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nobodysdaydreams · 5 months

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for the ao3 wrapped!! 1 & 29

Thank you for the asks, I’m so sorry this took so long!

1- How many words have you written this year?

I can’t answer that because people could use that information to guess my whodunit fic by subtracting the word count listed here from my visible AO3 word count and seeing which whodunit fic makes up the difference. But my SOS fic alone is over 300k so that should give a pretty good estimate.

29- Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

I can’t choose. I’ve written 300k+ words. I have SO MANY. Some haven’t even been published and my favorite passages changes all the time, but I’d have to say that right now, I love the whole exchange between Nathaniel and his sister (Nerissa) that I wrote in that latest SOS chapter. After the show left us with “btw they have a sister” and no other info, it felt so nice to have something, anything, a name, some backstory, etc. to go with the concept. For those who don’t read SOS or don’t mind spoilers, here it is:

He’d heard the voice behind him in his office. An unfamiliar voice. A woman’s voice.

“Hello Nathaniel.”

He turned and saw that no one was there, when he heard the voice speak again.

“It’s so wonderful to see you again after all these years. You’ve certainly been busy.”

And then the world around Nathaniel began to change, and he found himself staring at a woman he’d never seen before.

And yet… there was something familiar about her. Incredibly familiar. Like something out of a dream.

Or a nightmare.

“Ah,” said the woman, smiling, as she saw the hint of recognition in her brother’s eyes.

“I see you remember me. Hello little Natty.”

Nathaniel frowned.

“Natty?” he repeated, too disgusted by the ugly and childish nickname this stranger had chosen to address him by to question anything else.

“Hm,” the woman smiled sweetly. “I see someone’s still not a fan of his nickname. Though I do hope you will allow me the indulgence. As your favorite sister.”

“…my favorite…what…” Nathaniel began, before pausing as he became aware of and processed whatever it was that had just happened to him and slowly took in his environment and the woman who stood before him.

Nathaniel wasn’t entirely sure where he was. He wasn’t in his office at the compound anymore, nor was he at the Institute. He was somewhere else now, though he wasn’t sure how he could have possibly gotten there without moving. Though wherever he was certainly seemed to resemble both his office in his compound and the one he��d had at the Institute. The walls were painted blue, and the furniture was expensive and high quality. There were couches, tables, a desk, and a bookshelf, which contained what appeared to be mostly fake books with spines that had been colored to match the room’s furnishings.

There was also a coffee table that was barren expect for a small vase of fake violets that had been placed in the middle. There were also a few paintings on the wall, mostly of nature scenes and bluebirds. In some moments, Nathaniel could have sworn they looked like something SQ had drawn. In other moments, they looked more like copies of his style of artwork.

The ceiling of the room was interesting too, perhaps the most beautiful and fascinating part of the room. It wasn’t the sort of thing you noticed unless you looked up, but Nathaniel was sitting on one of the room’s couches, and when looking up at the woman who’d addressed him, he’d gotten a glimpse of the ceiling.

And what a ceiling it was, painted with the night sky, all the stars and constellations dancing in patterns above him. The celestial orb in all its glory. For a moment, Nathaniel swore he saw the stars painted on the ceiling move, as if they were the real stars of the night sky. They did look incredibly lifelike and beautiful, as if one really was staring at a clear night sky, full of millions and billions of stars.

The room as a whole was nice, clean, bright, and well furnished.

And yet, something about the room was wrong. Of this, Nathaniel was completely certain. There was something uncanny valley about it, but he couldn’t for the life of him explain what it was. It was the sort of room that you just couldn’t quite relax in, though Nathaniel couldn’t think of a reason why.

As for the woman who stood before him, Nathaniel wasn’t quite sure what to make of her either. There was something about her presence that felt threatening and also seemed to upset him, which Nathaniel supposed was no surprise considering she’d apparently broken into his house and dragged him…or transported him…or…put him wherever he was now.

And yet, there was also something else about her that seemed strangely warm and familiar. Like seeing the face of someone and swearing that you’ve seen them before or seeing someone that you know you know from somewhere, and you just can’t think of where you met them or who they are, but you know you know them.

She looked around Nathaniel’s age, perhaps a bit older (though Nathaniel supposed it would be hard to tell her age by using himself as a comparison, given all the work he’d done to stay in shape). Her choice of clothing and style was also interesting. She seemed to have the same absent-minded professor look that Nicholas was always so fond of, though more feminine and neater, yet her style still felt whimsical, which somehow seemed to suit her.

Then Nathaniel fully processed what it was this strange woman had said to him.

“My…my sister?” he repeated.

The woman smiled and nodded.

“Yes. Oh, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me already Natty; it’s only been a few decades. I would hope that you’d be able to remember me at least a little despite our separation. You certainly didn’t forget about Nicky,” she noted, a playful smile dancing across her face.

Nathaniel sat up, feeling suddenly and surprisingly protective.

No one else had ever called his brother Nicky. No one. And yet this woman did so with such ease and familiarity.

“My brother Nicholas had nothing to do with the Emergency, or anything else I’ve done,” Nathaniel asserted.

“If you try to harm him-”

“Oh please,” the woman interrupted.

“Natty, I’ve been watching you two play your little cat-and-mouse game for quite a while. Trust me, I am well aware he had nothing to do with your world domination scheme. And besides, it’s Nicky. He cries when you accidently step on a spider, he’s not exactly the world dominating type.”

“Stop calling me Natty,” protested Nathaniel, but this only made the woman look more amused.

“Even after all these years, you still have the same adorable little pouty look on your face. And really, I think it’s an adorable nickname, or at least a better nickname than “Ledroptha Curtain,” she countered dramatically, making sure to pronounce Nathaniel’s old name in the most theatrical way possible.

“You always did love drama and symbolism, so I suppose it does fit, perhaps as a pseudonym or an alias, but your legal name? Natty, I know method acting is a thing, but that really does take it a bit far.”

Nathaniel ignored her insults, forcing himself to focus on uncovering what this woman wanted and resolving not to let himself be baited into any pointless arguments.

“Why do you know about Nicholas? Who are you?” he demanded.

“I told you,” the woman replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’m your sister. Nessie.”

“Nessie?” repeated Nathaniel, his brow furrowing in doubt at the name that sounded like it belonged more to a small child or a beloved pet than the woman who stood before him.

And yet there was something about the name that felt familiar on his tongue.

“Well, Nerissa Eurus Benedict, if you’d prefer my full name,” Nerissa clarified.

“Most people call me Nessa. Nessie was the nickname that you and Nicky gave me. You used it when you felt particularly affectionate. Though that was more often Nicky than you,” she recalled.

Nathaniel wasn’t sure what to say. This woman was crazy, she had to be. He’d done his research; he’d done everything he could to look into his family’s past. There was no mention of him having any siblings besides Nicholas.

Meanwhile, the woman in front of him began gazing up at the ceiling.

“I like them,” she noted. “The stars. They fit.”

“…fit?” asked Nathaniel, still trying to figure out how to best engage with this stranger claiming to be his kin.

“What our mother used to call you and Nicky,” Nerissa explained. “Her little sweetheart and her little superstar. I think you can guess who was who.”

Nathaniel certainly could, though he was floored by the mention of the word “mother”.

He’d had dreams about her, and about their father too. Dreams of them dying, of his mother leaving him and his brother behind, but… he never thought he would ever hear anyone, even someone who was obviously mistaken, talking about her as if they had really known her.

“No…no I’m sorry,” said Nathaniel, attempting to regain control of this strange situation.

“I’m afraid that there’s been a misunderstanding. I don’t have a sister. I was never adopted, and my brother was the only family I ever had.”

“And I’m afraid you’re mistaken on both those accounts little one,” objected Nerissa.

“Although they are no longer with us, you had a mother and a father, who (interesting bit of family trivia), were both identical twins themselves, just like you and Nicky. It runs the family I suppose, seeing as I was the only one who ended up without a partner. But having two sisters might have been a bit much for you, you always were a little attention hog, even back then. And even if I was the only one without an identical twin, I always had Seymour.”

“Another sibling?” asked Nathaniel, beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed.

Nerissa shook her head.

“Our cat,” she explained.

Nathaniel felt like he was spinning. A part of him, a part that had once longed for his family, for any family, and answers about his past wanted to cling to every scrap of information this woman was telling him, and yet, he knew it couldn’t be true. Clearly this was someone still upset about what he’d done, whether the Emergency or the Happiness Revolution he did not know, but Nathaniel did know that the information she was giving him could not be correct.

“That’s impossible,” he explained. “Years ago, I found the orphanage’s records for my family. There was no information about a sister, or any aunts, uncles, or other extended family.”

“Of course,” Nerissa replied. “I couldn’t very well keep our family’s information in the records for anyone to get their hands on. Surely of all people, I thought you would understand the importance of keeping secrets.”

“A convenient explanation,” Nathaniel observed. “And one that cannot be proven false, as there is no way to prove that you actually removed anything. Records can be falsified, so even if you have copies in your possession, you should understand my skepticism.”

Nerissa nodded.

“I do. You were always the skeptic. Very well. May I?” she asked, gesturing towards a pad of paper and a fountain pen that were sitting on top of the desk that she was sitting on.

Nathaniel nodded, though he didn’t quite understand why she was asking for his permission. Wherever they were, it certainly wasn’t his office, though it did bear a startlingly similar resemblance.

Nerissa began scribbling onto the paper, and then handed it back to Nathaniel, who glanced over the paper.

At first, it looked like a compilation of random information. Something about a car, lines of dialogue, a phone number, some addresses…and then Nathaniel realized what he was looking at.

It was an account of everything he’d done the day he’d gone to the records office, the day he’d snuck away from his friends to investigate his past. The address where he’d been living at the time. The make, model, and license plate number of the car he’d driven to get there. A script of the exact conversation he’d had with the receptionist, including the exact amount of money he’d offered to bribe her, and the phone number Nicholas had left behind for him. An account of the narcoleptic attack he’d had outside on the bench after he’d acquired the documents. And she seemed to have written a similar account for Nicky’s visit as well.

All of that had happened before the Institute. Before the Emergency. Before the Happiness Revolution.

This wasn’t about what Nathaniel had done to the world. Whoever this woman was, she’d been following him and his brother for a long, long time.

He looked up at her carefully, allowing himself to consider the possibility that what she was saying might be true.

Nathaniel had to admit…she did look like them. She was shorter and more feminine, obviously, but she had the same nose and similar facial features. Her hair was black and long. It was wavy, not quite curly like theirs, but the color matched. And there was something about the way her dark eyes sparkled, like she had an enticing secret that she couldn’t wait to share with the rest of the world. As if the whimsy and joy of Nicholas had somehow been blended with Nathaniel’s hunger and flair for the dramatic.

Nerissa smiled.

“I promised I’d come back for you little brother.”

Little?

Nathaniel, who had always assumed himself to the be elder of the twins and thus the eldest in the family (despite what the obviously faulty orphanage records might have said) and had become accustomed to taking care of, protecting, and (for lack of a more polite term) infantilizing and patronizing others, suddenly felt like something had been taken away from him.

“You’re…you’re older than me?” he confirmed.

Nerissa nodded.

“That’s right little one.”

“By how much?” scoffed Nathaniel, who was beginning to grow tired of being referred to as “little” by a woman more than a few inches shorter than him.

Nerissa smiled playfully.

“Guess.”

Nathaniel sighed.

“Um…three years,” he speculated.

Nerissa shook her head.

“Seven.”

“Seven?”

There was no way that was accurate. The woman in front of the Nathaniel might be older than him, but by nearly a decade? Maybe it was her attitude or general demeanor, but she looked like she could pass for someone younger than Nicky! Well, barelypass, but that was still impressive.

Nerissa grinned.

“Well, seven and a half years older, if you want to be technical. Though I understand your surprise. I’ve tried my best to age gracefully. Glad to see my stress relief techniques have paid off.”

Nathaniel was surprised, but his surprise quickly gave way to realization.

“But…if that’s true then…you would have been ten when our parents died,” he calculated. “Ten or eleven.”

“That’s correct,” Nerissa confirmed.

“Then…” said Nathaniel slowly, “You’d remember our parents. Not just their faces, but details, their names, our address, our information…you’d remember us, you even found us years ago, so…why not contact us sooner?”

Nerissa seemed a bit bothered by her brother’s question but recovered quickly.

“It was for the best,” she replied simply. “But circumstances have changed, and now I can finally reunite our family again.”

She began to walk towards Nathaniel.

“It’s what I promised you all those years ago, the day that I dropped you and Nicky off at that orphanage. That I would come back. And now I have. I’m here Nathaniel.”

Her words were spoken gently, but to Nathaniel they were anything but gentle.

Suddenly, he remembered why Nerissa’s face looked so familiar to him. He’d seen it before, in his dreams. More specifically, his nightmares, the ones he’d had ever since the orphanage, of himself screaming and clawing up at his mother, begging her not to leave him and Nicky behind, begging her to stay as she forced him down, forced him to sleep and left him on the front stoop.

But…those were just nightmares. They weren’t memories. They couldn’t be real. Besides, the person in Nathaniel’s mind had always been a bigger person, someone much older than he was, surely it must have been their mother, an adult, it couldn’t have been another child.

Could it?

Well…Nathaniel supposed that to a three-year-old, everyone from a six-year-old to a teenager to an adult looked like giant. From that perspective, it was plausible that his mind’s memory had registered the person leaving him as an adult, and he’d drawn his own conclusions as to what that adult’s identity was.

“I had dreams,” he muttered to himself, feeling as if the floor had been ripped out from under him.

“I didn’t think they were real, but…it was real. It was you. You left us…”

“I had to. But it’s alright now,” comforted Nerissa, reaching up towards her brother.

“No.”

Nathaniel struggled to get the word out at first, but quickly found his strength.

“No,” he declared again, a stormy expression settling over his face.

Nerissa’s smile faded.

“You…you abandoned us. You left us in that horrible place?” Nathaniel asked, his voice filling with rage.

Nerissa took a small step backwards.

“Natty, er, Nathaniel, I…I was child-” she stuttered.

“But you must have known how bad it was, considering you decided not to stay there yourself,” snapped Nathaniel.

Nerissa backed away, and began breathing heavily, but Nathaniel continued, his anger growing with every passing word as he walked towards her.

“And you certainly weren’t a child when you hid our family’s records from us, or when you watched everything that happened between Nicholas and I play out for your own sick entertainment. Was this all a joke to you?”

“What? No! I-” gasped Nerissa, her eyes beginning to fill with tears, but Nathaniel ignored them.

“And if what you’re saying is true,” he continued, “then what about the rest of our family? The aunt and uncle you mentioned…where were they? Where are they? Or, let me guess, they probably abandoned us too.”

