thought so too, Wonwoo learned, as he walked into the station when he got to work.

Hansol rolled over with his office chair, wiggling his eyebrows, "how you doing there, chief."

Wonwoo pretends like he isn't all smug about it when he is, but when he thinks about how this may be impacting you, he doesn't feel smug at all, "mind your own business, Chwe."

"Ya. It is my business because you're dating my first love!"

Wonwoo snaps at him and sneers, "ya! Focus on your work."

Hansol sneers, "so protective."

Wonwoo mutes him out by putting on headphones that played the soundtrack of his favorite mystery film. As he tapped his foot to the beat, he reviewed the file of the serial murder case he was on.

There were a total of 13 victims-- that's how many films you've been in--

Wonwoo screws his eyes shut and shakes his head. That was the most inappropriate thought he could've suddenly thought of.

He reviewed the latest profile of the victim. She was in her last year of high school and played the flute. Wonwoo recalls how you attmepted to play a flute in a variety show.

Wait.

Stop it.

Shit.

Wonwoo increases the volume of his music. He reads that the victim is from your hometown. This actually makes him shiver. Wonwoo rips his headphones off and decides to take a bathroom break, taking his phone with him. This is where he sees a text message from you that reads: are you coming on set today?

Wonwoo quickly replies: yes.

Can you buy me a sandwich?

Yes.

The rest is history.

From that moment moving forward, Wonwoo's confidence is through the roof.. he not only manages to have a decent conversation with you with other, but even when it's just the two of you. He asks you out, to which you agree. He takes you to an ice skating rink, when he flaunts his skating prowess to your shaky legs. Don't tell him though, but you were faking it so that you can cling on to him tightly and closely. But no one mention either that Wonwoo totally saw through it.

Soon enough you became comfortable enough to cook to take him to your place to hangout. This was were Wonwoo finally addressed something that had been bothering him.

"Are you okay with what's happening?"

You knit your brows at his question.

Wonwoo clarifies, "I mean there are a lot of articles about us. At first it was pretty vague, but now they are mentioning my name in the papers. Are you okay with that?"

You pout and raise your brows, "are you okay with that?"

Wonwoo shakes his head, "I've never really cared about what people thought about me, only my friends and family."

You nod. Wonwoo looks in expectation. You can't help but chuckle, "if you want the truth, it's good publicity. You're a famous detective and the netizens are actually in love with you now because you're so handsome."

"... wait really?"

You pout and cross your arms, "I can't believe you're enjoying that."

Wonwoo can't help but laugh at your faintly jealous reaction. He pulls you to his chest and kisses the top of your head, "well, what I really enjoy is being close to you."

You relax against him and unwrap your arms just so you could cling on Wonwoo's torso.

"But you know what I would enjoy more?"

"Hmm?"

"...if... you became my girlfriend."

You pull away slightly and turn to him. You break into a smile, "I thought you'd never ask."

You then take his cheeks and pull him close to your face. You plant your lips on his and his pulls you closer by the small of your back. The kiss encloses the both of you in warmth. It's electric and so calming all at once. It just... feels right, y'know.

It's just pure bliss for the two of you.

At some point, Wonwoo really wasn't need on set anymore, and yet he came around to visit you and Jungkook. Who were you fooling, clearly Wonwoo came around to see you.

He would sometimes be able to take you out to lunch, depending on both of your schedules.

One this for sure was, you clearly both loved each other.

But that shouldn't have been affecting him so badly at work. It perturbed him that everywhere he went, too often even on his case that he thought of you. It disgusted him so much. He pushed all these thoughts away whenever it sprang into mind.

Wonwoo leaned back on his chair and turned from the evidence board he had been staring at for the last ten minutes, to the cup of coffee on his desk. He begins to recall one early morning he spent drinking some hot brew with you.

He smiles. Now that is a welcomed thought.

"I still don't get the correlation," Hansol spoke, making Wonwoo turn to him. He continues, "I'm starting to think that maybe the killer is just fully psychotic."

Wonwoo sighs, "the chances of him being a random picking killer is pretty slim at this point. Some of these girls are the same height and build, and some of them play the same instruments."

"Yes, but they have nothing collectively in common."

Wonwoo shakes his head, "there has to be. My gut is telling me there is."

Wonwoo's phone rings, except it's not his handphone but his work telephone.

"Hello, Detective Jeon from Seoul district 1 station."

No one replies, but there is heavy breathing from the other end. Wonwoo stands from his chair and presses the record button on his phone.

"You can't get her!" he growls in anger. He begins to scream and throw things in the background. Wonwoo pulls the phone away at the loudness.

The man on the other end heaves again. Wonwoo asks, "who is this."

"you know exactly who I am, you bastard!"

"No. If I did, you'd be in jail."

He laughs, "you think you're so good, huh?"

"Who and where are you?" Wonwoo asks, turning to Hansol pointing to the phone. He immediately understands and runs off to try and track who's calling form the other line, or at least where he is.

The man is shuddering in anger, "you will never have her. She's mine!"

Wonwoo feels bile rise from his throat, "who is she? Did you kill another girl?"

"Not yet, but I will if you don't back off. She's the only one I've actually loved and you want to take that away from me?"

"If you love her, why would you kill her?"

"SO YOU COULD NEVER LAY A FINGER ON WHAT'S MINE!"

"Women are not posses--"

"I WARNED YOU. STAY AWAY, OR SHE DIES!"

Hansol couldn't trace the call fast enough. And Wonwoo couldn't sleep that night.

This was when his visits began to lessen. He began to fully focus on his work again, no distractions, and for once, he hadn't thought of you. This was a direct consequence however of both sleep deprivation and not seeing you for a whole eight days.

The next day you visited him at work. It caused quite a commotion and Wonwoo's exhausted mind didn't take kindly to that, which was why he snapped at you and was super cold.

Hansol told him off for rudeness, but he just couldn't rest easy when he could do something at work that could help fins that lunatic serial killer. Chief Seungcheol agreed however that Wonwoo should take a break though.

The moment his head was put on straight, he felt extremely guilty for taking out his emotions on you. Wonwoo apologized profusely and of course you couldn't stay mad because you understood how much stress he was in.

But the thing was, he just couldn't get you out of his head. Again and again, everything he did reminded him of you. The evidence even lead him back to you like a compass and it was too much for him too handle.

This was exactly why it hurt so much when Wonwoo decided to let you go for the sake of the case.

He explained everything to you so neatly. "I am so madly in love with you that I see you everywhere. I see you in the sky. I see you in my coffee. I see you in the breeze. I see you in my sweaters. But I see you too in the evidence I have for the case. I see you in the files and the map board, and it's seriously messing with my head."

It was a line out of movie. It didn't mean it didn't hurt. You were crying your eyeballs out. You didn't understand what breaking up could do to help.

"You wouldn't be mine anymore, so that would incline me not to think about you."

You so badly wanted to slap Wonwoo for saying that, but you couldn't, because he was breaking up with you to catch a killer and prevent anymore murders from happening. If he was that bothered, he probably shouldn't be on the case anymore but you couldn't ask him to leave it when he was distracted because of you.

So instead, you turned away and left.

Wonwoo almost ran after you; it took everything in him not to.

"Don't worry, Jeon," Seungcheol comforted, placing a hand on Wonwoo's shoulder, "the sooner we catch the lunatic, the sooner you can get back with your girlfriend."

"Not unless I get her first," Chan from forensics chimes in, walking with new files of evidence.

"Dude," Hansol barks.

Chan gives an innocent face, "what? I'm trying to lighten the mood." He then hands the file over to Seungcheol, "here you go chief. The killer branded the latest victim's neck with three squares."

Wonwoo spins on his office chair.

Hansol knits his brows deeply, "has he done that with the other victims?"

"No. This is the first time."

Seungcheol places a hand on his chin, "wait. Why does this seem so familiar to me?"

Hansol watches Wonwoo begins to spin the other way around.

Seungcheol shakes his head and rattles his brain for some answer. He suddenly turns to Wonwoo, "ya. Do you know 'The Sleeping Tower'?"

Wonwoo turns to Seungcheol, "yeah, the killer in that drama marked his victims with three squares."

eSungcheol has goose bumps. Hansol turns to Wonwoo, "wait, what is The Sleeping Tower?"

Wonwoo says faux nonchalant, "a drama my ex is in."

Hansol pulls his head back.

Seungcheol moves to the evidence board, "wait just a second, Wonwoo. Did you say all the evidence point to her?"

Everyone shifts their attention to the chief. Wonwoo stops spinning on his chair, "are... are you telling me wh-"

"What do you see, Wonwoo?" Suengcheol asks.

Wonwoo stands form his chair and walks over. He begins to explain the correlation between you and the evidence and the... victims' personality. He argues with himself as he explained what he saw. As he pointed out one thing, he disagreed it could make sense. Wonwoo continued on like that until he actually hears himself say it. This is the first time he’s ever said all this aloud.

Hanson and Chan turn to each other in bewilderment as the detective being to point out strong points.

Wonwoo nearly falls down when he realizes it. Seungcheol turns to him, but Wonwoo's already bolted out the door.

Wonwoo is calling you nonstop. He's gripping the steering wheel so hard.

It all makes sense now. The shirts, the hobbies, the physical attributes, they were all yours. The victims had your merchandise, liked things you did, had procedures done to look like you-- they were your fangirls

And the killer was obsessed with you.

Wonwoo stepped on the gas and turned the siren on.

He screamed your name when he got to your home. You lived in a quiet apartment complex. The good thing about that is the people would be alerted by suspicious people and noise, there were bound to be at least eye witnesses, and there would be cameras in the area.

Wonwoo still had the keys to your apartment. His hands quivered as he jammed the key open.

Once he stepped in someone screamed, "YOU'RE TOO LATE!"

Wonwoo fumed as he saw a long haired man laughing as he stood an open window. He took a moment to assess that he has nothing but a twisted look on his face, he had nothing on his hands or clothes. He charged for him, which in hindsight may truly have been a bad move because he got kicked in the gut.

"I have nothing to live for anymore," he whispers as Wonwoo recoils at the assault. It enrages the detective, and it drives him with enough adrenaline that when the psychopath tires to jump out of the window, he catches him and sequentially bashes the guys face into the sill. He pulls him away and begins to assault his face.

Wonwoo is screaming with tears running down his face when it dawns to him the psychopath said it was too late. He pulls away from the knocked out man. He is shaking.

He screams your name and looks for you in every room. His mind is racing. He’s just too frantic to even begin to think what could have happened to you. He falls to his knees when he reaches the bathroom. There is red scattered everywhere and tub full of it. He makes a desperate sound.

He can't see properly from all his tears. He quickly crawls to the tub and heaves heavily when he sees the body in it.

Wonwoo's hand his trembling when he takes on of yours and feels for a pulse. His lips quiver when he can't find it. He turns to your submerged face and gently moves it to try and get a pulse from your neck. He reels back and makes a horrible sound when he finds a long slice that is gushing out red. Wonwoo at this point is sat on the wet ground, trembling with tears.

He is out of his wits.

He has no idea what to do.

He doesn't even notice that the police team is already here. The next thing he knows is he isn't in your apartment anymore. He is inside a police car, he thinks.

Wonwoo is numb to it all-- the sounds, the flashing lights.

He wonders how he wound up in his brother’s house, and how they both ended up crying in each other’s arms.

"Breaking News: After finally a week's worth of trial, the Supreme Court rules 25 year old Yoon Jeonghan triple life sentence after finding him guilty of the murder of 14 women. He admitted to his crimes and claimed they were out of love. He was a deeply obsessed fan on one if his victims, the actress who was recently given a memorial three days ago. Detective Jeon Wonwoo, who was head investor of the serial killing case, was awarded a medal of honor for apprehending Yoon, which he declined. Detective Jeon was also the boyfriend of the late actress, and was seen with his brother, Director Jeon Jungkook, at the service saying a few words in memoriam of the country's sweetheart."

#seventeen fluff #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo #wonwoo fanfic #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook #jeon wonwoo #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #Wonwoo smut #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #jungkook angst #seventeen smut #seventeen angst #kpop fanfic #wonwoo au #jungkook au

[catboymingi]

always there

navi/masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: fluff it’s pure fluff; best friends to lovers

word count: 3.4k

warnings: nausea/throwing up mention briefly (it’s the paragraph after y/n’s first period, so you can just skip that one entirely!)

some things take a little longer, but that doesn’t make them any worse.

mingi had been there for you all your life, being your neighbour ever since you were a baby. he was there for you at age four when you picked a fight with the kindergarten bully (who was a head taller than you) because he said your braids were stupid, and he was there to finish it when your lack of physical size made it seem like you were losing. he was almost angrier than you, because he loved your braids, and he had secretly asked his mother to teach him how to braid hair so he could give you braids even when you came into kindergarten without them. the last time when he got a reward for good behaviour from his parents (which was needed because he could be a real pain sometimes and needed a motivation to act better) he’d asked for colourful hairbands, because he thought you looked cute with them, and he’d seen his older sister always have a few around her wrist in case she’d want to put her hair up randomly, so he picked that habit up as well, having a few brightly coloured hairbands around his wrist at all times.

he was there when you got the grade’s best test for the first time, and when you continued to be better than any other classmates in your tests from then on, fuelled by the sense of accomplishment you’d felt, and he was prouder than your parents because yes, that was his best friend, his smart best friend.

he was there at age seven when you made a memory box and buried it deep in your garden, and he was convinced he would keep what he wrote on his ‘wish for the future’ note, even though he refused to tell you what it was because you were first supposed to know when you were eighteen, because that’s when people graduate and you’d decided the two of you would dig it back out once you had your graduation reports, and you put a sign on the place which you sternly told your parents had to stay until that exact day or you would move out and find new parents to adopt you.

mingi was there when you learned to do the splits at age nine, and he was next to you when you succeeded the first time. and then he was there when you insisted on teaching him, showing him all your stretches and what he had to do to be able to do the splits, painfully unaware of the fact that he had a... complication between his legs that you lacked. but all the days of sore muscles were worth it when he succeeded after weeks of trying, because the proud smile you gave him when he finally did a full splits made him forget about all the pain he’d ever felt.

he was there when you joined a dance team at age eleven, and he was the first one you showed the full choreography you’d learned, not your parents, or your dance teacher, but him. you were the reason he started dancing as well, because when he saw you get so lost in the music and when he saw how passionate you were, he just wanted to share this experience with you. so again, you taught him, spending late night talks during your pyjama parties (at times where you’d promised your parents you would definitely be asleep already - they knew better, but they were happy you were so close) laughing about how you were his personal trainer, and how he had to pay you in cookies. and he did, once more insisting his mother taught him something - this time how to bake your favourite cookies, with rainbow sprinkles and lemon frosting - and surprising you greatly when he came over with a massive box filled with these cookies.

mingi was there when you got your first period at age thirteen, running around shirtless until your parents came to pick you up from school because he had sacrificed his shirt to spare you the embarrassment of your bloodied pants being out in the open for all to see. this time he asked his older sister, because she was the one he’d ask about ‘girl things’ rather than ‘mum things’, insisting she tell him exactly what a period is like and what he could do to make you feel better, and even though he was a little squeamish about knowing there was so much blood involved he ignored that because he wanted you to feel well. as soon as his sister had informed him that it hurts, a lot, and that in her case heat and pressure helped, along with not having to move, and that she was very moody and had a lot of different cravings, mingi went off to the supermarket with the pocket money he’d saved to get himself a new game for his playstation and bought all your favourite snacks (they totalled to like 10€, but he was in all honesty willing to spend all 40€ for you), ringing on your doorbell and telling your mother he was there to take care of you now, which earned him the sweetest smile from her. she adored him, as did everyone who saw how he was ready to do anything for you, who saw how close you were. so she let him in, and he took the route to your room which he knew as well as the route to his own, which he could walk even when he was very tired and it was very dark, and plopped himself on top of you, hugging you tightly and saying that he wasn’t going to let go of you until you felt better, blissfully unaware of the fact that your periods would last eight days, regularly, eight days of suffering, but also eight days of being babied by your best friend.

he was there when your pain got so bad that you had to throw up, following you to the bathroom even though it was really gross and holding back your hair (that he still loved to braid) and rubbing your back and doing all he could to make you feel better. he still had those hairbands around his wrist from when you were four and he’d asked his mother to teach him how to braid hair, and they came in handy now when he carefully tied your hair back so it wouldn’t get in the way in case you had to throw up again.

mingi was there to bail you out of detention at age fifteen, which you’d only gotten because you beat up a guy at least a head taller than you and twice your weight but surprised by your determination when said guy had said that your best friend was ugly and stupid and that he’d never get a girlfriend with that face of his.

