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millaneyy · 10 months

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Why TOTK Ganondorf is the best Ganondorf in the series

This became a bit of an essay by accident hehe

Goes without saying: HUGE MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR THE FINAL BOSS AND ENTIRE STORY!!! All the gifs used are my own, and even though they're a bit crunchy, feel free to use them as you wish!

Anyways, starting at the start.

The Character

I'm not exactly a long time Zelda fan (botw was my first proper zelda game), and therefore didn’t know that much about Ganondorf before I saw him in the trailer and decided to research the lore like a crazy person. Based off of that, I think that Wind Waker Ganondorf is the best by far.

He had such an interesting aura to him- less like a power hungry madman and more like a wise old king who was also very evil, and his motivation made it difficult to see him as a true villain. As they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. His whole plan revolved around the fact that the Gerudo people, his people, were left to suffer in the desert while the rest of Hyrule prospered, and he decided to take action. At least, that's what I remember. Please correct me if I have that messed up!!

Anyways, I think that motivation is what makes WW G-man cool- he's a total asshole, yes, but he has this kind of twisted honour that almost makes you feel bad for him. And this brings me to my one little gripe about TOTK Ganondorf- he doesn’t really seem to have a motivation? At least, not that I heard of. So in that sense, he doesn’t really feel as driven as WW Ganon. We never learn WHY he wanted to rule over Hyrule, he kinda just did. He wanted power, that much was obvious, but that was it. On the other hand though, it’s always fun to have a villain who’s evil for the sake of being evil, and it didn’t detract at all from his presence in the game.

And boy, is he a PRESENCE. Some of his lines are incredibly cold- "I will rule. That is what a king must do" WITH THE ORGAN IN THE BACKGROUND AND HIS DEMON KING TITLE ON THE SCREEN, or "Do not look away, you witness a king's revival" (the line that drove the whole community insane for a little while- if you know you know) as he draws his sword with all the confidence of a centuries old evil incarnate.

Even better- "I will be taking far more than your arm this time", as if Ganondorf, through the Calamity, hasn't taken away everything Link knew and loved already. This dude is crazy.

(And a little bonus that I found out about right before posting this- apparently in the Japanese version, he does have a very clear motive? But it was lost in translation? I need to research that a bit more though. If you know anything about that, do tell!!)

Now, with that out of the way...

The Build Up

Thematically, I think that the build up to his fight is pretty awesome, even compared to the other three G's. If you did the entire story (geoglyphs included) beforehand, then you know that this dude:

a) straight up killed someone with his bare hands (he wasn't holding the knife when he killed Sonia, so I kind of just assumed he broke her spine or something)

b) is so powerful that 7 of the strongest warriors in Hyrule WITH secret stones couldn't defeat him, and was only taken down by sealing his power away- which is still only a temporary solution

c) lived on after reawakening despite being an actual emaciated corpse

d) was so busted that even in (kind of) death, the essence of his power (the malice) that leaked out of his seal was strong enough on its own to completely DECIMATE Hyrule

So yeah, I was a little scared on my way down because I knew this guy was going to kick my ass (spoiler alert: he did).

The little gauntlet of monsters to fight as you descend was pretty sick, and serves as a fairly good warmup for the army later on. The silver lynel totally caught me off guard though. As you get closer to the lowest point in Hyrule, you end up amassing some of the most powerful weapons imaginable thanks to all the silver enemies, which got me feeling so goddamn strong! That's important later.

And eventually, getting to the Forgotten Foundation and realising that I was back in the prologue area as that scary music started back up sent chills down my spine.

And the music. THE MUSIC.

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Give this a listen (youtube because soundcloud links are jank, sorry)- skip to about 2:00 because that's the bit I'm talking about!

As you get deeper and deeper, the music gets more and more intense- and if there’s one thing I absolutely adore about TOTK, it’s the dynamic music throughout (see example: THE DUNGEON THEMES). The use of music that changes as you go- and this is by far the best example.

At first, you don’t really notice it while you’re preoccupied. You’re more focused on weapons and monsters and all that mess. But the first time I really noticed it was, as I said, when I realised I was in the prologue. The cut up voice clips and the drone in the background are a little creepy, and remind you of what happened the last time you tried to fight this guy,

Then, it starts to develop once you walk past the mural. There’s the choral singing, the drone in the background picks up into something with more melody, and the entire run up to the boss is completely enemy free- it gives you time to let the circumstances sink in as the music swells and you approach the heart of the depths. Also, the music builds as you get deeper and deeper, which from what I know is a subversion from the usual "music building as you climb his tower" or whatever he's in normally. Very nice.

Idk about you guys, but I slow walked down there for the DRAMATIC EFFECT.

At about 3 minutes into the video is how it sounds when you dive into the imprisoning chamber, where it all started (and I'll talk more about the parallels between this and the prologue another time... THE TORCH AUGHHSYWJHFH) and keep trucking on through the gloom, the horror movie piano kicking in as you walk through the final tunnel and stand on the precipice overlooking the dark, unknown pit below...

And jump.

Then the track finally reaches its climax as everything starts to overlap, the bells and organ (i think thats what it is?) screaming at you in the background as you fall, making the song feel like an epic of vengeance. There's so much dread, and an underlying ominous/threatening feeling that encapsulates the fact that Ganondorf is the embodiment of an ancient evil, one that has tormented Hyrule for centuries- but at the same time, there's an element of finality and inevitability, because you're going to put that evil down, and make up for all the grief and the death and loss that constantly follows in his wake.

I mean, just listen to the last 30 seconds or so of that track and tell me you don't feel excited. In awe. Because I deadass teleported back up to the mural just to hear it again.

I think I got a little carried away there, but moving on to the bit you probably came here for…

The Fight

Phase one - The Demon King's Army

Remember how I mentioned that the earlier monsters and busted weapons make you feel powerful? This is basically that x10.

The whole sequence feels very epic, ESPECIALLY after the build up, and with the appearance of the Sages mirroring the attack of the Champions from BOTW, it almost feels like victory is assured already as you cut down hordes of monsters with practically no effort, all while the strings in the background kick in and get more intense with every wave.

This serves to make you feel even more like God- taking out waves and waves of fairly tough enemies made me feel like I was on top, like nothing could stand in my way. It's pretty cool, a good way of integrating the monster army you keep seeing in the cutscenes, and manages to keep the energy from the descent going pretty well, while also being a casual reminder that this Ganondorf bloke can summon world ending horrors at will. ESPECIALLY when the dungeon bosses come back to life and force the Sages to stay behind.

Phase two - The Menace Unleashed

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Once again, the music goes absolutely crazy. The first phase feels intense, but still like the fight is only just beginning. Just an ambient drone, near silent as he approaches, picking up as you start to duel. No one is here to help- no Sages, no Zelda- just Link and Ganondorf, a rematch that's been in the making since 2006.

If the army battle makes you feel powerful, then the first few seconds of this fight are what takes that power away- because this guy is a total damage sponge and moved a lot faster than I could predict. Additionally, you can't fast travel outside to heal gloom hearts if you have medallions set up (i thought i was so smart for that too), so if you used all of your sunny food during the army, you're doomed.

Most of his attacks in this phase are fairly simple, with only one or two for each weapon he can wield (and tbh the switching weapons really threw me the first time), but like I said, he goes pretty fast. Therefore, if you're like me and can't differentiate some of his tells, you're also going to lose a lot of hearts very fast. And did I mention he gives you gloom hearts instead of normal damage? Again, no sunny food = death of the instant kind.

On top of the general stress of trying to get the timing down, there were a couple of moments in this phase alone that had me yelling something along the lines of "WHAT THE ACTUAL SHIT"- one of which being some of the tricks he pulls under certain conditions. For example; a standard looking sword attack where he swings once, then as you lower your shield to get a hit in, as you naturally would, he swings at you again. He also kicks you if you hang too close, and fires off some of his gloom attacks faster if you're trying to attack him as he charges. It makes him feel more like an actual person you're fighting, and stops you from hanging close and swinging wildly the whole time.

(i was going to make this a video, but tumblr only lets you add one. anyways, see what i said about him swinging again if you lower the shield?)

As well as that, he taunts and mocks you when you get hit- make any misstep or stumble into an attack, and he'll laugh and insult your skill while he casually walks up to you like the absolute gigachad he is. It's not like the Twilight Princess walk where it feels a bit slow- this walk made me feel THREATENED. Circling in the opposite direction when he circled me with the spear made me feel like a pro swordsman. On one hand, I thought the taunting was super cool as a mechanic! On the other hand it made me want to kill him even harder.

And the other moment that made my jaw drop? This guy. Can DODGE your regular attacks AND FLURRY RUSH. And by flurry rush I mean take a really tough/fast swing at you. BUT STILL.

For as long as I can remember, the perfect dodge and flurry rush have given Link an unfair edge over most enemies and bosses- it's an opening to deal mass damage with no counters. It’s made link OP against everything the game throws at him- up until right now. This highlights the fact that Ganondorf is no pushover- him and Link are evenly matched, and you’ll need some actual consistent skill to take him out. The good news is that your own flurries are still pretty powerful, and 5 or 6 are enough to start the next phase.

As the fight progresses and his health starts to go down, the music starts to build up more (at about 1:25 in the video above)- the barely present drums starting to speed up and get louder, accompanied by sporadic piano, more choral snippets, and an ominous undertone as their duel grows more intense, eventually building to a climax and slowing down a tad (2:45) as he activates his secret stone and transforms, beginning the third phase.

Phase three and four - Master of the Secret Stone

Well this one was certainly something. Once again I jumped out of my seat and YELLED when his health bar started to refill past the normal amount, all the way off of my screen. It just didn’t stop. There are no words to describe the primal fear of realising how insanely busted this dude was. I tried to get it on the gif up there, but that made the video too long to convert :(

The music here is my favourite bit of the whole phase- as you face down the powered up Ganondorf and his phantoms, you hear the familiar but melancholy motif of BOTW/Dark Beast playing around the same time the Sages show up once again to deal with said phantoms (at about 3:22). For a second it's just that- melancholy, encapsulating the same kind of hopelessness that followed Calamity Ganon 100 years ago. But at the same time, as your squad comes to assist, you're reminded of the Champions and their aid, and suddenly it feels like you could still turn the tides of this seemingly impossible battle. Just like you did with the Calamity.

Yes it was cool, and yes I nearly cried.

The phantoms were actually the worst for a minute or so- it takes a while for the all of the Sages to appear and lighten the burden, meaning that you end up needing to take on 2-5 of these guys at once as well as the real deal. This got me killed more times than I'd like to admit. Once all the Sages arrive, the arena becomes a complete warzone with everyone duking it out at once, the real Ganondorf’s attacks start to get faster and harder hitting, and he starts to dodge and rush you more often- even dodging more of your attacks and forcing you to flurry him, so if you don’t have your timing down, this is awful. Not to mention, it's very easy to lock on to the wrong Ganon, which makes it harder to block the real attacks with a shield.

And also, this is the point where he starts destroying literally all of your shields in just a few hits, meaning that if you can't dodge or parry, then it's only so long until you're left defenceless.

Aside from that, this phase plays out like the Phantom Ganon fight in the Castle until you get his health bar down about halfway, when he recalls the phantoms and biden blasts the Sages away, beckoning Link forwards and starting phase four, which is basically phase two again but insane.

This is where the fight- for me, at least- became incredibly difficult, since Ganondorf not only dodges your regular attacks, but also dodges your flurry rushes and counters with his own EVERY SINGLE TIME, forcing you to flurry rush again to hit him. Not only does this require perfect timing, but is also the only way to damage him for the remainder of this fight (unless you cheese it with arrows or sneak in some hits in while he's switching weapons- but the latter is dangerous since he still attacks faster when you're close).

A little video to emphasise the flurry rush thing; the timing for that second dodge had to be dead on. What you can't hear is me yelling something along the lines of "GOD, FINALLY" after dying to this phase many times and mashing the y button like my life depended on it. LOOK HOW FAST THAT MF IS ON THE SECOND ATTACK

The soundtrack becomes super crazy again, this time using the motif of Calamity Ganon/the Blights (starts at 5:00, and you can also hear it in the video above) and bringing back that sense of hopelessness again- but this time with with a strong side of excitement since you're now in the final stretch of the fight. Because the Blights were supposed to be the equal match for each Champion, this bit of the theme makes it feel like Ganondorf is an equal match to Link- which I know I've said already, but that's kind of the thing that's blown me away the most about the whole battle.

It's the fact that you can't just wail on him and spam flurry rushes without him countering you in some way- which in this case mostly consists of him dodging you and attacking back at an insane speed. This isn't like Calamity Ganon where you just hit and dodge for five minutes, this is an actual proper swordfight, and exactly what I'd been hoping for from the final boss!

Additionally, the Blight/Calamity motif (well, more like entire theme) represents his ties to Calamity Ganon, the force of nature that took Link 2 tries to beat (with death included), and it's use in this part of the battle tells you that right now, Ganondorf possesses the same level of destructive power as that thing- and he's sure as hell going to make sure you know that.

As well as the whole "dodging the flurry rush and forcing you to pull it off twice" thing, he also pulls out a few more projectile based attacks. These aren't too bad (WE GET THE RETURN OF ARCANE PING PONG FROM OOT), but he usually follows them up with a quick swing, making them a distraction that takes a while to get used to.

And finally, as a last little surprise, getting hit by any of his gloom projectiles in this phase takes away one of your maximum hearts. PERMANENTLY. Not like the gloom hearts, where you can get them back and then heal. Nope. That shit is gone gone.

Once you finally whittle down his ridiculous health bar, we launch into the customary "massive beast" style phase as he straight up just rips the secret stone out of his head and eats it, giving up his mind, body and soul for the sake of defeating Link, becoming a Dragon and escaping through the top of the arena.

Phase five - Draconified Demon King

So like I said above, the Demon Dragon is basically Dark Beast 2, except it's so much cooler! The cutscene does a great job of highlighting the insane size of this guy- it's like 3x the size of the already massive elemental dragons and emerges from the depths in a way that eerily resembles the Calamity, right down to the glowing yellow eyes. And yeah, that's probably the point, but it's still cool.

Luckily for Link, Zelda/the Light Dragon swoops in and rescues him from the jaws of death (literally), taking him high up into the air so he can attack from above. It's an absolute spectacle, and the epic style remix of the game's main theme that plays makes it even better, instilling the same level of awe that Dark Beast does- at least for me.

Just like DB, the fight has you up against a massive malice/gloom infused monster (the dragon, in this case), getting close and attacking it's weak points and then finishing it off by destroying the secret stone on it's head. There's a lot of downtime, which is kind of to be expected with this style of fight, but I honestly don't mind because these colossal battles are supposed to feel less like a Dark Souls boss and more like a victory lap- like a "you're Link, the legendary hero, slaying this massive beast in the name of Hyrule" kind of thing.

My personal favourite bit of this whole phase is the fact that when you dive down to the Dragon's weak points, Zelda dives down next to you to get underneath and catch you afterwards. So sick. I also really like the use of skydiving! It pairs super well with the music and made me think of that final trailer we got in April- like THIS is the epicness we were promised.

(and also dodging the fireballs was way more fun than slowly sidestepping a laser. sorry dark beast, but i gotta say it </3)

Final thoughts

I'm gonna be honest: I kind of forgot to compare his fight to the other 3 mainline ones, but doing that now would make this way too long! I just love the TOTK fight so much and needed to get it out.

While I'd still say that each Ganondorf (in the mainline games) has their own unique trait that makes them cool: OOT Ganondorf is the original, and the most cunning, WW Ganondorf has the best character and TP Ganondorf is the most evil by a mile- TOTK Ganondorf feels like a combination of those best traits (minus the characterisation) paired with the greatest final boss I've ever seen in a Zelda game, which makes him the best for me.

The first phase in particular was my favourite- wayyyyy back in April when I saw big G in the trailer, my first thought was "oh man i hope we get an actual sword fight boss instead of calamity ganon 2.0" AND MY PRAYERS WERE ANSWERED!!!

Ganondorf literally just rolled up, delivered some cold lines, and then kicked my ass with his cool sword. Many times. And I think that's exactly the kind of boss fight he deserves. I'm just so happy that it feels like we're in an actual duel, mano a mano, instead of just being able to chance a win like with Calamity.

FIN

thank you for reading my zelda obsessed rambles! i just beat the boss last night and have been working on this on and off all day, so any reblogs or shares would be massively appreciated <3

GANONDORF FANS UNITE!!!!

#totk spoilers #totk ganondorf #totk thoughts #tears of the kingdom #long post #i'm not joking this is a whole essay #i'm just so goddamn happy that we got a GOOD final boss in comparison to calamity ganon #don't get me wrong i love botw #but calamity ganon was just so shit. it was basically another blight #dark beast was cool though. i'll die on that hill #certified millaney moment

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tiikerikani · 5 months

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An unexpected encounter

What really happened:

Oh no!! I was at the thrift shop just now and someone tapped me on the shoulder and was like HEY I've seen you at Vesterinen gigs! I'm like ?!! I don't immediately know who she is, I assume it's another groupie so I'm like "when's your next gig? Is it Tavastia?" And she's like "no, in Tampere." My brain starts spinning. In February? It’s odd that a Helsinki-area groupie wouldn’t be at Tavastia in 2 weeks. "It's... ah... next Thursday I think?" She starts swiping through her phone. "It's the Pir—" and I'm thinking I don't remember seeing that on the calendar, must be some private thing?? somebody's special I know exactly what she's talking about.

Earlier...

2023.11.30 – Pirhalaiset yhdessä vapaalla (TähtiAreena, Tampere)

So, uh… a friend of a friend's employer had this staff social thing, and she kindly let me have her ticket since it's not her kind of music and (as it turns out) appeared to have other plans anyway. We figured that it's a large enough organization that nobody there knows everybody else, so I could probably stay under the radar as long as nobody tried to socialize with me.

Some people with ADHD are reckless risk-takers; I get my rush from scheming (never in a malicious way) and going unnoticed. (I loved playing pretend ninjas and spies as a kid.) And that's why you're only finding out about this now :)

I noticed that there were a lot of people on the bus who were kind of nicely dressed and some were introducing people to each other. Not at all surprising that about half of the bus was going to the same place.

I'm here on a mission so I didn’t avail myself of the (cash) bar and beelined towards the stage. I covered my hair to try to hide my foreignness a bit since the crowd was overwhelmingly, well, European.

I didn’t want to show up right at the start of the event, which I thought might draw attention to myself. There was already a lot of people and the warmup act/party band was Duo Töyssy & Tervaniemi, who were already playing. I was mostly familiar with the songs they were covering so I could at least fake singing along with the crowd a bit, and there was a part when they did Lady Gaga's Poker Face, which then turned into a Finnish translation of it, then into a medley of some other (Finnish) songs. They even covered a Vesterinen song (albeit an older one — Villihevosia, which is itself a cover — as to not step on their toes). They were certainly very entertaining and good at what they do.

There were then some speeches from the event organizer and organization heads. It was said there were about 300 people there and it was being livestreamed for folks who couldn't make it. I laugh and cheer along with everybody else, I'm getting better at doing this in a natural way to blend in.

Unlike at "normal" public shows, people weren't so glued to the barricade that they sometimes even stepped away so I eventually found my own space there.

I don’t think anybody suspected anything of the weird foreigner screaming all the songs at the front. I couldn't tell if the band noticed me though. I was too occupied taking (bad) pictures to do too much dramatic gesticulating. (Also something about not attracting too much attention.)

The organizers wanted to do a crowd photo with the band after so I tried to face away from the camera then :P

I had considered asking the roadies for the set list (because this was something the Blondes wouldn’t have) but I forgot and I needed to chase down any band member before they disappeared.

Senpai, unable to help himself because he is too damn nice, was trapped giving people selfies. I elbowed my way to that end of the barricade and saw Heini, so I shouted at her and handed her my bag of miniatures. (This was actually ideal because I’d tagged her in my Instagram pic of her figure in progress so she is aware of its existence.) I continued toward the exit and watched Heini dragging Senpai away (”sorry we gotta go, we’re going to Seinäjoki tomorrow”). I caught his eye and waved and he waved and gave his slightly startled look (very familiar to me now). To be honest I’m not sure if the contradiction between the occasion and my presence there crossed his mind…

Maailma palaa

Kohti sydänpeltoja

Ilman mua

Tummilla teillä

Rodeo

Kukaan ei koskaan

Faarao (no intro)

Kolme hyvää vinkkiä

Älä lopu yö

Onnellinen mies

Hetken ikuinen

// Kanto (with seriously long guitar solo)

// Arlandan portailla

[Concert write-up archive and master calendar]

#music #concerts #vesterinen yhtyeineen #set list #people (don't) know me #i swear to god fangirling is such a dang rollercoaster

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prettyinpunk · 10 months

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🖍️, ☕️(with bonus hehe), 🌈, 🍭

mwah love you <3

ily forever bestie u are the sweetest 💖💖💖

🖍️ When did you start drawing? Do you remember?

i feel like i've always been drawing tbh. like i can't think of any point in my life where i've not been drawing which is cool i guess but also occasionally depressing when i think about how long i've been drawing and i feel like i should be better by now dkgjsfgsdg. but still there is a need to create and as long as i am inspired my hands will do what they can.

☕ Do you do warmup sketches before drawing? (Bonus: do you have any to share?)

not really but i probably should?? i get too invested in my sketches so they just become regular drawings(albeit shoddy ones but still far too much work to be considered a warm-up sketch). i used to do this warmup exercise where you just draw a point and draw a bunch of straight lines directly to that point but i'm usually too lazy these days lol. i do sometimes do practice runs of a drawing before i jump into the real thing but usually one of those just gets turned into the drawing anyway.

i forced myself to do a sketch as fast as i could just for this ask

crying this is why i don't do this

🌈 Do you use more warm or cold colors?

this is an interesting question actually bc i feel like i'm personally a cold colors person but most of my art is warm colors! part of it is that i like to draw on a beige/tan base bc its better for my eyes, but i'm a big fan of using neutral tones and One Bright Color for interest, usually blood red bc i like her vaguely threatening vibe. so my answer is i use more warm colors but not by intention, mostly by virtue of the Vision i had being that way by coincidence.