Nerissa put her hands over her ears and began shrinking into a corner of the room, but Nathaniel continued to advance towards her, driven by a frustration and pain he didn’t know he still had inside of him.

All these years he’d spent blaming Nicholas and even at times himself for what had happened during their childhood felt like such as waste. As did these past few weeks he’d spent accepting the fact that it was nobody’s fault what had happened. When in reality, it had been someone’s fault. The pain, the suffering, the hurt that had molded and twisted him, it could have been avoided this whole time! And…this woman, this sister, who had come out of nowhere and revealed everything she’d taken from him, just expected him to…welcome her with open arms? Pretend that everything was okay?

“You never even tried to reach out to us!” he yelled. “You apparently were fine spying on us and stalking us for decades, but you never made any effort to help either of us, when you knew what we were going through. Stop calling yourself my sister. You’re not my family. You’ll never be my family. And wherever or whatever this place is, I’m leaving.”

Nathaniel turned to storm off, abandoning Nerissa where she cowered in a huddled bunch in one of the room’s corners.

He had almost reached the door when he suddenly found himself unable to move his legs.

It was as if his entire body was being weighed down by something. As if someone had their arms around his legs and was pulling him back.

He struggled and tried to move forward, and finding himself unable to do so, painstakingly turned around.

“What sort of trick-” he demanded, turning to discover that Nerissa had gotten up from her huddled spot on the floor and was staring directly at him.

And she looked furious.

Nathaniel was not intimidated.

“If…whatever this is supposed to frighten me, you’re going to have to do more than that,” he scoffed.

Nerissa didn’t answer. She still seemed to be looking at him, but at the same time, looking through him.

“Well?” asked Nathaniel again in an impatient tone. “Are you going to continue to stare at me or are you actually going to be kind enough to answer-”

And then Nathaniel was silenced, silenced by what could only be described as the worst physical sensation he’d ever felt in his life.

It was as if his entire body was on fire, and yet being cut by a thousand knives at the same time, torn apart from the inside out.

Nathaniel would have screamed, but he found himself unable to speak, feeling as if hands were tightening around his throat.

Nerissa never broke her gaze, but at the same time she still didn’t seem to quite be looking at him.

It was horribly terrifying, Nathaniel really felt as if he was in the middle of a nightmare now.

He gathered as much strength as he could through his pain and ran, or rather wobbled, towards one of the doors to the room, as fast as his legs could carry him.

He grabbed at the knob, only to feel his hand brush against something flat and solid.

He cried and pressed his hands frantically against the wall, but it made no difference.

The door was painted onto the wall. It wasn’t real.

Nathaniel made his way to the other side of the room, over to the other door, desperately praying that it offered salvation, only to let out a sob of despair.

It was fake too. Neither of the doors to the room were real.

So then...

…how would he get out?

The window. He could jump out the window.

Nathaniel grabbed the side table and launched it at one of the room’s windows, only for the table to bounce off the wall.

The windows were fake too.

The room had no doors or windows. There was no exit.

She’d trapped him here.

Nathaniel felt his body temperature rise swiftly and suddenly, and he furiously yanked off his jacket and threw it across the room.

The invisible hands’ grip around his throat felt tighter and tighter, and Nathaniel fell to his knees, gasping for air.

This was it, he realized.

This was the end.

But, no, no, it couldn’t be! This couldn’t be the end, he had more to do, he…he’d just reconnected with Nicholas, he’d just started making things right, he had so many good years ahead to spend with his brother! And SQ...SQ more than anyone or anything else. He needed to talk to his son. He needed to apologize; he at least needed a chance to make things right with his son.

He couldn’t die. Not like this.

Nathaniel’s vision began to blur, but he still scanned the room, looking for any means of escape.

Instead, he saw something else.

A telephone on the desk.

He could still call his son. He could still say what he needed to say.

But he would have to hurry.

Nathaniel crawled towards the telephone and hastily dialed the number as fast as he could.

Nothing happened.

Nathaniel grabbed the phone in a panic only to discover upon closer inspection that the phone was made of plastic. It looked fancy, it looked real, but it was only a toy phone. Fake, just like the doors and windows.

The entire room was like a human sized doll house. An extremely realistic looking one, but fake, nonetheless.

Nathaniel furiously threw the phone towards Nerissa.

It bounced off her, and she acted as if she hadn’t been hit at all, the device breaking into little pieces as it crashed onto the floor, knocking into the glass coffee table, and instantly shattering it too, as if the table was made of the most delicate and breakable glass in the world.

Nathaniel caught a reflection of his face in one of the shards. It was beginning to turn purple. His vision started to go black. It seemed as if the room itself, its very walls, floor, and ceiling were closing in on him and collapsing around him all at once, as if the room was breaking apart along with him.

In one last act of desperation, Nathaniel began to throw any item he could find in the room at the fake windows and doors and at Nerissa, but his efforts made no difference. And he screamed, screamed internally for someone, anyone, to please hear him to save him, to give him another chance, anything, any hope of survival. He had to get out of here, he had to get to SQ, he needed to apologize, he…he needed to tell his son the truth. He needed to make things right. Please…it…it couldn’t be too late!

It couldn’t end this way.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.

Nathaniel Benedict was back in his office, as if he had never left.

The jacket he’d thrown was on the other side of the room, as if he had thrown it off right here where he was sitting.

He was still incredibly shaken but slowly felt the air going back into his lungs. He fell to his knees and gasped, allowing the oxygen to reenter his lungs.

Once Nathaniel had recovered, he straightened himself up and timidly sat back in his office chair, debating what to do next.

Had this all been some sort of hallucination? It felt so real, but…perhaps it was a trick. Perhaps this was someone’s twisted idea of revenge.

But even if it was, how could they have known that much about him?

Nathaniel sat in silence for a long while, too nervous to move.

Then he heard his sister’s voice once more.

“I’ll contact you again soon Natty. I am so looking forward to seeing you and Nicky again. I promise it will be a lovely family reunion.”

Nathaniel gasped, trembling in his chair.

Then he swallowed his tears and shakily rose from his desk.

He knew what he had to do.

#Thanks for the asks!#I’ll get to the rest soon thanks guys!#ao3 wrapped #ask game #Bods Answers #mbs fanfic #tmbs fanfic

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evilmageclub · 5 months

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29, 20, 7(for inspo):)?

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

wow this is such a hard question.. i just had a little skim through the 4 things i posted this year and there are too many contenders (none as short as a line or a passage) but im gonna say this from the false rings chapter 6 flashback. not as grounded in moment to moment sensations as the stuff i tend to like about my writing but i think it is a neat little summary of why the flashbacks are there in the fic

They had been at war for ten years. It felt like nothing—was nothing, a single dark blot on the most recent page of millennia still being written. Samot’s task, as he viewed it then, was to conquer finality itself… so he would not, and could not, believe in permanent damage. Whether it was Samol’s tired disapproval across his living room couch, or Samothes’ larynx splintering under his teeth on some forsaken battlefield—passing passion, passing cruelty. Or perhaps an adult Maelgwyn sitting in a war tent clutching that mask too tightly in his lap, with a patch of stubble on his upper lip as he spoke that almost made him look older than Samot; who in any case had never felt much like a father, though it would take him years more to give up on being one. Samot had spent too long too far removed from Nothing. Before he had teeth to draw blood or a tongue to apologise for it he had known, until time and a cavalcade of mortal loves had made him forget, how all things must end. Only natural that what tormented him most in the hours after Samothes’ death was not that it had happened, but that it could not be undone. Why this time? Why, among all the endings they had inked into the fabric of history and folded away like keepsakes, did it have to be in a lonely forge by their child’s hand? If he had known. If he had paid more attention to the whispers among his mages or on the city’s canopied streets. If he had known that Tristero had abdicated his throne. If he had known, he would have done it himself and done it right.

there are also a lot of bits i like from the first section of my secsam from last year, which counts as having been posted this year. i had a lot of fun getting lush w the descriptions and sappy about young love

But there is little of the wolf in Samot here, now, as he drains his drink faster than any mindful man should and rises from his seat to look out over the railing. His cloak rests forgotten on the back of his chair, and in its absence the gossamer-silk of his tunic takes flight in the mountain wind, jade and silver flowing forth as he leans forward on tiptoes to take in the view of the city. Yes—Samothes knows he is besotted, and he can conceive of nothing worse than the thought of seeing Samot’s curiosity blunted, his desires turned cold. So he teaches Samot to build towers of stone and beautifully outfitted classrooms, he casts letters in brass and allows his work to be reproduced, disseminated, explicated; he visits mortal bars, and bares himself before Samot’s barbed questions, all of which feels a bit like turning his own skin inside out and hanging it on display for the world to read his soul. Which is to say, of course, that it is unlike anything he has ever felt, and he would lay down his tools and surrender his every creation before letting Samot lose faith in him.

20. Which work of yours have you reread the most?

I don't do a ton of rereading because it leads me down an editing rabbit hole sjdgdf but i have reread many bits of false rings quite a few times because i wanted to keep a degree of continuity and by the time i was on like c6 i had Fully forgotten what i wrote in 2021. sometimes it is good and im pleasantly surprised!!

7. If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

god funnily enough i dont use song lyrics much at all. not a conscious choice but i think my aversion to it comes from the same place as my dislike of quotability used as a measure of writing quality. not a fan of pithy soundbites

but!! the most frequently occurring artists on my samsam playlist are serpentwithfeet, florence and the machine, and the cure (: i did once post and delete (bc it felt underdeveloped, but never fear the same idea got massively elaborated and turned into a flashback in false rings) a samsam fic with title 'i want the sky to fall in' from want by the cure, which is a samot song

#ask game #thank u for asking <33333

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cinderellayourlocalmaid · 1 year

Text

Hallway Crush

Elvis Presley x BAMF!OC Fem

Toni Stark is unlike any of the women Elvis has known. She's insanely intelligent, witty, and doesn't stand for anyone's shit. He develops a crush on her from afar, giving longing glances every time he sees her exiting press conferences when he's on the way to his concerts. Toni never notices him, more focused on escaping flashing cameras. But, what happens when Toni is gone for three months and comes back a changed woman with a certain glowing contraption in her chest?

Or: Toni Starks stays at the International Hotel pouring her time into the party life and meaningless one-night-stands. Elvis has a fierce interest in her, but then she's captured in Afghanistan and eventually comes back to Vegas as a workaholic and the metal hero we all know and love.

Not placed in the MCU or its timeline, I'm just using versions of the characters and their backstories in this story. Also will not be historically accurate when it comes to American politics and wars of the time. Priscilla does not exist in this story. Also not betaed.

Chapter 1: Let’s Start at the Beginning…

Antonia Margaret Stark was born during a catastrophic thunderstorm on May 29, 1945, foreshadowing the immense impact she would have on the world around her. Her loving mother, Maria Stark, was thrilled to welcome her baby girl into the world, while Howard Stark, Antonia's father, was quite the opposite. He needed a son. He had written in his will that his eldest child was to inherit the ownership of Stark Industries when he passed. Such a position was not meant for a woman. And he couldn't try to make an exception and have another child, as he and Maria already struggled to bring Antonia about. He was stuck and already held a grudge against his daughter for simply being born a female.

So, growing up, Antonia, or Toni as she would prefer to be called, was constantly pushed away by her father when she ever showed an interest in his line of work. At age 7, she had wandered into her father's office to show him a mechanical toy car she had built. He had been in a meeting with Obadiah Stane, Toni called him Uncle Obie, and when Howard was interrupted by the little girl's voice shouting, "Daddy, look what I made!" he slammed the door right on Toni, resulting in a few of her toes being broken. She didn't even have the energy to cry, too shocked to even feel the stabbing pain running up her left foot. When her mother found her crumpled on the floor by Howard's office door, her toy car scattered around her in pieces, Maria did not need to question what happened. She knew of Howard's distaste for their only child. Her mother simply bowed down to scoop Toni off the ground and laid her in her bed, calling a doctor to fix her foot.

Throughout elementary and middle school, Toni proved to be more intelligent than some of her teachers. She always won top prize in science fairs and spelling bees. Her mother was always there offering her sweet smiles of reassurance as well as her Aunt Peggy, one of her father's old friends from the military, who Toni looked up to for her strength, was there looking at her with pride. Uncle Jarvis, Howard's right-hand-man, was sure to attend every single one, being the father figure Toni never had. Even Uncle Obie had managed to come to a few of her events, apologizing for Howard's absence, claiming he was too "busy" with board meetings and inventing the next big military weapon.

From then on, Toni made it her life's mission to prove her father wrong, and show that she could be just as successful as him, if not more. Luckily, she was not alone in her journey, her mother supported her, buying her the textbooks she wanted and helping her change her bedroom into a lab space for her to experiment. And, of course, she had her Aunt Peggy and Uncle Jarvis who would come to the house to tell Howard about their adventures, but would always devote time to listen to Toni ramble on about electric circuits and whatever new scientific discovery she had made. Uncle Jarvis was the only man in Toni's life she truly trusted. He taught her how to ride a bike and tie her shoes. But, she had a special bond with her Aunt Peggy as well, her hardiness and red lipstick just two of the things Toni had admired about her aunt. She always took Peggy's advice, to always stick up for herself; not to move, but make others move instead.

At age 13, Toni was already enrolled at MIT, breezing through her courses, rarely paying attention to the lessons, having the occasional professor call her up to the board to solve an equation to which she would break down with ease. In 1958, she was the youngest and only female student at MIT. She was sure her name had something to do with her enrollment, but she also knew her credentials were beyond extraordinary. She constantly had a target on her back, not missing the sneers some of the boys give her, assuming she only got in on the basis of who her father was. But, she had many accomplishments at MIT, including her invention of the first form of Artificial Intelligence. She decided to create a robot to help her with her tools, which prompted her to try a new type of coding where the robot’s skills developed by learning through experiences. It also caused the robot to gain personality traits, one of which being its blatant ignorance, earning it the name of DUM-E. She graduated at age 17 with an undergraduate degree in computer science and molecular biology and eventually received two master’s degrees in engineering by age 19.

After her time at MIT, Toni spent her days on minor projects for Stark Industries because of her father’s refusal to give her an official position in the company. It was better than nothing, she told herself. She was participating in the hands-on aspects of the engineering, experimenting with welding and proper wire placement. Most of the time she had the fellow engineers question her methods or tell her to leave and let the men do the work. Her life went on like this for two years, she was content(ish), but felt she was ready to move on to bigger things.

Then December 16, 1966 rolled around which would cause Toni’s life to take a full 180. It seemed like a normal winter day, she woke up to go to the lab, before wishing her parents safe travels for their visit to the Pentagon. Her father shrugged her off with annoyance and told her not to make a mess of his penthouse while they were away. Her mother stood on her toes to kiss Toni’s forehead, before she said her last words to her daughter, “Farewell, Gioia, show those stuck-ups that you’re a Stark,” she whispered the last part before grabbing her bag and walking out of Toni’s life forever with the shutting of a door.