“say something like that again and you’ll be lucky if you even still have a face people can recognise”, you threatened, and his nose had been bleeding a lot and he’d had several scratches from when you used your long girl nails to your advantage and as a weapon (you knew being scratched with them really hurt because mingi had informed you about that fact one time you accidentally scratched him bloody when trying to pry something from his hands). you were supposed to get a week’s worth of detention, but your best friend, who secretly would’ve done the same for you, convinced the teachers that you’d never do it again and convinced you to - insincerely, but you knew how to fake - apologise to the dude that had just gotten a thorough ass beating, and a few pleading puppy eyed looks later you were free to go home.

he was there on your eighteenth birthday when the two of you decided to go to a club because now you were both allowed to (he’d turned eighteen a few weeks ago, but had waited with this experience because it wouldn’t be as fun without you), and he was there to beat up some dude way older than you that in his drunk haze had tried to grope you, seeing red and resulting in the two of you getting kicked out but you didn’t want to stay there anymore anyway, you wanted to go home and watch a silly rom-com with him as you usually did, knowing that with him nothing bad would happen. he took you home, knuckles bruised but insisting it wasn’t a big deal and that that guy had it coming, and you spent the night cuddled into each other as he braided your hair again, something he’d gotten even better than his mother at during the years, knowing all kinds of fancy braids.

mingi was there on your prom, the day of your graduation, having asked you to be his friend-date because he knew he wouldn’t want to go with anyone else, even though there were certainly girls who hoped he’d finally get over his obsession with you. and you’d agreed because you felt the same way, and you didn’t regret it one bit when he came over to pick you up in a tux, looking fancier and more handsome than you’d ever seen him look even though he seemed so embarrassed. he treated you like a princess all night, dancing with you and swirling you around and running off briefly when you told him your feet hurt from your heels only to return with a pair of sneakers he’d put on the backseat of his father’s car because he had once again asked his sister about what to keep in mind, and she’d informed him that you’d wish you’d brought sneakers after latest two hours of prom in the murder machines called high heels. and of course he’d brought sneakers, then, thoughtful as he was, and he insisted on putting them on for you like the prince had done with cinderella, and after that you kept dancing with him, grinning widely and convinced that no one else at this prom had a better date than you because that simply wasn’t possible.

then, when you were tired from dancing, he french-braided your hair, and neither of you cared that he’d put in a neon pink hairband which didn’t at all match the formal attire you were wearing, because it was mingi and you’d have accepted whatever he put into your hair, you just loved him like that.

he was there that same night, four in the morning, when you’d returned from prom and changed into pyjamas and sneaked into the garden to dig out the memory box you buried when you were seven, and even though he was so embarrassed about what he’d written down back then he still wished for it, and he thought that maybe he could tell you, now, and make his wish become a reality. the sign you’d put was still where you’d put it, falling apart slowly due to the years, but you didn’t pay it much mind as you dug out the little metal box. you laughed when you saw the things you’d put in there, each of you having put a 2€ coin which back then felt like a huge amount of money because seven-year-olds don’t know how the adult world works yet, and which you’d put as “savings for your first home together”. most other items were equally silly, and it was first when it came to the little notes with your wishes that mingi started being quiet, and you noticed immediately, of course you did, worrying a little.

“are you okay?” he nodded, but you could tell he wasn’t.

“do you want me to just ignore these notes? we can do that, you know, it’s all fine.” but he didn’t want you to, part of him really wanted you to read seven-year-old mingi’s wish, because it was still just as true. he just wanted to read yours first.

you’d wished for mingi and you to be best friends forever and ever and ever, and he smiled. it wasn’t exactly like his wish, but at least you’d wished for him to be in your future as well.

“can i read yours now?”, you asked softly, still wanting to make sure that he absolutely didn’t mind and that it wouldn’t make him feel bad, caring for him as you always did.

“go ahead.” he was nervously fiddling with the hem of your shirt, a habit he’d had ever since you were young and you’d started stealing his clothes and wearing them better than him, and you took the flashlight from his hands to be able to see what he’d written.

“seven-year-old you had an awful handwriting”, you told him, “it’ll take me a while to decipher these hieroglyphics.” but you were smiling at him before your brows furrowed in concentration, trying really hard to see just what he had written, but it was impossible, single letters being the most you could make out.

“i’m sorry”, you told him, because now you wouldn’t even know his wish for the future and that kind of made you sad. you didn’t know if mingi still remembered it, either, so you feared it was lost, that seven-year-old mingi’s wish would remain nothing but a wish, unlike yours.

“i remember what i wrote”, he informed you quietly, and, when he saw your sad expression, told you: “i wrote that i want to marry you when we’re big.” you looked at him surprised, face half-lit by the flashlight which you were now pointing directly at him because you weren’t really paying attention to the item in your hand after what he’d said, and which you first thought to lower once he was covering his eyes to prevent being blinded.

“i’m sorry!”, you exclaimed before pointing it at his stomach, wanting to still be able to see his face but most definitely not wanting to blind him. then you looked at him, and he looked so vulnerable there that you just wanted to wrap your arms around him and hold him as you always did.

“i still kind of do.” his voice was even more quiet now, and you knew he wasn’t joking by his tone, because you knew the way his voice sounded with any feeling he felt, because you’d seen them all, been there with him through them all. and this was the voice he’d used that time he told you that he couldn’t come to your birthday party because he was sick, even though you’d planned a big exciting getaway with him, complete with going to the movies and the arcade and getting late-night ice cream and everything. you’d just come over to his place that time, spending the day in bed with him and he promised he’d make up for it later, but this voice was the ‘i’m scared i’m about to make you feel really really bad’ voice he used when he didn’t yet know things would be okay. like now.

“i know we’ve always just been best friends, but you’ve always been the only girl i could imagine myself growing old with. and the older i got, the more i realised that i just really want to grow old with you.” you nodded, showing him that you’d heard him while you thought of what to say. you had definitely thought of him similarly, and while you thought it was normal best friend behaviour to want to grow up with no one but your other half it occured to you now that you maybe just hadn’t noticed yourself falling for him, because it had happened so gradually. but he’d always been there, through everything, and you wanted him to always be there through the rest, too.

“i don’t think i want to marry you”, you told him slowly, and his face fell for a second before you continued, “yet. you’re just my best friend, and i think marrying you right away would be a little hasty. also our parents would kill us.” you managed to make him smile with that, the smile you loved so much, the smile that always managed to make you smile as well, no matter how bad you felt.

“maybe we should start with dating and see where that takes us?” you saw the surprise on his face, being able to tell from his expression that he hadn’t expected anything like this, and you knew he was going to double check. and he did, of course he did, because this was mingi and you knew him and knew how he acted, because you knew him better than anyone else.

“you really want to date me?”

you nodded. “there’s never really been anyone else, i guess. even though i didn’t realise. but you’ve always been so perfect and i knew no one would be able to reach your standards, so i didn’t even bother. really, who else would learn how to french-braid or do the splits for me?” you smiled at him, taking one of his hands into yours and squeezing it gently, softly.

“i think everyone’s been seeing us as a couple anyway”, you then added, laughing at how you literally went to prom with him as your date and still thought you were just doing normal best friend things. and he laughed as well, the anxiety that had built up in his chest slowly disappearing because you were right, because whenever you went to a restaurant or anything with him they’d address you as his girlfriend, and though you’d always laugh about it that’d secretly make his heart skip a few beats ever since it first happened.

“so are we?”, he checked again, but because it was late and your mind was clouded by happiness and sleepiness you didn’t immediately get what he meant.

“are we what?” your eyes were big and round and looking at him confused and he wanted to hold you, to protect you, to never let go of you ever again. and he wanted to kiss you, for the first time not scared about that thought and the implications it held for your friendship.

“a couple? now?” you could tell he was embarrassed, but he was so adorable, so beautiful and soft and he was the only boy you’d ever had eyes for, and you didn’t have to think twice about what to answer.

“if you want?” and you knew that he’d misinterpret this as you doing it for his sake only, so before he could reply to that you added: “i’d love it”, and you smiled at him with your eyes competing with the stars in how bright they were shining, and if mingi had to pick who was shining brighter and more beautifully his choice would be you, without a doubt.

“i want. and i want to kiss you, too.” but he didn’t do it, no matter how much he wanted to, not until you’d verbally confirmed that he could, because even though you were probably his girlfriend now he wasn’t going to assume that you’d want the same things he wanted, he was going to make sure that everything he did would always be okay with you, he was going to protect you from all the hurt in the world.

but as soon as you told him he could he pulled you in, not wasting a single second as he placed his lips on yours softly, still careful, still scared he might hurt you. but he didn’t have to worry, you only pulling away so you could move onto his lap because the sitting knee-to-knee opposite each other kind of position wasn’t the best for comfortably kissing and also because you wanted to be closer to him. the flashlight was rolling somewhere on the ground behind you two as you dropped it, because you’d much rather have mingi’s soft hair in your hands, and when the two of you felt like you’d kissed enough to make up for years of unspoken feelings you leaned your foreheads against each other, and you got the chance to look into his beautiful, beautiful brown eyes, the eyes that always made you feel so warm and safe.

“i’m your girlfriend”, you told him quietly, to confirm it to both him and yourself because it still felt so unreal.

he started smiling widely, and though you weren’t able to clearly see it due to the flashlight pointing anywhere but to the two of you you could hear it in his voice and feel it in the way his grip around you tightened ever so slightly.

“you’re my everything.”

#mingi #ateez #song mingi #mingi x reader #ateez x reader #song mingi x reader #ateez au #ateez fluff #mingi au #mingi fluff #mingi imagines #mingi timestamps #mingi angst #mingi crack #mingi fanfiction #ateez x atiny #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez timestamps #ateez angst #ateez crack #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #wooyoung #jongho

[samsexualdeancurious]

His Own Hands | Chapter Fourteen

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Words: 1,955

Summary: Bucky is settling in well with the Avengers but he keeps having nightmares - flashes of repressed memories of a girl being tortured by his hands and then vanishing into a swirling black portal. He's not sure who she is until Fury introduces them to their newest potential team member, a girl Bucky recognizes on sight and Fury calls "Portal".

Warnings: Hurt!Reader, Lack of Communication, torture, trauma, PTSD

Written for Nanowrimo 2020

Betaed by Saxxxology and Amory

Cover art edited by me

---

To say Bucky is nervous would be an understatement.

“When was the last time you went on a date?” Natasha asks, watching Bucky dig through his closet from where she’s planted herself in the center of his bed.

“1943,” he answers, tossing his favorite pair of jeans onto the bed beside her.

“What did you wear then?”

“My uniform. It was the nicest thing I had.”

“Ah,” Nat says, eyeing the two shirts he holds up for her to see. She rolls her eyes and hops off the bed. “None of those. They’re nice but not quite right.”

Bucky steps back to allow her to dig through his closet. She comes up a moment later with a purple button-up shirt.

“Purple?” he says skeptically.

“It’ll bring out those pretty baby blues,” she shrugs, tossing the shirt to him. “And it's her favorite color. Get changed. You’re running behind. And don’t forget that leather jacket!”

“Shit,” Bucky hisses, not even waiting for Nat to leave before he starts changing. She just laughs and closes the door behind her.

He gets dressed in record time, throws on some shoes and pulls his hair back into a loose ponytail before heading out into the main room. He stops in his tracks when he sees Y/N.

She’s standing by the couch chatting happily with Natasha but turns when she hears him enter the room. She smiles and while that sight alone would be enough to take Bucky’s breath away at any time, the fact that she looks absolutely stunning in a knee-length green dress that highlights all her curves in the best way? That makes him want to fall to his knees and worship her.

Not now, the small part of himself that still has some sense says.

Maybe later, the rest of him suggests.

“Well?” Y/N says, spreading her arms and doing a little twirl. The skirt swirls around her legs and Bucky’s eyes are drawn downward to her simple black heels and then back up to her face with her subtle make-up and perfectly styled hair.

“Oh,” is the only response he can muster.

Natasha laughs and hooks an arm around Y/N’s waist. “That’s the kind of response you want.”

Bucky swallows hard and holds out one arm. “Shall…” he clears his throat. “Shall we get going?”

Y/N picks up her purse from the couch and hooks her hand into his elbow. “I think we shall.”

--

One of the perks of being an Avenger is that they don’t have to worry about driving. Stark has provided a car and driver for the night. Y/N greets Michael politely and thanks him for looking out for them tonight. Michael blushes and ducks his head, holding the door for them.

“So, where are we going?” Y/N asks, settling beside Bucky and buckling up.

“I thought we could visit the Brooklyn Museum,” he says tentatively. “And then go get dinner?”

“That sounds lovely.” Y/N crosses her legs and smooths her skirt over her knees. “I haven’t been to the museum since I was a child. It’s been around a long time, hasn’t it?”

“It’s older than me,” Bucky chuckles. “Steve and I used to go whenever we could. I think he used to sneak in on his own sometimes, too.”

“That sounds like Steve. He hasn’t changed much, has he?”

Bucky grins. “He’s barely changed at all.”

Y/N laughs, rocking a little to bump their shoulders together. A comfortable silence falls for a moment before she speaks up again.

“You know,” she begins slowly. “I’m really glad you asked me out.”

Bucky nervously glances over at her. “Yeah?”

She reaches out to take his hand in one of hers, weaving their fingers together as her eyes meet his. “Yeah.”

His cheeks are so hot he’s almost worried they’ll burst into flame and his heart feels like it’s going to leap right out of his chest. He’d thought he was the only one feeling something a little more than friendship between them. Knowing that Y/N’s own feelings have been moving in the same direction is a huge relief.

--

They hold hands almost the entire trip to the museum, swapping stories from their childhoods as they go. Once they reach Brooklyn, Bucky points out the landmarks he remembers and tells her about the things that used to be but aren’t anymore. The streets are familiar and he recognizes many of the oldest buildings. There’s a lot of new things he doesn’t recognize, though - shops, offices, and so on.

“The city must seem so different,” Y/N tells him, leaning in as he points out where Steve’s favorite bakery used to be. They didn’t go there often but Sarah would save what she could to get him a treat on special occasions. Bucky used to do odd jobs there in exchange for whatever goodies were leftover at the end of the day.

“Parts of it do,” Bucky replies, sitting upright once more. “But there’s a lot more of the past left than I thought. I guess that’s what happens when a city is this old.”

Y/N nods. “Yeah, you get a lot of history just walking down some of the streets. Things can change pretty quickly, though. There are already things from my own childhood that have changed and I’m not nearly as old as you,” She finishes her sentence with a cheeky grin that prompt Bucky to poke her ribs. She squeals and smacks his hand. “Rude!”

“You started it,” he snaps back, no real heat in his words.

She just giggles.

--

The museum is surprisingly empty for a Friday afternoon but Bucky definitely doesn’t mind. He’s not a huge fan of crowds. Michael drops them off right in front of the steps with instructions to text him when they’re ready for dinner.

“We have reservations at seven,” Bucky tells Y/N as they make their way up the front steps of the grand building. “It’s not far away but we should probably leave here by six-thirty at the latest.”

“Why not just walk?” Y/N asks once they’re inside the museum.

“Would you like to do that?”

She shrugs. “It’s supposed to be a lovely evening. I wouldn’t mind a walk.”

“Then we can walk.”

Bucky shoots Michael a quick text to update him on the plan and allows Y/N to lead him through the halls of the museum.

He never had much appreciation for art without Steve around but Wanda suggested Y/N would like this and it seems she was right. Y/N is more than content to slowly wander the hallways, carefully reading the little plaque next to each art piece and murmuring her opinions to Bucky. He trails along behind, doing his best to see whatever it is Y/N is seeing in each piece.