🍭 What’s your main art blog / what do you tag your art with?

i post art on every blog i have akdgjfghgj though i only post what is relative to the content of the blog, theres some awful hockey art on my main for example. i have an art blog for random stuff @hauntedmansions but i barely ever post anything on there LOL, all my art for this blog can be found under #tar.psd 🙃

#that is to say all the art excluding this LMAO #this is so dumb #thank u for the ask!!! <<<3333 #idk why it takes so long for me to answer them i love receiving and answering #ask #vi :)

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some-kindofgnome · 3 years

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now everything is easy

do not interact with this post if you are under 18.

Katsuki wakes next to you the morning after your heat reaches its peak.

c: katsuki bakugou x reader

wc: 3.7k

cw: smut (18+), morning sex, subtle alpha/beta/omega dynamics (knotting, heat cycles, descriptions of scent & slick), vaginal & oral sex, aftercare if you squint, katsuki is like lovingly disgruntled through most of this but he adores you i promise

notes: Bakugou lovers, what’s up? It’s been a minute... 😅I can’t BELIEVE how long it’s been since I’ve written about Bakugou. But I signed up to write him for a few collabs over the summer, so here’s my warmup. I think I did this trope wrong but he goes down on u so like that’s fun, right? 👀

(MASTERLIST)

Morning comes hot and sticky, drizzling like honey into Katsuki’s slowly waking mind.

For a long time, waking slowly like this seemed little more than a far-off dream, for the man who could never be caught off guard. Most days his eyes still spring open, fully alert to the sound of his six o’clock alarm. But when she needs him, he loses himself easily to her.

To you.

He’s not sure what time it is exactly, only that midmorning sun splashes obscenely across the mussed bedclothes, lighting up the soft green of the worn linen and the buttery eggshell-painted wall beyond. His muscles settle into a dutiful ache. His thighs are still a little stuck together. He kind of needs to piss.

But you, fragile and perfect with the dew of your leftover heat drying on your spine, are worth lingering for.

You’re still fast asleep as he rolls onto one hip, fresh scratches pulling and stinging in the muscles of his back. The sheet’s tucked haphazardly over the curve of your hip, but you’re sprawled on your side with your torso left carelessly bare.

He can’t help himself, leaning forward to bury his nose against your scent glands, pulling the strong reek of you into his head. Your scent is so easy to read- maple-sweet, fragrant like orange blossom and deliciously mingled with his own. Last night, he fucked you both into sheer exhaustion, and the sheets still waft puffs of your mingled scents with every shift of his body.

Still, you’ll be wanting more soon. He gives your petal-soft skin a devilish little nip, rolling away to stretch yesterday’s exertion from his tendons.

Before he can even shift to climb out of bed for the bathroom, you’re squirming beside him.

Too late.

Those long, peaceful breaths of sleepy silence quickly give way to strained little whimpers as your senses come back to you. Last night, your heat cycle had reached its peak. But after a full measure of sleep- and eight hours without the fill of your alpha- he knew this was coming.

“Alpha,” you keen, struggling with even one coherent word. Katsuki’s instincts flare to life while you wake up, fresh waves of your needy scent filling his head and bringing his alpha to the surface. His cock stirs greedily against one thigh, stiffening traitorously in response to your voice.

He sighs harshly, flopping back against the pillows. His jaw ticks, letting firm throbs of desire swell in his gut.

“Couldn’t even wait for me to take a piss, could you?” He growls, no shortage of affection in his rough tone. You’re already rolling over, tangling clumsy, slick thighs in the soiled sheets.

“Please,” you sigh. “One more. I need one more.”

“C’mere,” he grunts, palming your ass to bring you close. “Let me see you.”

Your flesh is hot and sticky beneath his touch, and he knows how badly you need him but he can’t help indulging. Not now, when you’re so pliable and needy for him. It’s cruel to think so, but he loves you most when you’re desperate like this. His mean streak doesn’t come for you very often, but he can’t help it. You’re so easy to tease, and so much cuter when you want something.

He slips between your thighs to quell your squirming, letting you settle onto your back. You spread your legs as far as they’ll go, staring up at him with that wide, vulnerable, irresistible expression you always get at this time in your cycle. It’s how can tell your heat’s coming, far before the changes to your scent. The first time you look up at him like this every season, he knows it’s all over.

Your thighs are still crusted with last night’s slick and dried remnants of cum, but when you spread them, long strings of fresh fluid break and drip onto the mattress. The warm slip of your sex is glistening already.

Katsuki decides in that moment that he’s going to take his time with you, whether you’re ready to wait for it or not.

“You feeling patient?” he chuckles, lip curling as he flicks his eyes back to yours. You’re still staring up at him like that, an extra flash of panic lighting your eyes when the word patient reaches your ears.

“W-what,” you plead. “N-no, please, just- now, just do it now…”

Your voice trails into a strangled little squeak of pleasure when he dips his head between your thighs and seals his mouth to your dripping cunt. The familiar sweet musk of you pours into his mouth, cocktailed with the overwhelmingly heady flavor of your heat slick. The tightness in his balls is getting blurry now, half-full-bladder, half-swelling desire. But he can hold it, if it means he gets to pull more of those little cries from your needy throat.

He glides the flat of his tongue up between your folds, knowing that it makes you squeal without actually pushing you any closer to the edge. As he predicted, your thigh twitches by his left ear and your toes curl, but the whine that leaves you is not a satisfied one.

“K-katsuki,” you beg. The shape of his name on your lips comes as a surprise to him, and he glances up at you with a flinch of his brow. While there’s nothing quite like the way you shout “alpha” in the throes of your heat, when you’re all sleepy and sticky and half-conscious like this, his name feels good, too, hanging in the bleary air between you.

It sounds nice.

He rewards you with a lift of his chin, bringing the fat press of his tongue over your swollen clit just once. The sharp flick of it makes you yelp and flinch, slamming your hips into his face so hard he nearly bites his lip.

“Fuck,” he curses without pulling away, “cut it out.” He flattens one palm over the low plane of your pelvis, pressing weight into his wrist and pinning your wriggling hips to the mattress. The angle’s a little more awkward like this, but your toes are starting to twitch and he can tell you’re losing yourself to the pleasure.

He presses one finger to the weeping silk of your slippery folds, nudging it forward to find your needing hole and pushing smoothly inside.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he croons into your cunt, “y’re fuckin’ grabbing me already.”

Your walls flutter in near-instant reaction to his touch, closing down hard around his middle finger. You squeeze so tightly he can barely draw back out of you again, curling the pad of his finger to find the spongy flesh near your entrance. It’s the tenderest part of you, and when he rubs it just right, you’ll descend into the kind of shivers that’ll make it hard to hold back.

It’s worth it every time, though, to watch you lose your mind under his diligent hands.

Katsuki refreshes the weight in his palm, pinning you freshly down while he re-adjusts to the slick pull of your clutching depths. He cups his tongue against your clit, feeling the heat in its swollen ridge, and dips his ring finger into you, alongside the first. His cock’s fully hard now, drooling wet preek into the sheets and burning with bright, hot tension.

Fuck, it’s going to feel good to get you on his knot again.

He focuses once more on the task at hand, finished revelling in your taste and ready to focus on your pleasure. You like it when he flutters his tongue quick and sharp against your clit, and your cunt’s most sensitive in the shallow parts near your slit. He curls his fingers, rubbing all along the hottest planes. He can practically feel the spots where your nerves sit closest to your skin, making your body spasm when he pins them under his fingers.

“Kah!” The first syllable of his name flies from your lips. He knows you sense his intent now, and your body’s already beginning to stiffen with the promise of climax. He knows you have to tense up a little to make it happen, so when you tense your core beneath the press of his free hand, he knows you’re getting close.

“Close,” you pant anyway, slipping one hand between your thighs and raking your fingers into his hair. When you grab the longest strands at his crown and pull, it sends an unexpected little shock of pleasure to his dick that pulls the air from his chest.

You’re already starting to pitch and shake, but he knows better than to let up now. He keeps the pleasure coming steady and strong, pushing out out a solid rhythm between his tongue and his fingers as he feels you pass the point of no return.

“Right there,” comes your desperate voice, crawling into your upper register. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s it, y-you’re-“

It’s kind of beautiful, how easy to read you’ve become. He’s pretty sure he could satisfy you like this by feel alone at this point, blindfolded with his ears stuffed full of cotton.

A heartbeat and a half later you’re falling, tense muscles suddenly going slack as you dig your heels into the mattress and arch your back off the bed and contract so tight around his fingers he almost busts it right there, trying not to think about how maddening you’re going to feel around his cock in a few seconds. You let out one, long, hushed draw of his name, a “Katsuki,” that wafts by his ears like a fragrant breeze. Then you’re collapsing between his hands, fitful and whimpering and fighting him off.

“Better?” he grunts, sitting back on his heels. He wipes his mouth off with the back of one hand, dipping the pad of his thumb into the corners as he licks your heat-slick from his lips.

The look you give him suggests everything he intended. Better after a peak, perhaps, but there’s only one thing that’s going to satisfy you enough to function today.

Fuck, his knot’s already starting to swell a little when he closes his fingers around himself. He grits his teeth, ignoring the flush of heat that creeps down the back of his neck and willing it to stay small enough to fuck you properly.

He looks up at you again, and your scent crashes into his mind, filling every hollow of his blurry mind. You’re already gushing fresh slick, reaching for him to grab him by the face and pull him back down to your level.

He probably shouldn’t have teased you so long.

He lets you tug him against you, bracing his hands at either side of your head to drop his mouth to yours. He laves his tongue affectionately across your teeth, tasting notes of his scent in the lingering flavour of you. The hint of his own musk serves as a pleasant memory from the night before, when he’d poured his scent into every hollow of your body, claiming you as wholly as you’d given yourself to him.

You’re already humping your hips down against his, with his cock pressing up into the crook of your thigh. Katsuki groans long and low into your mouth, fitting one hand between you to bring his weeping tip to the hot gush of your cunt.

“That’s what you want?” He grunts, dipping his mouth from yours, tucking it against the shell of your ear.

“Katsuki, hmmm,” you whine, dragging your hard nipples against his chest. When he doesn’t move right away you whine again, clutching at his back and trying to rock yourself down onto him.

“Alpha, plea-hah!”

Katsuki delights in the way he can still startle you, after all this time. He cuts off your begging by snapping his hips sharply forward, bottoming out in one clean thrust. He’s never pretended to have the biggest cock in the world. But he’ll be damned if you’re not satisfied by it anyway.

“That’s right,” he pants, closing his eyes against the crook of your neck. “I got what you need.”

He pets a hand down your sternum as he straightens up a little, thumbing the tender swell of one nipple. He slides his fingers into the dip of your waist to brace at the curve of your hip, digging the pads of his fingers into your flesh as he rolls smoothly in and out of your clingy heat.

He closes his eyes again, overcome by the feelings he swallowed to tease you earlier. You are still tender and gooey from last night, molded perfectly to the size of him and sucking him forward every time he tries to pull away. Your slick leaks out around the edges of his cock with every push of his hips, and the quiet, satisfied cries from beneath him send pulses of deep affection into the hollows of his chest.

There’s nothing quite like this, the physical manifestation of the intimacy that lies between you. He is the only one who can do this for you anymore, the only person in the world who can quell the trembling tides of your heat.

He’s not gonna last long at all, getting sweet on you in his head like this.

Determined to make use of the time that he has, he slides his fingers into the back of your knee, pushing your thigh up toward your torso until he can reach up and grab you by the ankle. Slowly, deftly, he straightens your leg, gliding his palm down the length of your shin and guiding the curve of your heel into the crook of his shoulder.

“Pretty like this,” he croons without thinking, turning his head and feathering a quiet little kiss to the inside of your ankle. He spies your reaction out of the corner of his eye, a blissful little sleepy smile that paints your warmed features. Affection clutches low and hot in his belly, a feeling he’s only now grown used to embracing. Tenderly, he wraps his arm around your leg, braces it against his chest, and begins to thrust.

He takes up a slow, heady pace, pulling slowly out of you and then slamming forward with a harsh snap of his hips, revelling in the way your body jerks every time. He can feel the breath rattle against his palate as he sucks it in through his clenched teeth, losing himself in the maddening grip of you. It’s woven into the very fabric of him, loving you. He doesn’t have to say it anymore, not when he can practically read it out of your skin. But he’s promised himself, more fiercely than anything, to take care of you.

He promises you in the way he fucks you through this, muscles stretched thin, balls aching. Worn out on a weeknight’s worth of sleep, calling out of work for the second day in a row, undoubtedly leaving you in bed to put together a decent meal from the fridge he’d stocked this time last week, when you started looking at him Like That and he couldn’t even bring himself to dread it.

You clench, shifting your foot against his shoulder and lifting your hips into his. The tight little ripple around the base of his cock shoots all the way to the base of his spine, and with a sharp little grunt Katsuki slips his free hand down your belly, stretching his thumb over your tender clit. He can already feel his knot beginning to swell again, pleasure spiking hard when he traps your clit under his thumb and starts to stroke, making you cry out and tense into him all over again.

“Kat…suki, I’m.. g-gonna,” you plead, like he can’t already feel it happening again. Even your scent fluctuates when you’re about to cum, rippled with a sharp little spice that peters into sweetness all over again when you bleed down from that high.

“I gotcha,” he promises gently, hooking his arm more firmly around your calf. “Come on, baby. I gotcha. Come on.”

He dips his hips as low as he can, paying extra attention to the beginning and end of every thrust, to overstimulate those tender spots that line your entrance. It works, because before long you’re digging your heel into the meat of his shoulder and convulsing around his pounding length and gushing hot slick that drips down his balls and coats his pelvis and smears across the low end of his stomach.

“Fuck.” The word hisses from his throat, his body taking the green light of your waning climax long before his brain clues in. He digs his fingers into your thigh and leans forward, stretching it up toward your chest and lets himself go, shoving his hips madly against yours and milking every cruel draw of pleasure from his own body until his thighs are shaking with the resistance of it. When the ecstasy finally boils over he slams his hips as far forward as they’ll go, squeezing his eyes shut and shooting long spurts of cum up into your belly. Your walls stretch eagerly around him as his knot expands completely, sealing his pelvis to yours.

Finally, he shrugs your ankle down his arm, gently straightening your leg out over his thigh as you catch your breath. He’s a little winded, too, never quite ready for the overwhelming sensations of taking you.

“That’s never gonna get old,” he mumbles, bowing over your supine form to rest his dewy forehead on yours.

You’re still panting hard, but you laugh airily, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. His eyes are closed again but he can feel you grinning and it’s too contagious not to crack a little smile. He ducks his forehead away from yours to nose against the shell of your ear, mouthing gently at your jaw and sliding both hands up and down either side of your torso.

“Better?” he asks, sincere this time. And, sincerely soothed this time, you nod.

“Much better.”

He knows you’re telling the truth, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to be on you all day. He can’t keep himself off of you when you’re coming down from the worst of it, all sweet and pliable and soft in a way that you most certainly are not for the other days in your cycle. You kick his ass without hesitation, and he loves you for it. But you’re irresistible like this.

“Now,” he grunts, still nosing his way down your neck, tonguing the sweet hollow of your scent glands, “hurry up and calm down. I gotta take a leak.”

That urge hasn’t gone anywhere fast, growing shallow and tight in the pit of his groin. But it’s not urgent. Not when he’s locked so sweetly (and securely) into your relaxing depths.

“You’re the one that needs to calm down,” you retort in good humour, glancing down for a heartbeat.

“Say that again and I might not bother waiting,” he threatens easily. The noise that escapes your throat is enough to make him snort, pillowing his head in the crook of your shoulder as you turn sharply to find his eyes.

“Don’t. You. Dare.”

“You gonna stop me?” He regrets challenging you immediately when you flail instinctively beneath him, wrenching on the base of his knot and drawing a strangled, pained little wheeze from his chest.

“Fuck, I was kidding,” he scolds, pinning your shoulders to the mattress. “Jesus. Welcome back.”

You’re getting your fire back early. Maybe he’s kind of missed it, after all.

He keeps himself curled over you like that until his knot’s gone down almost all the way, cock softening out of you and letting fresh drips of slick and cum leak onto his thighs. Finally he pulls himself away from you, padding blindly into the bathroom and flipping on the harsh fluorescent light.

He braces one hand on the wall over the toilet as he relieves himself, still half-hard and wavering on his overworked thighs. After he’s washed his hands he wagers a look in the mirror, turning his back and twisting to look over his shoulder and examine the damage.

He goes back to bed smirking, thinking of the long, angry scratches while the memory of their infliction is still fresh.

You are already half-asleep again when he finds you, so he just pulls the sheets up around your shoulders and drops a kiss to your temple. You’re going to want coffee soon, and you’re going to need breakfast. Neither of you have had a proper meal in longer than he’d care to calculate.

When he steps into some undershorts and eases into the open space that makes up the rest of your apartment, he opens the kitchen windows, since you’ll want fresh air when you come out to join him. He’d stopped by the bagel shop on the corner by the agency the last time he was there, leaving work early to come home to you, because he knew you’d want fried eggs on your favourite sesame bagel when you were finally coherent enough to crave food again.

The routines that make up his devotion to you aren’t the things he learned about in health class. They weren’t written down in the books that were unceremoniously shoved at him after he’d presented, nor did the details of your post-heat care list appear on any neatly packaged powerpoint presentation.

He’s picked them up slowly, the hard way, by messing up over and over and over again. They’re things he never even realized he knew about you, until he looks down at his hands and he’s flipping his own egg every few seconds to keep it from browning but leaving yours in the pan to get crisp around the edges.

It feels good to know you so deeply. Even when, sometimes, the flipside is still a little too vulnerable and scary. Even when he’s still harsh and mean, when he still messes up, when he still catches himself on the edge of fury so often.

You picked him anyway, and he’ll be damned if he’s not going to let that mean something.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugo #reader insert #tw a/b/o #this isn't showing up in the taaaaags #help meeeeeeeee #;.;

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audubonbaybridge · 3 years

Text

Rest your head, little girl blue

Author: @shesasurvivor (aka @audubonbaybridge)

Rating: General

Summary: Drake just wants to keep Gosalyn safe. Maybe asking her to be his crimefighting partner wasn't the best way to do that. But someone has to be there for the kid. Especially today. Set post-Let's Get Dangerous.

A/N: How exciting was Let's Get Dangerous? I'm so happy that Gosalyn has finally arrived in the DT17 universe. Her relationship with Darkwing is everything, and I couldn't help wanting to flesh them out a litle more in this version of their lives. Consider this a little warmup for getting a grasp on their new characterizations.

Read on AO3

"Okay, Gosalyn- "

"Uh-uh. Quiverwing."

"Oh! Alright. Remember, Quiverwing, you want to give your enemies a sense of surprise. You want to ease through the night, sneaking up on them."

"Why wait?" The redhead duckling jumped from the perch where she and Darkwing Duck hid in wait for their nightly nemesis, St. Canard's current number one villain, Dr. Slug.

"Gosalyn!! Uh, I mean, Quiverwing!" Darkwing Duck yelped in a mixture of terror and surprise as he watched his protege leap haphazardly from the shadows and directly into the path of danger. Seeing no other choice, he jumped after her, hurrying to catch up.

"He's right around the corner, according to W.A.N.D.A.! If we hurry, we can corner him and pin him to the ground in no time!" Quiverwing Quack called behind her to Darkwing Duck as she raced along the dark, empty city streets.

"No, Gosalyn, we need to have a plan! Ahh!" Darkwing fell to his face as he tripped over a curb. His screech finally brought Gosalyn to a halt.

Turning around to the scene of Darkwing Duck splayed out across the cement, she couldn't help rolling her eyes, even if a small smile threatened to lift the corners of her beak. "Are you okay?" she asked, circling back to where he lay.

"Never better," he muttered. With a deep breath, he pushed himself up with his arms, then brushed off his costume. "But we really should be more careful. Dr. Slug is St. Canard's number one villain. He could have anything planned for us."

"But how am I going to learn how to be a superhero if I'm always playing it safe?" Gosalyn shot back. "Come on, you said you wanted me to be your crimefighting partner, remember?"

"Well, yeah... " Darkwing had brought that up. He couldn't deny Gosalyn was smart and challenging, and she was actually good in a fight. But that hadn't been the reason he had asked her to be his partner. Not the real reason, anyway.

"Then teach me!" Before he had a chance to argue, she turned on her feet and began running back in the direction of the bank Dr. Slug was supposed to be in.

"No! Gosalyn, it's not safe!"

This had the desired effect. Or so Darkwing thought, at least. Gosalyn slid to a stop, then whirled around to face him. "Safe?" she asked. "Was it safe when you jumped off a scaffold to save me?"

"Well- "

"Or when you rode your motorcycle off the wires on the Audubon Bay Bridge?"

"Well, that's just how you exit Darkwing Tower."

Gosalyn rolled her eyes and crossed her eyes. "And I guess it was safe when you marched alone to face Taura Bulba and the Fearsome Four without anyone there to help you. That seemed really safe."

"Hey, young lady!" He was mad now. He had gone into that building alone for a reason. And it was the same reason he didn't want her rushing headfirst into a dangerous trap set by a supervillain now. "That's going too far!"

For a brief second, Gosalyn drew back, quiet. Then anger flooded her eyes. "Young lady? Don't call me that! You're not my father!"

Now it was his turn to draw back in surprise. "Maybe not," he said slowly. "But I'm looking out for you anyway. Someone has to."

"I thought I told you, I don't need anyone to look out for me!" Gosalyn crossed her arms and glared at him.