While working on a new rotator for the latest missile, one of the welders had handed her a rusted phone after saying, “It’s for you, Stark,” Her eyes became watery as she heard the monotone voice on the other end tell her that her parents were in a fatal car accident while en route to the Pentagon. She dropped the phone and ran into the tiny ladies’ restroom before getting sick in one of the toilets. Her father had taken her mother away from her. He took everything from Toni. Her mother was gone. Her sweet, caring, innocent mother who had seen Toni’s potential when her father hadn’t. Her mother who had made her tea and tiramisu after having a bad day at MIT. Her mother who silently stood up against Howard by supporting Toni’s passion. She would never see her again. Toni had never felt so helpless in her life. She crumpled on the dusty bathroom tile and sobbed into her knees for hours until someone had called Uncle Obie to come looking for her. When he found her in her fetal position, he pulled her onto her feet before speaking solemnly, “Come on, your mother wouldn’t want to see you like this,” Toni let out a sob at the mention of her mother before he continued, “Let’s get you home.” But Toni knew her home would no longer be home anymore without the smell of her mother’s perfume or her homemade Italian meals.

The funeral was quiet with only close friends and family in attendance. Aunt Peggy and Uncle Jarvis were there with their arms around Toni and their eyes stuck on the shiny caskets. Obadiah had wanted Toni to say a few words for her lost parents. Toni rambled on about her mother's proud Italian roots and how she devoted her time to philanthropy and helping those in need. How she never let her own emotions get in the way of helping others. How gloomy this world will be without her bright smile. Then it came to talk about Howard. Toni talked of his scientific discoveries and how the weapons industry would not be as advanced without him. She never told of anything personal because there was nothing to tell.

As Toni watched the dirt pour onto her parents' caskets, she discovered that she would do whatever she needed to do to reach the top of the pyramid. If it meant working until her body and mind broke, she would do it. She was no longer just Toni, she was Toni Stark.

After Obadiah Stane’s temporary position as CEO, Toni took over at age 21, being the youngest and only female CEO of any corporation, ever. She was a revolutionary, and she let it get to her head. She built weapons more advanced than her father’s, working herself to the bone for countless hours, becoming a scientific prodigy. The stocks rose drastically, until eventually Toni Stark had more money than God with too many properties, cars, and expensive paintings to count. Her life became a constant cycle of working in her lab for days, coming out for a day or two of partying, drinking, gambling, and meaningless sex with handsome journalists she would charm into her hotel room. She hid her pain behind lavish clothing, self-importance, and sarcasm.

She got herself an assistant, Pepper Potts, who was more a babysitter than a personal assistant, but they had an understanding of each other that led to an unbreakable friendship. She also had her butch security guard and chauffeur, Happy Hogan, who was hired more for Toni’s teasing than security purposes. But, most important of all, she met her best friend, her platonic soulmate, James Rhodes, or Rhodey Bear as Toni liked to call him. They met through the constant meetings between Toni and the military superiors. They immediately clicked and haven’t left each other’s side since. He went from U.S. Air Force officer to Toni Stark's best friend and the military's chief liaison to Stark Industries' weapons division. He was her rock and the voice of reason in her fuck-up of a life, cleaning the messes she left behind. He was the only one who saw the real side of Toni, past the façade of the rich, genius, playgirl, and instead saw the raw, emotional wreck of a human. And he never judged her for her true self, just held her when she cried.

When Toni wasn’t in New York for boring meetings and whatnot, she spent her days in the new International Hotel in Las Vegas. She had her own special penthouse built in the hotel with a lab for her late-night inventions and enough room to house 5 families. Her only companions were her two bots DUM-E and Butterfingers, who she'd brought from New York to stay in her hotel room. Though occasionally Pepper or Rhodey would visit for business inquiries, but most people knew to leave her alone while she was in Vegas. She spent her days in the VIP lounge smoking cigarettes, drinking and flirting with men twice her age. Vegas reminded her of herself, it was full of chaos and it never slept. It was her escape from New York, the escape from the death of her mother and her father’s dissatisfaction. So, Vegas is where she stayed.

#elvis presley x reader #elvis presley #elvis movie #elvis aaron presley #elvis fanfic #tony stark #female tony stark #bamf tony stark #70s elvis #60s elvis #las vegas #international hotel #slow burn #enemies to friends to lovers #iron man #pepper potts #james rhodes #happy hogan #memphis mafia

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esperata · 10 months

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It's a long list of writer asks so I asked a bunch: 4, 6, 15, 16, 29, 30, 50, 73, and 77

These were some interesting questions to think about.

4. How do you choose which fics to write?

Sometimes I'm really focused on one particular story, daydreaming scenes which I just have to write. Or occasionally scenes in future fics which mean I have to write all the build up. Mostly I'm not that driven and its harder to choose. An arbitary time limit on a fic will help prompt me to get my butt in gear, for example designating a plot for a gift or event. Nanowrimo has been useful for helping me make progress on the bigger projects. Of course if I get to discuss my ideas with people then I'll often be incentivised and the new poll function has helped me choose sometimes too.

6. What's the last line you wrote?

"There seemed no reason to reveal that access to his carrier pigeons was currently in doubt." This was part of some editing I was doing recently, added in to clarify details which weren't perhaps clear.

15. What's your favourite time to write?

My actual favourite time to write is in the afternoon, but only if I'm going to have an undistrubed stretch to focus. More often I will do writing between about 10pm and 12pm which is when I have time to myself.

16. Do you write by hand, on your phone, or on your laptop?

All three. Normally I will use my laptop to work on fics but if I'm experiencing writers block or otherwise struggling with getting going then I will often switch to pencil and paper. I find words flow easier that way although the downside is that I then have to type it up. The phone is only for taking quick notes of scenes or sentences which I'll forget if I don't get down quick.

29. What's something about your writing that you're proud of?

Oof, difficult. I think I do show-don't-tell quite well. Readers get emotional impact from scenes rather than verbal explanations. Of course, I'm also proud of writing so many variants of riddlebird. Not sure anyone else has the range I do there.

30. How much do you edit your fics? Do you edit as you write or wait until you finish the first draft?

I always do at least one read through of my fics before they get posted but it does depend on the length of fic and the specific nature of what I want to tell how much editing they require. If its a one-shot that's just written in fun then I basically just check for spelling. Multi-chapter fics where I'm going for a particular emotion or concept need checking to see that I've done it justice. Currently I'm editing my longest fic yet and I literally have a notebook to ensure I'm keeping facts straight and the timeline consistent throughout.

50. How would you describe your writing style?

I'd say I'm light on extraneous description and highly focused on character interactions. An online writing comparison site said I wrote like Arthur Clarke which I felt was very complimentary.

73. What do you tend to get complimented on the most about your writing?

I tend to get comments gushing over the feelings I've inspired from the characters being repressed or misunderstandings. Readers want to scream at the characters, I think.

77. Why do you enjoy writing fanfiction?

This is something I've thought about recently, due to depression striking after so much AI discourse going on. Writing is an act of expression and exploring concepts I might not otherwise come to grips with. Its creating stories I want to read. Sharing that fiction is a different thing and the reason I do that is because I want to bond with others over my love of a franchise and its characters. I want others to get the same sort of enjoyment I do. And I'd love to hear back from readers if they do.

#writing

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shortmage · 11 months

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Hello! I’ve got a couple from the fanfic author questions I would like to ask you here ❤️

4, 11, 29, 43, 49, 58

65. If you wrote a sequel to [Struck with Devastating Affection] what would happen in it? (I swear I’m not angling for anything here 😇)

And 72? ( Feel free to cherry pick if that is a way too long list of questions there ^^;)

ah, thank you thank you for letting me ramble ❤️❤️❤️

4. How do you choose which fics to write?

im honestly not sure, its really whichever idea/wip that my brain latches on to long enough for it to get finished. if its an idea i really really want to do, it'll get done sooner or later cause i'll spend more time just staring at doc until something comes loose but really anything that has it's own dedicated doc in my folder, even if it's completely blank with just the title/the line or idea that inspired me, i fully intend to write it at some point. so tl;dr i intend to/choose to write all the fics that come to me

11. Do you write scenes in order, or do you jump around?

oh i jump around SO BAD, even my big bang fic which had a general plot outline for pacing, i jumped back and forth between chapters. i dont think ive written a fic in order EVER

29. What’s something about your writing that you’re proud of?

i think just improving since i started back writing creatively two or so years ago now. like re-reading back to those first few i published and what ive published recently, i feel really proud of my improvement!

43. Is there a trope or idea that you’d really like to write but haven’t yet?

im not certain, i think maybe a werewolf fic cause that feels like such a ubiquitous fandom thing but i do have a wip for that, it's just a matter of actually getting it written

49. What fic of yours would you say is the best introduction to you as a writer?

oh.... now that is a difficult question. i think sfw it might be 'the maker won't mind' or 'i want us to eat well', cause they both came from such places of love for the characters. nsfw, hee hee, i think that might be 'who we belong to' cause i think i really popped off in that fic, lol.

58. Do you have a favorite piece of figurative language you’ve written?

i think it might be the din talking about his mother's dessert in relation to boba in 'struck with devastating affection' cause im really proud that the feeling i was aiming for got across but also because i didnt even notice that i made a vampire feel like something tasted like sunshine to them, LIKE sometimes when i write i just do things just right when my overthinking brain shuts off and just lets the writing brain take over

65. If you wrote a sequel to [Struck with Devastating Affection] what would happen in it?

oh angle all you like, truly. i mean i do really really really want to write a sequel at some point, and i think it kind of planned that from the beginning. or if not the immediate start then not long after it was finished, cause i just really got caught up in what worldbuilding was there and i think there's places to go with it. and if nothing else, ive somehow amped up the sexual tension in BOTH of the vampire fics ive written and then cut to black, so i should really give them a nsfw follow-up in some degree, lol.

72. What’s your favorite writing compliment you’ve gotten?

i honestly love every single comment and compliment i get and i hold them so dear but any time someone says they feel that i've gotten a character's voice right just really gives me the warm fuzzies. OR, speaking of, any time someone has said a fic feels like a warm hug to them! MAKES ME SOB TBH

#long post #mage answers #mage writing

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melk917 · 2 years

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Weird writer questions (randomized)

3,8,12,28,32,

Ahhh this took me a bit because I had to think through all the quotes I wanted to include, haha.

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

To be most successful I feel like I have to do it first thing in the morning on just coffee. Some times yes to music (but it has to be the perfect vibe for the story), other times silent. And I really need to turn off all sorts of chat type things.

That like.... middle of the night clarity sort of writing when the rest of the world is asleep and you just hit a flow.

They're all cursed because I am 1. not a morning person, so wtf how does that work??? and 2. hitting a flow is great but then its 4am and I have a 9am meeting I have to be human for, lolol.

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

Ohhhh.... I would enjoy both, but dialogue I think? And just all filth, lol. Straight up dirty talk porn, I think.

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

The ability to mind dump the images and flow and dialogue and movie scenes I see in my head straight to the page without needing to type anything out.

The mental fortitude to finish things

Motivation. LOL

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

Ohhhhh, who is entirely mine???

Ok, well fanfic-wise, Ava, Rafa's cousin in the Full Ratchet universe, who no one has met yet because she's only in stuff I've planned. She's a ton of fun. And Mike McKinnon, the other ADA from The Full Ratchet, that she normally works with.

(Do dogs count? Because then also Junior & Socks from the Lawyer Club Sandwich w/Italian Sausage universe with @lannister-slings-and-arrows, too LOL)

From my own personal work? (stuff no one has ever seen and only lives in my head, LOL), Gustav, who pretends to be the main character's uncle in this fantasy trilogy I have planned out. He takes her in after she just lands in the world and brings her with him to her life in the palace. But it turns out he is actually also from our world, he's just been there long enough that no one questions him. He's fun. He's a bit wild, throws huge parties, plays chess with the main male character/love interest.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

This is by no means the only quote from literature that I love, but one I think of often when I need to pump myself up is from Henry V: "We'll bend them to our awe, or break them all to pieces."

From fanfic? Listen. I can not even begin to say how obsessed I am with 29 Songs. I re-read it ALL the fucking time. The storytelling, and the incredibly well crafted emotions and build up. But there's two quotes I think about a lot:

From Chapter 11:

Sonny was about to push himself up into a sitting position to seize that smirking mouth once more, but Barba surprised him by swinging a leg over him and straddling high on his thighs. Sonny drank in the sight of him, beautiful in the dappled morning light, soft and naked and sumptuously formed. He wanted to touch him, to drag his hands along his body and take in the shape of him, to spit in his hand and palm their dicks together, to feel the slide of Barba's thick cock against his own. He wanted to grip his firm thighs and sink into his round, luscious ass. More than anything, he wanted to spend several sunlit days pressed against him, kissing him.

Like -- "soft and naked and sumptuously formed" GAHHH. And then after all that filth: "More than anything, he wanted to spend several sunlit days pressed against him, kissing him."

The contrast and the language. Fuck yes.

And from Chapter 15:

He had the absurd thought that fucking Rafael Barba was what Plato had imagined when he described leaving the cave.

I... I just. GOD can I not even tell you how much I fucking love this line. Like, the reference? It's just so good???? And then to use it like this in this context? God.

Like FUCK ME I wish I wrote like this. So big, massive shout out to that fic & it's author. They're a genius. Any Barisi fans who haven't read it need to immediately.

#mk answers

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casspurrjoybell-25 · 2 months

Text

The Healer of Shakkara - Book One

*Warning Adult Content*

Chapter 29 - The Dwellers - Part 2

"It gets worse?"

Anira gestured to Korim and the old man rose stiffly.

With great care, he donned a pair of thin, soft gloves and unrolled a large, rectangular piece of vellum, on which was a very old and detailed map.

Anira beckoned for them to gather for a closer look and those seated further down the table rose to obey.

Galen leaned over between the seats of two council members and peered at the map.

He had not seen many maps before and so had little idea what he was looking at but Triss had seen plenty.

"This is Sakkara," she said, frowning.

"The detail is extraordinary but the borders are all wrong. Look."

She pointed to a long, squiggly line separating one region from another but Korim batted her hand away.

"It is map of ancient Sakkara," he snapped.

"Incredibly rare and valuable. Possibly se only of its kind. Do not touch."

"You must forgive Korim," Anira said with a fond, if strained, smile.

"He takes his job quite seriously."

"As would you," Korim huffed.

"If you were tasked wis preserving and protecting se last relics of a lost world."

Sevhalim held up a hand.