“This one,” she murmurs, pausing in front of one. “I love this.”

Bucky examines it. Female Model on Platform Rocker, the plaque next to it says. The painting depicts a naked woman sitting in a platform rocker, exactly as the title says. The image is cropped so she’s only visible from the neck down. One knee is pulled up, foot braced against the edge of the seat. It is a beautiful painting, wonderfully vivid. Even Bucky has to admit that and he knows next to nothing about art.

“Gorgeous,” Y/N is saying, voice still soft and a little bit awestruck. “The contours of her body, the shadow of the chair on the wall… I would love to hang this or something like it in my room. Maybe above my desk? What do you think?”

“It’s nice to look at,” Bucky agrees, unsure exactly how Y/N wants him to respond. “And it makes you happy so that’s good enough for me.”

She ducks her head shyly.

They manage to hit a good portion of the museum before they have to start walking to dinner. It’s a perfect night for a walk and Y/N happily loops her arm through Bucky’s, leaning into him as they make their way to the restaurant.

“This is a really nice place,” Y/N says, gazing around her as they’re lead to their table by a hostess.

“Tony suggested it.” Bucky pulls the chair out for her. “It’s a bit fancier than anywhere I’d usually go but I wanted to treat you.”

She smiles and his stomach does a happy flip. “Thank you.”

Thankfully Tony didn’t send them to a restaurant with too many strange things on the menu. Bucky ends up with an amazing steak. Y/N goes for a pasta dish, though she steals a bite of his steak with a playful grin. The conversation flows easily, as it always does between them, and Bucky’s soon left wondering why he was so nervous before.

“I vote we get dessert somewhere else,” Y/N suggests once they’ve finished their meals and Bucky’s paid with the card Tony gave him to use.

“Where would you like to go?”

--

They summon Michael with the car and then Y/N directs him to Brooklyn Farmacy and Soda Fountain. Bucky’s never heard of the place, let alone been, but he quickly determines that he has to come back.

“This was so good,” he mumbles around the last mouthful of his “Dark Side of the Moon”.

Y/N just hums happily. She got one called “99 Problems” and it looks just as good as the one Bucky’s eating. “Toldja,” she says once her mouth is empty.

“Next time, you pick where we go for dinner,” Bucky decides.

“I like that idea.” Y/N knocks her foot against his under the table. “And I like the idea of there being a next time.”

“I do, too.” He catches her foot between his, just gently holding it until her eyes jump to his face. “Wanna get out of here?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

--

The drive back to the compound seems to take forever. They find themselves speaking in low tones, almost whispers. Y/N’s eyes are bright as she holds Bucky’s hand between both of hers, tracing the lines of his palm with one fingertip and giggling when she hits a sensitive point and his hand jerks.

“Ticklish?” she asks, grinning up at him.

He shakes his head adamantly but her hand is already creeping its way between them and suddenly fingers are digging into his ribs. Bucky manages to bite back a shout as he smacks her hand away.

“Rude,” he complains.

She puts on her best “who, me?” expression and scoots closer. Bucky rolls his eyes even as he loops his arm around her shoulders.

“I like this,” she murmurs, catching his hand where it’s draped over her shoulder and tipping her head up to look at him.

“I like it, too,” he responds, giving her a little squeeze.

She drops her hand from his, turning sideways as best she can. Her hand settles on his stomach a moment before jumping up to cup his jaw.

“Bucky,” she says quietly. “Can I kiss you?”

He nods and she pulls his head down to press her lips to his. It’s gentle, a little tentative, and Bucky gives in easily to it. She fits perfectly against him, soft in his arms.

“Oh,” she sighs, bumping her nose lightly against his. “That’s nice.”

“Just a little bit,” he chuckles.

She kisses him again.

--

Somehow they manage to get from the front door to their bedrooms without being seen. They hesitate in the hallway, though.

“Mine or yours?” Y/N asks, fingers toying with the collar of his jacket.

“Mine?” Bucky suggests.

Her only response is to open the door and push him inside.

---

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—

Team Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis​​ @laughing-at-the-darkness​​​​ @tumbler-tidbits​​​​ @imsuperawkward​​​​​​ @emoryhemsworth​​ @manawhaat​​

#his own hands #bucky x reader #my writing

[staytiny-angel]

The Demon's Lair - Part 2

Rating: Overall E, this chapter T

Main Pairing: Seth Rollins/Becky Lynch (Warning they aren't monogamous for much of the story)

Side Pairings: Roman Reigns/Jon Moxley/Renee Young, Finn Balor/Violet Balor(OC), Baron Corbin/Randy Orton/Ember Moon, Sasha Banks/Bayley/Xavier Woods, The Miz/Maryse

Summary: Fire? Meet Gasoline.

Taglist - @askauradonprep @rxllynch @neversatisfiedgirl @superrezzy00 @axelwolf8109 @swifteforeverandalways @hitory--chan @riottbliss @viperslunatic

Seth gingerly pulled his black dress shirt over the welts on his back as Violet knelt in front of him petting his face and hair "Feel better, precious one?"

Seth nodded in reply still a little spaced out from the endorphins. Finn entered the room again face clean from the paint that had given his handsome features their demonic appearance.

"So her name is Rebecca?"' he finally spoke

" Yes, she's a little younger than you. I've known her since she was a little girl. We came to America together but she moved down south when she met her former girlfriend, it was right before I met you actually. You just missed each other." Finn explained, "She's going to run the main bar since Jordan decided to return to school full time."

"I think I saw her. Orange-red hair, dressed in yellow and black leather?" Seth says as Finn helped him to his feet

"That would be Rebecca. Miss Rebecca or Miss Becky to you." Violet told him. "That shirt is much too tight to button over your back."

Seth nodded at the unspoken command "I'll keep it open"

Becky Lynch had not expected to like working at Finn's club after everything Charlotte had put her though because of her hatred of Becky's kinks, but her The Lair was like nothing she'd ever seen during her years as part of the scene. The members of the Lair acted more like a family than any other club she'd ever been a part of. It was surprising how all of them acted around one another despite many of the members' celebrity status, It had been a crazy moment, her when first night working the bar when Mike Mizanin and his wife Maryse just walked up and casually spoke to her, to her surprise the couple were very down to earth and just as funny as they were on their sitcom Miz and Mrs, though she'd wanted to slap Finn for not telling her he had the rich and famous frequenting his club. So far in her month behind the bar, she'd met several MMA fighters, a defensive lineman for the Giants, and she was currently talking to Ember Moon, a New York Times bestselling author. It was all so surreal. The only member of the club Finn ever mentioned was Seth Rollins. Becky had heard a lot about the millionaire CEO in her month at the club. Apparently, he was something of a legend around the Lair. He'd helped Finn get the club off the ground and Finn had introduced the man to the lifestyle. She knew he was at the club tonight but all she'd seen was long dark hair and a fancy suit as he headed into Finn's private domain.

The door to Finn's dungeon finally opened and Finn stepped followed by Violet who was holding on the arm of the man from before now looking much less agitated, fancy black shirt left unbuttoned to reveal a toned chest dotted with scrapes and bruises, and an impressive 6 pack.

Ember whistled from a bar stool off to the side of her "Seeing Sethie's chest is always a treat"

"What CEO looks like that?" Becky wondered aloud " and he's all banged up"

"One who served in the Army for the better part of a decade, including 3 tours of Afghanistan" Ember explained "Seth sometimes takes mercenary missions if they require his specific skill set. He's been gone on one for the last month"

"Wait, wasn't this guy born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth?" Becky looked at the other woman surprised

"Mama Trish….that's Seth's mom, by the way. Well, she may have raised a spoiled brat but he's also got a hero complex a mile wide after what went down with his Dad. Nasty business that was, Seth went into the military right after he graduated High School. Roman and Moxie, Miss Renee's boys? They followed him in. The four of them went to the same ritzy private schools, known each other since they were all little kids. One of my boyfriends was a few years above them. The silver spoon thing is funny though since Seth's middle name is Sterling"

"Hey! Are you mocking my name?" The man in question says in a raspy voice as he walks up to them.

"Your Mama named you Sterling, she cast that die for you already," Ember says hugging Seth after casting a glance at her Dom and getting a nod in answer.

"Sup, Emmy," Seth said taking a seat at the bar.

"Seth, Miss Rebecca. Becky, the Lair's chief pain in the ass." Finn introduced the pair to each other.

Seth rolled his eyes at Finn before smiling at Becky "Pleased to finally meet you Miss Rebecca" he said politely "Seth Rollins" he introduced himself properly

Becky's brain actually stuttered for a second. This man was too damn gorgeous for her own well being, after a moment she internally shook her thoughts back into place and reminded herself she was NOT looking for a new Sub, especially not a buff, tanned millionaire one.

"Be a good Kitten." Violet leaned in and kissed Seth softly "If you can find someone to play with tonight has fun! If not you are welcome to come home with us as always, my darling"

"Yes, Miss Violet. I'm taking the day off tomorrow. Moxie and Ro changed the security codes on the facility and all my work-related computer systems for 24 hours. They locked me out"

"I told them to, Mo Chroi" Finn tells him. "You need a day for yourself. Go to the gym, tend to your plants but you are not allowed near your headquarters until Wednesday understand?"

Seth bowed gracefully "Yes, My Liege"

Finn and Violet swept off to their personal VIP Booth, while Seth settled into his normal spot at the bar to chat with Ember as Becky looked on, laughing at something the tiny African American woman was telling him.

"What do you think my Queen?" Finn asks his wife

"I think they might be exactly what the other needs. Becky already thinks he's cute, I can tell" Violet replied

Are you okay?" Ember asked Seth seriously after joking around for a few more minutes. "You hardly take on solo missions anymore."

"Favor to one of Mom's country club buddies. Her friend's daughter got snatched while the girl was on a trip with her Dad. Tracked her over there, got her back relatively unharmed" Seth explained succinctly. One of Ember's Doms worked for Seth and had known him for most of his life, Sso she knew more about what he actually did for a living then most of his friends at the club.

"I'm glad. Now imma ask again cause you just tried to derail me. Are YOU okay?" Ember said grabbing the bigger man's shoulders gently and making him look her in the eye.

Becky watched as Seth ducked his head and then rolled his eyes at his friend "I'm better. Majesties worked me over a bit."

"Emmy." A deep midwestern accented voice said as Randy Orton walked back up to the bar. "Time to go. Baron's flight gets here in 2 hours"

"Yes Sir" Ember said lightly, accepting her boyfriend's hand and getting down off the barstool.

"Won't be in till Wednesday Viper, Royal decree." Seth told the older man

"Good. Tired of having to call the Doc in because your stubborn ass don't know when to go the fuck home. See you then, Boss" Randy replied before he and Ember headed out of the Lair, leaving Becky and Seth staring at each other

"Would you like a drink?" Becky asks him "Finn tells me this fancy-ass coffee set up is your doing?"

"I don't really drink, spent too many years trying to find death at the bottom of a whiskey bottle." Seth tells her bluntly "So yeah the fancy-ass coffee set up is for me."

"I'm assuming Finn told you to behave with me? He warned me about you while you were gone" Becky said easily despite being internally taken aback by the lighting fast change in attitude

She watched as Seth visibly took a deep breath "I apologize, Miss Rebecca, Miss Becky?" He said questioningly continuing when the redhead nodded "I apologize for my behavior Miss Becky, I wasn't prepared for Ember to ask about my last job and it was a…..rough one."

"Your forgiven, míshásamh," She said with a small smile that got bigger when Seth tilted his head to the side like a curious puppy "Six years being Finn's friend and sometimes boyfriend has taught me quite a bit of Irish but I don't know that word"

"Maybe, if you're a good boy, I'll tell you," Becky said with a smirk "Now if you want something fancier then a regular coffee, you're gonna have to come back here and make it yourself"

Seth grinned and nimbly leaped over the bar landing to the left of her, letting out a low cackle when she didn't budge "I can do that"

#Shai Writes #The Demon's Lair #Seth Rollins #Becky Lynch #Finn Balor #Rollynch #Ballins #Becky Lynch/Seth Rollins #Seth Rollins/Finn Balor #Seth Rollins/Finn Balor/OFC

[blackhakumen]

Fanfic #15: Altas Party (Part 1): Rough Start

On a clear, crystal night, the sky-like City known as Atlas, are having a celebration, and oddly enough, Ruby and the gang are all invited. The party took place at a royal like ball room, which has a bunch of tables, a local bar stand, an actual mini orchestra band, and a bunch of other stuff that a normal person wouldn't really expect an actual party to have. It's basically similar to their prom in Beacon, except a million times more flashy and fancier.

It already been a hour and a few minutes there and almost everyone was already having a good enough time. Weiss was busy catching up with her older sister, Winter, who had also attended the party, Yang was telling hilarious stories involving her and Ruby while Blake amusedly sit back and listen, Ren, Nora, and Jaune were doing some like a group dance, which involves a lot of spinning and twirling (if anyone asked, it was Nora's idea) Qrow, the only one in the group who doesn't seem to enjoy the party as much, is too busy dealing with his own problems by drinking the night away, and finally, both Oscar and Maria was sitting at a table while having a conversation about parties and whatnot.

Maria: So you're telling me that this is your first time going to these kinds of parties, sonny?

Oscar: (Chuckles Lightly) More or less. The closest thing to a party I've ever been to was a get together with My Aunt, Uncles, and Cousins. But other than that, I've never been to any fancy parties like this.... I'm actually starting to like it so far, you know?

Maria: (Smiles Softly) Well, I'm glad you kids are having a good time here. I, for one, not really a fan of these kinds of fancy parties.

Oscar: Really? How come?

Maria: It's just too flashy for my taste. Plus the rich people here aren't making it any better. Acting all snobby or whatnot....

Oscar: I don't know.....other than Weiss' brother, I don't think the people here are too bad....at least, I don't think they are...

Maria: (Laughs Proudly) You don't know how lucky you kids have it here! Well, back in my day-

Ruby: (Smiles Brightly while holding a tray of food) Guess who's back?!~

Oscar: (Somewhat Surprised) Ruby, you came back that quickly?

Ruby: Yep! The line wasn't really as long as I'd thought it'll be. Soooooo, what you guys was talking about?

Maria: You're just in time to hear another story about my youth.

Ruby: Oh my gosh, really?~ What's it about this time? It is the time you have to fight a bunch of monsters all by yourself?

Maria: Nah. It's nothing action related. (Ruby: Awwww (in disappointment) It's about the time when I-

(In the distance) Qrow: THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE ALL OUT?! 'Hic'

The trio suddenly noticed Qrow's shouting in the distance. Much to their displeasure.

Ruby: (Groans) Uncle Qrow....

Maria: Great....what's your knuckle head of an uncle is up to now?

Oscar: Well, judging by his voice, I think this might have something to do with one of the beverages being empty.

Ruby: (Sigh) And here I thought we went past this.... I'll be right back. I have a drunken uncle to talk to...

As Ruby left the table, she immediately texted Yang to help deal with their uncle's drunken behavior.

Speaking of Qrow....

Bartender: I'm sorry sir, but like I told you before, we are currently all out of the acholic beverages.

Qrow: (Grunts) Are you 'hic' frickin' serious?! How come you people ran out of alcohol that quickly?!

(In a distance) Ruby: UNCLE QROW!!!

After hearing one of his niece called out his name, the drunken reaper turned around and see both Ruby and Yang in the distance, walking towards his way. Looking rather frustrated at Qrow in question.

Yang: What the hell are you doing?!

Qrow: ('Sigh') Look, girls I can explain-

Ruby: (Upset while crossing her arms) Explain what, Uncle Qrow? That your literally causing a scene? Or maybe because your trying to drink too much after we specifically told you not to!

Qrow: Well it's not like I want to be here in the first place!

Yang: Then why did you even come with us in the first place?

Qrow: Hey! Someone has to watch over you kids for the evening!

Ruby: We can take care of ourselves thank you very much! And besides, we have Ms. Maria watching out for us!

Qrow: (Scoffs) Please. Do you really think some old lady could be able to take care of all you?