This was true, and Darkwing remembered the words well. He also remembered thinking how much he disagreed with her assessment. How, no matter how much she might insist she was fine on her own, she clearly needed someone to be there for her. To help her and look out for her. And whether Drake wanted to admit it himself, he could barely stop himself from being the one to do it.

"Fine," Darkwing crossed his own arms. "But you can't help me with Dr. Slug. You'll just have to watch me this time."

"What?!" Gosalyn's beak dropped open in shocked outrage. "You can't stop me!"

"I can take away quack-fu lessons for a week if you don't stay out of this fight."

Her brow furrowed, angry, but at a loss for words. She was at an impasse, and she knew it. Gosalyn lived for their daily quack fu lessons. Truth be told, Drake hated to take them away from her himself. They gave her a focus and discipline she sorely needed and craved. She had thrived under his tutelage, and he couldn't help watching her progress with pride. But he would take them away if it meant keeping her safe now.

When it became clear to Gosalyn that he would not relent on this, she stomped past him with her hands rolled into fists, grumbling something about how ridiculous he was as she headed back to the Ratcatcher.

The journey back to Darkwing Tower was silent. Gosalyn would not look at him, instead opting to stare off into the side with a stony expression on her face, arms still crossed. She wouldn't be over missing out on tonight's fight for a while. Darkwing couldn't help the numerous glances at her as he drove. Couldn't help wondering if he had made the right call or if he should have given in and let her fight. Would it have been better for her to let her have her way and addressed the issue later? No, he was convinced that making her sit this one out was the right choice. It was the only way to make sure she understood the consequences.

Back in the tower, she quickly climbed out of the sidecar, tossing her helmet aside carelessly, not even bothering to look where it fell. Drake wordlessly picked it up, watching as she sulked up the ladder to the window overlooking Audubon Bay. Her favorite place to go when she was upset.

Placing the helmet back in the sidecar, he took a deep breath and decided to follow her. He found her curled up on the window ledge as she stared out at the city. If Launchpad were here, he would join her. It had worked before, hadn't it? Drake padded over and settled down next to her, letting his legs dangle over the side.

Gosalyn didn't even acknowledge his presence. She just stared out into space.

Drake sat in silence for a long time, trying to think about how to approach her. It was difficult sometimes, trying to find the right words to say to her. Yet he understood her. In a lot of ways, she reminded him of himself. Maybe that was what made it so difficult. He wanted to do right by her. Until they found her grandfather, he was the only guardian she had. And despite her protestations that she could take care of himself, he knew she needed someone to care for her.

This time, though, Gosalyn solved the problem for him.

"Why did you even take me in as your crimefighting partner," she asked, putting extra emphasis on the last few words, "if you didn't have any intention of actually letting me fight?"

Drake opened his bill to answer, then shut it again, still not sure how to respond. Was it this hard for everyone raising a preteen? He caught himself--raising? They had both agreed that this wasn't what that was. Gosalyn had made it clear she had her own family she wanted to get back to. And Darkwing Duck worked best as a solo act.

Except when he didn't.

"I do want you to fight," he said. "I just want you to be smart about doing it. You can't just go rushing into every situation without a plan. Remember how things went with Taurus Bulba?"

He was greeted with stony silence. Of course, she remembered.

"Look," he said, "I just want you to stay safe- "

"You treat me like some kind of baby! I'm not a baby!" She turned and glared at him, her green eyes reflecting anger, but also a flicker of something else. Doubt.

"I know you're not! But, well- " Drake stuttered, looking for the right way to explain it. What it was he wanted for her. Drake wanted her to tone her inherent strength, to keep her spirit alive, and learn how to utilize it in her favor. He just wanted the best for her. The best in the whole world. But he also knew, if he were honest, that maybe she was right. He just didn't want her to get hurt.

"Of course, you're not a baby!" He told her. "But is it so wrong that I don't want anything to happen to you? You're still just a kid, Gosalyn! A resourceful one, sure, but I still have to protect you!"

There it was: the tip of the iceberg of what was really going on inside Drake. That maybe asking her to stick around wasn't so much about giving her a place to stay and something to do while they searched for a way to bring back her grandfather, but because he couldn't stand the thought of letting her be alone in this world. That he really did want to keep her safe.

He expected her usual acerbic insistence that she didn't need anyone to protect her, but he was surprised to be met by silence. His expression softened. "Hey... you okay?"

Gosalyn glanced at him, then sighed as she looked back out over the bay. "I know you were just trying to protect me," she said.

Drake quirked an eyebrow. This wasn't going as he expected. "You do?"

Gosalyn didn't answer his question. A faraway look was in her eyes like her mind wasn't in the present. And it didn't take much for Drake to tell that something was bothering her.

"Hey, earth to Gosalyn," he said, waving a hand in front of her face to bring her back and maybe even make her laugh. No response. He studied her for half a minute before placing a hand on her shoulder. She jumped slightly at the feeling and looked over at him.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Drake asked her gently, giving her a small, encouraging smile.

He could see by the look on her face that she didn't want to tell him. But then she surprised him by doing so anyway. "It's just... it was one year ago that my grandfather disappeared."

Drake's heart fell for her. No wonder she had been acting out earlier, trying to run headfirst into danger. He'd been reading books on children with trauma, and he knew acting out was a sign that something was bothering her.

"I'm sorry," he told her quietly. It was all he had; all he could even offer her. He knew nothing he could say could take away the pain she must be feeling at the memories, at the knowledge that it had been a whole year since she had last seen her family. All he could offer was silence and to keep her company while she dealt with the pain. So he sat with her and looked out across the moonlit bay.

Eventually, soft sniffles arose from beside him, and he realized she was crying. Gosalyn hardly ever cried; she was continually trying to prove she was too tough to do anything like that. But every so often, the tears came, like on the night she had done the brave, selfless thing and destroyed the Ramrod. It had broken his heart for her then, just as it was now.

Just as he had that night, instinct took over his reactions, and he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. Immediately she leaned in, burying her face in his shirt as the soft tears gave in to louder sobs. He pulled her into his lap, where she curled into a ball as he held her while she cried until she had fallen asleep in his arms. Then, carefully, so not to wake her, he carried her to her bed, removing her shoes and tucking her in as he hummed the lullaby she occasionally hummed herself. Maybe there were words, but she hadn't yet taught him them. Perhaps someday, she would.

Gosalyn rolled over on her side in her sleep, her fist grasping on the edge of the pillow. She was sweeter than she wanted anyone to know, but she was starting to let her guard down and let Drake see it more and more. She needed a protector, whether she wanted to admit it or not. And if he could help it, he would always be near to chase away fear.

He patted her softly and whispered, "Goodnight, Gosalyn."

#Darkwing Duck #Ducktales 2017 #Ducktales #Darkwing Duck fanfic

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ladybuvelle · 3 years

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Anywhere’s good to start I guess, so I started with Sona. Obviously. (And also, I know myself and I needed a warmup. So Sona’s took the longest and looks the worst as a result pfft)

But here are my notes:

Sona (All Wild Rift Models) - All of Sona’s models are basically the same as far as her face, her skin, etc. Her anatomy/texture isn’t drastically altered, in HIGH contrast at League models... as you can see in PsyOps below it. But anyway. Sona’s eyes in WR are kind of unique in her history of design because they went full droopy eye. Her outer corners sink down both on the top and bottom lash lines, for a very soft-eyed, gentle character effect. That’s typically what this sort of design is meant to convey in short-hand for anime/manga design (there will always be exceptions), but it’s also worth noting that this sort of “look” also seems to be very popular for Chinese beauty standard stuff. More on that later.

Sona (PsyOps) - And HERE we see the stark contrast. PsyOps Sona doesn’t exist in WR (yet) so I’m curious what will happen when or if she ever gets put there, because these eyes convey a lot for the type of character she is in this AU. Instead of being droopy, they are upturned and sharp. The lower lash line is thicker at the slope going up. Very heavy eyes. Very shrewd. It wouldn’t work for this skin if she had the same droopy eyes as WR.

Master Yi (Eternal/Possibly base?) - This was tricky for me. I’m still learning to draw Asian eyes, and in particular I struggle conveying the fullness of the lower lid. Such is the case for Yi, as he has lovely lower lids, but I’m shit at conveying them properly. Instead I focused on the eye shape itself, which was also a bit tricky. The WR model goes extra hard, I feel, on making him aesthetically Chinese (in the sense of the wuxia sort of pretty man ideal). Which makes sense! His eyes are roundest at the top, in the middle, with sharp almond corners. Simple but elegant and uncomplicated.

Master Yi (PsyOps) - Now things get complicated. Remembering PsyOps Yi’s face stuck in my head as so DRASTICALLY different (and the only other skin, except Project if you count that, where we even see his face at all) I had to look it up and cross-ref with other media. Mainly concept art. It’s interesting how... anime? I guess? The design goes. His eyes here are immediately harsher, bigger, wider. The bags hang heavy underneath, and yet there’s this weird youthfulness to his eyes. I think they really should have tried to make him look older, but that’s, like, my opinion maaaan. I should also not that despite this design being more “anime”, the design itself combined with how he looks overall in this skin strikes me as very oddly “American”. His eye bags, the weight of his brows above his eyes (which I convey at the corners), such strong and prominent features just kinda tag me that way I guess.

Additional thoughts:

We all know by now that Wild Rift was created very specifically for the Chinese mobile game market, which is apparently booming. I’m not Chinese, or even Asian for that matter, but I think it’s easy even as an outsider, and maybe especially as someone with an artist’s eye, to see that there are design choices at play specifically meant to appeal to a Chinese/Asian audience. Censorship is one place to start, sure. But as I briefly touched on before with Sona’s eyes and her overall “look” in Wild Rift compared to her other League media, there are many Asian-centric aesthetic choices being made here.

And that’s not to say a “westerner” can’t enjoy the style or imply anything like that. It’s just worth pointing out, perhaps for anyone who’s unaware of it, that things tend to be marketed very differently for “eastern” and “western” consumers. Particularly in the world of video games.

You may often see things in interviews saying how a particular character was meant to appeal to a sort of demographic. It’s nothing new, but these aesthetic appeals haven’t really changed much, if at all, in probably over a decade.

So to make a long story short, it’s pretty interesting to me to observe Wild Rift’s aesthetic changes to appeal to a Chinese audience, and see the same tropes being followed as usual. Base Sona/Yi vs PsyOps Sona/Yi are pretty excellent examples of contrast. PsyOps, from a pure design standpoint, feels to me to be very “western” appealing. Examples: the characters are aggressive and gritty, there’s a lack of color overall, strong grays and a military motif, there’s guns and bullets. Do you see what I mean?

The “western” appeal tends to focus more on grit, violence, sharp lines and edges, darker colors. Is this universal? No, of course not. And honestly I’m hardly qualified to talk into any deeper a depth on the subject. It’s just interesting to think about while looking at vastly different designs, and how these designs are being changed, and why they are being changed. There is always a plan behind these things, especially when it’s art made for a purpose (i.e. making money for a vidya game).

#art talk #my artwork #got a bit long winded there #but I wonder how many people actually think about this sort of thing

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aria-writes · 4 years

Text

Viktoria frowned and crossed her arms in front of herself. “Tyler, leave the seagulls alone.”

Tyler grinned cheekily as he tried in vain to wave her off. “Mr. Boss said to bring something back from the beach for him!” Viktoria shifted her weight and glanced over her shoulder in Tegan’s general direction, but it was immediately clear to her that he wasn’t going to be any help whatsoever in this sort of situation.

“You and I both darn well know that he didn’t mean the wildlife!”

Tyler pointed at her. “He didn’t specify. So, there is still a very slim but entirely probable–”

Viktoria threw her arms up in the air. “Dude.” “Do it for the meme,” Tegan called from under his frowny-face umbrella.

Victoria turned and looked straight at him for the first time that day, hands resting on her hips. “Where did you even find that thing?” Tegan shrugged nonchalantly. Well, as nonchalant as one can be while sweating to death, at least. “The internet.”

Viktoria sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, then directed her attention towards the mock volleyball court that Raquel, Alistair, and Axel had set up. Axel and Ellie were up against Raquel and Alistair, and it was not going very well for the former team.

On Viktoria’s opposite side, Tadashi seemed lost inside his own little world as he drew a large square in the sand with a big stick, then started writing in large block letters underneath it. “D...E...T…”

That was clearly going to take him a while, and she was already bored watching.

Tegan shot Tyler a look that Viktoria couldn’t even begin to decipher, but she could tell it meant something meaningful.

Tyler began loudly heckling Axel, mocking his (admittedly lackluster) volleyball playing style from what he probably assumed was a safe distance away.

“I hope your vocal warmups aren’t as weak as your physical warmups are, AHAHAHA– OW!” Tyler was cut off abruptly via an inflatable beach ball to the face, courtesy of a smirking Axel.

Tyler snatched it out of the air with his hands before it had a chance to fall and raised it above his head, then ran straight towards him with a battle yell.

The smirk quickly disappeared off of Axel’s face, replaced by a scream of “SHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII–” that completely drowned out Tyler’s voice as he started running down the beach, both of them being deliberate in their avoidance of Claire’s very elaborate sandcastle, of course.

Viktoria raised an eyebrow. “That’s a very impressive lung capacity right there. And here I thought ‘singing on a treadmill’ was just an exaggeration.”

Tegan ran a hand through his hair and muttered something under his breath that Viktoria couldn’t quite catch. Something about someone owing someone, perhaps? Viktoria grinned to herself at the mental image of Tegan as a mob boss.

Karolina and Neha relaxed on lounge chairs a good few yards away and pretended not to know any of them. Neha took a long sip of her iced lemonade as she sketched out ideas for a swimwear line while Karolina thumbed through a magazine, protected from the sun’s harsh rays under an umbrella, a very fashionable floppy hat, Guccy sunglasses, and three layers of 100 SPF sunscreen.

Speaking of which… “Did you at least put some sunscreen on?” Viktoria turned and asked Tegan suddenly. He fell silent, then gave her a guilty smile. “That would be a no.” Viktoria sat down beside him and pulled a brightly colored tube out of her tote bag despite Tegan’s protesting.

Axel and Tyler ran by, still screaming at the top of both their lungs as they went right on past Tadashi’s…

“DETENTION DUNGEON,” Viktoria read aloud.

The beach ball must have gotten lost somewhere along the way, as Tyler was now just flailing his arms around above his head as he chased Axel.

Viktoria blinked dumbly. “Huh. Interesting. I guess old habits die hard.” She shook her head and squeezed a generous amount of sunscreen into her palm, then moved to apply it to Tegan’s arm.

Tegan gasped as the cold cream made contact with his uncomfortably warm skin. “You uh, you really don’t have to fuss over me like this...” Viktoria grinned as she slathered it up and down the length of his arm. “Awwh, but I want to, though.” She set to work, watching Tadashi out of the corner of her eye.

Tadashi scooted over to the ‘entrance’ of his detention dungeon, then started drawing what seemed to be some very elaborate puzzles and traps.

Viktoria paused and sat back on her heels, squinting. It was difficult to tell where exactly the sunscreen ended and Tegan’s pale skin began.

“What exactly is Tyler going to do if he catches Axel, anyway?”

Tegan rolled his eyes as the corners of his mouth turned upwards. “Well, you know the four F’s? Axel’s doing one of them right now, and then two out of the three remaining ones are… take your pick.”

Viktoria groaned and smacked her forehead against the armrest of Tegan’s chair. “Tegaaan!” “Viktoriaaaa!” Tegan whined back, matching her tone.

Viktoria raised her head and grinned suddenly as a thought struck her. “Hey, do you think Tadashi would throw people in his detention dungeon for PDA?” Tegan nearly fell out of his chair as he sputtered, barely coherent. “I– What– are you– I mean, he– you mean like–” “Because Ellie and Alistair have been making googly eyes at each other all day,” she continued, seemingly oblivious.

Was that a hint of a genuinely relaxed smile on his face as Tadashi added an extra leg to his manticore? Maybe it was a trick of the light.

Tegan took a deep breath to steady himself and sank further into his seat. “You are going to be the death of me, Viktoria.” He pulled his hood up over his head and covered his face with it, the corner of his glasses getting hooked on the fabric in the process.

“You… have a T-shirt... with a hood attached to it?” Viktoria asked incredulously, eyebrows raised.

Tegan stuck his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout and crossed his arms, the effect only enhanced by his askew glasses. “Don’t judge me.”

Viktoria smiled as she moved from his left side to his right. “Well, at least it’s on-brand.”

Tegan lifted his hood to pull it back just enough to uncover his eyes and fixed his glasses. “So, what, I’m predictable now? I gotta change things up a bit.”

Viktoria motioned towards Tyler and Axel. “You could go join them, nobody would expect that.” She involuntarily cringed as Axel’s scream went shrill and went just sharp of the high C.

“Ugh, exercise. Never mind, I’ll stick with predictable.”

Tegan rolled his eyes again and wiped the palms of his hands on his shorts. “Lovely weather we’re having,” he said sarcastically.

Viktoria slowly inclined her head. “I don’t want to pry or come across as rude, but…” She trailed off, electing to stare at the crook of his elbow instead of his face. “Why are you out here instead of inside with the sweet, blessed air conditioning if you hate it so much?” She glanced up to gauge his reaction.

Tegan’s mouth twisted to the side as he avoided looking straight at her.

“...An hour of pure torment is paradise if I’m spending it with you.”

Viktoria inhaled sharply. “Tegan, I…”

Oh no, She thought to herself, not emotions and feelings! Not here! Not now!

She racked her brain for a fast and simple way to deflect. “If Axel ever decides to rebrand as darker and edgier, you could totally be his songwriter.”

“Like, what,” Tegan gestured grandly into the air with his arm, “The night sky is dark/just like my soul/and like the full moon/it swallows me whole?” Viktoria squeezed Tegan’s shoulder. “Pure poetry.” Tegan ran a hand through his hair, laughing in disbelief. “I don’t even know what it means!” Viktoria shrugged and shifted her weight. “That’s what makes it so perfect, though. Even if it has no meaning, people will eventually find one, anyway.” Tegan nodded slowly. “Wow. That got deep.”

Just then, Axel and Tyler came running by for the second time and collapsed on the sand, panting heavily.

“I’m,,, never,,, doing,,, that,,, again,,,” Axel gasped, arms wrapped around his middle.

“Me,,, neither,,,” Tyler agreed, nodding weakly as he stared straight up at the crystal blue sky.

“Okay, that dragged on for way too long.” Tegan stretched his arms above his head and let out a satisfied groan as his joints cracked loudly.

Tadashi’s head snapped to attention. “WHO BROUGHT FIREWORKS?!”

“Ooh, Tadpole’s gonna throw you in his detentsand,” Viktoria teased, resting one arm across the back of his chair.

Tegan pointed with his pale, ridiculously slender index finger. “Out. Get out.”

“I just—“ Viktoria started.

Tegan shook his head vigorously. “Nope nope nope, that was too horrible.” His glasses fell off. He retrieved and replaced them as nonchalantly as he could, which was difficult since he dropped them back onto the sand twice during the process.

Viktoria wandered over to the volleyball court, palms turned upwards. “Looks like I’m booted, so–” “Oh, good.” Ellie grabbed her arm. “We need another player to balance the teams, since–” she gestured vigorously at Axel and Tyler, who looked like a couple of stranded fish.

Viktoria grimaced and shied away. “Oh no, I’m terrible at all sports.” Ellie placed her hands on her hips. “Do you run away from the ball when it comes toward you?” Viktoria shuffled her feet, reluctant to answer. “...Yes, except for in dodgeball, because that’s an easy out.”

Ellie groaned and threw her head back. “Well, at least you’re capable of running, so there’s a start.”

Viktoria pursed her lips and cocked her head, crossing her arms behind herself.

“That depends on your definition of running. Because ‘moving as fast as you can, which is still not a lot’, is just about all I can muster.”

Ellie gave her a deep frown. Viktoria didn’t even know that mouths and eyebrows could turn like that before.

Viktoria gave a backward glance at Tegan, who seemed to be doing a decent enough job of entertaining himself on his phone. Little did she know, he was most definitely taking photos of her. Tasteful ones, of course.

“Okay, fine, I’m in. What do we need to do?” Viktoria began stretching, then started pulling her hair into a low ponytail.

Ellie offered her a spare hair tie and clapped her on the back. “Win, of course!” Viktoria’s jaw dropped open, almost cartoonishly. “Against Raquel and Alistair?” She shook her head, eyes wide. “I’m just gonna hold you back, hon. This has ‘bad idea’ written all over it.”

Alistair looked in their direction and shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m open to switching if you want.” “Tired of winning?” Raquel teased, spinning the ball on the tip of her finger. Viktoria watched enviously.

“Nah, but it sounds like you are.” Alistair chugged a bottle of water, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I am very in over my head I’m not competitive at all this isn’t going to end well for me–” Viktoria very much resembled a deer that wandered onto the highway and was now caught in a rapidly approaching car’s headlights.

Claire rose to her feet and carefully stepped over her completed sandcastle and matching sea dragon, dusting the sand off herself.

“I can join in too, if you want? To take the pressure off of it being two vs. two.” She gave her a tentative smile. Viktoria made a noise of appreciation and threw her arm around her shoulders. “You’re the best, Claire.”

Claire pulled her thick hair over her shoulders and smiled down at her feet. “Now we can suck together. Yay?” Viktoria stared at her in shock, then doubled over laughing. “I can’t believe you just said that! You’re not wrong, though!”

Raquel stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled, one fist in the air. “ALRIGHT, PANSIES! HALFTIME’S OVER! LET’S GOOOO!”

“Y’all are going down!” Ellie bounded over to the other side of the net, game face on.

Alistair placed his hands on his knees and planted his heels in the sand. “In history, maybe!” He hollered back, then to his teammates, “Don’t let them intimidate you, they’re all talk.”

The fire in Raquel’s eyes and the way Ellie pounded her fist into her opposite palm said otherwise.