"Wait a minute. 'Lost world?' 'Ancient Sakkara?' Are you talking about the Dwellers? Because they're a myth."

"Are they?" Anira raised her brows at him and pointed at the vaulted, carved ceiling overhead.

"You don't think a few dozen old members of The Hand built this place, do you? We found it. All we did was dust the cobwebs and update the furnishings."

"What are The Dwellers?" Behn asked nervously.

"Are they like the barrowlings?"

"No, not at all," Galen said.

For once, this was something he knew.

Among the precious books Harrald had brought him over the years, the old History of Sakkara had been the longest and most difficult to read.

Galen had read it several times, nonetheless and recalled an entire chapter on the Dwellers.

"They were an ancient race," he said.

"Most stood at least eight feet tall. They were very wise and loved beauty and knowledge. They mined rare minerals and metals and jewels from the earth and built their great halls, right into the mountains themselves," he trailed off, looking about the room with renewed wonder.

He had noticed that everything seemed a little too large, from the table and chairs to the doors and stairs and now it made better sense.

Sevhalim picked up where he'd left off but with a more skeptical tone.

"It is said they dwelt beneath the mountains, whole cities underground, lit by strange magic or strange inventions, perhaps and in hidden places such as this. That the Dwellers themselves or the Iryani, as they called themselves, existed is not in question, most of the stories about them, however, are exaggeration at best. If you could prove they built this place, it would be a stunning discovery."

"It proves itself," Anira said.

"Deeper in, there are chambers with walls covered in carvings that tell stories or recount histories, perhaps. It is not easy to decipher them and though there is writing as well, the Dweller language is largely lost. From what we can tell, however, this was a place of healing, a place with spiritual significance, where those in need of rest might come to restore themselves. There are other places like it, scattered along the mountains and beneath the mountains themselves lies the Dweller realm."

"Se entrances to which are hidden," Korim said.

"So zat only zose wis proper knowledge may enter. Zat is what se maps are for, we look for a way in and hope se barrowlings have not found one already."

Sev whistled.

"I see. If you're right and there are truly tunnels and passageways beneath the mountains, who knows how far the barrowlings might spread, how great their numbers might become or what troubles they might cause?"

Anira nodded.

"Indeed. To say nothing of what else we could discover. So, tell me, Sevhalim... who would be interested in lost Dweller knowledge and why would Rea, having come upon those maps and perhaps understanding their significance, immediately steal them and disappear?"

With a sigh, Sev circled back around the table and sat down in the chair opposite Galen's, beside Zenír, who had remained in his seat.

The others followed and for a moment the only sound in the room was the rustle of fabric and a few grunts as everyone retook their places.

Finally, Sev lifted his gaze and met Anira's, an unhappy turn to his lips.

"The Order," he said.

"While they claim it is the work of their own high mages, there is a legend, as I'm sure you're aware, that The Heart of Sakkara, 'The Jewel' beneath Jana Val, is a Dweller construct. If they thought they might find another or learn how to make more... That would outweigh even the importance of The P'Yrha, I think."

"So we have concluded as well," Anira said, as Korim carefully rolled up the ancient map once more.

"Let us assume, for the moment, that we are correct. You understand what a serious matter this is?"

Sevhalim nodded grimly.

"Those maps mustn't reach the Order, for the sake of the Haven, if nothing else."

"You know Rea best. Where will she go?"

"Straight to Jana Val by the fastest route," Sevhalim answered.

"At this time of year... I'd wager she'll make for the southern pass, steal a horse in Lastiff and ride hard up the valley plains to Tal P'Nir and from there to Jana Val. It's what we would have done if we had not risked this more northern route."

"How long will this journey take?" another council member asked. Sev considered.

"With the snows... two weeks to the southern pass, two more to reach Jana Val."

"Then we have time," another said.

"She's had more than a day's head start," Obi argued.

"Rea is tireless. We'll never catch her up, unless you have a sled and dogs like the Yotaim use."

"Sadly we do not," Anira said.

"However..." she looked around the table at each of the other members of the council, who each nodded once in turn, as if casting a silent vote.

Anira nodded last and continued.

"However, there may be another way, a way you could reach Sakkara faster and cut her off at Tal P'Nir."

"How?" Triss asked, eyeing the map with unease.

Anira smiled.

"I see you've guessed it already, perhaps. We were not merely looking for an entrance. We found one. After so many centuries the passage is blocked but we're very close to breaking through. Days... a week at most. If the tunnels beyond are intact, you may be able to cross the mountains with ease, arriving at Tal P'Nir well before Rea."

"If this 'Dweller Realm' is as extensive as you say," Sev said, frowning.

"We are more likely to become hopelessly lost."

Anira raised her brows and nodded at Korim, who held the roll of vellum.

"That is not the only map we found. There is another. And lucky for you, it is much more difficult to steal."

Galen looked to Triss and Behn and saw his thoughts mirrored on their faces.

Perhaps it was fortune of some kind but he did not feel lucky, at all.

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dream-beyond-the-fantasy · 1 year

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18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Love your work by the way :)

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

Don't hate me, Anon, but my answer is Daniel LaRusso. I can usually manage writing him in drabbles, but I'm not happy with a Daniel-centric ficlet that I've been working on for a year. I kinda dread writing him into three of my WIPs next year. I'm just not sure if I'll be able to maintain his voice and do it justice.

19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

I'd actually like to attempt Chozen/Kumiko.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Oh, wow. Even if I haven't written much this year in comparison to years past, this is a hard choice. I honestly can’t choose between my Jimmy/Julie drabbles and ficlets. Well, I could, but the choice would be too long to post. So, I’ll choose this section from Chapter 3 of You’re a Wizard, Jimmy:

After the fourth wand, Ollivander presented him with a wand of a polished golden hue. The way it was carved from its widest section to its handle reminded Jimmy of the rails on his grandmother’s rocking chair. Jimmy felt a pleasant, warm tingle the moment his fingers wrapped around it.

“Pear and unicorn hair. Eleven and three-quarters inches. Resilient and dependable.”

Jimmy waved it through the air, almost in the shape of a figure eight. Blue sparks emanated from it.

“Ah, good. We’ve found you a match. You must possess a good heart, my boy. This wand will serve you faithfully.”

Finally, I have finished this response! Dear Anon, I’m so sorry that it took this long too finish. It was really hard to choose a passage for Question #29. Thank you for taking the time to read my work and ask me questions. It truly does mean a lot to me that you’ve read and love my stories.

#ao3 wrapped #writer's edition #replies #anonymous #daniel larusso #chumiko #chozen x kumiko #you're a wizard jimmy

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frontproofmedia · 1 year

Text

Dolo Flicks: Avatar: The Way of Water - James Cameron Adds Another Quality Blockbuster Sequel To His Resume

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By Hector Franco

Follow @MrHector_Franco !function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0],p=/^http:/.test(d.location)?'http':'https';if(!d.getElementById(id))(document, 'script', 'twitter-wjs'); Follow @Frontproofmedia!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0],p=/^http:/.test(d.location)?'http':'https';if(!d.getElementById(id))(document, 'script', 'twitter-wjs');

Published: December 29, 2022

"The way of water connects all things. Before your birth and after your death." -- Lo'ak

Thirteen years can be an eternity, especially in the filmmaking business. In the decade-plus since 2009s, Avatar, the top of the food chain for blockbuster films, has been monopolized by the superhero genre.

Superhero films were a huge part of the film landscape in 2009; in fact, arguably the two best in the genre's history, 2008's The Dark Knight and Sam Raimi's Spider-Man 2, released before the first Avatar. But they weren't the reigning goliath that they are today.

With the added proliferation of streaming services, the question was, did James Cameron wait too long to release a sequel to Avatar?

The answer is a resounding no.

Waiting out the wave to the point where moviegoers are going through a superhero fatigue of sorts, Avatar: The Way of Water improves upon the original in almost every facet. Cameron is familiar with creating high-quality sequels. 1986s Aliens and 1991s Terminator 2 are widely considered two of the top-tier follow-ups in film history.

While 2009s Avatar currently holds the worldwide record for highest-grossing box office, the movie's reputation over the years has soured. Most of the complaints were due to some characters feeling like caricatures and a derivative plot line resembling Dances with Wolves or Ferngully. Instead of developing a complicated or overly expansive plot to combat those criticisms, Cameron delivers a simple story that allows for more complexity in his characters for The Way of Water.

At over three hours in length, The Way of Water plays, in some respects, like a three-episode television show with its three acts clearly defined. The film picks up over a decade after the first film's events, with many of the original cast returning. Jake Sully (Sam Worthington), a former human and now Na'vi Pandora native, has a family with Neytiri (Zoe Saldana) and largely lives peacefully. Worthington's character is at the center of a majority of the conflicts throughout the movie, but The Way of Water's main characters are Jake Sully's children. Most of the first chapter allows the audience to catch up with the protagonists and what life has been like for them.

The movie's primary antagonist is Colonel Miles Quaritch (Stephen Lang), who has been brought back from the dead. He has been resurrected in a way that isn't head-scratching and makes sense for the world within the film. Before the final events of the first film, Quaritch and fellow Marines in his squad used a technology to save one's memories and put them into another host body. Since this is a future setting and a world that allows humans to live and breathe in a different alien body, transferring memories isn't overly farfetched.

Regardless of how he returned, Quartich's revival sets a revenge plotline for the villain rather than just one of colonization. While colonization and environmental politics are still themes of The Way of Water, it isn't as overt as the original. There aren't military members calling the Na'vi savages or monkeys, for example.

The film's second act is where the visuals take the front seat. The underwater scenes are, at times, breathtaking, immersing the audience as much as possible with the characters. The movie's filming lasted from August 2017 to September 2020 in California and New Zealand. The development of the technology for gathering performance capture for the underwater scenes allows the film to provide a unique experience.

Watching The Way of Water at a theatre is essential. The movie is good enough to be enjoyed at home, but unless you have an impressive home theatre system watching at home can be akin to watching a video of a rollercoaster on YouTube.

"It's never been done before and it's very tricky because our motion capture system, like most motion capture systems, is what they call optical base, meaning that it uses markers that are photographed with hundreds of cameras," James Cameron said to The Independent. "The problem with water is not the underwater part, but the interface between the air and the water, which forms a moving mirror. That moving mirror reflects all the dots and markers, and ... it creates thousands of false targets, so we've had to figure out how to get around that problem, which we did. ... It's taken us about a year and a half now to work out how we're going to do it."

Adding the new Na'vi characters as part of the Metkayina tribe adds to the dynamic of putting the younger protagonists at the forefront. As you spend time with the characters, you learn with them the new lifestyle of the Metkayina. The leaders of the tribe, Tonowari (Cliff Curtis) and Ronal (Kate Winslet), are somewhat of an obstacle for the Sully family to overcome but ultimately prove to be a needed addition to the film.

The Way of Water's most significant faults falls under its ambition. Its more than three-hour length is well-paced, but the inclusion of some intermission may have been helpful for the theatre experience. Putting the Sully children as the central characters mainly works; however, some of them feel like a nuisance rather than a welcoming entry.

Neteyam (James Flatters) and Lo'ak (Britain Dalton), the two sons of Jake Sully, are at the movie's emotional core. The audience spends most of its second act with Lo'ak as he learns the ways of the Metkayina and deals with the growing pains of living in a new tribe.

The film's third act is the battle on the water between the Sully family with the Metkayina and Colonel Quaritch's marines. Unsurprisingly, the final battle is a massive spectacle in the style of Cameron, with explosions and a sense of stakes on the line. In a crucial moment, the film highlights the consequences of the battle with Neteyam tragically dying, providing the most poignant and emotional portions.

Avatar: The Way of Water isn't likely to be an Oscar-nominated film for anything other than its technical achievements, and deservedly so, but James Cameron once again continues his status as one of the kings of the blockbuster.

Films can be spectacles and escapism all wrapped up in one. Being taken away to another world will always be a necessary experience for the film medium. It may not be perfect, but Cameron delivered with Avatar: The Way of Water and succeeded in audiences waiting in anticipation for the next journey into Pandora.

(Featured Image: 20th Century Studios)

#HF #Avatar #James Cameron #20th Century #Dolo Flicks

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tomb-bloom-noctem · 3 years

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Something I'd like your take on:

I get the Mcduck family tree but its kinda complicated when you think about it too much. I love it and how all the generations are there but sometimes I get wrapped up in its time line. Scrooge is ancient, his parents moreso, so, for Donald and Della's ages to make sense, Hortense must've had them when she was VERY old.

Scrooge was born in 1867 and is the oldest of his siblings. Hortense was the youngest but noone knows her birth year. But using Scrooge's birth year as a rough estimate, that means she'd have been in her 100s or 90s in 1981, which is when Della and Donald were born, if we are to assume that the reboot takes place in 2017. And that part always confused me! Like I really don't get it. Its not like ducks having babies and being that age is just a thing, judging by how often Scrooge's age is commented on. So I really don't get it? Plus, Webby's cork-board has pictures of Hortense and Quackmore. Quackmore looks in his 30s but Hortense looks at least 10 years older. When I read your fanfic, whenever they are brought up in passing, I always picture Hortense with her short blond hair and in her 30s before she died, same with Quackmore. But then I remembered all of this and wanted to ask your theory on it? 🙂🙂

Loved chapter 11 BTW, it was so realistic!!! I've had some family sessions and boyyyyyy my mom's stubborn. Also, it was just really well done and characterful, I can't wait for the next one!!!❤

Firstly thank you so so so much! I appreciate the love and support!!! It means the literal world to me ❤❤❤

Super long answer incoming! *rubs hands together excitedly* I've thought a ton about this!.

On to your question; agreed that the family tree is just ridiculous sometimes and Scrooge's age is a bit wild to think about. With only knowing Scrooge's canon birth year I've had to make my own estimates for Matilda and Hortense. For Matilda I've made her birth year 1873 and then for Hortense her birth year is 1877.

Now using those years and if we jump back to Chapter 9 of my fic, the opening of which takes place in 1880, it means Matilda is 7 and Hortense is 3 at the start of Chapter 9. And Scrooge of course is 13.

So where does that leave us? We got that down but how are they still alive all this time? The immortality on Castle McDuck of course. But wait, when was Castle McDuck rebuilt? Unfortunately I can't find any answer on that. Now that castle may have ORIGINALLY been built sometime in the 900's (before 946 is the only specification I can find.) But definitely no answer I can find regarding when Scrooge rebuilt it.

Thus I've had to come up with my own answer for when Scrooge rebuilt the castle.

And that year is 1896.

Without any immortality of his own, Scrooge at aged 29, 16 years after he left home, rebuilds his ancestral family home.