Yang: Least she does it a million times better than you can....

Qrow: I heard that!!

Meanwhile

Maria: (Groans) I could hear them all fussing their ears off all the way from here. And I'm supposed to be the old one here!

It wasn't until the old lady notice Oscar getting up from the table.

Maria: And where do you think you're going, young man?

Oscar: I'm going try to calm Qrow down. I know that might be risky, but someone gotta do it, right?

Maria: (Sighing while watching the farm boy walking away) I might as well follow the poor child. Who knows what kind of trouble those kids will get in...

Meanwhile

Qrow: If you think of a damn second that old lady is better at watching you kids more than your uncle, than you got another than-

Oscar: (In the distance) Guys!

Ruby: (A bit surprised) Oscar? What's wrong? What are you doing here?

Oscar: I thought you guys were having trouble with your uncle. So I thought I could help you guys out.

Ruby: That's really sweet of you, Oscar. But I don't think it's best for you to get involved-

Qrow: What you want now?

Oscar: (Surprised by Qrow talking to him...in a dark tone nonetheless) O-oh I umm-

Qrow: Let me guess. Ozpin told you to come by and stop our little fight for us?

Oscar: W-what no...I mean I was going to help out but Ozpin wasn't even-

Qrow: Well new flash, kid, we don't need your fucking help! In fact, I don't think anyone of us here even want you here in the first place!!

Yang: Watch it, Qrow!

Qrow: What? I'm just speaking the truth here! I'm mean it's not like any of you kids even want him to join the team in the first place!

Ruby: (Livid) That's not true and you know it, Uncle Qrow!!

Qrow: Oh please! I've seen the way you treat him. It doesn't take a damn scientist to figured that out! That farm boy's basically a lost cause at this point.

Oscar could believe what he just heard. He knows that the old Hunter was upset at him (and mostly Ozpin) for what happened outside of the train, but to go as far as to call him a "Lost Cause" .... let's just it didn't set well for the poor farm boy. And not in a sad and guilty like way, no, it's more of a irritated way.

For too long he has been blamed for something he barely even do. Being punched in the face, pinned in a wall, and being practically ignored by the rest of the group....all of this made a pretty bad impact on the boy and he already had enough of it. So while balding his fist down, Oscar begins walking slowly to drunken reaper.

Qrow: (Irritated) What do you want now, kid?! You already starting to pissed me off here! So why don't you just GET LOST-

Before Qrow was about to finish his sentence, Oscar immediately punched him directly at his stomach. This caught everyone by surprise, especially for both Ruby and Yang.

Ruby: (Surprised) O-Oscar?!!

Yang: (Surprised) What do you think you're doing?!!

While getting punched, Qrow saw the look in the farm boy's eyes. No longer was he this shy, timid child he saw back at the bar in Mistral, he saw something... different. What he saw, was hurt and complete anger.

Before he could say or think anything, Oscar pulls his collar directly to his face and begins to punch Qrow in the face so hard that he flew over a near by table.

Once that's over with, Oscar begins taking some deep breaths before calming down and eventually... walking away from the scene entirely.

Ruby: O-Oscar wait!!

Yang: (Her Lilac Eyes instantly turns red) Oscar, get your butt back here, right now!!!!

Blake: (Came to find Ruby and Yang) Yang?

Ren: (Him and the rest of the JNR trio came here as well to follow the sisters) We heard yelling. Did something happened?

Ruby: It's Oscar...he punched Qrow in the stomach and face.

BJNR: WHAT?!

Ruby: (Groans in Worry while texting Weiss to come over) Apparently Qrow said something to Oscar while trying to calm him down and before any of us have a chance to say anything, Oscar knocked him out....(then turns to Maria) Ummm-

Maria: Ah, don't worry. I'll watch over Mr. Drunk man for ya. You just go over there and stop that boy from leaving.

Ruby: Thank you.

Nora: I can't believe this....OSCAR!! DON'T YOU DARE WALK AWAY FROM US, YOUNG MAN!!!! YOU HAVE A LOT OF EXPLAINING TO DO!!!!

Jaune: Oscar Please just come back and talk to us!!

At this point, Oscar was practically too frustrated to even listen to what the others say. Or even care if all of them are following him as we speak. All he's doing now is just keep on walking to the door out of here and probably call it a night.

@miraculouscorazone

@littlemisssquiggles

@miki-13

@che1sea-xiao-long

@oscarpineprotectionsquad

@tikitm

#rwby #oscar pine #ruby rose #maria calavera #yang xiao long #qrow branwen #jaune arc #lie ren #nora valkyrie #weiss schnee #chapter 1 #atlas party #word of advice: never tick off a farm boy #chances are you'll get knocked out faster than blowing wind #cursing warning #oscar is pissed #and rightfully so #honestly wouldn't mind seeing oscar punching qrow in the face for pay back #i started writing this since last week #to be continued #cue jojo meme at the end #have to edited it again to make it perfect. sorry about that #feel free to make a picture of qrow getting punched in the face by oscar if you want

[plounce]

anyway while i was browsing thru blogs i got reminded how much i like the t*ylor sw*ft song “forever and always” since my mom bought the album for us when i was like 13? 14? anyway i listened to that and since i am always ready to just sort of talk about my mother i will talk about my mother now. “ive been dying to talk about my mother!”

anyway i was listening to that particular tsw*ft song (a lyrics video on youtube because she will get NO clicks from me) and thinking about how my mom bought that album for us because she saw it was The Hot Cool Teen Girl Thing and that is yet another thing my mother presented to us in an attempt to help us fit in with the feminine majority that she has also always felt alienated from! the makeup she bought us for christmas and presented to us, but never helped us learn how to use it because she had no idea how to use it. some nail polish and then later eye shadow palettes. limp efforts because we didn’t really ask for it, beg for it, seek it out, but neither did we reject it. we just wavered in this strange place beneath culturally relevant femininity. i never saw my mother really be feminine. she was a woman, dressed like a woman, wasn’t really tomboyish or masc in any way, she was just... plain. she didn’t make a special effort to be especially feminine. her face is bare and her hair is kind of scraggly and thin and untreated and for most of my youth she wore t shirts and jeans - only in the last six years or so has she worn shirts that are a little fancier, bought things one step above. only one step! nothing really out of pattern. just one step up.

i saw my childhood best friends’ mothers dye their hair, i still see my friends’ mother dye their hair back to full luster. and it has taken me a long time to realize that that’s the normal, that’s the general normal expectation, because MY normal was my mother just sort of Existing. and it made my teenage years really hard!! i had no idea of or access to the knowledge of all the things i was SUPPOSED TO DO to be a FULLY CULURALLY GIRL! i fumbled my way through everything. my mother never really helped me or told me anything: she never told me to start shaving, but i started shaving my legs because i saw that the girls in my 6th grade pe class were, and i have fairly light body hair (outside of the concentrated areas like the brows/pits/etc) but i observed that oh, they were making their legs smooth, this is what i was supposed to do to not be A Child anymore. so i used my sister’s razors and shaved my legs, and then one day my mother and sister saw my legs propped up in the car and saw that i had shaved them and were disappointed. “you shaved your legs? you didn’t need to.” does leg hair start coming in thicker once you’ve hit puberty full force? i don’t know! i would have to look it up. but i shaved my legs, and now the insides of my shins is long dark hair. the outsides get scrubbed and rubbed by my jeans and socks, and my thighs are light. i decided not to three years ago this spring, and it’s been good, i’m glad i stopped shaving. that’s one thing my mother does, i think, but i just assumed Was, because it was invisible to me. so much of femininity and womanhood has been invisible to me, either because my mother didn’t do it or if she did she did it invisibly.

those little attempts to help us. i wonder if she feels alienated from femininity, or if she isn’t as clued in on gender theory. i wonder about my mother’s relationship with womanhood. high school was so strange for me, experimenting very tentatively with the beauty rituals while having NO CLUE HOW TO DO THEM! my freshman homecoming my mom bought a prepackaged box of makeup stuff and we both sat down and watched the video on what the fuck we were supposed to do with it all, and we both didn’t really Get It. she was a very good face-painter, for carnivals, when i was a kid, she’d volunteer. i’ve made more peace with mine in my adulthood, i’ve struck out the parts of the rituals i don’t care for and consciously performed the rituals i will do a couple times. there are some i am terrified of not doing - my hair MUST be long enough to frame my face, i have to pluck some of my facial hairs - but i’ve both grown bold enough and beaten down enough to go out sometimes with my ugly bare acne’d face. i still can’t fathom the rituals other girls put so much time and energy into as their normal. i have depression and i have my upbringing, or my lack of, besides little attempts to help us have access that never quite worked.

on another note, i got invited to drink a little bit when my family was together in nevada last weekend at my uncle dave’s, because they all like wine. my mother doesn’t drink. my father is a wine guy and likes wines from the willammette valley and has a glass of wine with dinner. my mother doesn’t like losing control, doesn’t like not having control of herself. i can relate: i’ve decided i can only drink when i am with people i am utmost, utmost comfortable with, and anyone who isn’t there with my comfort zone get one drink out of me before i realize i can’t stand acting like the person i am constantly trying to beat into shape, into normality. but i decided to let myself be cajoled into having a drink with family, and uncle dave asked me what drink i like, and i answered that i really only like mike’s hard, or other fruity drinks that are meant to taste of something sweet and not alcoholic. so he made some crystal light and put some vodka in a tumbler and i had a drink, and it didn’t do much to me, because i didn’t want to have much more than one, didn’t want to be anything but the least drunk of the people drinking out on the patio. it tasted fine. the next day they bought me some actual mikes hard at total wine when we did a little shopping but i went to bed early because i had (have!) a cold and it was making me so sleepy and exhausted. i just never drank, also because i think they put them out in the shed and i didn’t want them enough to request them without being asked. honestly that’s how a lot of my life is: i don’t want things enough to actively pursue, i settle back and watch and i make sure that yes, it isn’t out of line if i ask, and being asked raises my interest level anyway. i wonder if that’s the chicken or the egg: if i’ve trained myself to not desire or if i just have a very high threshold for desire.

anyway when we were in costco this afternoon, my mom asked me what i thought of “dave’s hard lemonade” as we’d called it. i said it was ok, i didn’t really taste the vodka except for a couple “oh, THERE’S that slight taste of nail polish remover.” then she told me about how she doesn’t like vodka - reminds her - that’s what her mother (my grandmother) would always drink - with tang. TANG? i said, to add to the repartee, GROSS! apparently she’d leave the half empty glasses all over the house, and vodka just brings my mother back to those glasses, the smell of them.

i have the faint knowledge that what killed my grandmother was old age, but the damage to her liver didn’t help. that’s really it. in all her ramblings of the Stories of her past she never talked about drinking - but that wasn’t the important part of her life. again i bring up the time my grandmother’s memory slipped and wavered and she replaced my mother with my sister in a story, and i and my sister were sitting there, and i told her no, who’s my mother, and she was confused, and eventually i went out to the driveway, to my mother’s car, where she was sitting and reading or maybe working on something, and i cried, and she said it’s okay, it’s alright, i’m used to it. or something like that. she was okay with it. amanda says she is still cut up about her relationship with mamu, but i don’t know if it’s as much as she thinks it is. i think my mother is where i get my dispassion from. amanda knows more than me about all this, but i am more like my mother than my sister is, which would have made child me very frightened and scared, to have that comparison be on me.

ever since sweet aggie made those tweets about “my mother: you! you made me like this! and then you find out about your grandmother: ah. you are mother fucker?” that’s how it is! i am always thinking about this, before and after, but yes! again, i think my mother tried to help us gain access to the normal woman culture because she never had access to it, because mamu was an older foreign woman and SHE was raised by a woman who treated her poorly because she was her stepdaughter. i don’t know my step great grandmother’s name. god, how do i not know that, she is why i am like this!

i wonder if my mother feels bad that she wasn’t able to grant us access, or if she’s ok with us being a little odd. girls who grew up with noses in books and visits to museums and quarries and no model of femininity in our real daily lives. that sounds pretentious but i am distanced from mainstream culture and it’s difficult sometimes, it is a difficult youth to go through. i think there are good points but there are enough insufferable nerds, i don’t need to go over them. i’m glad she demanded we try to answer her teaching leading questions all the time, how she tried to enrich us. i am grateful. there were positive things she did. she didn’t get it perfect, who can, but the flaws in my upbringing loom heavy over me. ok, no, some things are flaws - my untidiness in this house, my probably poor eating habits, my dispassion for friends in the physical private spaces - but while my lack of feminine role model caused my troubles i don’t think it was a flaw. it was difficult in my adolescence but that’s not her fault. she didn’t do anything, she just existed, and that’s not wrong.

#chirps #long post #mothers #irl mothers #alcohol #if u read this... i hope u translated my ramblings as something artistic! god dont we all hope for ourselves to be art! to be profound!

[purplesurveys]

481

What is something you'll never eat again? Why? Mangoes. My grandmother always forced me to eat them when I was a kid and it made me hate fruits forever, but especially mangoes. What is currently happening that is scaring you? I have a new executive position in my org that’ll basically be me handling all external affairs – org partnerships, sponsorships, answering e-mails, etc. – and it’s a far cry from the secretarial position I held last year. I’m terrified as this is the biggest leap from my comfort zone that I’ve ever done. What would be your personal hell? If I had to spend time with the noisy fucking child who ruined mine and Gabie’s Toy Story 4 experience in the cinema. Kid was directly a row behind us and would babble every goddamn line she caught from the film and repeat it 60 times after. Also had restless hands and touched my head and hair several times throughout. Guardians didn’t seem to give a shit. I had to spend half the movie leaning forward just to tell her guardians a message, which they never seemed to get. What made the 'weird kid' at your school weird? All the ~weird kids at school seemed to share a personality – hated people, would never say a word, was into anime, can be weirdly violent, can get very aggressive, and had the strangest sense of fashion, e.g. earmuffs in tropical weather, oversized sweaters, chunky sneakers with wings on them. Also always seemed to fail classes. What is a word you personally find offensive? Personally, I don’t think there’s any. What I find offensive are those we already understand generally as being that: the n-word, the f-slur for gay people, etc.

What instantly puts you to sleep? Scrolling through Reddit or watching on YouTube. What song is in a language you don't speak, but you love it anyway? La Vie en Rose. What is something you would like to do if you weren’t judged for doing it? Maybe talking about surveys like it’s a normal thing? I wanna share this aspect of my life with Gabie really bad since I sincerely enjoy it and it’s helped with my mental health, and I’m sure she’ll be understanding too; I guess I just don’t know how to explain it to her without sounding like I talk to and about myself on my spare time. What's a movie you think everyone should watch? Why that one? Your Name. It’s stacked with beautiful imagery, a meaningful plot, and just the most breathtaking score, dialogue, and emotion I’ve seen in film. What was the most unexpected good thing that's ever happened to you? Getting into UP. Competition is tough every year; I just never thought I’d be given the opportunity as well. What is the funniest fact you know? The only thing that comes to mind is that dude from the Civil War who got shot and died immediately after he was just saying  how his group was in the best hiding place and that no one could ever spot them. It’s a little morbid and even rude to find it funny, but still. What is your biggest nightmare? Failing. Not getting the family I want. If you didn't have to sleep, what would you do with the extra time? Take a load more surveys, watch a lot more films, drive around at midnight. What's the kindest way a stranger has treated you? Maybe the time I tripped and sprained my ankle, and everyone just stared until this guy ran up to me, helped me up, and made sure I was okay. What is the biggest design flaw of your body? Probably my boobs. What age are you afraid of turning and why? I’m not afraid of getting older. Where is your happy place? Skywalk. What makes you really angry? Animal abuse, ughhhhhhh. What's the simplest way you can be pleased? With food. What is a crossover you want to see? Paramore and The Japanese House. What is the strangest thing you have ever felt? When I’m in public and am expected to be put together, but the anxiety starts creeping in. Where do you see yourself in 1 hour? I’ll probably be making something up for breakfast. What makes someone immediately unlikable? Political opinions, and if those opinions say anything about what they think about human rights that I wouldn’t appreciate. Who's a villain you sympathize with and why? SHARPAY EVANS. Poor girl just kept getting bullied and ridiculed even though she just wanted the best for the drama club and a solo with Troy. I was pissed when she got into a small university in Albuquerque in HSM3 while the rest got into Stanford, UCLA, Yale, and all the other fancier schools. Sis needed more justice. What is something you regret to NOT have done? Ran for class positions in grade school and high school. I really feel like I would have been able to pull it off; just didn’t have a lot of trust in myself back then. What's the weirdest thing you put in a microwave? Ok so fun fact: we just got a microwave for the first time last week AND I AM STILL SO EXCITED ABOUT IT. I see it all the time in movies and vlogs and I’ve always been so envious shjshsfkjshf anyway since it’s brand-new, I still haven’t gotten the hang of it like what kind of containers I can put in it or how long I’m supposed to heat things up for. I’m really really scared of things exploding so I haven’t put anything other than food that’s meant to be microwaved. What movie changed your life for the better? Two for the Road. What book you think should be directed as a film? The Septimus Heap series. It was my favorite series growing up and I would so haul my 21 year old ass to the cinema if they decide to turn it into a movie. Of all the decades you've lived in, which one have you liked best? 2000s, mostly because I was a kid and had no worries back then. How are you doing today? I’m doing okay. I’m happy to be stuck at home but man am I huungry. What's something your relatives don't know about you? That I have a girlfriend. Some cousins and aunts and uncles know, but that’s a small speck compared to how big my family actually is. What's the worst song to strip to? Anything from One Direction, and I’m speaking as a fan. What's something your parents did, which you have sworn never to do? Make me feel guilty for asking for money. What did you eat a few minutes ago? I haven’t eaten :( Have you ever found a stranger's note somewhere? If so, what did it say? I don’t think so, no. What's the most annoying thing your pet does? He’ll push his water bowl around for no reason and it gets the whole area wet. What's the biggest sum of money you've won? Not a lot lmao; a thousand bucks. I don’t really join contests. Have you ever had Pac-Man fever? Nope.