Claire and Viktoria shared a tight-lipped, ‘we are doomed’ glance.

Claire reached over and weakly touched her fingertips to Viktoria’s. “That’s our team high-five,” she whispered.

“Dream tea–” Viktoria started to whisper back, but was rudely interrupted by Alistair’s shout of “BALL!”

Viktoria flailed her arms outwards. “Ack!”

Claire shielded her face as it headed in her direction. “Eep!” Raquel threw her arm out to the side, palm flat. “OUT!” She called, gleefully.

Viktoria scrunched up her shoulders and reached over to tap fingertips. “Yay, Claire! You got it over!”

Claire returned the gesture, eyes shining. “Dream team!”

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the-community-mascara · 4 years

Text

Shit Theatre Kids Say!

Hello, here are some of the random shit I've seen/heard/said/done at rehearsal or backstage during shows. This is by no means all of them. Just some of them, about my first year of doing theatre's worth, which was two years ago.

~"You are predictably dickish"

~"Wait I thought sausage was from cows!!"

~"Singing? In a MUSICAL? Never"

~"Just for your information I have a very small penis"

~ A girl to our choreographer-"Where is your black shirt, sister?"

Our male and very gay choreographer-"Laying on my bed right next to your boyfriend"

~"Ow I just hit myself in the head with a noose!"

~"Gets on stage face totally brown but body looking whiter than Uncle Sam on a cracker"

"What?" *hysterical laughter*

"That's my thing now, like I am whiter than Uncle Sam on a cracker"

~(To the tune of What I've been looking for from high school musical) "This feeling's like no other. I really want sleep! I've never had somewhere I really want to be, LIKE MY BED!"

~"Who's Betsy Ross's husband?"

"Jesus"

~"if you're fat, what am i? A beluga whale?"

~"I can't even! I can only odd!"

"What the fuck"

~"It's a beautiful day you guys!"

"It's a beautiful day for a murder"

"True"

~"You're a chill dick?"

~"My favorite human is probably Mickey Mouse"

~"...Beating her husband?!"

"I thought she was a lesbian!"

~"I need some MILK"

~"You have all that business to mind and you're still in mine?!"

~ *at Larosa's for a cast party* *one guy puts a very tiny dinosaur in the parmesan cheese shaker*

~ "wow you guys its brighter than all of our futures in here!" (We had just gotten into school on a Saturday and every light was off)

~"Unlock the door before I use my epic Vagina muscles" (We were locked out of the dressing rooms on a Saturday show)

~ "I'm so hungry can (our director) get here soon?! It's half an hour past when we were supposed to be here! I'm so hungry - you know what, fuck it. I'm eating this dandelion." *she then eats the dandelion and not five minutes later our director pulls up* "THERE IS A GOD"

~ "I wanna fuck the moon"

~ "Keegan you are literally an abortion fail. Shut the fuck up."

~"Almost all the guys here are adorable, but like, no hetero"

~"Why did you get me started on babies? I fucking hate babies"

~"That curtain just wiped me clean bro! It went straight up my backside!"

~"Old people blood is different it's dusty"

~"That's not blood! It's a thong!"

~"Eggrolls"

~ one of our warmups is that one episode of Spongebob (First you do this... Spin around... STOP!) and the first show our senior who leads us in starts it and another senior just "I FUCKING HATE SPONGEBOB"

"GET OUT LYDIA NO ONE LOVES YOU" was everyone's response.

~ our cast is going through warmups and our last one is putting our hands in "what team? Wildcats!" And well this happened

"WHAT TEAM???"

"WILDCA-"

"guys the audience can hear you!!!"

*very hushed voices* "what team?"

"wildcats!"

~(one of the dresses in the dressing rooms looks like it belongs in the 17/1800's probs cuz it does but one girl put it one bc she didn't have one) *spins around* "Betsy Ross who?"

~ I had to get chased through multiple scenes and everytime I got off stage, heart racing, I'd lean over to the nearest person and whisper- "I do more running on this stage than I ever do in gym class"

~ one time when I was running off stage I ran straight into this one kid who was technically in eighth grade but still part of our cast bc we needed guys.

~ the guy who chased me always fucked around with different runs

~ "my blood is basically Wendy's"

~ between shows on Saturday me and a few friends went to Wendy's... Then a few more people showed up... Then it was an impromptu cast party. No one said a name for our orders so the lady just put "Drama"

~ literally everybody but our Larkin running lines for her songs. And Larkin wanted to murder them all.

~ "I'm sorry you guys, but the air con broke in the backstage hallway and the auditorium. So we have box fans. If you guys wanna risk it, go get the haunted fan from the band room."

~ while at Wendy's the ice machine started randomly pouring ice and we all just looked at each other. "Sorry guys, the ghost followed us." Was uttered to the workers

~ "literally the only reason I'm still alive is because I really wanna do a show about lesbians in the 1930's but I cant do it next year if I'm dead."

~ "what's up there anyway?" (Asked about the loft where students are forbidden to go)

"Oh that's the suicide ladder."

"Why??"

"Our director fell off of it a few years back and nearly died. We aren't allowed up there."

~ "I hate to say it you guys but we have to use the pillows from the sex couch"

"why do you guys call it the sex couch?"

"Long story short, it glows under a blacklight and that means either blood or semen and let's face it, this is high school."

- before everyone needs to start getting ready we have a lip sync battle through the sound system.

~ "you guys I just realized that our A.P. Gov. Final and Opening night are the same day. I'm gonna die."

~ "CAN I KEEP THE GOBLET OF FAILURE?!" (In reference to a goblet our lead threw on opening night that then shattered)

"If you want to"

~ the entire cast had to fall down during one of the dances at the end. This lead to many "paint me like one of your French girls" Scenes. So many, that the line got banned.

~ an in depth conversation during intermission about three porn videos one of the leads has seen. 1) instead of moaning normal things, the girl moans "oh my goodness" Super fast, he didn't finish it he was laughing so hard. 2) it's in an art studio, and the guy is tickling the girl with a paint brush, then shoves it in - not her vagina, but her urethra. He didn't finish that one. 3) the guy spit, directly into the girls asshole. He finished that one.

We were laughing so hard, that we nearly missed it when the overture started.

~ "it is so hot my sweat is sweating"

~ "are you dab fanning me?"

~ "WHO MOVED MY SHARP THINGY?"

~ "get me my letter!"

~ "bro"

~ *everyone mouthing the lines the people on stage are saying*

~ *over exaggerated lip syncing to songs happening in front of a curtain as we all wait behind the curtain*

~ "where is the person helping me strip him?"

~ "Kroger is just nicer people's Walmart"

~ *everyone getting ready and quoting vines*

~ "free sh- fre sha va cado"

"What?"

~ "who's stepping on my shoes?! Who- oh it's me."

~ "I have to get home! I have a wife and kids!"

"You're 12"

"SIMS"

~ *the boys dressing room prank calls random restaurants*

~ *I have my legs up while I'm sitting on the dressing room table* *my friend slaps my bare leg* "that's a nice slab of meat ma'am"

~ " Can someone explain why it's called Buffalo Wild Wings if Buffalo don't have wings?"

"It's Buffalo sauce on chicken wings, Cayenne."

"Oh!"

~ "OOH draw me as a furry!" (Said by a twelve year old)

~ "Maddi... Draw me a chicken!"

~ (there is a stool in the girls dressing room that is so falling apart the seat is all duct tape and it comes off, it looks horrid.) "Hey guys look! It's the butt stool"

~ "hey gals the fun has arrived!"

(Everyone at the same time): "the fun has been here"/"Where is she?"

~ "someone just dropped their foot! I mean their shoe!"

~ "you only have 3/4 leg to shave and 1 and 1/4 leg to not shave"

Feel free to add on with the weirdest shit you guys have heard theatre kids say!

#theatre memes #theatre production #theatre kid #theatre #high school theatre #highschool theatre #theatreblr #shit high schoolers say #shit theatre kids say #weird shit kids say #weird shit high schoolers say #weird shit theatre kids say #high school theatre problems #highschools theatre #high school

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daniharperdominant · 4 years

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First Friday || Dani & Ash

Tagging: Dani Harper and Ash Clarington @ash-clarington

Date: Friday, October 9

Location: Dani’s Room

Summary: Bondage, Impact, Sex and Cuddles

As far as scenes go, Dani had a hard time predicting what was going to happen with Ash. The submissive was quiet and reserved, and not big on unnecessary words or conversation - which frightened her a little, because scenes required constant communication. But she was a good Dominant, if her course work and scenes in her first year were any indication, and she knew that no matter whether Ash was talkative or not the scene would be safe and carefully executed. Waiting beside the bed were the impact implements she'd chosen, as well as lengths of rope that she could tie into strict knots but undo or cut at a moment's notice. There was soft music filling her room, and she'd chosen a very simple outfit - a jade green bra paired with dark underwear, framed by a black robe. The scene didn't have to include any sexual element, nor would it unless Ash asked, but Dani also wanted to be comfortable. Dressing the way she had helped her feel even more Dominant. Perching on her bed, she played an idle game on her phone as she waited for Ash's knock.

The summer break and the emotional drudge of the end of Ash's last semester left her, putting it lightly, out of practice. On top of that, she was starting to sink a little too far into herself on campus. She walked around going unnoticed, speaking to no one, attending classes then tucking herself back into her room. It was getting depressing and Ash knew if she let it go on she'd probably pull herself deeper into more destructive behaviors left unchecked. So the submissive had seen an opportunity. And she went for it. Donning some of her best lingerie beneath a simple dress, Ash pulled on her coat to combat the evening chill and left early enough to take her time walking to the Dominant dorms. Ash paused before she knocked at Dani's door to take a few steadying breaths and steady herself. The anticipation building in her belly was specific and sorely, sorely missed.

Dani set her phone aside, silenced, and stood up to smooth out her robe. She opened the door with a smile, wanting Ash to know that she was welcome and that she had no intention of doing anything that wasn't wanted or desired. "Please, come inside." Once Ash was clear of the door Dani turned with a gently chiding expression. "In the future, please kneel at the door while you wait." It wasn't a huge issue the first time, but she didn't want the submissive to make a habit of not kneeling. "In the meantime, please step into the bedroom there and take a seat. There are a few things we need to go over quickly." Stepping into the room after her, Dani shut the door. "I'd like to hear your limits and safeword, Ash, and then I'd like to know one thing that you want out of this scene tonight. Anything at all, just the first thing you can think of that you really want."

Ash felt the tips of her ears flash warm. There was no anger in Dani's voice, no contempt, barely even a hint of annoyance over the matter but Ash still felt her stomach swirl with unrest over it. It'd been a while since she had knelt for someone, she had quiet literally forgotten. She swallowed the disappointment in herself silently and complied with the given instructions, only pausing to shuck away her jacket to hang by the door. Ash cleared her throat before speaking, having not said much since being called on in an afternoon class, then began "My limits are small confined spaces, tickling, body fluids and," Ash winced slightly at the last one---"age play." The submissive sat where instructed, mentally reminding herself not to fidget. "My safe word is lavender, Miss, and... and well I guess..." Ash paused thoughtfully, attempting to draw up the most accurate response. "I want to feel less." It came out wrong but Ash just needed to transfer control for a while, be fully distracted, to not think.

Dani was patient and warm as she could be as she waited for Ash to give her what she'd asked for. There was no rush when she did a scene, no urge to move faster or increase the pace, especially when it was with someone new. That was only a recipe for disaster. The submissive's list of limits was easy to comply with and wouldn't butt up against any of what she had in mind for the night. "To feel less," Dani repeated. "As in...to get out of your own head? That's something I can definitely do." She kept her eyes on Ash. "Thank you for all of that. Let me explain my philosophy when I scene. This should be fun for us both. I will strive never to go too far, never to do anything you don't want, and never to make you feel unsafe. Should any of those things happen, I will expect a safeword and honor it as sacrosanct. No debate, no argument - if you safeword, we stop immediately. No matter what." Dani smiled. "If all of that is acceptable to you, please strip down as far as you're comfortable with."

This Dominant was a little bit of an enigma, it was enticing to Ash. Usually she went for the overbearing and vocally stern types but the way Dani's voice flowed seamlessly between what seemed to be her normal speaking voice to something more succinct and direct for clarity. Dominance with a gentleness Ash wasn't accustom to.

The woman's inference was exactly what Ash meant and the submissive felt some of her apprehension melt away. The swirling in her stomach faded and a spark of excitement began to take it's place. With no hesitation Ash reached for the zipper of her dress and then let it fall. She stepped away once it was pooling around her ankles and felt herself gravitating toward Dani. Ash did knee then, signifying her willingness to begin, and to submit.

"Good girl," Dani smiled. The first moments of any scene were the most important to her mind - trust had to be established on both sides, guidelines and boundaries set to be sure that everyone involved was comfortable ans safe for what was to come. "You're a very beautiful girl, Ash, and I appreciate you wearing such lovely things over for me." Reaching out, she gently ran her fingers through the girl's dark hair. Only then did she stand, shrugging out of her robe to leave them in similar states of undress. "I'd like you to lie down on the bed for me, please. Face down, with your hands above your head. I'm going to secure your hands and your feet, and then we'll begin some simple impact play." It was only the warm up, but the warm up was important. Once Ash was in position, Dani took a small length of the rope and began to securely knot it around the girl's ankles. "You look very lovely in rope."

Ash held her shiver at bay. It was more the Dominant's words that the simple touch but both made her eyes drop closed for a moment and Ash had to reign in some of her focus just to lift herself off the floor and onto the bed as she was told. She kept her eyes low as she moved but lifted them just enough to catches glimpses of Dani as she moved around her, free of the robe she had been donning before. Ash's heart picked up as the rope brushed against her and tightened against her skin. "Thank you, Miss." She managed, reminding herself to be vocal.

"You're welcome," Dani smiled. She'd known that Ash was quiet, and had expected it, which made it all the more important that she be cognizant of other nonverbal cues - the sound of her breathing, the tension in certain limbs and muscles, the way that she moved or didn't move. They were all important, and she would do her best to watch for any and all of them. "Hands now," she instructed. "Just keep them above your head, and we'll get them tied. It was a quick series of simple knots, and she gave them an experimental tug when she was finished. "Does that all feel okay? Nothing pinching, no pain?"

For just a flash of a moment a voice in the back of Ash's mind told her to ball her fists at her sides and resist but her desire to bend willfully won out and she placed her hands above her head, face down, as told. Goosebumps broke out over the submissive's body as soon as the final rope was in place. Ash moved a little at first, simply opening and closing her hands and rotating her ankles to test for tightness and blood flow. She gave a few experimental tugs, admiring the Dominant's work as she realized how stuck she really was. The residual panic was set aside quickly Ash let Dani's earlier words ring again through her thoughts. She could stop this at any time. Ash stilled and took a steadying breath. "None, Miss."

Dani was impressed by the way that Ash moved, clearly knowing how to check her bonds without needing further instruction. She watched carefully as well, making sure that the ropes were going to hold for what she had in mind but not dig in if there was a struggle. "Very good girl, thank you. We're going to start the impact portion of this scene using just an open hand. Five spanks on each side, just to get your skin warmed up a little. I'd like you to count out all ten for me, please - no need to thank me, just a count will be sufficient." Once there was confirmation, Dani began. The spanks weren't designed to hurt or punish, they were simply a way to bring some blood to the surface of Ash's skin. Good impact required a warmup, because without it there was too much chance of broken blood vessels and marks that would last a week instead of a couple of days. Not to mention, of course, that she enjoyed the spanking immensely.

Ash knew the process, the way it should be done anyway. Not all Dominant's were quite as kind and if Ash were being honest she didn't always care if they were. In the past doing casual scenes she usual set a limit of no marks that would be lasting on her body but with her Mistress, that was a different story. Her Mistress could be reckless at times in a way Ash found thrilling, it was one of the destructive natures of their relationship. This was different and Ash liked the way Dani spoke aloud what she was doing, and furthermore, why. Ash gave her acknowledgment, the small bit of praise pushing her forward in her desire to hear it again. The brunette didn't flinch when the first blow landed, she counted out. Her body didn't recoil at the next, landing firmly, stinging but only slightly. The Dominant's strikes didn't rock Ash's body, it enticed it, and she felt herself warming. The places that had fallen beneath Dani's palm, her cheeks, her core. Ash was mindful of her breath between counting, stubbornly determined to stay grounded for as long as possible through their play. "Ten." Ash huffed out, mindful not to stutter, and paused for the last to land.

Thus far, Ash had been a perfect scene partner - willing, eager, and able to follow instructions without hesitation. Knowing that let Dani lose herself in the scene a little, watching the way that her soft skin rippled with each impact and the way that her voice grew just a little bit more ragged as she counted. "Very good," she praised at the halfway mark, and when her hand came down for the tenth and final time she repeated the praise again. "Such a good girl for me." Dani ran a hand across pink skin, squeezing and rubbing in equal measure. "Now that you're warmed up, I think we'll move on to something a bit more intense. I have my favorite paddle here," she reached for one nearby, wrapped in red leather with her initials monogrammed on the handle, and ran it up and down Ash's spine. "And I'm sure that you're going to enjoy it. You don't need to count this time, just lie there and let yourself enjoy it." Once Ash had responded, Dani brought the paddle down with firmly, creating a slapping noise that seemed very loud in the quiet room.

The submissive was putty beneath Dani’s praise. It didn’t matter what the Dominant had pulled out, Ash would have accepted it eagerly. She turned her head to flip her air out of her eyes and get a look at Dani, with her blood pumping Ash took more time actually looking at the other woman. Her eyes dashed over the paddle, noting the initials, but they lingered on the curve of the Dominant’s hips. “Thank you, Miss.” she said, for the relief from counting and for each blow she hadn’t thanked along the way. The short pause before the paddle was put to use had Ash holding her breath and when it finally came down with a near crack, she inhaled loudly, her fists balling in the sheets. The bark was worse than it’s bite but the instant tingle that followed was addicting and Ash waiting intently for more, her breathing quickening.

When Ash turned to look at her, Dani let everything she was feeling show in her eyes. The pride in the way she was taking the impact, the concern for Ash's well being, and the desire that she felt seeing a beautiful woman tied up with a reddened ass. There was nothing held back, and nothing she wouldn't be open about. "You're welcome, my good girl. You're doing so well for me." As long as that continued she planned on making sure Ash was rewarded properly for her submission, so a small part of her brain went to work on what a good reward might be. "God, you look good," she grinned. "Your ass is made for this." Establishing a quick rhythm, Dani alternated spanks on each side. The staccato pattern sounded like gunshots in the quiet, and when she reached fifteen she set the paddle down, wriggling slightly in excitement. "How are you feeling, sweet girl?"

It didn’t take long for Ash to get lost in it. She had to work to find rhythm with her breath, to keep from gasping at every strike. She lost count in her head somewhere around ten and grounded herself in Dani’s voice as a distraction to the steadily growing sting of her reddened skin. The center of her body was burning, and through the movement sparked further irritation to her backside, Ash pressed her hips downward. Her body instinctively looking for relief from the building tension between her legs. The more it went on the less Ash found herself caught up on any worries and her focus began to dwindle. By the time Dani stopped the brunette hadn’t even realized she had been making sharp and small mewling noises along with the paddle. It was only when it was silent in the room again that the sounds caught up with Ash’s thoughts and her blush spread over her cheeks beneath long dark unruly hair, and across her chest. She didn’t want to speak but Ash found Dani’s eyes, expressing a certain calm in lidded blue eyes, despite her elevated heart rate. She pulled on the restraints annoyed that she couldn’t reach for Dani. Ash hummed and gave a nod, “Good, Miss.” was all she was willing to conjure.

As silence settled over the room and Ash's little needy noises reached her ears, Dani immediately wanted to hear more of them. There was no mistaking the way that the submissive tried to grind into the bed, or the tension in the ropes as they were pulled at, and it left Dani with a decision to make. She didn't want to push too hard, or too fast. Ash had seemed almost skittish in their first few conversations. But at the same time, if her body was craving touch then Dani would not deny that. "You're so gorgeous. Ass all red for me, moving while you try to get some relief - absolutely gorgeous." Dani licked her lips. "With your permission, Ash, I'd like to touch you now. Because good girls deserve rewards, and I think you've been a very good girl for me. Is that something that you'd like?" Either answer would be okay with her - sex wasn't a necessary part of a scene for her, but she certainly enjoyed it with willing girls. It was completely up to Ash what her next move would be, and she was comfortable sitting there waiting to find out. In the meantime her hand moved idly across reddened skin, brushing it gently with her fingertips.

“Yes.” Ash slipped too quickly and she mentally scolded herself for being needy. “Yes, Miss.” She shifted, sinking lower on the bed to get a little more bend in her knees. Ash pulled again at the restraint, knowing over and over again that they wouldn’t give way. The submissive couldn’t keep herself from squirming. Every ‘good girl’ sent Ash reeling with delight and a smile, though devilish, pulled at her lips unchecked. Dani could keep her there all night if she wanted, as long as there was promise of this. The abundance of attention and praise after not feeling as fulfilled in quite some time bubbled emotions to the surface but Ash ignored them, keeping herself in the moment instead. “Please touch me.” She breathed out, arching her back to lift her body from the bed and raise her ass up higher against the restraints.

Dani's eyebrow quirked, but before she could think of correcting Ash she went ahead and took care of it herself to save her the trouble. "You asked very nicely, gorgeous girl, so I'm going to give you what you asked for. That's a promise." God, there was nothing more beautiful than a girl struggling against her restraints in need. Dani took a moment to admire the view but not loosing her from the restraints. For now, she would have to be content with the touches Dani was willing to give. Only later, when she'd proven herself good, would she be allowed to to any touching of her own. "It's hard to even know where to start," she mused playfully. "This ass is beautiful." Her hands ran over Ash's offered body. "And these hips, and these thighs..." her fingers traced them as well. "But I think I know what you want. I think you'd like it if I touched you here." Dani's finger traced a path up one thigh, pausing between her legs before pressing oh so gently against her core. "So wet for me already," she murmured. "I do love a needy girl."