Matilda is 23 by this time and Hortense is 19. Both still live at home with Fergus and Downy trying to help out. There's a lot of guilt on Fergus and Downy's part as they want their daughters to be able to go out and be in the world as Scrooge did and find success and love and good things as he has been instead of at home helping them in their old age. But Hortense and Matilda insisted. But then Scrooge surprises them with a visit and a gift of the castle. A castle that thanks to the druid magic (I'm keeping that part true) preserves the life of those who dwell inside.

So for Hortense this means she was 104 by the time 1981 came around. Wowza. But obviously she isn't that old from our few pictures of her and whatnot. So what's the deal?

After the castle is done and the family moves in, they all stay there for a long, long time. Initially not knowing that the magic is preserving their life. They do know they can't safely travel out into the fog (which I say is probably just some fae bullshit. In Scotland, always blame the fae.) But it takes quite a few years if not decades for them to realize their life is being preserved.

1927. 31 years after coming to live in the castle. Matilda is the first to grow restless with this life. So she leaves one fog clearing. 5 years later she returns with stories to tell, things from the outside, and has even aged a little bit. It isn't much but it can be seen. This starts to become more frequently for Matilda. She's been doing this for long enough now that this is why she has the appearance of someone who's probably about her late 30's maybe mid 40's at the most when we finally meet her in Fight for Castle McDuck!

Hortense though took a lot longer to ever venture outside. She didn't want to leave her parents alone, even when Matilda offered numerous times to stay so she could venture out. But it was just too darn scary! She'd never been out on her own before, ever! And now surprise! It's been decades and she's still 19 years old! So she was scared to venture out on her own without Matilda but also didn't want to leave her parents alone for the next 5 years.

Eventually though after some time of Matilda coming and going and Hortense still being too afraid, her dear Ma and Pa have a sit down with her. The next fog lifting is coming up soon and Matilda is ready to head out again. And this time, they want her to go with her. And she's at first so scared or worried that she did something wrong but it's not that at all. They just want her to be able to live. They love her immensely but want her to get to have a chance to live as well. So, please, go out there. Live a little. Grow a little. Feel the sun on your face. Meet people. Fall in love. Experience what life is supposed to be.

And though she was afraid, she joined Matilda for the first time in 1957 (Poodle skirts for Hortense!)

So this now becomes their thing. Hortense and Matilda leave when the fog lifts and come back 5 years later. A little older, a little wiser, with things and stories and people met.

And then in 1969, Quackmore and Hortense meet.

So, obviously the original birthdate for Quckmore (1875) doesn't work here. So I've had to think of my own for him as well. 1945 is the year Quackmore Duck was born. This means he'd be 24 when he first meets Hortense.

They immediately drive each other crazy and are madly in love.

So when it's getting to be time to return to the castle, Matilda has a crazy suggestion. He should come with them. Meet the family! See it for himself!

It was scary to agree to but Hortense explained it to him and he took it surprisingly well. He might have not fully believed her which, fair. But he was willing to do so. So he said goodbye to his family for the meantime and left his job and joined them at the castle for the next 5 years, in 1972.

And he indeed learned that Hortense wasn't kidding.

Now these two still have their iconic tempers. They would certainly fight and get frustrated with each other and whatnot. Pa even suggested after one particularly nasty argument that they just chuck him into the fog. But somehow, inexplicably, they never ended things. Love still burned as did their tempers. And to Hortense's surprise, her parents were continously encouraging her to move away and get married and gave a children if she wanted, have a life outside of this place. If not Quackmore, at least someone! But it's still such a scary thought! Marriage??? A her age!? Well, not her literal age. But still. What a thought. Moving away. Not living at the castle. Having a life. A REAL life! Could she even do it!? She's been so young and alive for so long could she really face growing old and dying someday?

So it was incredibly shocking to Hortense and Matilda both that in 1977, less than a week after the fog lifted and the 3 left the castle, that Quackmore Duck proposed to Hortense.

And though she was scared, she chose life. A life with him. Even if it meant moving out of the castle and facing change and growing old and dying someday. It would be a life worth living. So she said yes.

But they could still have their fights and frustrations but they seemed to mellow out more and more with time. The biggest thing they fought over past this point was whether or not to move to America. Ultimately they decided to do so even though it wasn't easy.

And then in 1982, holding their not quite year old twins in hand, Quackmore and Hortense returned to the castle for the night. Only the night. They didn't stay. They just wanted to introduce the grandkids. The surprise was incredibly welcomed.

And sadly it was the last time.

Because in 1987, the next time the fog lifted, Hortense and Quackmore had already passed. Scrooge struggled to face his own family in this time so he sent Duckworth to take the children to their grandparents for the night while he attended to other matters around Scotland. So twins and Duckworth, Matilda and Fergus and Downy, all grieved together for this one evening.

And Scrooge spent it alone.

•

So anon, to make a long post short, the TL;DR here is. Yes Hortense was over 100 years old but my interpretation of how the castle works is everyone who lives inside it remains frozen at that age until they leave. People who only visit for the brief window that the fog is lifted but are gone before it closes again (like Scrooge and the kids in 2017 for example) aren't affected. But if you're there when the fog closes again you'll now be stuck at that age until you leave again. So Hortense going to live in the castle at a fairly young age and not venturing outside of it for so long and plus always returning in another 5 years means that ultimately she was only about 33/34 when the twins are born and only 38/39 when she died. Quackmore was 37/38 at the time of his death although technically 42 adding the 5 years he stayed in the castle when he died. And she's technically 110. Also just on a random note I'm gonna say I believe she was fairly blonde until around the time of her death then her hair turned gray. It wasn't like a side affect of the castle or anything, I think she just started prematurely graying. Quackmore jokes with her about how much she looks like Downy but she doesn't actually hate it. In fact she fully embraces the oncoming head of gray. People tell her it makes her look older than she is and she just chuckles that it's her old soul poking through. She doesn't take their suggestions or offers to cover up her gray. It's a sign of a life well lived. She lived a long life with love and family and experiences.

She died with only two regrets. One that her dear big brother Scrooge was still so cold and distant from the family. And two, that she wasn't going to be able to be there for her children.

Hopefully, he would take care of them as he promised. He would step up as their guardian and they'd warm his heart. Maybe even help him reach back out to the rest of the family again and they could all be together and close again.

Even if she couldn't be alive for it.

#tomb talks #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #hortense mcduck #hortense duck #quackmore duck #matilda mcduck #downy mcduck #fergus mcduck #castle mcduck #the secrets of castle mcduck #the fight for castle mcduck #the attempt & the aftermath #ta&ta #donald duck #della duck #long post

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extremelyblackandwhite · 3 years

Text

innocence - 29

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: smut (18+, underage DNI)

A/N: its angst season again!!

NEXT CHAPTER

Bucky held the old phone against his ear as he waited for Natasha to pass the line onto Steve, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Once again, there were no news coming from them. There’s not enough evidence for us to even make a guess, he’d tell him every time he called the super soldier. It did not matter how many hours he spent on the phone, a team of synthesoids, witches, spies and super soldiers couldn’t bring upon themselves to figure out who was threatening his girlfriend. His mind couldn’t stop going to the worse places. If he didn’t figure it out, who would?

- Buck, we can go through the record off people who got into her building but do we even know if it’s the same person?

- It has to be, Steve. Go through the records, check for anyone who isn’t from the building.

- Have you asked Y/N who she thinks might be?

- No, I didn’t tell her. - he gulped. - I promised her she’d be safe. I’m not gonna tell her.

- That is a ter ... - the line broke down and before he could call out for Steve’s name again, he heard Y/N’s voice right behind him.

- When were you gonna tell me? - she held up the letter in front of his face and he swore all the colour drained from his face. - Bucky, when were you gonna tell me? How long have you known? Where did this come from?

Bucky dropped the phone to the holder, visibly gulping at the sight of his girlfriend holding the letter he had sworn not to let her see. However, except of seeing the fear she had displayed the first time it happened, she was upset, mad even with that hidden type of serene look which he was sure would scare any army. She put the letter on the table, crossing her arms at him.

- It came yesterday. I don’t know if it actually arrived yesterday but that’s when I got it from the post box.

- Why didn’t you tell me? - she sighed looking down at her feet, one hand holding her weight on the table. Bucky’s jaw locked, eyes moving from side to side before he wrapped his hand around her forearm and led her into the bedroom. Last thing he needed was for her whole family to know not only was he terrible at his job, he was also terrible at being her boyfriend. First fight in her parents’ home ... you can’t fuck up any further Barnes. - James, I’m not toying around.

- I thought it wasn’t important. - he lied.

- They found my family home, James. It is important and you hid it from me. Why did you even open my mail?

- I hoped to be able to find who did it before I told you. I didn’t want to ruin your Christmas. - he put his hands in his pocket. She narrowed her eyes at him, arms crossed over her chest.

- Is that why you don’t wanna kiss me or touch me? You ... Do you ... You agree with they called me? - she frowned, her own anger replaced by her own insecurities. Bucky blinked slowly as if he was processing what she had said, not believing the words which had came out of her mouth. - I ... I didn’t mean to be too forward, I jus ...

- No. No, no, no, no ... - he walked so fast he was almost running, holding her by her arms. - No. I don’t agree with them, I would never agree with it.

- Then ... are you really not in the mood and I just made a complete idiot of myself?

- I don’t, no, I just feel like I failed you, failed my job. - he cupped her face in his hands, trying to find her gaze but she refused to look at him. - I don’t want to fail you, everyone but you. I’m sorry I kept it from you, I thought that you’d feel safer if you didn’t know.

- So you thought keeping me in my own delusion was the best thing to do?

- I’m sorry. - he leaned his forehead against hers. She looked up, into his baby blue eyes as her hand hoovered over his arm. - I didn’t want ... I didn’t mean to delude you.

- You didn’t fail me. - she brought his hand up to her lips, kissing the back of it before leaning her face against it. - It is not your fault that letter came in.

- But I should know who it was ... or at least Steve should. He’s proving himself to be quite useless ... - he grumbled on, which made her hold in her laughter by biting the inside of her lip. - I’m sorry, dollface. I really am.

- If you ever kiss my head when I’m trying to kiss you ever again, we will have severe problems. - she pointed her finger jokingly at him.

- Heard it loud and clear, princess. - he pulled her arm so she was chest to chest with him as if they were about to dance. - Just so we’re clear, I do not agree with those letters.

- Please don’t hide things from me. - her ring finger traced his cheekbone softly. - I can’t stand it from everyone but I personally can’t stand it coming from you. You’re the only one in my corner.

- I’ll always be in your corner but I will want to protect you and I will sometimes do something stupid.

- Why do something stupid when you could do me? - she looked at him with that little shy grin which was just always so endearing to him. Bucky chuckled, leaning down to kiss her. It was a short kiss, broken by him merely to look at her pout.

- You’re getting frisky, princess?

- Well, you did lose your chance to see what’s under my robe. - her fingers slightly rose the hem of her robe to show a bit of her lace garter before dropping it to grab her dress. - But I do need to grab some takeaway.

- I’m going with you. - he followed into her own ensuite bathroom, but she stopped him, holding the door edge in her hand. - You were going to show it to me anyway.

- Next time don’t hide stuff from me. - she smiled before locking the door leaving him alone while she got dressed in a jumper like dress. Bucky leaned his forehead against the door, his mind going haywire as the minute she was gone he immediately started thinking of how he hadn’t found who was sending those letters. How come no one had figured it out? Surely whoever had done it couldn’t be that good at covering their tracks unless they were a professional. Y/N exited the bathroom in her jumper dress and put her hands on the nape of his neck. Bucky took that opportunity to rise up the hem of her dress, watching the soft white stocking reach its end where it connected to her garter. - No, Bucky. No.

- When did you have this? I’ve never seen you wear it before. - he tried to pull it upwards a bit more but she stopped him by merely wrapping her hand around his wrist. - Did you buy it for me, princess?

- Oh no, I wore this when I was 20. In front a 150 people audience.

- What? - he looked as confused as the day someone explained what the internet was to him. - Someone else has seen it? Why can’t I see it?

- Because you’re not in the mood. - she walked away to grab her coat and her scarf. - Are you coming?

- Oh, in more ways then one, princess. - he too grabbed his jacket, following her down the stairs.

He held her hand as they stepped outside, going into a mode he wasn’t used to going into very often. Everything and everyone was suspicious to him and at any moment, he felt like he was ready to kill someone with only a snap of his fingers. Bucky wanted that and at the same time he didn’t want it. It was a hard duality, that of wanting to defend her at all costs and ensure she was the happiest and that of wanting to just bask into how it felt to be hers, because, god, did it felt god to be hers. It was like waking up in spring mornings and all his mistakes seemed to fade whenever she smiled, the way her nose scrunched up and she hide her mouth with her hands, saying her smile was much to ugly for him to see it. Of course she was lying, her smile was the cutest thing. Yet, he wanted her safe, he wanted her to be endlessly happy. He could never get rid of his demons, of what they had done to him, but he could make sure no one hurt her, no one treated her like a commodity because she was everything but that.

- Claire said Aunt Petunia corned you about babies. - she spoke out as they waited on the line. - I’m sorry, I keep telling her not to but I think she’s in competition with her friend about it.

- It’s okay. - he chuckled. - Do you want one?

- Baby?

- Yeah, do you want a kid someday?

- I do but only one. I think my mum and dad lost a pound of hair each time me and my siblings bickered. Besides, Colin almost made me believe you were cheating on me.

- What?

- Yeah. I was desperate, I called Chuck for help. Chuck. Also, I think he’s dating.

- Circling back to the baby question ... would you consider a baby, maybe you and me have one, someday?

- You want to have a baby with me? - she peered up from looking at her shoes to look at him. Bucky immediately regretted the question, she was young and probably not thinking about kids. - Buck?

- Forget it.

- No, Bucky. I didn’t mean it like that ... I just thought you wouldn’t want to have kids.

- I don’t know. - he scratched the back of his neck. - I mean, I don’t really have much family left and I’d like to think, maybe someday, we could have our own.

- Bucky ...

- I’m freaking you out.

- No. I’ve thought about it too, buying a house, having a baby, but ... everything I do is controlled and scheduled and tight lipped so I tend not to day dream about it.

- Hey ... - he hooked his arm under her waist, pulling her close to him. - You still have agency and besides, I’m really good at going undercover if you need to.

- You always know what to say.

- That’s because you’re predictable, princess.

- I am not. - she retorted, pouting as she crossed her arms.

- Yes, you are, princess.

- Really? - she cocked an eyebrow at him, before standing on her tip toes to whisper against his hear. - I’m not wearing any underwear.

- What? - he blushed as Y/N smiled before stepping forward to collect the takeaway bags from the customer assistant. Bucky cleared his throat as the two of them walked outside. - I thought you had something to show me.

- I did but then I realised it is really uncomfortable to be in that lingerie, so I took it off.