#survey #surveys

[buckys-forgotten-plum]

I Prefer Bucky, Doll

Prompt: James Buchanan Barnes has been coming to your weekend market table for a while now and finally has something to ask.

Warning: swearing??? I think??

I hope all y’all enjoy this as much as I did writing it while binging all of the marvel movies I could get my hands on... Enjoy!

P.s there will be multiple parts...maybe

~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you again sir! It’s always nice seeing you, come again” you smile brightly as you gently hand over a small bouquet of daisies to an older man who regularly came to the market just to get flowers for his wife.

It was extremely adorable to you, and you awaited him every Sunday to come down and make his order. The man, Ron, always got a small order of daisies with a light blue ribbon to tie it together. Lately though, Ron wasn’t the only man coming around your small floral booth every Sunday. Sargeant James Buchanan Barnes has seemed to become very interested in floral arrangements. Of course you had heard about him, which is why you were so confused as to why he wanted to have thirty minute conversations on which color irises were the prettiest. He was a famous lady’s man and it was amusing to you to see him come here every time he could and try to make conversation.

He wasn’t a very complicated man...

But, through and through you couldn’t deny the burst of joy it brought to you when he showed up during the weekend markets. During the slower hours of the day he would always come, sometimes bringing you a snack, or the daily paper so you could finish his sad attempt at doing the crossword.

Today he had brought both, a special surprise that you took with a small fleck of caution.

“Hello Sargeant,” you greet with a small smile as he happily replaces the spot Ron had been standing in.

“Good morning, y/n. You look nice today, doll” James says, sliding a small bag of baked cashews across your table.

“Thank you, James. As always you look quite nice as well,” you compliment back and take his offering, sitting down on a stool.

James stood patiently as you gently opened the packaging. His smile never leaving as he watched you intently.

“James you look strange just standing there, come sit down! you know the drill, sargeant” you order jokingly and motioned to the stool beside you.

“Doll, you know I prefer Bucky” he sighs and walks around the table to take a seat beside you.

“We all can’t have everything, James,” you smirk and offer a small handful of cashews.

“So, doll, I uh was thinking-“ “that’s new,” James glares at you from your interruption but quickly changes it to an endearing smile, “I was thinking,” he starts once more, “that I’m shippin’ off soon and that maybe-you know-you might let me take you on a date...”

His nervous stumbling made your smile turn into a grin and you looked up at him happily, “you’re actually asking me on a date?”

James had always shown interest in you, and had asked you out for a drink or a dance multiple times, but he had never done it in as serious a manner as this. It surprised you slightly and threw you off a little bit. Throughout his various attempts at getting you to join him for a dance, you would always decline with a shake of your head and bright laugh that always made James smile and made up for the fact he had gotten rejected once again.

“What exactly would we do on this date? Get a drink and go dancing?” You ask jokingly, lightly nudging his arm.

“I was actually thinking about a proper dinner, I know you love JJ’s Diner...or we go somewhere fancier, whatever you want. But I do know for a fact that you love dancing, y/n. So there’s no way I’m gonna miss that opportunity” James smiles and turns to you, gently placing his hand on your thigh.

You thought for a moment...

James Barnes was known to hop from girl to girl just like a frog would Lilly pads. Almost every time you saw him outside of the market, he had a beautiful dame wrapped around his arm. But you had to admit, being around the handsome sargeant was fun, and you did enjoy JJ’s diner....and dancing. Plus, you did want to spend more time with James before he shipped. You were gonna miss him, believe it or not.

“Okay, sargeant. I’d love to go to dinner with you,” you mumble with a small smile, ducking your head to hide the light tinge covering your cheeks.

James let out a breathy laugh and stood up, “really? Wow, doll I promise I’ll treat you like a queen, I’ll pick you up at six, alright?”

“Oh tonight? Yes um, I’ll be ready at six?” You answer, taken off guard by his excited rambles.

“I’ll see you tonight, y/n,” he smiles widely and gives you a chaste peck on your cheek before striding off.

You stay seated, struck with complete shock and excitement, “Bucky Barnes, you are one strange man,” you mumble out and start back on your work.

—-

After working your hours at the market and getting back home, you had decided to start getting ready for your date with sargeant Barnes. You knew yourself pretty well and that meant, during your process of getting “dolled up” you were gonna fall into heap on your bed for a good 20 minutes about three separate times before finishing your task.

As you slid around your apartment in starch white socks, your record player quietly played your favourite songs. James was right when he said you loved to dance. You would do it at the market all the time whenever bands came to play for everyone, and in your own home all day as you did chores or cooked meals. It sent a wonderfully happy feeling through you every time you spun around to the light chords being played. But, you had to embarrassingly admit something... you had never danced with a man. Which was ridiculous to think, but it was something that had just never come to fruition throughout all the times you had gone out with friends. Of course you had been asked, but your nervous and shy nature always kept you from saying yes.

It was a quarter to six before you were completely ready and you decided to spend it outside, sitting on a bench infront of your apartment building and enjoying the nice weather. It didn’t take long before you spaced off into your own train of thought, forgetting about the minutes ticking by and failing to notice the handsome sargeant that had quietly taken a seat beside you.

“Evenin’ doll-“ “holy shit!” You jump, startled at the sudden interruption of your thoughts.

A hand goes over your heart and you take in a sharp breath while looking at the man with wide eyes, “Hello, James,”

You take a moment to look over him, slight confusion stitching it’s way across your face as you notice his uniform. Soldiers never made a big deal about going to war, it wasn’t really something to show off or celebrate. And even though this was a date, it wasn’t formal enough to dress like that...

“James why are you...” you mumble quietly and lightly trace your fingers over the neat stitching of the forest green coat.

“I uh... well, tonight is my last night, y/n” he admits, a hand going to the back of his next to scratch nervously.

“You’re shipping out tomorrow?” You ask incredulously.

“I was gonna tell ya sooner, but I wanted to make tonight a good one for ya,” James shrugs, lightly putting a hand on yours.

“Shouldn’t you be with your family right now?” So many emotions were flowing through you that it was hard to sit still, so you stood up and began to pace the length of the dark blue bench.

“Doll, I spent the day with em’ I couldn’t pass up the chance to see you one last time,” He argues and stands up as well, blocking your path.

“James, really I think you should-“ “I’m spending my night with you y/n. Nothin’ you can do about it,” The soldier says as he places his hands on your hips in a calming manner.

“Bucky-“ “oh boy does that sound nice comin from you” he grins cheekily and takes your hand, beginning to drag your less than willing body in the direction of JJ’s Diner.

“You have a problem with interrupting people,” you joke and fall instep beside him.

“You just talk a lot, darlin” he laughs, looking down at you with bright eyes.

You and James begin to walk down the street, talking lightly amongst yourselves about anything and everything. Your bad mood had changed drastically and you began to have quite the time joking about with the attractive soldier at your side. The pair of you had almost made it to JJ’s when you heard something from the alley right next to your destination. It made you stop in your tracks as well as Bucky. He gave you a confused look and you pointed down the alley where the noise was echoing from. “I heard something, Buck. I think someone’s hurt,” your eyebrows furrow in curiousity as your feet subconsciously lead both of you closer.

Carefully looking around the corner to see a stranger violently beating up...

“Stevie?” You mumble out quietly.

Bucky steps forward, going over to the attacker and giving him a swift punch to the head. You had to admit, the sight made you blush a bit at his heroics.

“Do you like getting beat up Rogers?” He asked jokingly, giving a hand to the short man who was in a heap on the ground.

You stepped out from your hiding place and smiled brightly at the blonde man you had been friends with for years, “hiya stevie,”

“Oh hey, y/n! What’re you two doin together?” Steve asks curiously as he glances between the two of you.

“She finally said yes?” As Steve asked the question, you snapped your attention back up to James for an answer, “You talked about me to Steve?” You ask in slight shock.

Bucky laughs lightly and runs a hand through his dark brown hair, “maybe just a little,”

“Oh lord,” you mumble and shame your head, not believing that the big bad Bucky gossiped about you to Steve.

“Well anyways, are you alright Steve? We kinda got a dinner to get to,” Bucky asked, giving you a kind smile.

“Oh yeah, no problem guys. I’ll be good here,” Steve smiles and gives a quick thumbs up.

“What? We aren’t leaving you,”

“What?” Bucky and Steve asked simultaneously.

“James it’s your last night, Steve is your best friend. He deserves to spend time with you just as much as I do,” you argue and walk up to him, putting a hand on his, quite large, bicep in hopes of it swaying his decision.

“Doll I disagree with that-“ “well I disagree with you. And since I’m the lady, I should get to decide what we do, which means we do the exact same things we planned. But with Stevie!” You smile broadly at your date and take his hand, lightly pulling him towards Steve to take his hand as well.

“Doll, isn’t three a party?” “Parties are fun,” you roll your eyes and tug both of them out of the alley way.

But not before roughly digging your foot into the asshole attackers back.

//Part 2//

#marvel #bucky #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #james barnes #captain america #steve rogers #marvel universe #winter soldier #marvel imagine #barnes #the first avenger #y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #buchanan #james buchanan barnes #peggy carter #imagine #fanfic #part 1 #marvel heros #avengers #hydra #hail hydra #jk not really #red skull #Plum's Masterlist

[tiawritesgood]

Jurassic: The New World, Chapter One

*** This story takes place one month after the events of Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom and contains spoilers ***

Chapter One

This is docket O-20183904 in the case of Owen Grady and Claire Dearing vs. International Genetics Incorporated for the custody of Maisie Lockwood.  

Claire squeezed her fists under the table and forced herself not to run her sweaty palms over her sleek black skirt. The last time I dressed this nice, I was almost eaten by a dinosaur, she thought as she took a second to glance down at her outfit. Their court hearing required something a bit fancier than the casual pants and t-shirts she started wearing after Jurassic World went to hell.

           “I’ll admit, this is an unusual case,” the judge said, bringing Claire out of her daydream. Owen stood tall beside her. She was glad to have him there. Her hand creeped to the right until it met his and held on tight. Claire was still getting used to the idea that she could hold his hand now that they’d decided to give coupledom a third try. Going through another traumatic incident together solidified their rocky relationship. “There is no precedent for the custody of a… well, of a clone. I suppose this is the world we live in now.”

           Owen squeezed Claire’s hand beneath the table. After Lockwood’s death and the incident at his estate, all of his assets were seized. This included the information surrounding Maisie’s existence. As soon as it was out, there was no putting it back in the box. Owen and Claire new they’d have to fight to keep Maisie, they just didn’t think it would be against InGen.

           “Your honor, InGen has proprietary ownership over the science used to create the clone sitting before you. It is imperative that they are given custody of the child,” the leach defending InGen told the judge. If Owen hadn’t been standing between her and the plaintiff, Claire would have jumped across the room to claw out his eyes. How dare he talk about Maisie like she’s some kind of science experiment? She’s a child!

           “We would like to enter into evidence the sequence required to clone a human being which was developed by InGen thirty years ago.”

           The judge accepted the pile of papers with disinterest. “This means nothing to me. I’m a judge, not a geneticist.”

           The lawyer looked smug. “We have brought one of the world’s most respected geneticists along to explain the information in that folder. Dr. Henry Wu is actually responsible for much of the cloning done by InGen.”

           Owen and Claire shared a look. The last thing they expected was for Dr. Wu to testify against them. He was supposed to be hiding out until the dust settled and humans got used to dinosaurs roaming the streets of the United States. A month had passed since the incident at the Lockwood Estate, but the US population had not yet learned how to cohabitate with the de-extinct creatures. Neither Owen nor Claire were sure they ever would.

           Dr. Wu was sworn in and allowed to describe his scientific discoveries. He avoided eye contact with Owen, Claire, and Maisie seated quietly behind them. What was he so worried about? That if he allowed himself to look at the faces of the people he ruined, he might suddenly grow a conscience? Not likely.

           After the testimony, the judge looked slightly less disinterested than before. “Your Honor, Maisie Lockwood is a clone of Mr. Lockwood’s late daughter. We are not here to dispute this fact. However, does that mean she should be subjected to scientific experimentation?”

           “Objection!” the vile lawyer from the other side yelled out. “Conjecture. The defense has no way of knowing what InGen plans to do with Maisie.”

           The judge all but rolled her eyes. “InGen just had a scientist explain to the court how Maisie was created. I think it’s safe to assume we all know what the company plans on doing with the young girl. Overruled.”

           Claire stepped just a bit closer to Owen. Was it possible this was going their way? They’d had to scrape together their non-existent savings to afford a mediocre lawyer. Compared to InGen’s still thriving money pit, they were sure they’d lose before the proceedings began.

           “Your Honor, Maisie deserves to be with people who love her, not with people who are going to treat her like an experiment. Further, the defense would like to enter into evidence documents pertaining to Maisie’s birth. Though Lockwood was an early part in creating InGen, he had already severed ties with the company when Maisie was born. Lockwood used his own facilities on his personal estate to bring Maisie into the world. InGen has no grounds for taking her from the people who have been caring for her for the last month.”

           The judge took the documents and read them over. Claire felt tears pooling in her eyes. Their lawyer was careful not to talk about Maisie the way InGen’s lawyer did, like she was just another one of their experiments and not a living, breathing little girl. It was how Claire had treated the dinosaurs for her first few years at Jurassic World. Her behavior towards those beautiful creatures was what led her to found the Dinosaur Protection Group in the first place. It may have taken her a long time to figure it out, but she finally understood that dinosaurs were animals and they deserved rights, too. Just like Maisie.

           “Does the defense have any witnesses they’d like to call?”

           This was their moment. “Yes, Your Honor. We would like to call Iris to the stand.”

           Iris stood slowly and made her way to the wooden box beside the judge. Once she was sworn in, she was allowed to testify.

           “I raised Maisie,” she explained to the judge. “And I raised Mr. Lockwood’s daughter before that. I know what Maisie is like. She’s a rambunctious little girl who likes to wander and play practical jokes. She simply cannot be placed into a facility to be tested. She needs to be with a family who loves her. I believe Mr. Grady and Ms. Dearing are perfect to care for Maisie. They are familiar with her background and they treat her like the child she is. She will live an incredible life with this couple. I urge you to send her with them.”