Ash let out a moan as soon as Dani’s touch grazed her inner thigh. She shivered beneath it in anticipation and nearly cried out when the slightest pressure was applied where she needed it. She breathed into the pillow, ragged and uneven, steadying herself. Ash was dizzy with it. The scene was enveloping her whole, she forgot they were even doing it because she had asked. Ash forgot about Devereux, about anyone else she had met there. Her past and failed claim slipped from her mind like it’d never even been there and all of Ash’s thoughts either dwindled away to blankness or settled with an intensity on the Dominant hovering above her.

Dani was intoxicated with Ash. The way she moved, the way she breathed, the noises that slipped from her lips - everything about her just fed Dani's desire for more. To see what other noises, what other gasps and quivers and cries she could wring from the submissive before their time was over. Her hand moved away, but only so that she could quickly untie the rope that held her ankles together. "Much better," she murmured. "Gives us some room to work." She didn't expect an answer from Ash, nor would she demand one, and her finger quickly returned to the spot she'd just left. This time she didn't settle for a touch, instead tracing the length of Ash's lips with one hand and gathering wetness on the tip of her finger before stopping to lick it languorously clean. "You taste so very good, gorgeous girl. "

Ash wasted no time raising up on her knees once she was freed. The cool feel of the sheets dragging against the patterned indents the rope had left on her ankles brought her back a little. The sensation pulled her closer to the surface only to be immediately undone again by the sight of Dani tasting Ash from her fingertips. A guttural moan released past her lips at the sight and Ash closed her eyes as if it were too much to filter in at once. Her ass in the air and chest pressed to the bed, Ash waited with baited breath for what was next.

Each time Dani thought she'd heard the hottest noise that Ash could make, she found a way to make a better one. The moan shot right through her, and she squeezed her legs together just a little in response. "I think we're going to turn you over now," she instructed. "I like this ass very much, but if I'm going to make you cum for me then I want to see it in your face." Dani helped her over, taking Ash's leg and propping it on her shoulder as she settled between them. "I'm not going to tease right now. It won't always be this easy, but you've been very good for me. What I do want is for you to be vocal, with words or sounds, so that I know you're enjoying it. You can cum when you get there, you don't have to stop to ask me. I just want to watch." True to her word, Dani didn't hesitate. She ran two fingers up and down the length of her slit before pushing them into her, fingers curling just a little on each thrust. Her other hand moved closer and her thumb worked gently at Ash's clit; she didn't want to rush, just establish a slow and steady build.

Their movements were easy, sometimes Ash was following along and other times the Dominant was more manual. She was on her back quicker than she had time to process, arms now crossed above her head. The anticipation built with every word Dani spoke and Ash had to lend most of her attention to not writhing in the woman's arms to demand more. She heard most of what was said, most importantly the part about being allowed to climax. Ash hiccupped a groan as Dani set to work, the initial intrusion setting her skin alight with a cold flame of a chill. The submissive gave a helpless tug at her restraints, her body twisting and arching into the touch. Fleeting thoughts of being able to reach for Dani ran through Ash's clouding mind as she pulled, helpless to the Domme. Her breath was ragged and she could feel pressure building but Ash was trying to stay in the moment for as long as she could. Each stroke brought her closer and closer but when Ash rolled her hips she felt the sheets rub across her freshly reddened skin and the pain distracted her from her impending orgasm. Trying to hold onto the moment and stay beneath Dani's steady watch, the submissive put all her focus on the sting of the sheets against her ass. She forced herself to keep her eyes open, watching the Domme watch her, holding her gaze when she could as her body began to go into overdrive outside of her control.

Dani was in her element, and she loved it. There was absolutely, positively nothing sexier to her than a girl who'd given herself over completely, and Ash had done that for her. There was no hesitation in her now, none of the hesitance that she'd shown in conversation, just the beautifully simple reactions of a woman who was going to be fucked to a brilliant orgasm and was completely lost in the experience. "That's a good girl," she murmured as Ash tested the ropes yet again, still finding no give in Dani's knot work. "Look at you," she praised, moving her hand away from Ash's clit to reach up and brush away the unruly dark hair that had fallen over her face. Only when she could see her eyes properly did Dani's fingers return to their task. "So very beautiful." There was no rush in her movements, no urgency, just a simple steady pace of thrust and withdraw, thrust and withdraw. With each thrust her fingers curled, dragging over Ash's g-spot, and with each pull back they straightened out once more. She was gloriously wet around Dani's fingers, and the Domme couldn't wait to taste her again - but it would wait until the task at hand was complete. "God, you're fucking gorgeous," she grinned. "I've got you, Ash. I'll get you where you need to go, I promise you, and you're going to ride out every second for me. Getting so close now."

Her orgasm seemed to fall over her slowly. Ash felt it coming and she slipped her way off the edge with her breath held and her pulse racing. The Dominants eyes trained on her only propelled its ferocity and her body shook as she rode out the drawn out climax. Ash cursed, losing herself in the moment. There was a slight ache in her arms, something she didn't notice until after the wave of her orgasm had begun to recede. It felt good, it all felt good. The submissive's body was still shuddering with post orgasmic flutters and her thoughts were slow to the forefront of her mind.

As slick walls tightened around her fingers, Dani couldn't hold back a proud smile. This was her favorite moment - there was something so beautifully unguarded in a woman's face as she fell from the edge, and it always filled her with power to be the one to see it. True to her word, Dani's fingers never ceased their movement until she was sure that Ash had wrung every ounce of pleasure from her climax - only then did she withdraw, bringing her fingers to her lips and sucking them gently clean. "You were so good for me." Leaning down, she gave Ash the rarest of her gifts - a long, slow kiss. "You're such a good girl. When you feel like you can, please tell me what you need from me for aftercare. And whether you'd like to be untied yet or not."

Ash was winded and spent. She hummed away a flicker of arousal watching Dani taste her a second time but was quickly derailed by the unexpected kiss. Ash's brows nit together as she was pulled further into it, languidly following Dani's lead. It left her breathless and reeling. Her body was still thrumming from orgasm and her lips tingled in the wake of the kiss, blue eyes following the Dominant away with a glimmer of surprise still present. When Ash had caught her breath she rolled slightly to one side, trying to stretch some life back into her limbs. Then nodded, acknowledging that her selfcare was dependent on speaking up for herself, that she could handle. Pulling tension but not tugging the submissive nodded again, "Untie me please, Miss."

Ash's surprised expression only made Dani feel better about giving her such a rare present. She wasn't romantic or anything of the sort, so a kiss was about the highest praise that she could offer a submissive who'd scened with her. Sitting back a little, she watched the girl carefully as she rolled and stretched, glad to hear her voice speak clearly in response to her request. "Of course - good girl for asking politely." Dani slowly undid the knots, taking each arm between her hands and rubbing feeling carefully back into them. Then, gently and slowly, she moved away a little to give Ash room to sit up if that was what she chose to do. "All untied now," she murmured, keeping her tone and words soft in the aftermath of the scene.

Ash sat up, feeling dazed. She rubbed at her wrists absently as she struggled to pull her thoughts fully in line, noting that her own fingers didn't feel half as soothing as the Dominant's had been. It had been exactly what Ash needed. Uncomplicated and straight forward. The scene hadn't been overwhelming and the submissive could feel that serene feeling she got after submitting begin to circle her. It wasn't as all encompassing as it was when she fully gave herself over but it was enough to feel satisfying and certainly scratched the itch. She felt okay, her bottom sore but nothing that wouldn't fade on its own through the night. There was always only one thing she craved after a scene, something so simple but perfectly soothing. "Can I just..." Ash hesitated, building herself up to asking. "Will you lay with me for a while, Miss? Until I go?"

Dani kept her gaze trained on Ash as she sat up and rubbed over the spot where the ropes had been, making sure that there was nothing bothering her or that needed any treatment. That didn't seem to be the case, which made Dani happy - it meant she'd done her job properly and kept care of Ash. The request made her smile, especially given how hesitantly it was made. "It would be my pleasure, sweet girl." Dani pulled back the covers on her bed and took the big spoon position, patting the spot in front of her. "Thank you for telling me what you needed. Get comfortable, and you're welcome to stay as long as you want."

#thread: first friday #char: ash clarington

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the-witch-of-plum-hollow · 4 years

Text

Winter’s Chill, Summer’s Heat

pairing: Steve x OFC, kind of Bucky x OFC

Warning: Bucky is an absolute jackass, Swearing, body image issues.

word count: 8382

summary: Emma Carver is a mutant with the Avengers, crushing hard on Bucky but doesn’t see what’s right in front of her. Which is ironic, because he’s a pretty big dude. It starts with some angst but there’s some fluff in the end.

For @morsmordrethings 1k writing challenge! (Go easy, I haven’t written in like a year.)

She lay on his bed, curled up and holding in her tears. She was sick of sobbing, sick of feeling the skin on her cheeks dry from the salt in her tears. Her dress crinkled with every movement, almost as a reminder of how foolish she felt.

“Stupid,” Emma muttered under her breath, “you’re so stupid.”

Strong, warm arms curled around her again, holding her without comment. She could feel his breath on her shoulder, slow and calm. She closed her eyes again, willing sleep to come and take her away and let her pretend none of that evening, that day or even the last few months had happened.

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

It had all started so well. Tony’s annual Holiday party was days away and she still hadn’t gone out looking for a dress. However, that morning, over breakfast Natasha snorted into her coffee and looked at her.

“I love how you think I hadn’t picked something out for you a month ago.”

“Yeah, I should’ve seen that coming, huh?” she started at Nat.

“No shit,” Nat muttered, draining her cup.

Of course Nat not only knew her measurements but picked out an outfit that would most likely be fabulous. Last year’s 6-hour shopping fiasco was not to be repeated. (It’s not her fault that she hated shopping or that it was difficult to shop with Pepper AND Nat, two women who could wear potato sacks and look glamorous.)

“I should pretend to be surprised, but I think we know I’m not. Can I try it on tonight?” Emma asked, pouring herself more coffee.

“Absolutely not,” Natasha said, spinning around from where she had placed her cup in the sink, “you won’t know until the day of and that’s final. Trust me, you’ll love it.” She left the kitchen with a wink and headed down to the gym for her training.

Emma looked over at Wanda, who shrugged and went back to her tea and toast. Steve was reading the morning paper next to Sam, who was on his phone and Bucky was at the table with a bowl of cereal. Ah, Bucky. Emma looked over at him and gave him a soft smile when he made eye contact, only to have it returned by a small, half smile. Well, ok then she thought to herself. They had danced around each other for months, almost a year. Flirting and stolen glances and one, furtive kiss 4 months ago in a storage room before Bucky had gone on a 2-month long mission and then nothing but light flirting since. Nothing got in the way of a budding romance like their job. She sighed and leaned her elbows on the island, both hands wrapped around her coffee.

Steve looked up from his paper at her sign and watched Emma as she stared into space for a minute. He took in the curve or her jaw and the way her lips turned up just a bit at the corners and had the sudden urge to draw his perfect teammate. Sam nudged him when he stared just a little too long and he rolled his shoulders back just a bit, clearing his throat.

“Got anything planned for today?” Steve asked her.

“Not particularly,” she began, “flight training again at some point, and I need to wrap some presents. How about you?” She turned to Steve and straightened up, leaving her hips to push against the countertop.

“Something similar, I suppose. Tony mentioned that he tweaked the calibration on the weight machines. Feel like seeing who can bench more again?”

“Not again,” Sam groaned. Steve had found Emma Carver at a gym in Boston, conning pretty rich boys out of their trust fund money at weight-lifting contests. Thinking she was getting arrested, she shocked him even more when she literally flew off. Sam chased her down and 4 months later she was part of the team. After Tony bitched about having yet another super powered person in their midst, and after she and Steve broke two weight machines, he designed a set of machines specifically for Steve, Emma, and Bucky.

Emma grinned and nodded before taking a sip of her coffee. Steve smiled back and looked over at the table.

“Buck? You in?”

“Don’t think it’d be fair,” he shrugged, lifting his left arm and flexing his metal fingers around, “but I’ll come down and spot the two of you anyway.”

“Yeah Cap,” Emma giggled, “safety first!”

Sam smirked at Emma when Steve rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve shook his head, “I’ll see you both down there in 30.”

He folded up his paper and got up, nodding at Emma as he walked away from the kitchen and headed back to his room to change. Sam got up behind him and mock saluted Emma, leaving the kitchen to the sound of her laughter. Wanda left soon after and Emma was left alone in the kitchen with Bucky. The silence was deafening.

“So, Bucky,” Emma started, gripping her mug so he couldn’t see her hands tremble, “looking forward to Tony’s party this year?”

“Not really,” he grumbled, “I hate these things. Too many people, and the music is too loud.”

“Oh…” she replied. Emma leaned back on the counter, placed her mug down and propped her chin up with her right hand.

“Got your suit yet?” she began again.

“Yeah, Tony made sure we all had suits. Again.”

Emma blew at a piece of her hair that had fallen over her eyes and fell silent. She stood up and went to turn around when his voice stopped her.

“Heard you didn’t have to pick out your dress this time.”

She turned and smiled at him.

“Nat was kind enough to relieve me of that torture, but I have no idea what it looks like. I don’t even know what my shoes look like, or how I need to do my hair,” she said with a roll of her eyes. She turned back to the counter and rinsed out her mug, never hearing Bucky come up behind her.

“I’m sure you’ll look gorgeous, pretty girl” he murmured, his breath warm on her neck, making her gasp. His arms briefly caged her against the counter and his chest was lightly pressed against her back. She closed her eyes tilted her head slightly but before she could react further, he had placed his finished bowl in the sink and was walking back to his room. She could feel the loss of him immediately and let out a soft sigh, one he probably heard because of his damn super soldier ears. Emma sucked in a deep breath and steeled her shoulders. No better way to get rid of this frustration than to go lift a ridiculous amount of weight and sweat it out. Mainly because drinking was not really an option at 8am.

By the time Emma headed down to the gym, Steve was there and warming up. Luckily, it wasn’t that full for a normal morning, but there were enough people in the gym that she didn’t know to make her rethink agreeing to this. Steve saw her clenching her hands and jogged over to ease her anxiety.

“Hey, it’ll be fine,” he assured her, “Nat is just training some of the lab techs in hand to hand and Bucky & Sam will be with us. I think she’s almost down to just the one girl anyway, ok?” He knew how strangers put Emma on edge. She spent so long on her own, that even with her gifts, other people made her nervous. Plus, with her body type, she got self-conscious. She wasn’t slender like Pepper or petite like Natasha. It didn’t matter that she could throw a Fiat through a wall.

Emma nodded to Steve and rolled her own shoulders back. He smiled and threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in and planting a kiss in her hair.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned. Emma didn’t know what was more surprising, getting called Steve’s girl or the blush that chased the smile on her face. He quickly let go and walked her over to Natasha, where she was down to teaching a lone blonde on the mats across the room. She stopped what she was doing when they walked up, knowing that meeting her pupil would ease Emma’s mind.

“Emma, this is Aimee,” Nat said, gesturing to the tall blonde across from her, “she’s one of the lab techs that they want trained in field work. You just missed Hakim, he’s the other one I’m training.”

The two women smiled and exchanged pleasantries, shaking hands. Aimee grinned at Emma.

“I’ve studied your blood before, you’re amazing” she gushed.

“Thank…you?” Emma laughed.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. That was so weird,” Aimee was beet red and slapped a hand over her face, “I work in the genetics department and I’m part of the team that works in conjunction with the med labs. I’ve analyzed your blood a few times. Your powers are amazing, you’re such an inspiration.”

Emma blushed and looked at her in surprise, missing how Steve and Nat watched her with pride.

“Wow, thank you,” Emma stuttered, “That is incredibly kind. I’m really not that special though. I was just born kind of weird and I learned how to make the best of it.”

Steve rolled his eyes at her.

“Ok, well let’s get back to the weights. Don’t want to leave Sam and Bucky waiting.”

Emma nodded and walked back over to the weights near Sam, where he was prepping to help her warmup.

“Bucky Barnes? Like the former Winter Soldier?” Aimee perked up.

“Yeah, he’s over there near Sam,” Nat pointed, “Why, wanna gush about his blood too?”

“Oh no,” Aimee blushed, “I just think he’s really handsome.”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s great,” Steve muttered, “I’ll let you get back to your workout. Nat, Aimee.”

2 hours later Aimee was long gone but Tony, Nat, Thor, and Clint had joined Sam and Bucky to watch Emma and Steve lift increasingly ridiculous amount of weight. Wanda had even wandered in at one point but left to get ready for a lunch date with Vision.

Emma and Steve had decided that the bench press was going to be the decided factor. Both were currently getting ready for their maximum weight yet; 2100 lbs. Thor stood ready to spot Emma and Bucky was behind Steve.

“Whenever you’re ready, kids,” Tony reminded the pair. Emma smirked at Tony and, wiping the small amount of sweat on her brow she repositioned herself under the weight and took a deep breath. She looked over at Steve and nodded. Moving carefully, they both lifted their weights and set them back down once. Then twice. Then again.

“holy shit,” Clint muttered.

Emma looked over to Steve after the 5th rep and neither one looked like they were ready to stop but Emma was getting a bit hungry. Her stomach growling was fucking with her concentration.

“Tie?” she grinned at him.

“Tie,” he grinned back, scooting out from under the bar and sitting up. Emma stood and held her hand out to shake his as the team clapped around them, Thor slapping a massive hand across her back while Clint whistled.

“Well done, Emma!” he bellowed.

She laughed and gave Steve a limp high-five as they both congratulated the other.

“Ok guys, that was fun and all, but I’d like to go eat a whole deli and then sleep,” Emma cut through the group, “Maybe shower first.”

“Shower, then meet in the common room. I’ve got a deli coming in,” Tony smirked at her.

“Tones, I’d hug you but I’m gross,” Emma smiled at him, “See you guys in like 20 minutes!” She and Steve headed toward the doors leading for their showers, joking about using cars next time. Clint wasn’t far behind them, heading for the other showers, debating with Thor whether or not Emma’s powers have a cap on them. The rest of the group filtered out, leaving Sam with Bucky.

“So, Buck,” Sam began, “Are you asking Emma to Tony’s party or not?”

“What?!” Bucky whirled around to face him, “Why would you ask that?”

“Come on man, we all see it,” Sam chided him, “looking at her when she thinks you’re not, the flirting. I even know about the kiss.”

“The kiss never should’ve happened,” Bucky mumbled.

“Wait, what?”

“It never should’ve happened. Come on man. Look at her. Look at me. I don’t belong with someone like her.”

“Buck, man, I thought we had gotten past all this self-loathing bullshit,” Sam started.

“I am past it. This is reality. She’s not the right girl for me. I thought she was but she’s not. I’d drag her down. I thought maybe if I kept trying, things could work but I’m just kidding myself. I can’t give her what she deserves.”

“Ok man,” Sam sighed, “then you had better let her down easy. And soon. That girl is gonna fall for you whether you like it or not.”

“She’s in love with me?” Bucky looked to where you had headed, worry etched across his face.

“Not yet, man. But Emma shows all her emotions, that’s how she is. And you had better fix this quick before it hurts more than it needs to.”

The next couple of days flew by with training and meetings. Everyone was kept busy with one thing or another and Emma barely saw Bucky. She was fairly sure he wasn’t avoiding him, but she couldn’t be certain. She was just as busy as everyone else. Before they knew, it was the day of Tony’s famous (or infamous) Holiday Party. Nat had given Emma enough information about her dress and outfit to get her prep done and that was it. So, at noon, she showed up at Natasha’s door, freshly showered and ready for…whatever Nat had planned for her.

“Hello, little doll,” Nat grinned wickedly at Emma as she opened the door, “are you ready?”

“I mean, I was before you answered the door like Vincent Price,” Emma muttered, letting herself get ushered into the suite. Nat just laughed and shut the door behind her.

“It’s going to be fine, darling,” Wanda called from the bedroom, “I will handle your hair and makeup. You are going to look lovely tonight.”

“I don’t want to seem ungrateful about all of this,” Emma began, “and I know we usually get ready together for these things, but why are you two doing all of this for me? Why is this party so special?”

Natasha and Wanda exchanged a look. Wanda gestured to Nat to say something.

“Honey,” Nat grabbed Emma’s hands, “everyone in this damn place as seen how you and Bucky have looked at each other over the last handful of months. We’ve also seen how he still hasn’t pulled the trigger.”

“Awesome. So not embarrassing at all,” Emma grumbled.

“Sweetie, we think that maybe you should be the one to make a move,” Wanda stepped over, “Maybe not say something directly, but at least make him understand what you want. What better time to do that than at Tony’s party? You can look like a dream and show him another side of you.”

Emma tilted her head and considered what they were saying. They made solid points, but she was looking forward to hanging out with everyone this year.

“Alright, deal. Let’s get me dolled up,” Emma agreed, laughing at Wanda’s small squeal and Nat’s smug face.

A few hours later, Wanda was putting the finishing touches on Emma’s hair when she looked down at her and noticed the crease between her eyes.

“Emma?” she crouched down in front of her, “Darling, what is wrong?”

“What if this doesn’t work out?” she whispered.

“You mean, what if Bucky is a lot more of an idiot that I had realized and rejects you?” Nat asked, peering out at you from the bathroom door. You just nodded slightly, mouth in a tight line.

“Then we stay together, drink, and then I use you as a way to finally get Steve out on the dance floor,” Nat grinned. You and Wanda laughed at that, setting your mind at ease. You should’ve known Nat had a backup plan if things went awry.

You were distracted once again by Wanda, gently taking your face in her hands and turning it to her.

“Natasha, I believe I am finished,” Wanda smiled and took a few steps back, her smile spreading when Nat walked over and linked her arm through hers.