Bucky felt most of his blood travelled south as he looked up and down her body. Damn it, suddenly her home felt so far away from the restaurant. He couldn’t help but stare at her body as they walked down the street, the way her dress draped over what he now knew was her naked body. Part of him felt jealous that she was in such a state in front of everyone else but the other part, the most overwhelming one, wanted to push her into an alley and take her right there and then and maybe he would’ve done so if he hadn’t seen a few paparazzi trying to appear invisible. He put himself on her left, mostly covering her, wrapping his hand around hers as he picked up the pace to get to her place. Once again he stood behind her as she opened her door, so close her could smell her daisy perfume and if he were a bit younger and lacked self control, he would’ve drowned her neck in hickeys. However, he thought seeing himself display some strong PDA with his girlfriend on the next morning’s paper. She took her jacket off, hanging it on the hooks by the door.

- We’re going. - he whispered against her ear as she placed the takeaway bags on the kitchen. She opened her mouth to protest, wanting to defend her right to have the yummy food she had just bought but Bucky gave her no chance to do so, instead holstering her upon his shoulder and climbing up the stairs.

Y/N waved at her younger brother who stopped in his tracks as Bucky passed through him and straight into her bedroom. Before she could protest once more, he laid her on her own bedroom, climbing on top of her and started to kiss her neck which replaced the half done protests with small moans. His hand slide up her left to her tight, rising the dress in the process and sure enough, she had not been lying about not wearing any underwear. Other than the garter which held up the sheer white stockings, she was a bare as the day she was born. Bucky took a moment to appreciate it, the bare woman laid on the bed under him, looking at him as if he were the only man in the world.

- I must say, princess. Whatever you had to show me can’t be better than this.

- Maybe my food downstairs is better.

- You’re not walking down any stairs anytime soon, after I’m done with you. - he leaned down to kiss her, a harsh full of need kiss as if he hadn’t seen her in decades.

She smiled through the kiss, hands held over his neck as he placed kisses and sucked her skin in places she was sure to get a hickey the next day, but it didn’t matter. In all honesty, nothing really mattered when he kissed her. Y/N held her hands up as he took off the dress and basked in her nakedness. Screw all the women he had ever slept with, no one compared to her. It didn’t have to do with beauty or even seduction. She was just her, just herself in her own naked glory standing under him, eyes shining with a naive like lust as she awaited his next movement. Bucky should’ve done something else but he decided just to kiss her, fingers caressing the soft skin of her face.

- What is it? - she asked as he interrupted the kiss once more.

- You are the most wonderful thing in my life, Y/N. - he kissed her once more, one hand coming to remove his own trousers.

Her lips stretched into a small smile as she rose her forehead to press it against his. She mumbled a small I love you, kissing the side of his lips as he pushed his cock into her. Her lips stretched into a gasp as he grunted once he shed himself completely inside her, eyes closed as he let the feeling of being inside of her take complete hold of him. She continued mid gasp, not a single thought forming inside her mind rather than how good he felt, how full she was.

Bucky opened his eyes, baby blues almost navy coloured as his hand pushed some of her hair away from her face, kissing her to silence her little gaps and moans which came out in such meek tones, it made him even hard just from listening to them. The kiss was forceful, his lips swallowing all her sounds as he slowly circled his hips against hers, one hand holding the side of her hips with a vice like grip. He pushed his hips back, removing himself from her only to thrust back into her, establishing a slow and delayed pace, grip strong enough to leave a bruise the next day. She whined, nails dug into the fabric of the sleeveless tank top he had not taken off.

- Bucky, please ... - she pleaded, tears pooling in her eyes. - Faster.

- No, princess. You’ve been so bad lately ... what should I do with you? - he stopped moving, stilling inside of her.

- Move? Please?

- Giving me handjobs in a plane, pouting when you don’t get attention, walking around without underwear. That’s not good girl behaviour.

- Bucky ... - she tried to rock her hips against his but he stopped her, hand firmly pressing her against the mattress. - Bucky, please.

- I don’t know, princess. - he leaned into the crook of her neck, playfully bitting her sensitive skin, before kissing it and doing it again. - You look so pretty when you’re begging for my cock. I almost want to see it more. Maybe leave you like this all night, what about that?

- Please, Bucky. Please. - a tears rolled down her cheek as she tried once again to rock her hips against his into a pointless effort. - Please, please, I need it.

- I know. You got so upset when I didn’t fuck you last night, dollface. - he moved out and into her in a long, slow motion, earning more moans from her. - You’re just becoming so needy for me, princess.

- Please. - she pouted, raising up to kiss him, her hands moving up to try and take off his shirt but he refused, shutting her actions by starting to relentlessly thrust in and out of her as if he had been possessed by mere lust. Y/N threw her head back as his hand grabbed her breast harshly and he continued to relentlessly fuck her.

Her legs trembled as he went back to paying attention to her neck and jaw, the mix of all the emotions chasing her high. She whined, trying to deal with all she was feeling from his lips against her neck, his hand massaging her breast and flicking her nipple every once in a while as well as his cock veins against the walls of her channel. She managed to open her eyes for a few seconds and swore she could cum merely at the sight of him as he moved away from her neck to thrust faster into her, head thrown back, pink reddish lips opened in a circle, sweat forming in hairline. She had done that, she had gotten him to look so lost in pleasure and that was as stimulating as something could get.

His hand left her breast to start circling her clit, slowly and painful, a harsh contrast with the fast pace. Her own hand replaced the place that had once been occupied by his hand on her breast, biting her lip as he continued with his motions. Bucky did not stop until she reached her orgasm, the tight feeling in her lower stomach exploding into a particular high pitch moan which he silenced by kissing her, reminding her her parents were still downstairs after all. He didn’t take long to reach his own orgasm either, continuing to thrust quickly into her until ropes and ropes of cum painted her walls. The orgasm weakened his hold over her for a few seconds, leading to him collapsing to her side, pushing her along with him. Bucky slipped out of her, reaching up to kiss her lips followed by a small kiss to her nose.

- Hi. - she said shyly, cuddling against his chest as he pushed a cover over her body. - No more secrets, promise me.

- I can’t promise that. I can promise that whatever I do, I do it because I love you and I want you safe.

- Buck.

- I will try. - he kissed her forehead. - Good?

- Good.

She remained in his arms, cuddling against his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beat softly against his ribcage. It felt good, it felt good to feel loved, to hear the heartbeat of someone who loved her, someone who existed, someone who she had only dreamed about and now existed in real life and loved her. The two watched the old clock on her table turn to midnight. Christmas day. She looked up to him, extending to give him a quick kiss.

- Merry Christmas, love.

- Merry Christmas, princess. - he kissed her nose.

- I thought we could trade presents between us. Make it special.

- Me first. - he said and before she could ever argue, he was rolling out of bed with a small blanket covering his nudity to grab a present wrapped in festive wrapping paper with her name written on it. He sat on the bed, next to her, pushing the duvet to cover her so she wouldn’t be cold. - I hope you like it.

- I’m sure I will. - Y/N smiled at him before proceeding to unwrap her present. It was a book and one she recognised very well from seeing pictures on Google whenever she looked around jokingly for first editions on Ebay. - Buck, it’s too much. I can’t.

- It’s mine. Well, it used to be mine but now it’s yours.

- How do you even know I like the Hobbit?

- Chuck told me.

- You and Chuck talk? - she giggled, unable to picture her best friend having a conversation with Bucky who was always brooding.

- We don’t but whenever we’re on set, he just keeps talking. He said you liked it, so I thought it would be fun if you had the one I read when I was what? About your age?

- Oh okay, grampa. - she poked his chest jokingly before handing him his present.

Bucky kissed the side of her temple, opening the package to see an album like photo with his name written in gold. He gave her a confused look but she merely nodded her head, telling him to open the book. Once he did, he saw “All the times Bucky Barnes was a hero” written in her handwriting followed by pages and pages of articles calling him a hero, the saviour of the day and other words he did not equalise with himself.

- I know you don’t believe you’re a good man but I do and it’s not just me who thinks it. There has been darkness in your life but the way you continued onwards, doing good to the world which hurt you ... that’s noble. - he heard her voice almost in a echo like fashion as he moved page after page. It did not only ranged from his time in the Howling Commandos but even til now, with recent missions and facts. Everything was there, different journal cut outs, different testimonies. Everything.

Bucky looked to his side, looked at her who was smiling at the book in his hand which she had put together and he knew. He just knew.

- Y/N?

- Hm?

- Marry me.

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @bbabysbaby @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverratedbutgreat @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites @bluevxnus @that-girl-named-alex @captnrogers @nsfwsebbie @sarge-barnes-sir

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heyitssmiller · 4 years

Text

Clandestine: Chapter Three

The first mission doesn’t exactly go as planned. Also, Logan has a thing for glasses, apparently.

@lumosinlove Thank you for letting me run away with your characters! <3

Again, @donttouchmycarrots is my hero and the best proofreader ever! This fic wouldn’t be what it is without her.

Clandestine Masterlist

The bank was quiet, save for the soft murmurings of tellers and customers. Sunlight filtered through the windows of the storefront, light and hazy. The office plant by the front door was growing way too big for its pot. There were a few people waiting in line, absently scrolling through their phones. Others were sitting in the waiting area, mindlessly taking in their surroundings. It was calm, peaceful.

Or it was, until a redhead came sprinting out of the men’s restroom, screaming “Fire!” at the top of his lungs.

The bank then descended into madness.

A man watched from the driver’s seat of his car as people frantically streamed out of the building and onto the sidewalk. He sighed, taking a second to rest his forehead against the steering wheel. “Damnit, O’Hara. This wasn’t part of the plan.”

29 Hours Earlier

“Good morning, cubs!”

“Fuck you, Black.” Logan muttered into his cup of coffee. “It’s too early to be that excited.”

Leo smiled a little and set a paper bag on the table. Logan stared at it. Where had it come from? He hadn’t seen Leo carrying it into the briefing room, but it was too big to stuff into his pockets. He didn’t have a bag or anything – the only thing he was carrying with him was a notebook and a pen. How did he manage to smuggle it in?

Logan was so confused, and it was still too early.

“I brought muffins.” Leo explained, opening the bag and handing one to Finn. “They’re cinnamon swirl.”

“Nut, did you make these?” Finn asked, removing the wrapper and taking a big bite. Leo shrugged.

“I like to cook.”

Black looked up at him in awe. “These are amazing.” He cradled the muffin in his hand like it was something precious.

“I can give you the recipe, if you want.”

Logan grabbed a muffin, looking up quickly at Remus’ snort. “He can’t cook.”

“Neither can you.” Sirius shot back, a little more hostile than his usual teasing manner. Logan glanced back and forth between the pair, tearing off a piece of muffin and popping it into his mouth. Fuck, that was good.

His partners had clearly picked up on the tension, too, but neither of them brought it up. Leo twirled his pen around in his hand, eyes moving from the pair to Finn. He smiled as the redhead enthusiastically grabbed another muffin. Logan snapped his gaze back to Sirius. “Can we get started, please?” He asked pointedly. “If you make me get up this early, we’d better be doing something productive.”

Finn laughed at him, nose scrunching. “Are you always this grumpy in the morning?”

Green eyes rimmed with dark, dark lashes glared back at him. Logan didn’t say a word but took a long sip of coffee instead, refusing to break eye contact. Finn let himself stare a little longer than he probably should have. He wasn’t lying when he told Logan he was a sucker for green eyes.

Sirius finally broke the tension-filled staring competition between himself and Loops and looked down at his files. Remus started the projector without a word, only speaking up when he was ready to begin his presentation. “We’re starting you three off with the easiest flash drives to retrieve – the two in the banks.”

He moved to a picture of the layout of one of the banks, pointing at a small room tucked away in a corner of the building. “So the safe is back here in this room. You can’t get back there without permission or an escort, which makes it a little trickier. The security system is also very high-grade, so I don’t think trying to break in after hours is our best bet here. There’s too many little things we might miss.

“The plan is to go undercover. Leo and Finn, you’ll be infiltrating this bank. Logan, you’ll be lookout. Leo, you’re going to pretend to be a safe specialist. Tell them the make and model of the safe Riddle uses is faulty and the company sent you to see if this one needs to be replaced. I don’t really care what you say, just make it believable.”

“What kind of safe is it?” Leo asked.

Sirius looked down at his notes. “It’s a… Tigerking Digital Security safe. Does that mean anything to you?”

Leo grinned. “Makes my job a hell of a lot easier. They’ve got a weak spot.”

“What am I doing during all of this?” Finn asked through a mouthful of muffin, crumbs stuck to his mouth. He swiped at them with his tongue before speaking again, “Distraction?”

“Yeah. It’ll have to be big – big enough to get Leo alone with that safe. How long do you think it’ll take to crack, Knut?”

He shrugged. “Ten minutes, tops. It’s got this small hole at the back where bolts are fed through. I can get a stiff wire through that hole and hit the reset button. Then I can reset the code of the safe and open it without leaving a trace.”

Finn smiled, mischief in his eyes. “I think I can manage a ten-minute distraction.”

That… that didn’t sound good.

Finn took one look at Logan’s fearful face and laughed. “Relax, it’s nothing too dramatic. I’ll probably just ask for whoever takes Leo back to look at the safe and then throw a fit when they say he’s not available. And then I’ll drag out our conversation to give our dear Nut enough time. Simple.”

“That… actually works.”

Finn scoffed, giving Remus a look. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Because you’re Finn O’Hara.”

Finn thought about it for a second, then shrugged. “That’s fair.”

“Nut, when you open the safe you need to replace the real flash drive with this decoy.” Sirius said, holding up a blue flash drive. “This op might take weeks or months – if Riddle comes to check on this drive, he needs to see one instead of an empty safe. Now, if he actually checks the information on the flash drives… well, we’re screwed. Hopefully it won’t come to that. He doesn’t usually check the flash drives unless absolutely necessary – it’s too much of a hassle.”

“And I’ll loop the security camera footage when you get there, so there won’t be any evidence of you tampering with the safe.” Remus said. “Get in, get out. Not too hard, right? And we’ll both be with you every step of the way. You’ll have microphones and earpieces so that we can all communicate.”

Finn couldn’t tell if the bouncing of Leo’s leg was his normal restlessness or nerves. His face was a mask of calm that revealed nothing. For someone who didn’t have any previous experience in espionage or conning people, he sure was good at hiding how he was feeling.

Finn handed him another muffin anyways.

The dimpled smile he got in return was nothing but genuine.

***

Remus sat down on his couch with his dinner, sighing to himself as he stretched out his back. It had been a long day, but he finally felt ready for tomorrow. Their plan was solid, the cubs were as ready as they were ever going to be, he had his video loop for the security camera in the safe room, the rest of his tech had been checked over and deemed ready to go. There wasn’t much else he could do besides get a good night’s sleep if he could.