           Claire allowed the tears to fall readily. She hadn’t known what Iris might say about them, but her testimony was perfect. Claire remembered the first time she saw Maisie. She’d been lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce. Iris’s description was spot on.

           “Thank you, Iris,” the judge said. Iris returned to her seat and waited primly for the judge to make her final decision. It was a family court, because for all intents and purposes it was a custody hearing. No jury would hear the testimonies. The judge would decide Maisie’s fate.

           Owen wrapped his arm around Claire’s back and pulled her flush against his side. Whatever happened, they’d have each other. That was important for both of them to remember.

           “As I said when we began this hearing, this is a unique case. We are setting the precedent with this decision, and I believe the decision is clear. Maisie Lockwood may be a clone, but she is also a child and she deserves a stable home with people who will care for her as a human, not an experiment. I rule in favor of Mr. Owen Grady and Ms. Claire Dearing. You now have sole custody of Maisie Lockwood. We release her to your care and will be following up to ensure she is properly looked after.”

           The judge said more, but Owen and Claire couldn’t hear it. They were too busy hugging each other and Maisie. They were going to be a family. After everything they went through on the island and at the estate, it was about time they got some good news.

           “I’ve never had a Mom or a Dad before,” Maisie said quietly. “I’m not sure I’ll be any good at being a daughter.”

           Claire wiped a tear from the girl’s eye. “We’ve never had a daughter before,” she told Maisie. “We’ll be learning together.”

           “As a family,” Owen added. He took in the two most important girls in his life and fought back tears of his own. He wasn’t sure how to be a father, but he knew he wanted to love and protect both Claire and Maisie for as long as he lived. Attachments are hard and they get complicated, but for the first time in his life, Owen wanted them. He had been attached to Claire for longer than he cared to admit, and with Maisie added to the mix he felt whole. He only hoped nothing would take that away from him.

           Iris joined them as soon as their group hug finished. She put her hands on Maisie’s shoulders and smiled. “I’m getting older, girl. I would have taken you myself if I thought I could keep up with you.”

           Maisie giggled. “You’ll come to visit, won’t you Iris? Owen is building a cabin in the woods where we’ll live. You can come and make sure I always take my bath!”

           Iris smiled at the girl’s pronunciation of the word ‘bath.’ As hard as she tried, the Queen’s English never stuck. “Of course, I’ll visit. You can’t keep me away.”

           Maisie surprised Iris with a bone-crunching hug. “I love you, Iris.”

           “I love you, too, girl. Now, you’d best be getting on to your new home. First, I have something to discuss with your parents. Would you give us a moment?”

           “Of course, Iris,” Maisie said. She took a seat in the audience, far enough away that she wouldn’t overhear the adult’s conversation.

           “What is it, Iris?” Claire asked. Her stomach bubbled with nerves. Was she going to try and take Maisie from them?

           The woman took a deep breath. “Mr. Lockwood was afraid something of this sort would happen upon his death. He was even more worried that the courts would rule against any money he left to Maisie, so he left part of his fortune to Mr. Mills and the rest to me. He was unsure what Mills might do with the money, but he knew I would spend mine on Maisie.”

           “What are you saying?” Owen asked.

           “I have inherited quite a bit of money. After the reparations, which were limited due to the general sleaziness of those injured or killed in the incident, it still adds up to a large sum. Because of Mr. Mills’s death, all of Lockwood’s money is now mine to do as I wish. I must keep some for myself, though I hate to do so. It will serve me through my retirement. The rest, though, is yours. I encourage you to spend some on a college fund for Maisie. She’s a brilliant girl. Besides that, it is up to you what you do with the money. Just promise me Maisie will have a good life.”

           Claire held tightly to Owen who could no longer hold back his tears. They had no idea how they’d afford a child, but now they wouldn’t have to worry. “We love Maisie and we will be the best parents we know how to be,” Owen promised Iris.

           “Thank you. I will have the lawyer transfer the money to you right away.”

           “Thank you, Iris,” Claire blubbered. “You have no idea what this means to us.”

           “I do, dear. I do. I hope you know what it means to me that Maisie has found a mother and a father who will care for her as if she were their own.”

           “We do.”

           The three hugged and Iris made her exit, stopping to chat with the lawyer first. He promised her that the funds would be available to Claire and Owen the next day. First on the agenda was to take Maisie shopping for new summer clothes. They bought her a few spring outfits, but hotter weather was coming and she would need tank tops and shorts. Claire’s sister already planned on bringing her son, Gray, to play with Maisie as often as possible. Though six years apart in age, both Karen and Claire hoped the two would become close friends. They have a lot in common, including their love for dinosaurs. Claire was glad Gray hadn’t stopped researching the animals even after the Jurassic World incident, and that Maisie hadn’t given up on dinosaurs after what happened at the estate.

           Maisie joined her guardians as soon as Iris left. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

           “Better than okay,” Owen explained. “Your grandfather made sure you’d be taken care of.”

           The young girl’s face fell. “I miss him,” she admitted. “He was the only parent I ever knew, besides Iris of course.”

           “We know, honey,” Claire said, patting Maisie’s hair. “Why don’t we head home, okay? It’s been a long day for all of us.

           Maisie nodded. “Yes, lets. I can’t wait for the cabin to be finished so we have a real home.”

           Claire laughed. “Me, neither. How about it, Owen? How much longer until our real home is finished?”

           “Well, I should be able to hire a couple guys to get things moving faster. Hopefully in the next few months it’ll be ready to move in.”

           “Perfect!” Maisie said. “And I get my own room?”

           “Of course you do,” Owen said. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

           They piled into Owen’s van and drove the thirty minutes to their secluded home in the woods. The cabin sat unfinished with a small trailer beside it for sleeping. The three of them had been sharing the trailer for a month since Owen and Claire were given immediate temporary custody of Maisie after the Lockwood Estate incident. It was only when they arrived at the trailer again after the hearing that it felt real. Though the home was temporary, the family was permanent.

           It was after eight at night when they got home after a fast food dinner. A small group of Compsognathus, tiny dinosaurs that pack an unexpected punch, waited outside the trailer door. Owen kept a locked box of food behind the trailer for this purpose. He tossed a few freeze-dried lizards towards the dense forest to distract the little creatures. While they ate, Maisie patted one on the head.

“Maisie!” Owen called. “Don’t touch them.”

The young girl shrugged. “I would pet a squirrel if it let me. These dinosaurs are harmless.”

Owen and Claire remembered an incident on Sorna many years earlier when a little girl was injured by Compsognathus, but they didn’t want to scare Maisie. It was better that she wasn’t afraid of dinosaurs, even after what they went through on the estate. Now that the dinosaurs are free to roam North America, they knew they’d be seeing more and more of them.

“Come on, Maisie,” Claire said. “It’s time for bed.”

Owen opened the door to the trailer and the three climbed inside. After changing into her pajamas and brushing her teeth, Maisie settled into her bed, which doubled as the kitchen table when flipped open.

           “Goodnight… Mom and Dad,” she said before closing her eyes.

           Claire cried happy tears into Owen’s shoulder. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” she whispered.

           Though relatively early, Claire and Owen were exhausted. It had taken a lot to prepare for what amounted to a couple of hours in court. The work was worth it now that Maisie was home for good.

           “Goodnight,” Owen whispered in Claire’s ear when they climbed into the larger bed at the head of the trailer. “I love you.”

           “I love you, too.”

           They drifted off to sleep quickly and deeply. For the first time in years, Claire didn’t have a single dinosaur fueled nightmare. When she awoke before the sun in desperate need for the bathroom, she felt genuinely relaxed.

           Until she noticed the empty bed where Maisie had been asleep.

           “Maisie?” Claire called out. She opened the trailer door and listened, but everything was quiet. “Maisie? Where are you?”

           No one responded.

           “Owen!” Claire screamed. She shook her sleeping boyfriend until he blinked away the grogginess from his eyes. “Owen, wake up.”

           “I’m up, what’s going on? What time is it?”

           “I don’t know,” Claire cried. “But Maisie’s missing.”

           Owen sat up straight. “What did you say?”

           “Maisie’s missing!” Claire yelled.

           “What?” Owen jumped out of bed and flung open the trailer door. He yelled Maisie’s name just as Claire did, then flipped on the outside light. It had rained during the night leaving mud where dry grass and dirt had been.

           Outside the front door, Owen noticed something strange. He jumped down to get a closer look and sure enough there were footprints in the mud approaching and leaving the trailer.

           “I don’t think Maisie’s missing,” Owen said.

           Claire joined him outside the trailer. “What do you mean? Then where is she?”

           “I don’t know,” he told her. He met her eyes. “But I think she’s been kidnapped.”

#jurassic world #jurassic world fallen kingdom #spoilers #jurassic park #fanfiction #fanfic #owen grady #claire dearing #claire #owen #clowen #ff #maisie #lockwood #jurassic #dinosaurs #mystery #scifi #iris

[atths--twice]

Wedding Countdown 

Chapter Four

Friday, Four Days To Go

Scully becomes stressed about plans for the wedding. Finding the right outfits for everyone, leads to her taking a moment, and reveling in what is truly important.

(Additional picture at the end once again : ) ) 

11d/15

Scully sat back with a sigh and closed her eyes, her feet soaking in the warm bubbling water. The massage chair rolled across her back, the stress of the day beginning to ease, as she took a deep breath.

She, Mulder, and Faith had been out looking for a suit for Mulder for the better part of the late morning and into the afternoon. Mulder had found a black suit he liked rather quickly. The suits he wore during their recent return to the bureau, were not what he wanted for their wedding. He wanted something a bit nicer than an everyday suit. A slate blue tie, nearly the color of her dress, was added to complete the ensemble.

He had looked incredibly handsome and sexy, which Scully made sure to tell him when the in-house tailor walked away. Shaking his head as he went to change, he had glared at her while also looking her up and down, closing the changing room door with more force than necessary.

The shoes she had chosen were relatively simple as well. Either silvery white shoes were in this season, or they had an over abundance of them, because she  had only tried on three pairs before settling on a light silver, closed toe, three inch heel, cutouts on the inside side of the shoe, and rhinestones around the edging. It was a bit fancier than she would normally be drawn to, but, as Mulder had happily pointed out, it was for a wedding.

Faith’s dress however, was proving to be rather difficult. Mulder’s suit and her shoes had been in the same store, but the dresses the store offered for little girls … Scully had hated every one of them. They were either too frilly, too pink, or both. In nearly every store, she saw more of the same. Feeling discouraged, she had told Mulder she was not sure they would ever find what they needed.

“This is why I wanted to just do a day at the courthouse. This … wedding stress, the dinner, all of it, it’s too much, Mulder.” She had complained, as they walked out of the store, Mulder pushing the stroller.

“Hey,” he had said, stopping her outside the doors. “We’ll find something, don’t worry. It’s one small thing that’s come up. Considering all the things that could fall through, Scully, this is a mere blip. Your dress is being tailored, my suit will be ready by Monday, and the church is available. Tampa has everything else handled. We can handle finding a dress for our little girl.” She had sighed and nodded as he pulled her into an embrace. “We got this, Scully.”

She had laughed softly and nodded into his chest. Pulling back, she had stared at him and sighed again. “Thank you. I know I’m being a pest -”

“Scully, you’re not. I’m the one who wanted to do it this way, and you’ve been a great sport through it all. I know that it’s not what you pictured, or feel is too attention focused on you, but, honey..." He pushed her hair back, his thumbs at her temples. “I want the attention on you. I want people to gasp when they see you ... at the beauty I see every day. I want you to be a bride and not a number called and a formality reached quickly. I want to wait for you at the front of the church, my heart pounding and my palms sweaty, knowing we’re about to get married. Married, Scully.” She had laughed and put her head on his chest again. He ran his hand over her head and scratched at her scalp, causing her to shiver.

“I know that, as cheesy as it may be,” she had said, looking at him again, a teasing smile on her face.

“Hey! I resemble that remark,” he had responded with a tone of mock outrage. She had laughed and grinned at him, raising up on her toes for a kiss. He had obliged and when they broke apart, she sighed and stepped back.

“Okay, which store to next?” she had asked, putting her hands on the stroller, ready to press on.

“Um, you know what? How about I take the little miss here, and you go to that nail salon over there and get a manicure and pedicure. Need it for the wedding anyway, right?” He had shrugged with his palms up. “We’ll go look at the fountain, maybe get a treat, I could bring you a cookie, and you relax for a little while. I don’t want you to feel worried about anything. We’ll find what we’re looking for soon. Everything happens for a reason, right?” He smiled, and she stared at him.

“I love you,” she had said, her love for him overwhelming her as it did at times.

“I know. I’m amazing. How could you not?” he had teased with a wink. “Go on, I’ll bring you a cookie in ten minutes.” He stole a kiss as he walked by, pushing the stroller quickly, causing Faith to squeal in happiness.

She had sighed as she watched them leave and then turned to walk over to the nail salon, where she was escorted to the chair in which she was currently relaxing. She hummed, as the rolling massage bar hit a particularly sore spot.

“Stressful day?” She heard and opened her eyes. A young woman stood beside her with the cart of manicure tools by her feet. She smiled at Scully, and she returned it.

“Uh, I’ve made it more stressful in my mind, so I don’t know exactly how to answer that question.” They both laughed and the woman sat down on the small stool behind her. She began to go through her items and then looked up at Scully again.

“Well, stressful or not, I hope your time here will help to relax you a bit,” she said. “My name is Edith.

“Edith?” Scully said in shock.

“I know,” she said, rolling her eyes and taking Scully’s feet from the water. “My family has a weird thing about giving their kids older, not so trendy names. I have a sister called Agnes, so at least mine’s not as bad as all that.” Scully laughed, and Edith smiled at her, nodding her head.

“It’s nice to meet you, Edith, I think your name is beautiful,” Scully told her. Edith raised her eyebrows and nodded her head again.

“Thank you. You’re getting something for free for that: flowers on your toes, extra minutes of a massage, your pick,” she said, beginning to take off Scully’s old polish. Scully laughed and leaned her head back.

“I’ll take the massage, if that’s the case,” Scully said, smiling and closing her eyes.

“Good choice,” Edith said, and they both fell silent.

Edith was quick, but when it came to the massage, she took her time. Scully sighed at the pressure on her muscles she was not aware were taut, until Edith began to rub them. She hummed, keeping her eyes closed, letting the silly stress of finding a dress for Faith leave her mind.

“Hey, Scully.” She heard Mulder say quietly. Opening her eyes, she looked up to find him holding Faith, as he stood next to her, a bakery bag in his hands. “Got you a specialty cookie - chili chocolate.” He wiggled his eyebrows and handed it to her.

“Mama!” Faith suddenly yelled, and reached for Scully, a big smile on her face. Scully’s breath caught in her throat and she heard Mulder gasp. It was the first time Faith said it knowing who it was she talking about. Scully reached for her and held her close, crying softly into her hair.

“Oh, my girl. My sweet girl,” she said through her tears. Looking up at Mulder, she saw he had tears in his eyes as well. “Oh, Mulder.” He bent down and kissed her head and then Faith’s, laughing softly, as he stroked her small back.

“Little one, you sure do know what you’re doing,” he said quietly, looking up at Scully, his hand on Faith’s back.

Faith raised up from Scully’s chest and looked up at her, smiling her big goofy grin that was so much like Mulder’s. “Mama,” she said again, and Scully cried with a happy smile.

“Yes, I am your Mama,” she said, kissing her cheeks and her nose, causing her to laugh. “Oh, Faith, you don’t know what this means to me, but one day you will. My sweet girl, I love you so much. Your mama loves you so much.” She kissed her again and held her close, closing her eyes as she locked this memory away. The stress of the day disappearing altogether as she heard herself being called Mama for the very first time.

“Okay,” she said, pulling Faith up and smiling at her. “You wonderful little girl, you and Daddy go look at the fountain. And then we’ll go look for a dress, okay? Mama will meet you soon. Oh, my love, I am so thankful for you.” She kissed her again and then Mulder took her back, kissing Scully’s cheek as he did.

“Scully,” he whispered, so many questions in two syllables, and she nodded. Her eyes were still wet, but her smile was radiant.