“Perfect,” Nat agreed, “go ahead.” She motioned for Emma to head over to the mirror.

Emma walked over and gasped. Wanda had given her the perfect look. Slight cat eye, contoured cheeks and a beautiful red lip that complimented her skin perfectly.

“Wanda,” Emma said softly, “this is…. Honey, you’ve out-done yourself.”

Wanda beamed and looked over to Nat.

“I believe it’s your turn.”

Nat grinned and spun on her heel, making a beeline for her closet. Emma held her hands hovering over her eyes in anticipation while Nat rummaged around for the shoes.

“Ok, my little doll, are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be!” Emma replied and Wanda giggled.

“Open your eyes, darling,” Wanda whispered in her ear.

Emma lowered her hand and was at a loss for words. Natasha held up a deep green taffeta dress that was somehow modern and classic Dior all in one. The sweetheart neckline draped into an off-the-shoulder look and the hem flared out to about tea length on Emma. She was thrilled. It was the perfect dress and paired with the matching kitten heels in Nat’s other hand Emma was actually giddy.

“Oh girls, I don’t even know what to say,” Emma walked over and gently ran her fingertips over the skirt of the dress, “it’s amazing. Where did you find this? I’ll need to run back to my room really quick though, I’m definitely not wearing the right bra for that!”

“Don’t tell anyone but I enjoy vintage shops. This was an easy find and I had it altered for you. Plus, look! I had them add pockets!” Nat showed her.

The girls laughed and Emma laughed even harder when she turned around to find Wanda already holding up the corset style bra she needed. They absolutely though of everything.

In the ballroom, Steve and Sam were by the bar taking advantage of Tony’s excellent taste in liquor. Sam was getting increasingly agitated. He knew Bucky hadn’t spoken to Emma since the weight-lifting incident and he also knew Bucky was just dumb enough to say something during the party. The more he thought about the more he worried. That’s it, Wilson, you’ve gotta say something.

“Hey, Steve, you got a minute?”

“Sure Sam, what’s…. wow. Oh my god.”

Sam looked up to see Steve completely taken by whatever was over his shoulder. He turned around and smiled. Nat, Emma, and Wanda had made their entrance, but unbeknownst to Emma, Nat and Wanda had drifted off to the sides, giving her a cheesy movie star entrance. Emma stood at the doorway, in her holiday green dress and hair half up and softly curled over one shoulder. Sam looked back to Steve, who was still gazing at Emma with a soft smile slowly appearing on his face. That can be either really good or really bad, Sam thought.

“Think he’s seen Emma yet?” Sam nudged him.

“Think whose seen Emma yet?” Steve replied absentmindedly.

“Bucky. Do you think he has seen Emma. I haven’t even seen him in here,” Sam prodded.

“Oh, um…no. I haven’t seen him yet either. He said he’d meet us here though,” Steve coughed and turned to face the bar. Sam looked at him and smirked.

“You should ask her to dance, man,” he suggested.

“Who? Emma? No, I’m not…. she’s not…There’s no…” Steve sputtered.

“Real smooth, Cap,” Sam nodded, “Get it together though, she’s headed this way.”

Emma walked up to Sam slapping Steve on the back as he coughed.

“Steve! Are you ok?” Emma hurried over, the click of her heels speeding up.

“Yeah, fine, bourbon down the wrong pipe is all,” he choked out, red faced. Emma looked over to Sam, who nodded, holding in a laugh.

“Ok, you had me worried there,” she smiled, “I thought we were gonna break the streak of nobody dying at one of Tony’s parties or something.”

“No, we’re safe,” he coughed again and straightened up.

“You look gorgeous, by the way,” Sam told her.

“Thanks, Sam,” she blushed a bit, “Nat and Wanda handled everything. I just showed up.”

“Yeah, but you are wearing the hell out of that dress,” he grinned at her, taking her hand and giving her a twirl. Her skirt flared out around her and swirled around her legs. Steve watched as Emma laughed and spun around. She looked like something out of his dreams. He waited until Sam was done with her to say something.

“You look stunning, Emma,” Steve said softly, smile growing as she blushed once again.

“Thanks, Steve,” she replied, “I guess I clean up pretty good, huh?”

“Better than good,” he grinned, “you look like a pinup.”

“Please, if you think this is good, you should see the getup I’ve got on underneath all this just to hold everything together,” Emma shot back and immediately slapped a hand over her mouth. Sam burst into laughter as it was now Steve’s turn to blush.

“Sorry!” she squeaked, “I’m sorry, I’m nervous and I may look good but I’m still the same idiot underneath. Just don’t let me accidentally break anything like last year.”

“It’s fine, Em, don’t worry. Now, go mingle. Don’t stand over here the whole night,” Sam nudged her on, “I mean, I’m fine as hell but nobody is saying anything about Steve.”

Emma laughed and gave them both a quick peck on the cheek before she walked off in search of her other teammates. Sam looked over at Steve and picked up his drink from the bar again.

“Something you’d like to share with the class, Cap?” he asked his friend.

“Not really, no,” Steve answered, watching Emma weave her way through the crowd, “you were right though.”

“I usually am. What about this time though?” Sam asked over the rim of his glass.

“I should’ve asked her to dance.”

Emma flitted from group to group, saying hello to a few SHIELD agents she knew and a handful of the medical personnel she had met. She even ran into Aimee and met her girlfriend, a quiet girl from HR named Rosa. She gave Tony and Pepper a quick hug and got a chance to chat for a minute with Bruce. She must have been there for an hour, moving all around the room and there was no sign of Bucky. Emma was getting a little frustrated but decided not to let that get to her. Snatching a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, she sauntered over to where she saw Clint and Nat at the other end of the bar from where Steve and Sam had been.

“Ladies,” she drawled as she slid over next to them, “How are we tonight?”

“Look at this fancy lady right here!” Clint exclaimed.

Emma and at laughed at Clint’s exaggerated wolf whistle and googly eye.

“Aww, Mr. Barton, you just know how to make a girl feel real swell,” Emma twittered, making him laugh into his beer.

“How’s the night so far Em?” Nat asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Silent. Target definitely not acquired,” she grumbled.

“Well that’s bullshit,” Nat retorted, “He’s got to be here somewhere.”

“Girls,” Clint broke in, “target fucking acquired.”

Emma and Nat followed his pointing finger over to the windows, where Bucky was standing alone, nursing a drink. Emma’s jaw dropped a little as his head turned to the side and she got a good look at his jawline. His hair was pulled back at the base of his neck and his tux was deep gray with black accents. Emma was a bit speechless, but she squared her shoulders and glanced at Nat.

“Now or never,” she told her. To her surprise, Nat linked arms with her and steered them toward Bucky.

“Did you think I was going to let you go alone?” she asked her, “I’ve got you.”

The pair headed toward Barnes, unaware at how many people were watching the interaction. Most of the team wanted to see how this would go down.

Bucky glanced up when he realized someone was headed his way and relaxed a fraction when he realized it was only Nat and Emma. The pair looked like the embodiment of Christmas with Nat in her slinky red velvet and Emma in her shimmering green taffeta. Bucky gripped his glass a little tighter when he realized exactly what type of dress Emma had on.

“Hey Barnes, having a good night?” Nat asked him in her smokey voice. She snuck a look at Emma, who had tried to make her face as calm as possible.

“It’s a night” he said through clenched teeth. Nat furrowed her brow in the slightest.

“Barnes?” she asked. He just stared at the floor, gripping his drink.

“Bucky?” Emma asked, stepping forward. She laid a hand on his arm only to have him jerk it away.

“Is this some kind of joke?” he hissed.

“What? I- “Emma stuttered.

“Is. This. A. Joke.” he ground out.

“Barnes, what the fuck is your problem?” Nat snapped at him.

“Do you think it’s funny to taunt me? Dressing like that, in a style I’ll never see in person again. Is that entertaining to you?”

Emma took a step back, stunned while Nat took one forward. Steve had heard Bucky over the crowd and had started to make his way to them, Sam following. Even Clint and Wanda were edging closer.

“Bucky, that’s not at all what this was,” Emma tried to assure him.

“Bullshit,” he spat out, “You’ve got this trumped up idea of me in your head and you’re trying to live out some fucking fantasy with a me that doesn’t even exist anymore.”

“Bucky, what- “

“Get it through your goddamn head, doll,” he sneered, “I’m not that Bucky Barnes. I will never be him again. We will never live out your little domestic fantasy where Emma and Bucky live happily ever after. I don’t want anyone, I don’t need anyone, especially not you. Move on already. Thought you would’ve got the hint by now.”

Emma knew she wasn’t going to be able to keep the tears from falling. She had always kept her heart firmly on her sleeve, but she’d be damned if she let him get in another dig.

“Fuck you, James Buchanan Barnes,” she said quietly, making Bucky’s blood run a little cold. She didn’t yell. She just took a step closer to him and dropped her voice.

“Fuck you. I never wanted you to be that Bucky. I never asked anything from you. Not once. But you can get off your high horse right now, because I don’t recall ever saying that I was in love with you, you arrogant prick,” she took a breath as her voice caught “ and you should count your lucky stars that I don’t toss your dumbass out the window right now because we both know damn well I could. And I’m pretty sure only one of us can fly, James.”

Emma looked into his eyes one more time, so he could see the tears and hurt on her face before she turned on one heel and headed back to the bar where Pepper was waiting with a drink. Natasha gave Bucky one more look before she followed Emma and Steve just watched her go. Sam strode over to Bucky and grabbed his arm, yanking him in close.

“I told you to let her down easy, not break her goddamn heart,” he seethed.

“It had to be done,” Bucky looked at him, “she can’t think there’s a chance. Not ever.”

Sam scoffed and pushed him away, giving him one more look of disgust before walking to find Emma. Steve walked over to his best friend, setting a hand on his shoulder.

“Buck,” Steve began, “what was all that?”

“Leave it, Steve,” Bucky spat out, slamming the rest of his drink and walking away, losing himself in the crowd. Steve watched him walk away, baffled. He started to follow him when he got a glimpse of Emma at the bar with Pepper, Sam, and Tony. His chest tightened like a fist around his heart when he realized she was crying. Before he knew it, he had walked halfway over to her.

Emma downed the three fingers of scotch Pepper had ready for her, relishing the burn. She had heard the raised voices and just knew what would be needed, because she was Pepper Potts. Emma placed the glass down harder than she meant to on the bar, cracking the glass.

“Sorry Tony,” she sighed, “I’ll get you a new set.”

“Don’t worry about it honey,” Pepper reassured her, “It isn’t that important. You are.”

Emma smiled weakly at her and sighed. This was not how she had hoped her night would go, but this even went past her worst-case scenario.

“I guess I completely underestimated what an absolute asshat Bucky Barnes could be,” she sniffled. Nat appeared at her side, seeing red.

“Want me to kill him?” she crooned at her friend. Emma just gave her a watery smile and motioned for the bartender to give her another drink.

“How many people heard?” she asked.

“Well….” Nat began.

“The team, basically,” Clint answered, popping up by Tony, “some lab techs, that weird security guard that smells like peppers, a gaggle of models and a few randos, Ow!” Nat had clipped him in the head.

“Cool, cool,” Emma mumbled, “Hey Tony, can you see if Fury has any openings in like, Antarctica? Anywhere he can use someone with super strength that can fly and is also an absolute dumbass?”

“You’re not going anywhere, kiddo,” Tony reassured her, “And you’re not a dumbass. Literally nobody saw that coming. I don’t know what his problem is, but you did nothing wrong.”

“I agree,” came a deep voice behind Emma. She turned to see Steve, standing a few feet away and looking very sheepish.

“I’m so sorry, Emma, for what he said,” he murmured, “I don’t know where any of it came from. You light up the entire room and any other guy here would be honored to have you on their arm.”

He relaxed a bit when Emma smiled up at him.

“Thank you for that Steve, but you don’t need to apologize for Bucky. You’re not his keeper.”

“I know that, I do,” Steve sighed, “Just, please don’t let his words ruin your night.”

Emma smiled and took one of Steve’s hands in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. Nat smiled at Steve and looked back to Emma.

“Honey, remember the back up plan?” Nat said, laughing when Emma barked out a small laugh.

“I don’t think the whole plan is going to go the way you want,” Emma replied.

Nat just smiled at her. Emma turned back to the bar and leaned into Pepper, not noticing Steve and Nat having a very quiet whispered argument behind them. Tony didn’t miss a thing and was highly amused when it appeared Cap lost the argument and Nat just grinned, smug smile and all. She stalked off to find the DJ. Steve looked back over to Emma to find her laughing again, courtesy of Sam and his incessant, harmless flirting.

“Feeling a little better sweetheart?” Steve asked, placing his hand on her lower back.

“You know, I kind of am,” she answered, “it still hurts that he even thought that about me and I’ll probably cry about it tomorrow, but he can’t ruin tonight any more than he already has, right?”

“No, I don’t see how he could,” Steve admitted, “but I’d like to try and make it a little bit better.” He held out a hand as a slower song began to play. Emma bit back a smile and placed her hand in his, letting him lead her to the dance floor. Pepper and Tony followed while Sam leaned on the bar next to Nat.

“Did your night go as planned?” he asked her.

“Somewhat,” she replied, “I did not expect that reaction from Barnes, but it’s nice to see it end on a better note.”

“How long have you known he has a thing for her?” he prodded.

“Who, our fearless leader? Long enough to do something about it,” she smugly replied. They both turned to look out at the dance floor just in time to see Steve spin Emma out and turn her back into his arms.

“They do look good together,” Sam murmured. Nat hummed in reply. Their peace was broken, however, by Wanda and Clint rushing toward them. The anxiety was coming off Wanda in waves. Nat and Sam looked at each other and headed toward them.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked Clint.

“Get Emma on to the balcony or somewhere else less central, NOW,” he pushed, motioning for the team to do something.

“She can’t see it; you have to move her!” Wanda looked to Nat. Nat looked at her friend, crease in her brows.

“Can’t see what?” Nat asked.

“Too late,” Clint interrupted, looking to the dance floor. Emma stood, frozen next to Steve, both looking off the dance floor over toward the tables in the corner. There, in a chair was Bucky, heavily making out with a tall, curvy blonde model on his lap that had come with somebody’s entourage. Nat quickly looked back to Emma, who hadn’t moved. Nat met Steve’s eye and he nodded, taking a few steps closer to Emma, murmuring something softly to her. Her eyes narrowed and she took a few steps toward him, fists balling and muscles cording in her arms only to stop short, the color draining from her face.

Emma felt her stomach drop at the sound of Bucky’s voice. He was speaking soft, sweet words into that woman’s ear.

“So soft, baby,” he whispered between kisses, “You’re so soft. Like a real woman. Look at these curves.” He was running his hands all over her while Emma was frozen in place.

“James,” the blonde giggled, “you’re so sweet.”

Emma was rooted to the spot until the giggle shocked her out of the fog. Narrowing her eyes at Bucky, she whipped around and stalked back to Steve. Honestly, she was more pissed off at crying again, but this time it cut her to the core. Steve met her halfway and wrapped her in his arms, holding her tight and leading her away from Bucky. He’d deal with his friend later, right now Emma needed him.

“I’m going to kill him,” Nat snarled.

“Get in line,” Sam growled.

Clint watched, silent. Sam and Nat moved to follow Steve as he steered Emma toward the doors, but Clint stood like a sentry with Wanda behind him and watched Bucky. They watched him until Bucky stopped kissing the blonde and they watched Bucky as he spoke to her softly and helped her off his lap. They watched as Bucky walked over to the balcony doors and went outside. Clint turned to Wanda and nodded, heading to find Nat. Wanda went off toward Bucky.

Emma and Steve were far enough away that he could slow down, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. Emma was quiet and Steve’s heart was breaking with every silent tear that dropped from her eyes.

She was lost in her own thoughts. It was as if he knew exactly what to say to hurt her the most. Like he knew, deep down, what she hated most about herself. He knew, no matter what she said differently that sometimes she hated how muscular her arms and shoulders were. That even though she had curves and was feminine, they were harder than other women. That her legs were solid muscle. That her shoulders were broader than Wanda’s or Pepper’s. Sometimes she’d forget that she could fly and lift a truck overhead and that she was a goddamn Avenger. She was back to being that 15-year-old girl in High School that didn’t fit in. She spent all that time learning to love who she was and love her life, and for what? To have a handful of words from a boy tear it all down again.

Emma wasn’t even sure who she was leaning on any more or where they were taking her, all she could feel was the ice in her stomach. She ran her fingers over her stomach and remembered the dress she was wearing and suddenly she not only felt sick again, she felt foolish. He made a fool of her in front of her friends and strangers. She spent all that time getting ready with the girls, laughing and smiling, getting excited over a dress only to have it come crashing down over her head. Emma choked back a sob and let her legs give out for a minute.

Steve just lifted her up bridal style when he felt her legs give out and held her close, getting through to the elevators.

“It’s ok Emma, I’ve got you. Just stay with me, ok?”

Emma nodded and looked up at Steve, finally registering who she was with. She was grateful it was Steve and not Natasha. As much as she loved her friend, she didn’t need to vent or answer questions right now. She just needed silence and the chance to regroup and Steve would give her that.

“Do you want to go back to your room or do you just want to get away from everyone as quick as possible?” Steve murmured in her ear.

“Away, quickly,” she whispered. Steve nodded and turned the corner, leading Emma into his suite, much closer than hers was. He shut the door behind them after he set her down and asked Friday to lock his door, not to let anyone in without Emma’s or his verbal authorization.

Once Emma realized they were alone, and away from the crowd she broke down. She gripped Steve’s arms as she fell to her knees, him sliding down with her while sobs wracked her body. She felt foolish because of Bucky, foolish over how she looked, and foolish that she was crying this much but when someone does something specifically to hurt you twice in one night, it’s bound to sting.

Steve knelt on the floor of his living room with one arm around Emma and the other cradling her head to his chest.

“Shh, sweetheart, it’ll be alright,” he crooned to her, “I’m here, I’m not leaving you. It’ll be alright.”

They sat there on his floor for the better part of an hour before Emma turned her head to look at Steve.

“Thank you,” she croaked.

“You never have to thank me for something like this,” Steve assured her, “I’ll always be here when you need me.”

Emma smiled at him and rested her forehead on his chest for a minute.

“Steve?” she whispered.

“Yes Emma?”

“Can I lay down somewhere?”

Steve stood up slowly, helping Emma up. He waited until she was steady on her feet before he scooped her up bridal style again and carried her to his bedroom. His heartbeat just a bit faster when her arms went around his neck and she curled into him, so he tightened his hold, just a little.

Emma felt Steve tighten his grip on her. She gripped him just as tightly, knowing he would keep her safe. Once they got to his room, he softly laid her down on the bed and then sat at her feet, watching her curl in on herself.

“Emma,” he spoke softly, “I’ll be right out here, ok? I won’t leave the apartment.”

The silence in the room broke his heart for her yet again, because it was killing him to see the strongest woman he knows reduced to tears because of the words of his idiot best friend. Steve stood, and turned toward the door.

“Wait.”

He turned back to her, seeing her pleading eyes look up at him.

“Will you stay with me for a while?”

“I’ll stay as long as you need me,” he replied. Steve crossed the room and climbed into his bed behind Emma. She half turned and grabbed his hand, weaving her fingers with his and wrapping his arm around her. She listened to Steve’s calm breathing and he listened to her berate herself for being the way she was.

And so Emma lay on his bed, curled up and holding in her tears. She was sick of sobbing, sick of feeling the skin on her cheeks dry from the salt in her tears. Her dress crinkled with every movement, almost as a reminder of how foolish she felt.

“Stupid,” Emma muttered under her breath, “you’re so stupid.”

Strong, warm arms curled around her again, holding her without comment. She could feel his breath on her shoulder, slow and calm.

Sleep finally came, heavy and swift and blessing her with a dreamless night. Emma woke the next morning to sunlight streaming in the windows and rolled over, only to find Steve still in the bed with her, loosely holding her hand. He must have gotten up at some point, because her phone was on his nightstand, plugged into a charger and he was only in his suit pants and dress shirt. She remembered it falling from her pocket in his living room, but she just didn’t care at the time. Emma sat up, looking down and realizing she was still in her party dress. Sighing again she glanced over at Steve only to realize he was awake.

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Hi,” he replied, “Are you alright?”

“Yes?” She answered, “I mean, I’ll be alright. That was just a lot to handle at once, in one night.”

Steve hummed in agreement and lifted himself up on his elbows.

“Natasha dropped off pajamas and clothes for you last night, if you want to shower here. She wasn’t sure what you would feel like doing today. We can always have Friday help sneak you back to your room if you don’t want to…people.”

“I can shower here,” Emma smiled, “and no peopling sounds nice. Could we just hang here, like we did after the mission in Scotland?”

“Absolutely,” Steve sat up, “you get in the shower and I’ll start on breakfast. No wait, we ordered everything the whole day then, didn’t we?”

Emma smiled, remembering how much they ate and how little they did.

“Yes we did, but you don’t have to order coffee this time. It was cold by the time it got here, and your coffee maker is much better now,” she volunteered. Emma stood up off the bed and stretched and Steve couldn’t help but stare at the way her muscles moved in her back. It took all he had not to walk over and place his lips on her shoulders. He wanted to kiss her pain away, but this was no where near the right time. Emma smiled at him over her shoulder and headed to his bathroom.

“Clothes will be on the bed!” he called as he walked out. He heard a faint “thank you!” from his bathroom just before he shut the door. He grabbed the stuff from Nat out of his living room and after dropping it off his bed & grabbing a quick change of clothes for himself, he walked back out to the living room to order the food.

Minutes after the order was placed and Emma was still in the shower, Steve had a soft knock on his door.

“Captain Rogers, Mr. Wilson is requesting entry,” Friday chimed.

“Let him in, Friday,” Steve replied. Sam walked right in as soon as the lock disengaged.