That would be easier said than done, though.

Sirius chose that moment to throw open the door and close it loudly behind him. Remus glared at him. “Is that really necessary?” He asked, but didn’t add anything else on as Sirius slammed down a stack of hand-written pages onto Remus’ coffee table.

“You want me to open up? Fine. There’s all you need to know about me.”

Remus looked down at the pages and instantly felt guilty. How long had he been working on this? “You didn’t have to-”

“You said you couldn’t trust me.” Sirius interrupted coolly. “I can’t get my brother to safety if you guys don’t trust me.”

It appeared that his brother was his sole motivation. For all of this. Remus could understand that. He’d stop at nothing if the safety of his own brother was put into question.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to do this.” Remus looked up at him, at the stiff set to his shoulders, the detached look in his eyes. He went too far the last time they’d talked about this, hadn’t he? “Look, we got along for over a week when you first got here. I think we can do that again, right?”

At Sirius’ skeptical face, he sighed. “This is on me just as much as you. I… I don’t trust easily.” He had to laugh at that massive understatement. “Perks of being a spy. But I feel like we can manage learning to trust each other the old-fashioned way.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“Getting totally, outrageously drunk and sharing all our secrets.”

Sirius’ straight face only lasted for about a second before he busted out laughing. “You go from wanting my entire life story to wanting to get drunk together?”

“It’s a failproof way to gain someone’s trust.” Remus said solemnly, cracking a smile when Sirius laughed again, incredulous. “But not tonight. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“This Friday, then?”

He couldn’t help but notice the hopeful look on Sirius’ face. Had he ever done this with someone before? Did he have any friends besides his brother previously? He put up this excitable, outgoing façade, but Remus honestly had no idea what lay underneath. He nodded decisively. “This Friday.”

Sirius hesitated, then spoke again. “Do you think they’re ready?”

“I think so. And we’ll be there if something goes wrong.” Remus met his eyes, trying to instill confidence into the ex-Snake. “No matter what happens, we’re going to do our best to get your brother out safely.”

“And what if that’s not enough?” Sirius asked, eyes haunted.

That was exactly why Remus hadn’t made any strict promises. There was no way to guarantee that they would get Regulus back. If Remus was in Sirius’ shoes, if this this was Jules instead of Regulus, what would Remus most want to hear?

“We’re going to do everything we can, I promise.” He said, soft but firm. “I know that’s not enough, but it’s the best we can do as of right now.”

Sirius stared back, then nodded. “Thank you.” He looked down at Remus’ food. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving.”

Remus laughed, shoving him away. “Get your own, you leech. This is mine.”

“Leech?” Sirius demanded, dramatizing his offence. “I can’t believe you called me a leech. You were the one who offered to house me, after all.”

That was true. Even if he hated to admit it, Remus was lonely. He lived in this apartment all by himself, worked mostly on his own, and his family lived miles and miles away. And being a spy didn’t exactly make it easy to find friends. He was distrusting and cautious by nature, especially after... well. After he left fieldwork and transitioned to a desk job.

He didn’t know why he’d offered to let Sirius stay, honestly. He just got this gut feeling that it was the right thing to do.

And Remus Lupin always trusted his gut.

“Worst decision I’ve ever made.” He quipped, laughing as Sirius threw a pillow at him. Sirius was a horrible roommate. He left dishes in the sink, beard trimmings on the bathroom counter, and his shoes haphazardly strewn about the living room.

But he always had hot water on the stovetop in the mornings when Remus woke up, always let him pick what they watched on tv at nights, and always replaced anything he had used up without being asked. And, if Remus was being completely honest with himself, soft gray eyes paired with an even softer smile weren’t exactly a terrible thing to wake up to.

So far, this whole roommate business wasn’t too bad.

***

Logan hated nothing more than being lookout.

He watched on as Finn and Leo geared up, testing their mics and earpieces and making adjustments accordingly. He was supposed to be watching the entrance to make sure no Snakes entered the building. They were doing the first bank heist while Logan was stuck here, in the car parked on the street, where he couldn’t see what was going on or if his partners were in trouble.

Their first mission, and he was stuck outside.

Ugh.

“You ready for this?” Finn asked Leo as he discreetly tucked a wire under his collar and out of sight. Leo had his eyes trained on the building across from them, wrapped in his coat and a thick scarf, fingers drumming out a staccato beat on his thigh. He didn’t seem to have heard Finn.

“Nut?”

Leo swiveled his head to look back at them. “Hmm?”

“You ok?” Logan asked, watching the blond’s face for signs of nervousness or stress. But his gaze was steady, determined. For someone on their first mission, he was remarkably calm. Either that or a much better actor than Logan had given him credit for. But then his expression flickered and a shadow of doubt crept in.

“I’m fine.” He said, and Logan couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince them or himself. He reached out and gave the blond’s shoulder a squeeze, letting his hand linger before trailing it down his arm and pulling away.

“You’re fine.” Logan reassured with a smile and watched the resolve build back up in Leo’s eyes, causing the knot in Logan’s chest to ease up a little.

That was better.

Finn looked at him for a second, then took his glasses off. “Here, put these on. I feel like your cover story requires glasses.” He gently eased them onto the other boy’s face. Leo blinked rapidly, then squinted and widened his eyes to adjust to the lenses.

“Jesus, what prescription is this?”

“It’s not that bad.” Finn said, ruffling Leo’s hair in retaliation. He took a step back to see the finished product and whistled lowly. “Damn, maybe we should take those off again. We’re supposed to be unmemorable when we’re undercover. No one will be able to take their eyes off you with those on.”

Logan had to agree there. Soft blue eyes blinked back at them from behind tortoiseshell frames, looking larger than they normally did. Leo buried his nose in his scarf in an attempt to hide the blush caused by Finn’s flirtatious words.

The sight did strange things to Logan’s stomach.

Remus’ voice reached them through their com link, startling all three of them. “You guys ready to go?”

Leo took a deep, steadying breath. “Let’s do this.” He looked back at Logan, eyes fierce – a stark contrast to the soft look of only a few seconds ago. Logan sucked in a breath of his own. This kid sure was something.

“See you in a bit.”

“See you in a bit.” Logan echoed, grabbing the car keys out of his pocket and letting his lips twitch up into a smile at Finn’s cheery salute. He leaned against the car door and watched the pair make their way around the corner and towards the bank without glancing back.

He got back into the car and moved it around the same corner before putting it in park. His eyes shifted between the street in front of him and his rearview mirror, a book in his lap to keep from raising suspicions, and settled in to worry and wait.

***

Leo shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting and made his way to the front desk. Ignoring his pounding heart as best he could, he locked eyes with the teller and smiled. “Hi there. Is your manager here?” He asked, dragging his accent out slow and sweet like molasses. “I’ve got a few questions about your safes.”

She smiled back. “Sure thing. I’ll go grab him.” Leo thanked her as she left, looking around while he waited and trying his hardest not to squint too much in Finn’s glasses.

“Nut, between the accent and the glasses - plus your looks in general - I think that girl is half in love with you already.” Sirius’ voice teased, causing Leo to flinch slightly. He needed to get used to hearing the voices of people he couldn’t see during these missions.

“She is not.” He muttered back as he pretended to rub his nose, covering his mouth as he spoke so that no one else could see it. His hand absentmindedly played with the old, frayed bracelet on his wrist.

“You can do better, Nut.” Logan chimed in, voice a little gruff.

“How do you know?” Sirius asked. “You can’t even see her.”

“I’m using my imagination.”

Sirius barked out a laugh while Remus just sighed and requested that they all stay focused. Leo glanced around at the lobby again. Finn was standing in line behind him, looking at something on his phone. He forced himself not to look at his partner too long and kept scanning the rest of the lobby. It seemed to be a pretty quiet day - there weren’t too many people inside. A few people were seated in the waiting area and some were waiting in line behind Finn. Leo saw the teller and a short, balding man who must have been the bank manager making their way back towards him.

Leo stuck his hand out when they reached him, which the manager shook with a fake smile on his face.

“Hi, how are you doing?” Leo asked, withdrawing his hand. “I’m Fred Decker with Tigerking Digital Security. I have on record that you’re currently using one of our safes, is that correct?”

“Fred?” Sirius’ voice asked incredulously. “Of all the aliases you could use, you choose Fred? Nut, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

Remus hissed at him to shut up. Leo ignored it.

“Yes, that’s right.” The manager said, a bit stiff. “What’s this about?”

“There’s a recall on a few of our safes. I was wondering if I could take a look at yours and see if it needs to be replaced. Free of charge, of course. This is an error on our part, and we want to do all we can to fix it.”

The manager hesitated, then nodded. “This way.”

Leo followed the man through a set of doors into a hallway, spotting Finn out of the corner of his eye as he approached the front desk and sent Leo a quick wink. That, more than anything, calmed Leo’s nerves. If Finn was acting like this was just run-of-the-mill and not a big deal, then they must’ve been doing something right. The door closed behind Leo, blocking his vision of the lobby. He took a fortifying breath and followed the manager into the safe room, secluded from the rest of the bank.

“Here we are,” The manager said, then pointed to a safe wedged into the corner of the room. “And there’s your safe.”

“The camera in the safe room is already on a loop, Leo. You’re all set.” Remus’ voice said, steady and calm. Leo looked the safe over, stalling as he waited for Finn’s distraction.

“Fuck,” he heard through his earpiece. “Leo, you’re going to have to hang in there for a few more seconds. The planned distraction didn’t work.”

Leo swallowed, looking back up at the manager. “So there’s these holes in the back, see?” He said, figuring a sure-fire way for him to stall was to talk about the safe. He could keep up a conversation like this for hours. “They’re used to bolt the safes into the wall. A few of our older models have larger holes.”

He grabbed the stiff coil of wire out of his pocket. “Some thieves have learned that you can get to the reset button in these older models if you use a tough wire like this and insert it through one of the holes. Basically all I want to do today is see if a thief could potentially do that with this safe. Is that all right with you?”

“Yes, of course! If there’s a problem, our client would want that fixed immediately.”

“I’m sure they would.” Leo said absentmindedly as he started fiddling with the wire for as long as he possibly could. He straightened it out from it’s coil, looked down it’s length, and then pretended to straighten some kinks out.

Don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic-

Remus’ voice was a little more tense now. “Finn, where’s that distraction?”

Finn, who was in the men’s bathroom grabbing handful after handful of paper towels and shoving them into a trash can, grumbled, “I’m working on it, ok? Sirius was right - that teller definitely has a type, and it sure as hell isn’t me. I had to improvise.”

“What does that mean?” Logan asked warily. Finn could practically see him gripping the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip as he forced himself to stay put. “What are you doing?”

Finn grabbed the bottle of hand sanitizer on the bathroom sink and took the top off, dumping the contents into the trash can as well. He grabbed the lighter in his pocket (he liked to be prepared, thank you very much) and produced a small flame.

“Something stupid.”

He lowered the lighter to the trashcan and prepared to run.

Leo could hear the shouting from Finn’s distraction all the way back in the safe room. He looked up at the manager, pretending to be confused. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure.” The manager frowned, shifting from foot to foot nervously as he looked towards the commotion. “I’m going to check it out. I’ll be right back, ok?”

Leo waved him off with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right here.” He messed around with the safe until the door closed, then hissed, “Finn, what the hell is going on out there?” He moved Finn’s glasses to perch on top of his head and shoved the wire through one hole in the back of the safe. He grabbed his flashlight to look through the hole on the other side, searching for a small red button.

“I might’ve started a fire in the men’s restroom.”

“You what?” Leo demanded, finally finding the reset button and moving the wire steadily closer to it. “You do realize that does the exact opposite of give me more time, right?” Sure enough, the fire alarm sounded, loud and clear.

“Fuck me.” Leo muttered as he jabbed the reset button with the wire. Someone - Leo thought it might be Finn, but he wasn’t sure - muttered something too soft and muffled to be picked up by their mic. Leo didn’t have the time to question it. The safe door opened with a soft click. He quickly switched the flash drive with the replica and closed the door again. The wire got recoiled and shoved back into his pocket, Finn’s glasses returned to resting on his nose. He climbed to his feet and made his way towards the lobby at a quick pace. “I’ve got it.”

“Nice work, Nut.” He heard Logan say, and couldn’t repress the jittery feeling he always got after a successful job. He exited the bank, looking around for the manager. He seemed busy as he talked to his employees in an attempt to get the situation under control. He caught Leo’s eyes and stepped towards him. “Mr. Decker! I was looking for you.”

Leo only just remembered to over-exaggerate his accent. “I heard the alarm and high-tailed it out here. Was it a prank?”

“No,” He said after a beat of hesitation, “Someone actually started a fire in the men’s bathroom. The fire department is on its way. Hopefully it won’t take too long and you can get back to looking at that safe.”

“No need, I already finished. The holes were too small for the wire, so y’all should be fine. Anything thinner than the wire I used will be too flimsy to press that reset button.” Leo glanced down at his watch. “I do have six more banks to visit today, though, so I’m afraid this is where I leave you. Thank you for being so cooperative.” He held out his hand for the manager to shake again and gave one last smile before walking back down the street towards their designated rendezvous, trying to look casual and not like he was running away from the scene of a theft.

Sure enough, a non-descript gray car was waiting for him, right where it was supposed to be. Without a word, he climbed into the back and sprawled across all three seats, throwing an arm over his eyes as Logan put the car into drive.

The three of them were silent for a few seconds before Leo cracked a smile and laughed. “The one thing – the one thing that could get me kicked out of that safe room too fast, and that’s what you decided would make a perfect distraction?”

Finn looked back at the back seat with a grin, which softened when he laid eyes on the blond. His hair shone in the late-morning sunlight, highlighting a streak of gray at his temple. Those long legs of his took up most of the back row, and even then he still had to bend his knees to fit all the way. His eyes were blocked by his arm, but Finn could’ve seen those dimples via satellite image from space.

“Hey, cut me some slack. I was making it up as I went.” This sent Leo into another fit of laughter, causing Finn’s smile to broaden.

“Besides,” Logan added, “You’re quick with your hands. You didn’t need all ten minutes, you barely needed three.”

Leo shrugged, which looked really strange in his current position on his back. “Got lucky. Found that reset button faster than I usually do.” He adjusted Finn’s glasses, which were still resting on his nose. “Maybe I need glasses, too.”

“Shut up. Those glasses are a statement piece, thank you very much.”

Logan snorted, watching Leo’s hand reach over the center console to return the glasses to their rightful owner. “Maybe that’s why you’re a terrible marksman, O’Hara. When’s the last time you got that prescription checked?”