“I’m great, Mulder. No, I’m so much more than great,” she said, and he smiled with a nod.

“Okay,” he said, standing up to his full height. “You stay and revel in this moment. We’re going to look at the fountain and wait for you. We’ll work on dada as we do. Right, Squatch? That’s me, your Dada. We’ll let Mama enjoy this and we’ll see her in a little bit. Say bye-bye.” Faith waved with a smile and Mulder walked away, nodding at Scully with a knowing smile. She leaned her head back, closing her eyes as she let her tears fall again, laughing and crying simultaneously.

“Here." A voice said quietly beside her. She opened her eyes and saw Edith holding a box of tissues, tears in her own eyes. Scully took the box and wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Laughing as tears fell unbidden again, she wiped them and shook her head.

“It’s on the house, all of it. That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Edith said, taking a tissue from the box and dabbing at her own eyes. Scully laughed and knew she would not accept that offer, but she nodded at Edith.

Forty five minutes later, after not paying no matter how hard she tried, instead leaving a very large tip, Scully left the nail salon. A French manicure and small cherry blossoms on her big toes, she walked out, unable to stop smiling. Her phone beeped, and she took it from her pocket.

Come down to Little Tots. The name is ridiculous, but that’s where we are right now. It’s about five stores down on the right.

She smiled and put her phone back in her pocket, walking faster, wanting to see her little girl. She wanted to hold her again, kiss her sweet chubby cheeks and breathe in her scent.

Pushing the door open to the ridiculously named store, she looked around. Seeing Mulder’s back from across the store, she went to join him. As she got closer, he turned around and Scully gasped.

He was holding Faith in his arms, and she was wearing a beautiful dress. It had wide cream colored straps that carried on to the small chest area, a full skirt that was almost the exact blue of Scully’s own dress, with a sheer tulle over it and pearls scattered throughout. Mulder had added a plain cream colored headband with a small bow on the side, and cream colored ballet flats. The whole effect was perfect and exactly what she had not known she wanted until she saw it. He met her eyes and smiled, looking at Faith and then back at her, raising his eyebrows in question.

“That’s it,” she said, stepping closer and touching the dress, smiling at him with tears in her eyes. “That’s the dress.”

__________________________________________________

Oh, Scully needed this, needed to be called Mama by one of her children. ❤️ And as promised, here’s a picture of the outfit Faith will be wearing... : ) 

Hope you are all enjoying this happy story. 

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #Family Life: The Story Beyond the Series #Wedding Countdown #Finding just the right outfit #Relax and recharge #Massage and Pedicure #Happy #Family #Love

[meganlpie]

I Hate You! Or Do I?

Anonymous asked: Hi Meg! I was hoping you could write a Dean College AU based on the movie 10 Things I Hate About You?? (fem!reader please)

Here you go, lovely! I do not own ANY Supernatural characters. They belong to the creators of the show. 

Warnings: Slight Angst, Fluff. It’s super long too! College AU

Pairings: Dean Winchester x fem!reader, Sam Winchester x Jess, Castiel, Meg

“What’s in it for me?” Dean asked his brother and best friend, not looking up from the book. Sam and Castiel had been trying for days to convince Dean to ask you out. “The joy of knowing you helped your best friend?” Dean looked up at Sam with an arched brow. “Come on, Dean. One date so that Cas can ask out her sister. He really likes Meg but she won’t date anyone as long as her sister’s single.”

               "What’s wrong with her? The sister I mean.“ Dean had no interest in dating you. He’d seen you around, but you’d always seemed so aloof. So…cold. "She’s, well, she’s got a bit of a temper and she hates guys that sleep around.” Dean let out a laugh, “So you come to the school’s playboy?” Dean knew his reputation very well, although it was only about half true. He had gotten around when he was a freshman, but his party days were pretty much over.

               "Dean, please?“ Castiel asked, giving Dean the puppy eyes. Dean glared at his best friend before looking to Sam and seeing him doing the same. He groaned and agreed. "Fine, but you owe me. Big time. I’ll tell you what I want after I talk to the chick. I gotta see what I have to work with.” With that, Dean got up and left the library. So much for studying.

               The elder Winchester made his way to the school courtyard. He’d seen you there most often. Bingo. You were sitting by yourself at a table off to the side. You were reading and jotting notes, as you often were. Letting himself on more small groan, Dean approached your table. “Hey there, sweetheart,” he greeted with a charming smile. You barely glanced up. “No, thank you.” Dean frowned. “What?”

               You set your pen down and faced him. “No, thank you. I’m not looking for you, Mr. Right. I don’t have a band-aid for your scraped knee nor do I have a map for you getting lost in my eyes.” Dean blinked in surprise. You had just thrown some of his cheesiest pick-up lines back at him and he hadn’t even talked to you yet. “I’ve heard all your pick-ups, Winchester. You’ve used them on many women at this school. I figured when your brother and his friend started hanging out with my sister, it wouldn’t be long before you finally realized I existed. Well, let me save you some time. I’m not interested.” You slammed your book closed and got up from the table leaving a speechless Dean behind.

               Dean watched you go. This was going to be harder than he thought. Sam and Castiel definitely owed him big time. However, Dean wasn’t one to back down from a challenge either. A small grin appeared on his face. Challenge accepted.

               For the next several weeks, Dean tried his best to get your attention, only to irritate you further. “This isn’t working, Sam. Forget it.” Sam arched a brow at his brother. “The great Dean Winchester giving up on a conquest? It can’t be that bad.” Dean gave his brother a deadpan look. “Yes, it can. Y/N Macleod cannot be conquered. She’s a frickin’ puzzle, man.” Sam smiled. “You actually like her.”

               Dean scoffed. “Get real, Sammy. I’m doing Cas a favor.” Sam shook his head. “A favor I’m paying for. Which reminds me, you still haven’t told me what you want.” Dean shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet. Believe me, I will let you know.” Sam sighed but then glanced across the courtyard. “Look alive. Here comes your girlfriend now.”

               Dean looked up and saw you approaching the building. “Wish me luck.” He got up and walked over to you, hands in his pockets. “You never give up, do you?” you asked him, finally giving him the eye contact he’d been trying to get all along. “Nope. Come on. What’s one date?” You rolled your eyes. “With you? The difference between delightfully ignorant bliss and a broken heart.”

               Dean walked next to you inside in silence for a moment. “Look, I know what people say about me. I’m not gonna deny the rumors, at least not all of them. But I will tell you that I’m not that guy anymore. Give me a chance? Please?” You stopped walking with a deep sigh. “Dean, all guys say that.” Dean shrugged slightly. “I know.” You must have seen something in his expression because you suddenly gave him a soft nod. “Alright. One chance. Pick me up at 7.” Dean beamed and quickly agreed before handing you his phone to put your number in. After that, you turned and walked to your first class and Dean turned back to Sam, giving him a thumbs up.

               Dean picked you up at 7 on the dot. “I really hope you’re hungry,” he said as he lead you out to his car. You gave a low whistle. “She’s a beauty. ‘67?” Once again, you’d surprised the man. “Uh, yeah. You know cars?” You moved your head from side-to-side in a “kind of” motion. “I know a little. My dad insisted that we have at least the basic knowledge of cars before he would by us our first.” Dean opened the door for you before running around to the driver’s side.

               Dean drove you to this cute little diner. Not what you expected from the guy. “Is this alright?” You smiled. “Yeah. It’s nice.” Dean grinned and got out of the car. You barely had your hand on the door handle before it opened. Dean offered you an arm. “My lady?” You could fight your giggle as you took it and let him lead you into the diner.

               "Dean! I didn’t expect to see you here tonight!“a friendly looking blonde greeted. You instantly felt small next to her. She was gorgeous and probably one of Dean’s old flings. Dean smiled at her. "Hey, Jess.” Jess motioned to a booth and came around the counter with menus. “Hi. I’m Jess,” she said to you, extending her hand. Slowly, you took it and shook it. “Y/N.”

               Jess talked for a couple minutes before taking your drink order and going back behind the counter. “Old girlfriend?” you asked Dean as soon as she was out of earshot. Dean’s eyes widened and you could really see the green in them. “No. Jess is Sam’s girlfriend. I think he’s gonna marry her one day.” You felt yourself flush at your jump to the wrong conclusion.“Look, Y/N I meant it when I said I’ve changed.”

               For the rest of the time at the table, the two of you actually talked, getting to know one another. Dean wasn’t as bad as you originally thought. True, he was a major flirt, but he was also genuinely sweet and charming. He was really intelligent too, although he didn’t seem to think so. He was going to school to be a mechanic and help in his dad’s garage. That was how he’d ended up with the Impala in the parking lot. “I fixed her up myself and when I was done, Dad gave her to me as a gift.” You smiled. Dean also realized that his first impressions of you had been wrong too.

               You weren’t cold at all. You kept your guard up because you’d been hurt before. You’d had a boyfriend who treated you poorly. That was why you didn’t really trust Dean. You were also dedicated to your studies, but you were a business major. Being the older daughter, your father wanted you to take over his business. You had a great sense of humor.

               Jess came back to the table. “Here, Dean. Your favorite.” She slide a piece of pie in front of both of you. “Thanks, Jess. You should just go ahead and bring me a second piece to take home.” Jess giggled and nodded. “Before I dig in, I have to hit the bathroom. I’ll be back in a minute.” Dean slid out of the booth and Jess slid in.

               "He likes you.“ Your brows furrowed and she sighed happily. "Dean always comes in here alone. Even when he was dating a new girl every week, he’d come here alone or with Sam and Cas. He’d enjoy his pie and then leave. He always takes his dates to the fancier places because this place is his sanctuary. His little getaway. Him bringing you here tells me that he really likes you.” Jess got up, leaving you to your thoughts.

               Dean came back a minute later and you were still staring off into space. “Everything okay?” You came back to reality and smiled. “Yeah. Everything’s great.” Dean nodded and dug into his pie with vigor. You’d never seen a man enjoy pie so much. His cheeks were full when he looked up at you. “What?” You giggled  at the crumbs of pie crust and filling all over his face. “You’re a mess, Dean Winchester.” He hummed in agreement before shoveling another bite into his mouth.

               Your date ended on a high note. Dean walked you back to your dorm, hand-in-hand. “I actually had a really good time tonight, Dean. Thank you.” Dean chuckled and pouted playfully. “Did you doubt me?” You joined in his laughter. “In all seriousness, I did too. Could we do this again?” You bit your lip and nodded. “I’d like that.” You reached the door of your dorm room and Dean leaned in and kissed your cheek. “See you tomorrow?” You nodded and entered your room.

*time skip*

               You and Dean went on several dates over the next couple of months and Dean realized that he was actually falling for you. You weren’t like all the other girls he’d been with before. Yes, you were stunning like they were, but your beauty wasn’t just skin deep. He didn’t want to stop seeing you. He was even beginning to regret that he hadn’t asked you out before. He felt even more guilty about the fact that Sam was still bugging him about repaying him for the favor.

               Dean was sitting at table waiting for you when Castiel approached him. “Dean.” Dean glanced at his best friend. “The deal is off.” Dean’s neutral expression turned to one of confusion. “What?” Castiel took his hands out the pockets of the trench coat he always wore. “I said the deal is off. Meg never wanted to go out with me. You don’t have to date Y/N anymore. Sam and I will make sure to hold up our end of the bargain, but you don’t have to pretend to like Y/N anymore.”

               "You were just pretending?“ a soft voice spoke up and Dean froze. He turned to find you standing there, staring at him with wide, watery eyes. "I fell for it. I fell for it all. I can’t believe I thought you’d changed. Go to Hell, Dean Winchester.” You turned and stomped away. “Y/N!” You didn’t stop. You made your way to your car, no longer in the mood to go to class.

               You made it to the car before you felt someone grab your upper arm. “Let me go!” you cried. “Please, just listen to me, Y/N.” Dean could see the rage on your face. “Why should I?!” He let you go and sighed. “Please, Y/N.” You shook your head and opened your car door. “So you can tell me more lies? No, thank you.” Dean felt himself flinch as you threw the very first words you’d said at him again. You climbed in the car. Dean backed away, letting you drive off, his heart sinking in his chest.

               For the next few days, Dean walked around in a haze. He missed you. Whenever he saw you around campus, he felt even worse. Unlike most women, who would have probably looked terrible after a break up, you had decided not to wallow in your misery. You looked incredible, as if to spite Dean. When you saw him, you just ignored him, which just served to make Dean feel ten times worse.

               "Dude, you’re miserable,“ Sam said to him one day. Dean didn’t deny it. "Just go talk to her. Apologize.” Dean groaned loudly. “Don’t think I’ve tried, Sammy?! I have tried everything I could think of to get her to talk to me. I messed up too bad this time.” Sam huffed and got up. Ignoring Dean’s calls for him, Sam went in search of you. He found you leaving the library.

               "I need to talk to you, Y/N,“ Sam said, catching you off guard. "Why?” Sam gently took your arm and lead you to an empty room. “Dean is miserable.” You scoffed although inside you were still upset. “Dean brought it on himself.” Sam shook his head. “No, he really didn’t. Cas and I did.” Your brows furrowed. You had only heard part of Castiel’s and Dean’s conversation.

               Sam sighed heavily. “Look, Cas has liked your sister for a while now, but he knew that, as long as you were single, Meg wouldn’t go out with him. I have Jess so we asked Dean to ask you out. For Cas’ sake. Then, when you and Dean started hitting it off, we didn’t believe it was real. When months went by and Cas still had no luck with your sister, he felt bad for having Dean continue the charade. We didn’t realize that Dean had real feelings for you.”

               You didn’t answer for a second. Then, you asked, “Why didn’t he just tell me?” Sam chuckled softly. “Because that’s Dean. He doesn’t handle deep feelings well. And it would be a huge shot to his ego for anyone to know that he made a bargain to go out with the girl that he ended up falling in love with.” Sam gave your shoulder a little squeeze. “What can I do?” you asked. “Talk to him.” You nodded and Sam left the room.

               You walked out a few minutes later, eyes scanning everywhere for Dean. You found him leaning against his precious Impala, holding a box in his hands. You made your way over there, the words you wanted to say bouncing around in your head like children who’d had too much sugar. “Dean,” you breathed when you finally reached him.

               "Y-Y/N? I am so sorry. I should have just told you. Actually, I never should have agreed in the first place. I should have asked you out on my own.“ Dean handed the box over to you. "I, uh, got you this as a something of an apology.” You lifted the lid to find a slice of Dean’s favorite by from the diner. You knew how much he loved his pie and here he was, offering it to you. All the words you’d planned to say flew out of your head.

               You took the pie and set it on the roof of the car. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. It was your first actual kiss with the man and boy was the wait worth it. You pulled back and said, “You can’t just get me a piece of pie every time you mess up.” Dean chuckled. “I know, but I’m sure I can find other ways.” He kissed the tip of your nose before moving to your lips again.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Tagging: @fairytalesexistxx @brewsthespirit-blog @jotink78 @alangel1895     

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x jess #sam x jess #castiel #meg

[fandom-in-reverse]

Young Heroes | Doc Ock/Avengers AU

CHAPTER ONE

“Aren’t you a l'il bitch?” A shove from behind pushed me to my knees, knocking my glasses off my eyes and books onto the floor as well. “Doesn’t even have any parents!” One girl mocked with three of her friends laughing. They gathered around, all of them dressed in fancier clothes than I had; the kind no one else could afford but them, their hair either blonde or brunette. They were a bit larger than me, not in height, though -I towered over them- but I had a thinner figure than them, which is surprising to say.

My hands searched for my glasses but a foot was placed over one of my hands to keep it from searching. “Don’t even try to look, bitch- you’re genes aren’t going to get better.” Again they laugh.

“My name is Lily,” I say while pulling my hand from under their shoe. I look up at the girl, seeing only a blurry image. “And unlike you, my features don’t resemble a dog.”

The same girl took one foot and pushed me against the wall, sending a wave of pain over my shoulder and back. “Listen Specs, I don’t know how many times we have to tell you: no one likes you or your family. You’re a smart-ass who looks like a whore.”