“How is she?”

“She’s in the shower. She slept the whole night and woke up in a better mood than I thought she would. I think we’re going to hole up here all day,” Steve answered.

“Good, she needs that. Nothing coming down the pipe, but I’ll try and see if I can divert any mission where you two aren’t a necessity for the next few days.”

“Thanks, Sam. Heard from Buck?” Steve asked.

“I haven’t but Wanda spoke to him and then went to her room pretty upset last night. And then Nat ripped him a new one this morning over coffee. Surprised you didn’t hear it.”

“I soundproofed the room during that particular argument, Captain Rogers. I didn’t want to cause Miss Carver any further stress,” Friday chimed.

“Thanks Friday,” Steve answered, “Was it bad, Sam?”

“He just sat there and took it. Didn’t argue, just stared at the counter in front of him and then went to the gym as soon as she finished,” Sam noted.

“Alright,” Steve mused, “keep an eye on him. That seems odd and I don’t want him backsliding. Ask Clint to keep an eye on her and you should check on Wanda.”

“Think he said something to her too?”

“I honestly don’t know anymore, but you know how much of an empath she can be. Somebody should check on her so she isn’t beating herself up about any of this. She helped Emma get ready, she’s probably trying to take some of the blame, not that there is any to begin with.”

“Got it, I’ll check in later,” Sam gave Steve a quick nod and left the apartment.

Not long after, Steve was setting out the breakfast order on his table and waiting for the coffee to finish brewing when Emma walked out of his bedroom in her sushi-print leggings and her favorite shirt. Steve groaned when he saw it.

“Really, that’s the shirt Nat dropped off?”

“Of course she did! It’s my favorite shirt!” Emma grinned, looking down at the giant red white and blue popsicle on her shirt, holding a shield exactly like Steve’s. The word ‘Capsicle’ was written across the bottom in a script font.

“Of course it is,” Steve grumbled. He looked back over to her to see the smile start to slip, just a bit.

“Hey, sweetheart, come here,” he stood and held his arms out. Emma walked over and buried her face in his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“This sucks, Steve,” she mumbled into his shirt.

“I know, honey, I know,” he replied. They stood like that for a minute until the rumble from Emma’s stomach got too loud and they both laughed. They gathered their food and headed over his couch and sat down.

“Plan for today?” she asked Steve.

“Eat and do nothing,” he replied.

“Perfect,” she nodded, turning on the TV.

After a long discussion where Emma seriously mentioned transferring somewhere else and Steve rejected that idea multiple times, they decided to utilize Friday so Emma could avoid Bucky for a while. Steve convinced her not to run from the whole situation, but he agreed that confronting it right away would do more damage than not. Emma ended up sleeping in Steve’s bed again that night, it was just easier. He didn’t complain and was happy to just wake up holding her hand again. Emma ended up sleeping in Steve’s bed so often that she kept a spare toothbrush in his bathroom. She felt safe there, waking up next to him, knowing he was there in the middle of the night. It made her start to wonder if her idea of what love was had been wrong all along.

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

Wanda and Sam sat in the café, both nursing a latte. Sam mulled over what Wanda had told him and what she had picked up.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

“I am certain. Bucky didn’t mean any of the things he said, for the most part. He twisted the meanings so it was truth but not truth. He thinks Emma deserves better than him and she should not be ‘stuck’ with his problems.”

Sam sipped his coffee and looked over at Wanda.

“And what did you feel? I know you pick up things occasionally, if we’re broadcasting loud enough.”

“He believes it, he was telling the truth. But I do not think he felt a deep, true love for our Emma. He cares for her, but he was afraid for it to progress further, for either of them. He pushes love away because he believes he will destroy it.”

“Jesus,” Sam muttered.

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

It was slow going, but eventually everyone could be in the same room at the same time without Steve wondering if Emma was gonna make good on that threat to launch Bucky through a window. Things were slowly back to normal and Emma had her spark back. She challenged Steve to weight-lifting contests, she flew around with Tony and Sam. She even began to speak to Bucky again, if only to be civil. Emma felt like she was herself again and couldn’t be happier until Steve knocked on her door one Thursday afternoon.

“Steve, Hi! I was just thinking about you,” Emma smiled.

“Emma I- wait, you were?” he stuttered.

“Yeah! I found a documentary you might like, and I was going to have Friday add it to your queue.”

“Thanks, Emma, that’s really thoughtful,” Steve blushed a little and smiled.

“What’s going on though, do you need me for something?” she asked.

“Well, yes actually, I do,” he took a deep breath, ok Rogers, you can do this. You’ve punched Hitler in the face over 200 times.

“Emma Carver, can I take you out to dinner?”

“I would absolutely love that,” she beamed.

“Oh, thank god because then this next part would be really awkward,” Steve grinned.

“What partmmph!” Emma cut off as Steve leaned in and kissed her. She smiled against his lips and just knew, this was it. Everything was going to be alright. Love wasn’t cold like winter; it was warm like summer.

#gabs1kwritingchallenge #steve x ofc #bucky x ofc #bit of angst #bit of fluff #writing challenge #i'm really rusty

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skvaderarts · 4 years

Text

Chapter Seventeen: Reawakening

You can check out the Masterlist Here for more links to places to read!

Sorry this was late! I’m working 100% off of a tablet now and it’s been hell!!

Chapter Seventeen: Reawakening

Notes: Wow. This had been a wild week. It’s lucky that I’m taking a two-week break after I finish this fic because my laptop decided to have issues. Again. FFS. I’m buying a Chromebook to write on after this. I use Google Docs anyway. I’m so done with this. I don’t care if they are not very powerful, I need something simple! But that’s not your issue. I don’t care if I have to finish this on my TABLET I am going to get through this. I just wanted to make everyone aware. This BS changes nothing. Now onto the story!

-~-

At this point, anything that crossed Vergil’s path was basically guaranteed a swift and painful death. They had taken no time at all to reach the castle, his brisk pace practically unrelenting, even from the moment they had stepped foot out of Nero’s house. Although it had been a while since any of them had been here, no one needed directions. Vergil knew that as long as he lived, the layout of this city (at least as it had been at the time of his original trip two decades ago) would be etched into the forefront of his mind. It wasn’t that he had spent any significant time here… it was who he had met. What few “pleasant” things he had experienced during his youth had recently returned to the forefront of his mind under the guise of trying to recall less complicated times in his life, and this was on the top end of that list. As they continued along their way, he took a moment to consider the fact that visiting this wretched place was somehow one of the highlights of his youth.

Dreadful.

He needed to take a trip at some point for the sake of simply seeing something. Perhaps his troublemaking hellspawn could come along if they… no. His brow furrowed slightly as his mind wandered to darker outcomes. The possibilities as to ways they could meet their untimely ends here were staggering, but he refused to entertain any of them. Had he ruined a great many things during his youth? Of course. Was he to blame for countless mistakes. Absolutely. But this was not going to be one of them. And there would be hell to pay if anyone thought otherwise.

The moment they dropped down into Fortuna Castle’s ice field, a loud cracking, shimmering sound reminiscent of icicles creaking in the wind could be heard approaching from the foreground. Dante laughed to himself, drawing his blade from his back. Vergil placed his hand on his blade, entertaining the possibility of simply dispatching these demonic pests with his summoned swords alone. Nothing out here was worth his time as a general rule, but right now their mere existence was insulting to him. These useless creatures were not challenging enough to even consider obstacles, only serving as a stopgap in his route to more pressing matters.

“Well, I haven’t seen these things in a while,” Dante said as a group of frost approached from a distance, flanked by just shy of a dozen hell hounds.

Although Vergil concurred with his brother’s statement, he didn’t bother vocalizing. He simply nodded, drawing his blade as one of the frosts leaped towards him. He reached over his head and slashed downward, cleaving the hapless creature in two with one swift swing of the blade. Its brethren seemed to learn nothing from their fallen compatriot’s example, as two more rushed forward to attack them. Dante held his blade behind himself, watching as the blade glowed before slashing forward, sending a concentrated beam of red energy rocketing forward towards the demon. It annihilated the surprised creature, it’s partner jumping to the side to dodge the strike, Dante easily sidestepped it, drawing his shotgun and delivering a charged round to the creature’s face in retaliation before it had a chance to strike him. It tumbled uselessly through the snow as he rushed forward, uppercutting it into the air with his flaming gauntlets before drawing his blade again and slamming it down into the ground with devastating force. The youngest of Sparda’s twin sons would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he found this exhilarating. Then again, there was always a thrill to be found in a good fight. While this didn’t quite constitute as a “good fight” it was a decent warmup at the very least and he would be remiss to not become slightly excited by the opportunity to fight a species of demon he didn’t often encounter.

The hellhounds descended upon the group as the Frosts jumped back behind them, stalking the edges of the area waiting for an ideal moment for an ambush attack. The three of them sidestepped the creatures easily, making short work of them. Magnolia rushed forward and used her barrier spell to parry a blast from one of the hellhounds, knocking it back into the creature’s vulnerable body and destroying it upon impact. She rushed forward through them, her sights set on the entrance to the castle that loomed over the long metal bridge in front of her. This was not her first fight with Vergil, and any of them were capable of taking this particular group of demons in a fight easily, so she decided to redirect her efforts towards something that could benefit from her attention. While the twins would be just fine, she could guarantee the same thing for Nero and V. Their current condition was unknown, and she sought to fix that as soon as she possibly could.

“I think it’d be best if I went inside and looked for them,” Magnolia shouted over her shoulder as she sidestepped a hound on her way,” I’ll keep them safe! You have my word!”

Vergil nodded, offhandedly cleaving another two Frosts in half with his blade. While somewhat formidable in large groups, these lesser demons possessed little in the way of an actual threat and he was unconcerned with thim. That being said, he could make the time to take some of his pent up frustration out on them. Demons of this caliber tended to stalk their prey into different areas, and he didn’t need to be flanked from behind while dealing with a more potent threat. Allowing Magnolia to go ahead of them was a good idea, even if he didn’t feel entirely comfortable sending her in alone. There was no sure fire way of knowing all the risks and nothing about this situation was ideal.

Although Dante didn’t know her, he and his twin both shared the same confidence in her statement. But he also agreed that there was also no way of knowing what she could be going up against inside the walls of the castle. It was best that they get back to her as soon as they could. They both turned their attention back to the demons at hand. As she entered the front door, there was suddenly even more of a sense of urgency than there had been before. The potential for them to be able to fend off a threat as a group of three was much higher, but it also raised the possibility of friendly casualties. As capable as she was, Magnolia was still human, and V was basically helpless given the circumstances. Capable as he may be, Nero could only do so much at once, especially by himself while guarding another person.

The twins needed to hurry.

The moment that Magnolia stepped into the castle and closed the door, another large wave of Hellhounds and Frosts rushed forward, launching an all out attack against them. The hapless hounds seemed to become increasingly frustrated every time either Dante or Vergil expertly side stepped them, charging forward only to meet their inevitable fate at the end of a smoldering shotgun round or the cold steel of a devilarm. The pair dodged and weaved through their attacks effortlessly, unfazed by the large numbers they were going up against. Their recent stint in the underworld (in relative terms, at least) and the lifetime of battles they had fought had more than prepared them for this.

For several minutes they utterly decimated their enemies, the Sons of Sparda dicing them into bite size pieces and filling them with buckshot. They stood back to back, dispatching each demon as it dared approach them. As Dante delivered a devastating uppercut to the final Frost and killed it upon impact, Vergil made quick work of the few remaining Hellhounds. He rained down a volley of Summoned Swords on the canines before cleaving the final hound in half as it made the mistake of leaping towards him. The flaming creature let out a final screech before dying and disolving into the snow. Vergil ran Yamato down the length of its scabbard before returning it to it’s sheath with a ringing click. He glanced over at Dante as his twin approached, about to suggest that they head inside the castle. But before either of them could say anything, the sound of a faint boom echoed from inside of the Castle. They both glance at one another before sprinting towards the castle door.

Something was wrong.

-~-

Magnolia’s body ached as she slid backwards, knocking the wind out of herself as she slammed back first into a pillar. She was pouring sweat and slightly banged up from the strain that came from trying to withstand such a powerful attack. While she had managed to find V and Nero with practically no effort, the three of them were now in a much more precarious situation. In the blink of an eye, the dozen or so cultists had descended upon them, half of them unleashing their summons in a savage attack that was exceedingly difficult to combat. The only saving grace was that each of them seemed to only possess a single familiar, and while slightly more adept than the men she had fought at the docks, they were clearly amateurs playing with powers they couldn’t hope to understand. At most, they were pulling an entity from the underworld to fight on their behalf, but the demons owed their summoners no loyalty. No contract had been established. It was an act of desperation and everyone was a target.

Gasping for breath, she reached into the inside of her coat and pulled out a compressed metal tube, pressing a button on it to cause it to extend. As she spun the rod in her hands to become reacquainted with its center of balance, she stole a glance at Nero. He was busy trying to keep a small cluster of Sargasso and one very irate Nobody from reaching V, and he was doing relatively well considering the circumstances. This cult seemed to have a preference for Malet Island demons, and she found that curious. But at the same time, she couldn’t help but wonder what had transpired to lead to this moment. Everything about this just felt wrong and she needed answers once this was all over and done with.

One of the cultists approached her and she swung the rod, catching them square in the side of the jaw. They toppled to the floor, rendered thoroughly unconscious by the sudden strike. Magnolia smirked. The quickest way to deal with a summoned demon was to disable their summoner, as they could only manifest when their master was awake and able to give directions. She watched as Nero slammed downward into the Nobody, nearly cleaving it in two. V stumbled backward, dodging the monstrocitie’s attempt to take them with it as it died by detonating one of it’s own eyes. Nero then stepped forward and kicked one of the pews as hard as he could, sending it rocketing into a few of the remaining cultists. Magnolia closed the distance between them, using her free hand to blast the adjacent row (well, what was left of a row) of pews into the same cultists before knocking another upside the head and sending them crashing to the floor.

V took the moment of relative calm to rendezvous with Magnolia, more than a little aware that his presence was complicating things further and that perhaps the best place he could be at the moment was at the top of the stairs where he had a vantage point to see from. Magnolia and Nero flanked him from opposite ends of the room as he slipped along the bottom of the stairs, unable to effectively run due to his general lack of balance and his injured side. He felt thoroughly useless and he despised it, swearing to himself that he would find some way of being useful. Just as his foot touched the top stair, the pile of kicked over pews plasted into several directions, ricocheting off of the pillars and walls causing wooden shrapnel to fly in every direction. The trio ducked to avoid the large peices of flying wood, Nero not being quite as lucky. One of the larger pieces slammed into him, knocking him down as he cursed loudly from the pain.

“Are you hurt,” V asked, taking a few steps towards him, a concerned tint to his voice.

Nero clambered to his feet, hissing under his breath as he rubbed his side slightly. Nothing was broken from what he could tell, but he was sure that he’d have a nice bruise come morning. Who the hell were these crazy demon wielding bastards and what did they want with V? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. “Yea, I’m fine. What about you guys?”

V and magnolia nodded, despite the fact that they were probably worse off at the moment than he was. At that moment, five of the cultists seemed to be regaining their senses, dragging themselves to their feet in an overeager bid to try and reignite the fight. Their leader stepped forward, brushing himself off. The dark haired man looked thoroughly pissed even though he was making an effort to try and seem calm and menacing.

“I’m going to give you one last chance to turn him over to us,” he said sternly as he fixed his coat, eyeing V directly to add further emphasis to his point,” Our master isn’t used to taking no for an answer.”

If the man’s intention was to intimidate the longer haired man, it failed miserably. V took a step forward, edging closer to the top of the railing. He had no intention of simply giving himself over to these mysterious people. It didn’t matter if he had to take one of these standing candle holders and impale them with it. This wasn’t going to end the way these cultists wanted it to.

“Then your master is going to have to learn to deal with disappointment, because I’m not going with you,” V said flatly, clearly unamused by anything that had transpired in the last little while. Whatever this insidious cult of summoners wanted with him, he wasn’t interested in. The fact that they were so quick to resort to violence spoke volumes in that regard. Should they have been less quick to try and harm his companions, he might have humored them for a moment. As little as he enjoyed conversation, he was not opposed to listening. But he did possess a negative disposition towards having his hand forced, especially by total strangers. He wasn’t going to take this lying down.

The man didn’t respond. Instead the air became statically charged. A ominous black mist filled the room as golden sparks rolled along the surface of the walls, wrapping themselves around the pillars before dying down to a faint but still present pulse. A supernatural breeze blew through the room, clearly not originating from inside of the structure as all the doors were currently closed. V glanced around the room tenitavely in a tense search for answers. His lack of experience with this place and it’s native demons made this veil of darkness extra unsettling to him. He stole a glance in Nero’s direction as he revved his trusty blade, clearly readying himself. He placed it back onto his back and drew his gun, charging it in preparation for something that V couldn’t identify. Magnolia glanced around the room with her weapon drawn as well, seemingly just as unsure as to what was happening as V was. The cultists had drawn back into the mist to allow their leader to handle the situation, and he already seemed to be more capable than they had been.

While V anlyzed the situation, Magnolia made the fateful decision to step towards V. As she drew near, she stopped suddenly and started in total silence into the mist before gasping and grabbing him, practically throwing him out of the way. V let out a startled breath as he managed to catch him on the top stair, turning his head towards her to enquire as to what on earth she had done that to him for. They had never met or spoken prior to this encounter, but he presumed that this was the mysterious Magnolia that Nero had mentioned so much about prior to their arrival.

“Why did-” V never got the chance to finish asking his question.

In the middle of his sentence a spectral set of ten glowing violet red claws that had to be half as long as he was extended from seemingly nowhere and shattered Magnolia’s barrier and embedded themselves into either side of her body before lifting her and tossing across the room. She cried out as she tumbled across the room and crashed into the floor, coming to a stop just a few feet from Nero. She slammed into one of the few remaining pews and took several pained breaths before closing her eyes and going totally limp, her breathing turning shallow as she passed into a semi conscious state.

Nero glanced as he leaned over to give her a gentle but anxious shake as he fired a charged round into the intangible demon’s back. Those claws belonged to a Faust, one of the last demons he expected to see here today. The large hovering demon materialized and screeched, hurling itself at him. He managed to side step at and fired several more rounds into the creature as it began to lower it’s self closer to the ground. Once it was vulnerable, he removed Red Queen from her holster and charged at it, slamming into it with a volley of flames and scalding steel. It regained its stability and launched itself into the air before disappearing entirely. Just as suddenly as it had arrived, the smoke began to dissipate. But the calm eas short lived

V had scrambled to his feet during the excitement, eager to find cover or something he could use to defend himself. The electricity that had accompanied the now dissipating smoke reappeared, this time with a ferocity and strength that it had not possessed before. V withdrew his hand from the rail and stepped towards the middle of the top of the stairs in an attempt to put some distance between himself and the high voltage. A thick streak of vibrant electrical energy darted from the corner of the room nearest to the gallery door and zigzagged from side to side, going back and forth between each of the banisters. He tried to follow it with his eyes, but couldn’t quite make out the source until it fully materialized. In the blink of an eye (or perhaps faster) a large electricity coated demon leaped at him, claws at bared and ready to strike. V barely managed to leap out of the creature’s path, but it did him very little good. The entity landed feet first against the wall and immediately redirected itself towards him, managing to take him off guard as he was attempting to regain his balance from his sudden dodge. The last thing he remembered seeing was the sight of the Blitz clocking itself in a layer of electricity before it catapulted itself into him with bone shattering force. He careened down the steps, slamming into each step as the breath left his body and he rolled to a stop against the cold stone floor. He had been unconscious long before he had made his landing.

When he opened his eyes, everything was black again. V was silent for a moment, somewhere between alarm and disbelief. He was in this dreadful place again?! There was no time for this. He moved around more frantically this time than in his prior visit, grasping for any way to make his exit but failing immediately. A hybridized version of a growl and a huff escaped his lips as he covered his hands with his face, shaking his head in frustration and anxiety. He had no idea how time passed in this place, but he knew he had already spent too much of it here.

“If you have no intention of helping me, then release me. There are pressing matters that I must attend to,” The irritation and desperation in his voice were as clear as this place was dark and hopeless.

Black tendrils erupted from the ground and wrapped themselves around his torso and arms individually, not so much holding him captive as they were holding him still. The grip was firm but not constricting, familiar to him in a way he couldn’t quite place but that bothered him from lack of recognition. The skin on his body began to tingle in a manner that was reminiscent to how he had felt when he had awakened in his bedroom this morning. Surely enough, when he glanced down the markings from his former familiars were glowing as they had that morning, aside from Nightmare’s. He obviously couldn’t see his own back, but he couldn’t feel the same sensations that he felt on his torso, chest, neck, and extremities. He closed his eyes and lowered his head slightly, thinking.

When he had first met his familiars, he had agreed to form a contract with them out of a lack of other options but had grown to enjoy their presence after a while. They had fought valiantly in their attempts to protect him, but in the end they had all been victims of circumstance; unwilling yet unwavering participants in a game far more profound than their own lives. And as he stood there encased in what had to be darkness itself, he felt understood and accepted in a way he couldn’t place words to. A wave of nostalgia and penetrating loneliness hit him as he exhaled slowly. He didn’t know how he knew, but this place was linked to his former demonic pets, and he was ready to admit that he needed them right now. Perhaps asking would facilitate the response that he was hoping for?

V sighed and adjusted his posture as much as he possibly could before looking up. Or what he assumed to be “up”. He honestly couldn’t tell and didn’t care. It was worth a shot, wasn’t it? It couldn’t hurt to try.

“I can only assume that this,” V gestured by tugging at the tendrils,” Is your doing. We’ve met before. I think that’s why I keep ending up here, isn’t it? Because you want to help me.”