Finn gasped in offense. Logan glanced over briefly and noticed the tips of his ears getting red. Cute.

“How dare you! I am not a terrible marksman!”

“That’s not what your file says.”

“What?”

“The evidence doesn’t lie.” Logan said, struggling to bite back his grin. Finn was just so fun to tease.

“Screw debriefing. When we get back to the office, we’re going to the shooting range.” Finn crossed his arms over his chest sulkily. “Terrible marksman. How dare they. Nutter Butter, back me up here.”

Leo blinked at the new nickname, but he couldn’t say he minded it too much. Especially when Finn said it like that, with such unfiltered affection. He watched the redhead turn around in his seat to look at him with big Bambi eyes, only then remembering that he was looking for an answer from Leo.

He put on a show of thinking about it, then shrugged. “I dunno, Finn. The evidence doesn’t lie.”

“Et tu, Brute?” Finn whined. “Betrayed by both of my partners. Unbelievable.”

Leo wished there was another word for partner. Maybe he should refer to them as just coworkers now. The term partner was giving him ideas.

Ideas he couldn’t afford to be having for the first and quite possibly the biggest op of his life.

“Also, you’re one to talk!” Leo looked back up at Finn when he realized he was talking to him. “Have you ever shot a gun before, rookie?” He stopped suddenly, then grinned broadly. “Oh man, please tell me you’ve shot a gator when you were back in Louisiana. That’s so badass.”

Leo arched an eyebrow.

“Just because there’s horror stories about gators doesn’t mean they deserve to be shot.” Logan said, switching his turn signal on and waiting for the left turn light to change from red to green. “They’re a big part of the ecosystem.”

“And they kill people.”

“Oh come on, when’s the last time you heard of someone being killed by a gator?”

“Literally last week, down in Florida.”

“Well, that’s Florida. Crazy stuff like that happens in Florida all the time.”

“Did you hear about that guy from Florida who made a beer run while holding a gator?”

Logan chuckled, glancing over at his partner in disbelief. “What?”

“You heard me! Apparently he walked in, looked around and asked ‘Y’all ain’t out of beer, are you?’ But then the story gets weirder!”

Leo just sat in the backseat and laughed at Finn’s dramatic retelling of Florida news as building after building flashed by outside their windows, feeling lighter than air. His first mission was a success. He grabbed the small, innocuous flash drive out of his pocket, twirling it in his hand. One down, six more to go. If all missions were like this, taking down the Snakes wouldn’t be so bad.

He should’ve knocked on wood after having that thought.

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #coops #sirius black #remus lupin #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #clandestine

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asfaltics · 3 years

Text

attended to his letters; a course of reducing exercises

or did you hear commentaries [ ] over the radio? I don’t have the time to do it. You don’t have time to do it. 1 and that, of course, you don’t have time to was taught the game 2 increasing the feed for / my dope, but you don’t have time 3 You don’t have time to investigate them fully yourself? No 4 It was hard work? — Yes, sir. You have to be fast and do the best you can. You don’t have time 5 for nearly everything; you don’t have time 6 You don’t have time to bother about your neighbors, and you don’t 7 enjoy our own com . pany , as we never have any chance to see friends around home, for you don’t have time after and before 8 And in some cases wastefully? — Not wastefully. Does not one involve the other? — I don’t see it in that light. A man applies for relief. You don’t have time to see that man. 9 you don’t have time to spend one hour in thinking every day to see your business in a bigger, better, and cleaner way than it is today. [ ] desk covered with papers, unfinished business, no time to see 10 the “ticket” for large swamps. You don’t have time 11 You see, when you’re on the news end of a thing like this you don’t have time to get worked up. 12 “Well,” she said, “I suppose you are so busy at the office you don’t have time. 13 you are so terribly busy that I suppose you don’t have time to feel lonesome. Why can’t girls do something like that, too? 14 “How did you like it down there?” he asked. “Well” — she paused thoughtfully — “down there you can keep busy. There’s something to do all the time; you can keep so occupied that you don’t have time to stop and think and feel.” 15 you don’t have time to think of danger” But one foggy morning not long after... 16 today. always say you don’t have time to read. ward, like a girl 17 By the time he had days. When you’re busy you don’t have time to attended to his letters. 18 a course of reducing exercises, you don’t have time to think of that. I don’t believe I’m abnormal, perhaps I am, but 19 Well, I use two formulas; saying you “don’t have time” is part of the world of citation. Saying you “have time” is part of the world of translation. I think that the questioning typical of translation has always been absent in the plastic arts. 20

sources ( “you don’t have time,” all but two pre-1923 )

1 ex reporters’ transcript, April 20, 1959, The People of the State of California, Plaintiff, vs. Louis Estrada Moya, et al., Defendent, being part of the Transcript of Record, Supreme Court of the United States, October Term, 1960, No. 186, Luis Estrada Moya, Petitioner, vs. California on write of certiori to the Supreme Court of the State of California (petition filed June 9, 1960; granted June 27, 1960) : 200 aside — Google misdated this 1832; 1960 was outside of my search range. A well-known case (I was too young at the time to know it). Some sources : ◾ “A mother-in-law’s murder for hire scheme results in death penalty for all three participants” at vcdistrictattorney, in which this : “What made the case unique? The hired killers testified against Mrs. Duncan without commitment [that] the District Attorney would not seek the death penalty in exchange for their testimony... In fact, all three received the death penalty and were executed. Of course, today’s appellate courts would likely reverse a case in which a defense attorney failed to seek sentencing concessions in exchange for testimony.” ◾ Arlene Martinez, “Love, scandal and murder: Ventura County case drew national attention,” VC Star (June 29, 2013) ◾ Alice de Sturler review of Jim Barrett his definitive Ma Duncan at Defrosting Cold Cases (October 17, 2020) ◾ Cecelia Rasmussen, “A Mother’s Love Was the Death of Her Daughter-in-Law,” Los Angeles Times (January 20, 2002; paywall) ◾ Joan Renner, “Dead Woman Walking: Elizabeth Ann ‘Ma’ Duncan,” parts 1-4 (2013) at Deranged LA Crimes (True 20th Century tales of murder, mayhem, political corruption, and celebrity scandal) and, finally, ◾ wikipedia 2 OCR cross-column misread, at Annie Eliot, “John Emerson Gaines’s Love Affairs,” The Manhattan 2:5 (November 1883) : 467-475 (468) snippet view only, opens to hathitrust. Annie Eliot Trumbull (1857–1949), author of novels, short stories, and plays; associated with Hartford, Connecticut’s “Golden Age”. wikipedia 3 OCR cross-column misread at H. E. Browing on “Pig Tails,” at The Swine World (Google titles it Poland China World) 5:2 (September 1917) : 11 4 ex Statement of William E. Johnson, chief special officer, United States Indian Affairs, before Committee on Indian Affairs, re: Senate Resolution No. 263 (Washington, 1910) : 367-400 (392) an intense exchange, on sale of alcohol on reservations. William E. “Pussyfoot” Johnson (1862-1945) was an energetic and resourceful prohibitionist and law enforcement officer. (wikipedia) 5 here, Julius Baum, examined by J. R. Lamar (January 29, 1896), in Contested Election Case of Thomas E. Watson Vs. J.C.C. Black, from the Tenth Congressional District of the State of Georgia, and published in/by the U.S. Congress, Committee on Elections (Washington, 1896) : 535 aside — an episode in the dismantling of Reconstruction institutions and Black suffrage. ◾ Thomas E(dward). Watson (1856-1922) (wikipedia). ◾ Watson is discussed in Jo Ann Whatley, her remarkable MA thesis Pike County Blacks : the spirit of populist revolt and White tolerance (1891-1896) as depicted in the Pike County Journal and other related sources (Atlanta University, 1984), available here ◾ Watson was succeeded by James C(onquest). C(ross). Black (1842-1928) (wikipedia). “Black was declared the winner of the election but Watson charged that the vote was fraudulent. Black agreed to resign his seat just after the opening of the 54th Congress so that a new election could be held. In the October 1895 special election, Black prevailed over Watson again, and thus took his seat back to fill the vacancy caused by his own resignation.” J.C. C. Black entry, at Biographical Directory of the United States Congress 6 ex Investigation of Hazing at U. S. Military Academy, being “Testimony taken by the Select Committee of the House of Representatives appointed to investigate and report on the alleged hazing and resulting death of Oscar L. Booz, late a cadet at the Military Academy, and upon the subject of the practice of hazing at the said academy.” (1901) : 776 7 another contested election, here Mrs. Louise Roller under cross-examination by Mr. Goldsmith, in Scholl, Charles L. Vs. Bell, Henry A. Jefferson Circuit Court (Louisville, Kentucky), Chancery Branch: First Division, Chas. L. Scholl, Plaintiff Vs. Henry A. Bell, Defendant. No. 41519. / Second Division, Arthur Peter, Plaintiff Vs. Chas. A. Wilson, Defendant, No. 41524. : “Contested election cases heard together,” Transcript of Record, Volume 8 (10 volumes in 9) : 39 (snippet only, but in full at hathitrust) 8 ex report from Washington Division (by Cert. 9730), 23:5 (May 1906) [number/month uncertain, could be June] : 712 (opens to hathitrust; found via google snippet view) 9 ex the “Poplar Inquiry,” here an examination of Mr. P. G. Miles, Relieving Officer, in Transcript of Shorthand Notes taken at the Public Inquiry held by J. S. Davy, C.B., Chief General Inspector of the Local Government Board, “into the general conditions of the Poplar Union, its pauperism, and the admnistration of the guardians and their officers.” Presented to both Houses of Parliament... (London, 1906) : 141 On the Poplar workhouse, see workhouses.org.uk (scroll down (near bottom) to “The Poplar Union Scandal and Inquiry”). ◾ Poplar is a district in East London (wikipedia) 10 ex E. Elmo Martin (Cleveland, Ohio), “How to hand the day’s work,” in National Lime Association Proceedings (Twentieth Annual Convention, Cleveland, Ohio; June 13-16, 1922) : 68-76 (73) (snippet view; full view at hathitrust) 11 ex H. Stimmons (Stark Co., Ohio), “More about coon hounds,” Hunter-trader-trapper 25:3 (December 1912) : 87-89 (88) (snippet view at Google, but full view at hathitrust, NW second paragraph) 12 ex Wayland Wells Williams (“author and artist,” 1888-1945), The Whirligig of Time (Frederick A. Stokes, 1916) : 335 Wayland Wells Williams papers at Yale YCAL MSS 551 13 ex T.I.M., “Dimpleton Stays at Home : A Story with a Real Moral,” in Life (July 25, 1907) : 155-158 (156) 14 snippet view only, at The Cactus (Austin, Texas; 1908) : 275 A journal “published by and for the students of the University of Texas”; 1907 and 1909 (but not 1908 alas) at hathitrust. 15 “down there” being Chicago, ex Henry Oyen (1883-1921), chapter 36 of “Big Flat,” in The Country Gentleman 84: (March 8, 1919) : 20, 22, 57-59 The novel was published in 1919, same passage at p 204 (NYPL copy) ◾ Haven't located much information about Oyen; his published work is listed at his Online Books page 16 Homer Randall. Army Boys in the French Trenches Or, Hand to Hand Fighting with the Enemy (New York: George Sully & Company, 1918) : 199 Six “Army Boys” titles were produced by the Stratemeyer Syndicate 1918-1920, all under the pseudonym Homer Randall : Army Boys in France, Army Boys in the French Trenches, Army Boys on the Firing Line, Army Boys in the Big Drive, Army Boys Marching into Germany, and Army Boys on German Soil (stratemeyer.org) ◾ The Stratemeyer Syndicate records (1832-1984; bulk 1905-1984) are at NYPL ◾ See also Stratemeyer pseudonyms and series books : an annotated checklist of Stratemeyer and Stratemeyer Syndicate publications / compiled and edited by Deidre Johnson (1982); Deidre Johnson, Edward Stratemeyer and the Stratemeyer Syndicate (Twayne Publishers, 1993); and wikipedia 17 OCR cross-column misread at Harriet Winton Davis, “With the Children : Don’s Knitting,” in The Congregationalist and Advance (August 29, 1918) : 241 Other (not this) issues at hathitrust 18 OCR cross-column misread (extended here), ex H. D. Morgan, Ph. C., “The Kid,” in the section Original and Selected : From the best writers, and the leading drug, medical, chemical and scientific publications of the world, in Practical Druggist and Pharmaceutical Review of Reviews (November 1908) : 529-534 19 Frank R. Adams (1883-1963), “The Heart Pirate,” (illustrations by Charles D. Mitchell), in The Cosmopolitan 72:3 (March 1922) : 43-48, 117-118 (44) — snippet view, but opens at hathitrust More — “... yell for a diet and start doing a course of reducing exercises, you don’t have time to think of that. I don’t believe I’m abnormal, perhaps I am, but just since this afternoon I have come to the conclusion that if you want to put down crime you’ve got to suppress more than just alcohol — you’ve got to suppress the modern flapper. They’re so damnably desirable...” (It gets worse...). See wikipedia; author’s papers at Oregon 20 ex Giuseppe Caccavale : in giardino, a buon fresco (content by Laura Cherubini, Giuseppe Caccavale, Chiara Bertola and Claudia Gian Ferrari; Charta, 2009) : 77

Needed another line, and thought Samuel Beckett might provide. Search yielded no Beckett, but the above passage, fitting in its way and no more nor less ambiguous than anything else here. something recent — Giuseppe Caccavale « Projet Paul Celan », Residence Concordia, Parigi gennaio-ottobre 2020; testo e foto dell’artista. (1 February 2021)

method

A friend reminded me, recently, that I don’t have time (for what is irrelevant here). Have been ruminating on (avoiding the consequences of) this, since. And thinking too about the place dimension of time, as discussed by Veronica O’Keane in her The Rag and Bone Shop : How we make memories and memories make us (2021) — “One’s sense of time is inseparable from events, but this is a sense of time. Might time have something to do with place cells?” (107) and “The whole concept of time is generally unhelpful in understanding science, be it physics or neuroscience... From the perspective of recording events, the present is consciousness. In a seemingly ironic twist, I myself think that the only place that time does not exist is in the moment of consciousness...” (113)

The encountered lines — all included above from my search in pre-1923 sources — have found their respective though non-chronological places in a kind of rocking, panning motion, in which sediments settle into their respective ripples / couplets.

Would, could, does this — sequence — work (whatever “work” means) without the anchorings / tetherings / bibliographic wastefull(ness; line 9 above) that follow it? They were needed in the making, anyway, and for there to be sufficient distraction for the making to sustain.

all subject to change.

#contested elections #couplet #time #swamps #waste #Poplar Inquiry #Giuseppe Caccavale #William E. Pussyfoot Johnson

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