One of the girls, I couldn’t tell for my slight blindness, had taken out their yogurt from breakfast -which ended just up two minutes before- and thrown it towards my head. The container hit the place above my left eye and the dairy product spilled into some of my short hair, cheek, and sweatshirt, before then falling to the floor -I presumed and prayed that it didn’t hit my books.

I heard their feet walk away; once I heard no other sounds, I let a few tears flow. This was a routine, and for the last seven years no less. My father died when I was ten and he was mainly the reason. Why, you might ask? We all know the story of Doctor Octopus, right? The scientist with the tentacles fused to his back due to a fusion experiment gone wrong, seeking revenge on Oscorp and Spider-man? He was smart, everyone will tell you that along with the story, but they’ll say it with a grimace.

Everyone that knows me, or even knows my name, will also tell you that I’m just as smart. However, I am a senior in high school, and if not for my grandfather’s request, I probably would have graduated college with a master’s degree in atomic physics by now. Grandpa Torbert wanted me to stay with people my age and despised the idea of me being away from home and not helping around the house.

I wiped away the yogurt from my face using the heel of my hand as the tears gushed harder. My life has been a living hell because of my name: Liliana Augustina Octavius. With that name, everyone assumes that I’m going to end up just like my father, a mad scientist. No one really understood how the comments hurt and stung when they didn’t even know me. They don’t even know what’s going through my mind before they judged me.

Anxiety and depression have consumed my life since 2004, not because of the normal “it’s a middle school or a high school thing, they’re giving kids a lot of work, and puberty’s rough” crap; but because of what people have been telling me since I needed all the support I could get.

“E-excuse me, st-students are s-supposed t-to be i-in cla-class right now.” I heard an older male voice from my right say. His voice was in the lower register, though still light. I thought I knew who it was, but I wanted to make sure when I found my eye wear.

I wiped my cheek and took a deep breath. “Sorry,” I said under my breath. I look around at the floor though I still couldn’t tell where my glasses were, making sure not to show my left side too much. I patted some of the floors in hopes my fingertips could feel for the glasses’ frame

I heard footsteps come closer and then stop. “W-were you l-looking’ f-for- o-oh, w-what happened?” The voice asked.

I hesitated. “Nothing.” I wiped my eyes once more before reaching my hand out for my glasses.

The man reached my glasses to me and I took them with a little glee. I looked at the man and saw it was the new teacher; tall, stocky frame yet built, and sharp features. His name was Mr. Daniels and though he had been teaching for five years -or so he says- he was always nervous around teens; his stuttering was more prominent when he didn’t know what to do, and it was very prominent now.

“S-some-thing ha-has to b-be up. I-is th-that yogurt?” Mr. Daniels asked.

“Yeah, a group of girls’ done this.” I retorted, trying to wipe more yogurt without smudging my lenses.

“Y-you n-need– we n-need to re-report this-”

“They won’t do anything. The same group of girls has been bullying me for the last seven years, they won’t do anything about it.” I stop him mid-sentence to tell him this.

He looks at me for a second, his face trying to figure out what I was saying as I sucked in my emotions. I pushed back some hair and stood up. I bent done to get my binder and my books. I glanced at Daniels before nodding to him, excusing myself to go to the bathroom.

As I turned to leave he asked for my name. I stopped before glancing back. “Lily.”

“L-lily wha-what?”

I turned to him sideways. “They’ll know who you’re talking about if you’re reporting this to the office, but please, I can take care of this myself.” I hurry off to the restroom to avoid any other questions.

The first period was still underway while I was trying to rinse the yogurt out of my hair and cheek in the sink of the student bathrooms; I also tried to scrub the yogurt off my red sweatshirt. Rinse is the keyword. I had been meaning to put some of those travel-sized shampoo bottles in my locker since I started high-school, or even a large bottle; shampoo could go a long way, and could help me right about now. I stuck my head under the air dryer, brushing my hands while my books sat on the edge of the sink with my glasses sitting on them. After my hair was dry, I put my glasses back on and pulled my books back into my arms.

My first period was physics, and although I’ve read ahead and already knew and completed most of the material earlier in the year, I was obligated to go to the class. Mr. Lee was nice enough to create a lesson plan over the summer when he heard that I was going to be in his class again; when I completed one assignment, he attempted and gave me the next work. I’ve had him three out of the four years I’ve been in high school, minus my freshman year -but I did hear about him.

I opened the door to the physics. Mr. Lee continued to teach the lesson about transformers. He greeted me with a “nice hair” as he glanced up while I made my way to my seat. Several teens looked back at me and laughed. I took a staggered breath in and tried to make my hair settle down as I sat in my seat in the front.

Mr. Lee started to get on with the lesson. He had the smart board on with a desk in front of it. On the desk, he had the Elmo capturing his transformer he made at his house from spare parts. He was turning it gently in his hands, scared to break a part of it. He handled his machines with care and with the utmost respect, unlike most people. Others would toss it around, send it around the classroom where inexperienced children pass it along. Lee’s brown hair was pulled back and styled a bit, and there was not a hair out of place. He had his dark gray dress shirt’s sleeves pulled up on his arm, and his black tie was over his shoulder to keep it out of the way.

Near the middle of first, my name was called over the intercom. I left my stuff, seeing as Lee would take care of it for his favorite student. I made my way to the office, feeling this whelp inside of my chest. I knew what was going to happen, and anyone with anxiety will tell you this, I knew what was going to happen even if I couldn’t.

I entered the principal’s office. Mrs. Clay was a red-headed, hard-nosed lady with pursed lips who treated the jocks better than the rest of the minority. This might be a common trait that most teens would describe their teachers and such; in this case, I wish I was kidding. You haven’t seen all the football players getting scholarships until you came to this high school.

Mr. Daniels was sitting in a chair facing Mrs. Clay’s cluttered desk, his head hanging low as if he was in trouble. Maybe he thought I was mad at him. I was agitated yet I couldn’t hold t against him fully I guessed.

“Daniels has told me your problem, Lily.” Mrs. Clay started. Her lips smacked together with each syllable and her cheeks moved more than what’s normal. “If you’ve been bullied for seven years, why haven’t you told anyone?” Her voice gave off that she didn’t care about what I thought and her opinion was to be taken very seriously.

“Well,” I felt a lump in my throat. “I’ve tried, but the staff never believes me. And when they talk to the girls -Jessie Carol, Maggie Coleman, Nina and Allison Star, by the way- they say they didn’t do anything, so I just gave up.”

“Daniels also said you could ‘take care’ of yourself, but you had… yogurt on your head-”

“They threw it at me, yes. I managed to rinse it out.” I comment.

“And I see you still have some on your shirt.” Clay pointed at the stain.

I look down to the spot and shrugged my shoulders. “People get stains all the time.” I look back up. “I’ve bet you got a couple stains in your time.” I cross my arms cross my chest.

“Miss Octavius,” Mrs. Clay hissed at me, then sighed. “I’m going to call these girls in, and if they say they didn’t do anything,” she poked her stack of papers with her skinny finger. “I’m going to have to believe them because you’re the only one who was there besides Mr. Daniels, who didn’t even see the whole thing.” Daniels turned his head to the right to avoid my glance.

“I don’t even care at this point because there are kids getting bullied and you’re too selfish to look past the ones who don’t deserve anything more than the rest of us. I’ve seen more suicidal kids in these halls than players, so what’s the use?” I again excuse myself to get back to physics.

The bell to second rang and I stayed behind a bit to wait out the teens. And to wait out the group.

I had been managing to try and hide from them, or wait them out, for years now, with a mild success rate. They know what classes I have, either from talking to other people or going to the office, so there are times when the four girls gather around the outside of the door. Other times their minds got side tracked from their friends.

Mr. Lee took a step outside once the tardy bell rang. This was his planning period. He stood out there with his hands behind his back as he looked up and down the hallway. I watched him from my seat as he leaned on his tip toes and greeted several kids who were tardy. “Stragglers” he called them.

After a few more moments, Lee spun on his heel and came back into class. “The coast is clear, but I’d be careful out there if I was you.”

“Can’t I just stay in here instead of going to Spanish?” I pleaded. “I know all I need to know in there.” This was a stretch. I learned quickly, but with languages, those were the subjects I never liked. Other languages were charming, sure, but I’ll keep with writing in English- another strong suit of mine besides science.

He moved to the front of the class where the table was. “All the Spanish you know are cuss words,” Lee paused. “and you learned it from me.” He proceeded to laugh.

“That’s all I need to know.” I stood up and pulled my books into my arms.

I went to the door, as I crossed the threshold, Lee called my name. I turned towards him. “I know it’s hard for you to make friends, but stay safe.”

I glance down at the ground. He knew it was harder for me to make friends; the only reason someone would ever be friends with me was for answers. “I’ll try.”

After school, I made my way to my car in the student parking lot, the sky above graying. The first thing I noticed was there was a sticker on my car. Try your new engine. I groaned. I tried my door and someone had already unlocked. I laid my books in the passenger seat and sat in the driver’s; with putting the key in the ignition, I felt my heart flutter and chest compress. The car wouldn’t start. I tried once more; it sputtered. Once more, and it was silent again. I looked in the glove box for my iPhone, one of the first ones that came out, and my fingers found nothing but the manual.

I slammed the glove box shut. “Shit.” I leaned back in the chair and took my glasses off to rub my face.

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

Our old ladies making sandwiches in the Bronx.

I asked the kids "do you know any older people that might need a home? May be down the street or near you? For real cheap? Lesser than they paying now?"

"Yeah! My gramma!!"

"My aunt!"

"Oh shit yeah! My gramma I'm taking off to get her now!"

I wanted single parents we were so lucky to be across the street from the park so we could ask them. Kids are typically more honest than adults.. Have less greed but more worries but have that shelter of an older person to look after them so less desperation to lie.

So we had them old grammas and a young single aunt raising her sister's kids in there making sandwiches. All the time. No peanut butter and jelly unless they asked. Only meat from behind the glass at the deli that was sliced special just for us. They called it the bakery they been there so long. I called it a bodega. They called themself a Grocer. Its still there, too. And we had the cheese sliced special. Only the bread was precut and the kids liked SunBeam best. Miracle whip.

I knew they couldn't afford that kinda stuff and the money my parents left me after their death... I knew that was what they would want. To treat them women good as they went special to get their orders all cut.

I knew back on slavery days they did it often. And they could not eat the meat -- most didn't have the permission. Had to buy a whole chicken and thaw and cook it and cut it themselves. It was the cheapest of ways.

But this way they could go on and get for us and take a pound of meat and cheese home. And a loaf of bread.

For $5 a day and the promise of a house.

I loved loved loved talking to my old ladies but man as the boys tore the houses down, their stories tore my heart apart.

It didn't rake the joy out of me. It helped establish the principle. And one with the worst stories of all she said when she had us ALL crying "please promise me you'll help more black people"

"I can't help but to have to at this point in my career"

"Where do you get the money? You always smile and walk away. Don't you dare walk out that door! I already see you smile all big and bright! Now you tell me or we will all cry again and you don't want that do you? Or do you? You can tell me if you're mean and evil with a smile that bright it is a question!"

I pushed the smile down my throat to stop my tears and keep me from bawling and to give me half the strength of the women before me. I tried to hide behind my legs...,

"I'm an orphan"

"You a what? An orphan?! Then how you get the money? Your parents are all dead!"

I nodded slowly and smiled sadly

"Oh they must been rich then huh?"

And that bright smile came out in me.

"Oh now I see why you always smiling? And you believe they want you to do all this with the meat and all? Oh dear I'm getting choked up!"

Tears slid down my face and the apartment had these Windows that seemd to shine down light like it was from the Heavens.

"My mom... Would want you and you to have a home, a place to call your own. She used to work in a bar. All of you. My dadda, too. See They died when I was very young. Just a few years ago, not too long ago, and i slept on the bar floor for 3 weeks waiting for my mom to return. We knew my dadda was far too gone... It was a mystery i try to repeat in my head so i can find him, you know...,but i cannot. So 3 weeks ago.. Now now it's been months. Now almost 4 months. And we had news of my dad's confirmed death. And i had millions! So i decided to buy some apartment complexes to make more money. But once i got into I realized my heart didn't care! It wasn't good enough! My mom and my dadda. My real dad would want me to do MORE for the good people of this Earth. I know Because i would see my mommas bright smiling face after i bought these apartments and she looked happy but she told me alwsys in her heart "you could do more" which didn't make no sense. I had enough money for 3 lifetimes! I know she told me,that in a dream! So,she told me about all the people at the bar who needed money but drank it all away because they weren't all happy at home and it had to do with their social life and a lot more. And the last thing she said to me was "teach the kids" so i had all these clues and I didn't know what the hell to do! So we were out there working I was overseeing equipment being hailed up to renovate and this kid, a precious nine year old came up and asked me how much they cost, were they free? And that son of a bitch told me "people around here are poor. They can't afford any new housing" and he disappeared like right before my eyes like a ghost or apperition. And so i thought. Took me 2 nights of dreaming and thinking and tossing and turning. And I thought, that kid is right! I couldn't afford no housing if my parents hadn't left me money! So i did some experiments with a Jesse we call Jesse James and i vowed not to be a hypocrite but a blessing! And so this is what is not an experiment but LIFE. Life for me for all of you And for my parents money to keep on giving for eternity! Now how does that feel for just a bright smile in an answer?!"

They started bawling. I started to laugh.

"Oh y'all dry your tears. Every thing will be alright. You doing okay do you need anything? You all got your food to take home and all?"

"We are tired of this meat!! That's all we eat day in and day out!"

"Well how about some collard greens?"

,...

These were wonderful women. They got $5 per day plus their hours.

One woman got her house done in less than a month. But she wanted to stay cooking.

So, I paid her $100 per day. But she didn't like it. She said it was too much.

She said that $5 per day was wonderful! Saved her So many many times.

So we worked her a plan. She paid each girl $15 and she kept $40

And I explained "you're giving away $60 and keeping $40 that is more than half you're giving away"

And all them girls were so happy... They did celebrate with tears and smiles and hugs. Then when each got $100 they all shared. Exactly the same. $15 to each and $40 for just themselves.

Until finally one day I was paying $500 per day up from only $25 to have sandwiches made or soup or steak or them ole collard greens with the recipe I remembered.

And I was happy.

My parents had left me 13.4 billion dollars. And I intended to give it all away with hard work and dedication.

In one month all across the world single parents and single guardians got homed in 875 different houses.

Iran. Iraq. London. Bangkok. Japan. Australia. New Zealand had 4. South America. Brazil. Hawaii. Alaska. Newfoundland. Holland. Quebec. Alabama. Saudi Arabia would be finished in two weeks. All across the world with the help of the United Nations.

No one country was exempt, they would all have homes provided by me. With just a little labor and love. Mostly single moms and dads with babies, or guardians especially were touching my soul every day raising their family's kids just because they love.

Eventually 12.4 billion dollars was spent and so created the Habitat for Humanity to carry on and make more money to keep building for families all across the world.

Habitat for Humanity was for my parents legacy.

Rock the Vote for Ms Chen's who not only raised me but brought me up and carried me when i needed to be in the political asylum I never wanted to be in and only she could teach.

And for Miss Roberta we did hit those Harlem streets -- hard. The most predominantly black neighborhoods of all. In NYC my homes are 96% in Harlem.

My money makers are 29% in Harlem on low income $15 or so per month never over $100. I save it for a rainy day. Like during Quarentine were paying to keep their lights on. They own but we charge like a condo fee. And if they need a new roof, we pay for it. We pay for all maintenance.

Unlike the others that don't pay monthly, they're on their own if they have any problems.

But i was running out of money and houses were getting too expensive. So we worked that out. And it works just fine. They are fancier, too.

I bought some hardware companies to make it easier on cost and so they got super upgrades on chandeliers and such Which are outrageous expensive to customers but not to the store themselves. Huge Mark up. So we were able to make them much fancier to warrent the monthly fee. Plus the promise to take care of all materials. We still prefer the neighbors get out and help one another for $5 a day plus free food cooked by one of the neighbors.

And i love it. Its like a dream come true.

Its a good world out there if we just look for it when help make it so.