The air became statically charged as if in response to his question. V nodded. He felt like he might be getting somewhere. Possibly. The tendrils loosened slightly, but he didn’t move. He remembered that he had to consent to the contract with Griffon before. Maybe they needed his permission? He found it ironic that there was a guidebook to this sort of thing in his back pocket but he couldn’t read it. It would prove invaluable in this situation. V sighed, at his limit for being here. There was no time for this. He hadn’t come all this way just to perish senselessly a second time.

“... I need your help. Again. If this is truly you, then I don’t think I need to elaborate. I have a talent for landing myself in troublesome situations, but this is different. I don’t know if I’ll survive this fight without you.”

He closed his eyes and hung his head solemnly. “... Please help me. I desperately need you.”

V jumped slightly as he felt the sensation of something akin to hot water run down the upper half of his body. It drenched him but he remained totally dry, aside from the places where the glowing marks on his body had been. The black substance clung to them, filling in like some sort of a stencil being filled in with the darkest shade of graphite imagenable. The tendrils dissolved and converted themselves into the last of the liquid before everything grew dark. He stood there breathing heavily as the result of the sudden wave of weakness that had overcome him, the burden of his former power taking a momentary toll that he hadn’t anticipated. With every monocrom of the power that returned to him, he felt more hazy, but he wouldn’t allow that to stop him.

He collected himself and closed his eyes to take in a much needed moment of silence. He was ready to leave this place. And there would be hell to pay for those who had forced his hand yet again. As soon as he figured out a way to leave this place, this cult was going to regret the day they had made the decision to attack a descendant of the Dark Knight Sparda.

-~-

Vergil had precisely no idea how things had escalated to this degree, but he wasn't pleased in the slightest by what he saw before him. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure what he felt in this moment. Snow blew in from behind him as he stood in the open doorway to Fortuna Castle, but even literal ice was warmer than the chill he felt trickle down his spine as he took in the predicament that he and his twin brother had just walked themselves into. The eldest Son of Sparda could almost literally feel parts of his body freeze solid as he took in the chaos that unfolded before him. He hadn’t noticed that he’d stopped the moment he’d seen V lying prone on the floor a few dozen yards away, clocked in the remainder of some sort of smoke that he didn’t see the source of. Dante had immediately jumped into the frey, providing Nero the backup that he sorely needed against the dozen or so different demons he was somehow holding his own against.

Even with the dissipating mist in the air making things difficult to see clearly, he could tell that V was in a bad way. He made his way across the room, not really registering any of his surroundings aside from the hapless summoner that made the mistake of trying to attack him. He drew Yamato and dispatched them quicker than they could even regester what had happened to them, and then returned his focus to what actually mattered to him in this moment. The wantin and merciless bloodshed would have been met with a less than positive response, (or at least a raised eyebrow or two) but no one noticed due to the litany of opponents that they were up against.

The second he reached V’s unconscious body, he knelt down at his side to assess his condition. He paused for a moment, his hand lingering over V’s body. Vergil found himself trapped between the overwhelming desire to know if his son was alive and the criping, all consuming worry that came from the knowledge that he very well might not be. The fact that he knew that at least one of his children was alive should’ve provided him a grim respite, but he found himself overcome by a level of anxiety he hadn’t felt in an immeasurably long time. This was a source of concern that he’d never experienced before; the concept of his inability to protect his own children resulting in their death something that he’d never given lingering thought to. It was forengn to him and utterly devastating in it’s scope. He clenched his teeth subconsciously before developing the resolve necessary to force himself to check on his son’s well being.

Vergil leaned over him and hesitantly rested the back of his hand against V’s exposed throat. The knot in his stomach loosened considerably when he realized that despite the fact he couldn’t feel his oldest son’s pulse, he noticed that he was breathing when his breath ghosted across the sleeve of his coat. While that didn’t account for his actual physical well being, he knew that he was alive at the very least, and that was reassuring to him. As he retracted his hand, he was taken by surprise by V as he coughed harshly and lurched forward, gasping harshly for breath as though he had just been plunged into freezing waters.

V rubbed his face with his hands as his breath evened out before turning to look in Vergil’s direction. Despite the fact that his eyes were closed, he could feel the presence of another person near him. When he saw Vergil he froze in place, unsure of how to react to his presence. The very last thing he expected to see was his estranged father. This day was full of surprises, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to take the vast majority of them. V closed his eyes for a moment before sighing and deciding that he would have to sort this situation out at a later date. This was not the time or the place to have any sort of discussion. He glanced over at the battle that was occurring on the other side of the room. Nero and Dante had the situation more than under control. The cult leader seemed to be edging towards the door, more than likely preparing to make a break for it since it was apparent that his compatriots were now fighting a losing battle.

He had just found his target.

There was no way that he was allowing this deranged maniac to escape.

As he clambered to his feet, he was reminded of his less than ideal state. His head throbbed, there was an unpleasant soreness in his chest, the cut on his side felt more raw and torn than ever, and he could practically feel the imprint of the stone stairs in his back from when he had tumbled down them a few minutes ago, but he was still alive and he could suppress his discomfort until his work was finished. This wouldn’t be the first time he had forced himself to swallow his pain and work against his well being in order to complete a task. Not by a long shot.

V tugged his sleeve down and sure enough, his tattoos had returned. In an action that was practically second nature by now, he expanded his consciousness and called forth his familiars. With an ear shattering roar, Shadow materialized from the floor, ready to do her master’s bidding. She paced the room eagerly as Griffon surged forward, depriving V of the remainder of his tattoos and he fluttered around the room laughing wildly. He landed on V’s shoulder a moment later, fluffing himself.

“Well, if it isn’t Shakespear! It’s about time! And just when I was about to start taking bets on how long it was going to take you to figure out how the Nightmare dimension worked. Guess I owe Nightmare a drink,” Griffon was clearly thrilled to death with himself. He wasn’t making the slightest effort to hide that. “So, who’s the unlucky schmuck who’s getting an ass full of lighting today?!”

V repressed the urge to roll his eyes, shaking his head as he chortled at the statement. He was likely never going to admit it, but he’d missed this mouthy bird. It was a welcome change to have him back. He smirked and rolled his hand playfully in the direction of the cult leader. “That guy.”

Griffon twirled off of his shoulder and launched up into the air, discharging a sphere of lighting as he leveled out. “Consider it done, beanpole,” Griffon said sarcastically as he took off towards the individual V had pointed out,” Come on Shirly, we have work to do!”

Shadow snarled and chased after Griffon as he flew off to assess their target. V stole a quick glance at Vergil that quickly converted itself into a lingering stare. He had an unreadable look in his that indicated that he wasn’t thrilled to see his familiars again, but he sighed and unsheathed Yamato nonetheless. He glanced over at V and nodded as to excuse him before turning his attention towards the cultist. They were in for a world of hurt now that his concern had subsided and been replaced by seething rage. Vergil felt a powerful need to stab something right now, and he had plenty of targets to choose from. V watched him surge forward and impale one of the cultists before turning his attention back towards his familiars. They had several unpleasant and uncomfortable conversations ahead of them. It was inevitable. But right now they needed to fight. And V was eager to see how a battle against another summoner would turn out. With Dante, Vergil, and Nero handling the remaining cultists and their summons, he had plenty of time to focus on their leader. They each had their own battles to fight.

V glanced down at the ground and found a piece of a broken standing candelabra, opting to bring it with him. There was no harm in having a physical weapon with him, even if it was just a two foot long segment of a brass rod. He wanted answers and he was going to get them, one way or another.

-~-

GAH!! I’m sorry that this chapter is several hours late! Due to the pandemic, I can’t fix my pc at the moment, so I spent a while fighting with Google Docs today. I then sat here all day and had to type this entire chapter (which was 5,800+ words!) ON MY TABLET. It was a nightmare, but I got it done and I’m starting the next chapter sharpish. A lot happened in this chapter, and I can’t wait for you guys to get to read the battle in the next entry on Friday! Thanks a ton for your ongoing support! I’m going to get this pc situation sorted out ASAP for all our sakes. I look forward to reading your comments and I loved the ones last week! Sorry for any errors that slipped through. It’s tricky to edit and type on a touch screen device. Have a wonderful day and stay safe out there! See you soon!

#Soliloquy #DMC #DMC5 #DMCV #Post DMCV #Post DMC5 #V Post Devil May Cry 5 #V Post Devil May Cry V #V Post DMC5 #Dante Sparda #Vergil Sparda #Nero Sparda #V Sparda #Vitale Sparda #V #Fortuna

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moldy-mold · 5 years

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Diary Post: My Thoughts and Processes on Making “Silent Strength” It’s lengthy, taking place over long period of time. Mainly written for my future-self to remember what I went through, but also for anyone who is curious. Now that the project is over, I can post without reservations. There are certain things I need to keep secret though, so if I’m vague I do so intentionally!

Basically, a lot of number-crunching, physical labor, and psychological labor.

It started off as kind of a joke tweet I made. I had enough content to make a Tales Of art book and people were receptive to it. So… I thought maybe I could go somewhere with this. A few weeks later, I suddenly had a lot of Kratos art. Like. 80% of all my Tales art was Kratos. It didn’t make sense to make a broad Tales Of book when really most of it was Kratos.

I hadn’t made a book since I was in college despite it being one of my favorite things to do. They were never art books, just some editorial design projects that totally didn’t count. This book… would be my first-ever art book.

Several times, I came close to having enough art to print a book - the last time was my large collection of Yusuke Kitagawa, but the quality wasn’t where I wanted. At that time, I was still experimenting with my iPad Pro and figuring out Procreate, so that was what I used him for.

NGL, I was pretty afraid of looking like a clown. After doing all this work, what if no one actually buys it? I was talking to some friends and they said they would buy it. It was enough for me. In the end, I’m creating something that I love. - The first thing I really wanted to work on was the cover. It needed to be epic but also mysterious (lol)… It was a good time to practice lighting and backgrounds. The cover had to be freaking Fantastic. I spent 3 days drawing nonstop. I was on vacation so I could spend full days just drawing. It was really intense. I would stop in the evenings to go for a run or else my legs would never get circulation again.

The hardest part was keeping it secret. I wanted to share it with the world right away bc I was so proud of it. Well, all I could do was show it to my parents and some close friends. They didn’t know who Kratos is, but it was obvious I was crazy about him.

Initially, I was doing some hand-lettering for the zine title instead of using a typeface. Tbh, I was so sure I was naming this zine “Blame Your Fate!” bc that is such an iconic line. But it just didn’t work with my cover, which looked… a little too serene for that. So… Silent Strength or Divine Strength? I asked around and got my answer.

But what size? All of my art has been on letter canvases. I wanted it to be large so you could see the details in the art. I’ll just start with that. - Luckily, I had all my Kratos-related art in one place. I started my InDesign file and threw everything in there just to see what it looked like. Man, I draw a lot of boxes… But I didn’t want them all next to each other. I also wanted to kinda organize it by the people Kratos hangs out with. There’s a Yuan section LOL… and a Lloyd section… and an Anna section. Idk, I tried to get some kind of order in there with a sprinkling of full spreads here and there to keep it fresh and interesting for the eyes.

I hadn’t worked with InDesign on such an intense level since college. I forgot all of the tips and tricks we learned in class. Spent some time reading on how to do things again… like adding page numbers. - I started drafting my pre-order form. It’s my first time making a google form like this. It’s kind of fun? I spent a long time on it, despite how simple it was. This was going to be my “Store” so it had to look and sound good. - My friend introduced me to charm-making. It seemed easy enough, and I wanted to give my zine more oomph. Besides, I’ve always wanted to make a charm.

I remember someone saying they’d buy a book of just the 4 Seraphim if it existed. I like them too and they lack art imo. In the end, I decided to do a polaroid charm. It’s not really that unique but I wanted Kratos to have actual friends to hang out with for once LOL.

She was going to do a group order to try to reduce the costs. I thought maybe 4 weeks would give me enough time. In the end she said I only have 2. I work well under pressure, so needless to say, I did make that deadline. I actually sketched the whole thing on the plane headed home. - After playing the game the second time, watching the OVA again, and reading “Offerings to a Star,” I have gained a real soft spot for Yuan. My friend once said, “If you weren’t stolen away by Kratos, you would be in love with Yuan.” Lol. I’ve been in a “Kratos and Yuan hanging out” mood lately, so of course I needed something good for the zine. They’re so cute together! Now… what is the bro-est thing I can draw?

I was currently in Florida for my friend’s wedding. I was friends with the groom and his best man since high school, so that makes it 10 years now. Seeing how they’re still friends after all this time, despite living in opposite sides of the country, was really moving to me. Of course, me being me, I could see Kratos and Yuan’s long friendship being similar to this, if they had gone to school together. I just had to draw it. - When I got back from vacation, I did some research on zine sizes. Mine was HUGE compared to others. I just didn’t quite realize it until I held a magazine in my hands. It really is huge…

I settled for a medium size. 7x9. I really liked how it looked. Petite but not too petite. Unfortunately resizing my book had messed up my artwork placement so I spent hours rearranging all the text and resizing my images. I found out afterwards that there’s a way to retain the format while changing the document size. Gee, that would have been helpful 4 hours ago.

Sadly, choosing a custom size booklet makes printing more expensive. But I wanted it badly enough that I’d be willing to pay for it. Letter size is just too large… - I decided to stop dragging my feet and post a promo. I just really needed a deadline for myself to get this all done before July ended. I’m happy it was well-received. A lot of people like Kratos huh…

Anyway, the pre-order is due in a week and I still don’t know what all the costs are yet. I need a physical proof ASAP to weigh at the post office! - Something possessed me one day to do another drawing. I don’t usually do painterly style (mainly because it’s really difficult and takes 10x longer) but I just REALLY wanted to push myself on this Final Piece to the zine. I wanted it to be… radiant. Almost religious. I worked on it obsessively. From breakfast to sundown. The only time I would stop was at 7pm to go running or else my legs would give out on me.

Call me crazy, but I would save my progress on my phone so I could examine it for errors during my warmup. I also spend an hour examining it for errors before going to bed. It’s a miracle I hadn’t dreamt of the painting. - I sent my files in on Sunday in hopes that they start working on it first thing on Monday…. and it HAPPENED! They finished before I even woke up. I think they start work at like 6am…

Of course, I drove over there as soon as I heard so I can get a look. “Please… please let the colors be okay,” I prayed as I was driving. I barely remember driving there, I was so lost in thought. It would be another long ordeal if I had to fix all the colors.

Thank the stars. The press proof looked BEAUTIFUL!! I was screaming to the client coordinator how much I loved it. I mean, I worried for a looooong time that everything would turn out too dark (it usually does) but it was PERFECT. I was especially worried about the cover, which contained a lot of yellow and I def did not want it to come out mustardy… But it was great in the end!

The press operator is a quiet man. He’s got a scary face and never smiles but I think he’s secretly nice. He has done a lot of favors for me in the past without my asking. He was the one to print, bind, and trim the book for me. Obviously he had to have seen what I was drawing. I wonder what he thought of it…? He walked away before I could express how happy and thankful was. He didn’t need to hear it. It was like he already knew. So cool…

I immediately took it to the post office to weigh it. I needed as much info as I could get and plus, I was dying to know for myself. This is the week I was supposed to open pre-orders and there was still a lot I needed to do. Take pictures, create mockups, pricing, etc.

NGL, all of these costs were building up fast. It was so darn expensive to make a zine while also keeping prices down. But I wanted so much more for my baby. Extra glossy cover, perfect binding!! I knew by the end of this, I probably wouldn’t make much money. It hurt a little, but I tried to think that it was for the greater good. Learning experience and all that. And creating something beautiful. Especially something beautiful of Kratos. - Pricing was really the hardest part. I pretty much threw profit out the window. However, I definitely did not want to be losing money. My dad and I had worked together to create a spreadsheet of expenses to make sure my head was above water. I followed it… loosely.

My friend came to talk to me at the right moment. I was sort of panicking at the prices. She made me realize I was thinking way too hard about it and gave me some tips based on her own experience. It really put my mind at ease talking to someone who understands my woes.

The truth of the matter is, the book is wonderfully made and has a lot of pages - countless hours of drawing. There is only so much I can do about pricing. It is what it is… I just needed to come to terms with my own worth. - Boy, what am I going to do once the zine is done? My friend says that I’ll be so over Kratos that I’ll stop drawing him (but the love remains). It’s like… all of the intense planning, working, struggling nonstop will just suddenly… stop. TBH, I’m running out of ideas. I spent it all on the zine. - Photoshoot today. I had to paint my nails purple for this occasion. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get the look I wanted in the apartment. It’s just so naked without props. I think I’ll take it to a cafe for some nicer backgrounds. I talked it over with my friend and decided to do a quick flip-through of the zine as a promotional video. I used the most professional video program I had on hand… Snapchat. It actually turned out pretty legit and of course I slapped stickers on there because it’s Snapchat.

I had to tape/hide some of the pages for the video because I wasn’t actually done with the drawings. I had the printers print it anyway so I could examine it for color accuracy.

I’m really stressed about pricing now. It turns out I had a lot more international fans than I anticipated. I wish I took notes on interest earlier in the game to cater to them. I had a list of “possible buyers” and I only just now decided to check where they live? Foolish.

I did another cost analysis on paper to figure out what my goal was to make up for the charms. Right now they’ve cost me a fortune for something that was supposed to be giveaway. Other things that rack up are packaging costs, PayPal fees, and some other supplies I needed for this project.

Maybe I shouldn’t have made it 40 pages. It is an impressive number, but no one is really paying for quantity. I think 25 is a better number lol. If I had done that, I could have had my super-gloss cover like I wanted. :’(

There is hope though. And I’ve placed it in the hands of my followers to come through for me. I think I’ll open pre-orders on Saturday or Sunday, depending on what I finish. - “Losing your cool will only lead to poor decisions.”  Thanks, Kratos twitter bot. You always know what to say.

I read this post today on what makes people buy zines. Very interesting!  https://twitter.com/andythelemon_/status/1141469048653398019 - Photoshoot part 2 today. My friend and I went to a cafe nearby that had some nice atmosphere in hopes of finding the right shots. I brought all of my Kratos merch just in case. I’m glad I did though, since the tables were pretty sparse and it was difficult to capture the backgrounds without getting a bunch of random people in it too.

I would have been the photographer, but I definitely wanted my hands in the shots. In a way, it was meaningful - to show that this was made by my own two hands. Plus, I wanted to depict natural interaction with the product. It made it feel real.

The photos were cute! I feared it would look a little amateurish with all the merch in there, but I think fun was what I was really going for, not “professional.” And plus the flip-through was a Snap anyway LOL. As long as the photos have good lighting and tasteful composition, you really can’t go wrong with “fun.”

Now that I’ve finished editing my photos, there really isn’t anything holding me back from opening pre-orders. I’ve pretty much come to terms with my pricing. If I fail to break even, I’ll just have to open commissions to try to make up for it. I was telling my friend on the way home, “I gave this zine EVERYTHING I had to give. So at the very least, I won’t be disappointed in myself.” No stone left unturned, no detail left unchecked. It was perfect according to my standards. I really love my zine okay?!

I thought I was crazy for not only choosing a small fandom, I narrowed it down even further by picking ONE GUY to make this zine about. She replied, “Even if it’s small, those people who love him now must be EXTREMELY LOYAL to still be in love with a character from a 15-year-old game. All of them will want your zine.” - I went to bed that night with the intention of making the pre-order post live in the morning. I was so nervous I couldn’t sleep. I was wide awake until at least 5 or 6 am. Luckily, I was able to doze off for a an hour or two before I would shake myself awake again. It was a mixture of anxiety and excitement. It was the moment of truth - to see if all my effort made a difference. Was it going to sell? - The pre-order post looked really freaking good. I’ll give it that. I even made a YT account just to post that darn preview video on tumblr lol. It was definitely fun seeing everyone’s excitement and we all just freaked out together.

I broke even! That’s what really matters. Honestly at this point, I couldn’t care less if I made profit or not. I now know how much people really like the zine and that alone made me so happy I could die.

I was particularly fascinated at Google Form’s ability to transfer all the data collected into a spreadsheet. That is extremely helpful. I spent hours organizing the data. It was really fun…?! Now I can tell who gets invoiced and who paid and separate them into categories. IT’S FANTASTIC!

Stayed up late researching how much adding tracking could be. I had a slight panic attack thinking “what if my books got lost in transit?” It would really hurt me to have to reprint books and ship them again. And then I realized I will need to fill out customs forms for all international orders. Yikes, I’m gonna be living at the post office lol. You can print them out at home if you fill out the form online but there are still some things I’m uncertain about. I may visit the post office later this week to ask all my questions. - This morning I sent out everyone’s invoices. I gave the international people the option to purchase tracking. It’s expensive… but I need to provide that option just in case.

I received a nice message from someone who offered to advertise for me on Instagram. Of course, I gave them the OK! I’m really so shocked they would do that… They said the liked the zine so much it deserved more exposure. My dude… I love you… T_T

I thought about advertising on insta myself earlier in the week. For some reason I felt it was going to be fruitless since I don’t have an art account on there with a following. So, I gave up on the idea. Hey it worked out in the end.

I’ve never been so organized in my entire life. I want this zine experience to be perfect. The people have placed their trust in me, so I cannot mess up. - Edited some pages in the zine. The typography must be perfect… It made me think back to undergrad days in graphic design school. Man, if only I can present this as a project - photos, videos, matching accessories and all. I’d probably get an A lol. - Orders slow down after the first day. The rest is just about getting new people to see the post and giving other people more time to decide.

I finished my Kratos stationery today. It’s going to be so cute. My friend said people would want to buy it but I don’t have it in me to do more products at this time. Plus, I want it to be a surprise.

Why make stationery? Well my real job (no, I don’t draw Kratos all day for a living) is a stationery designer! It would feel really wrong not to put into practice what etiquette I’ve learned in this business. Plus, I felt that it was necessary to properly thank all those who ordered. And it’s fun?

I started designing the shipping labels for the domestic orders since I don’t need to fill out a customs form for those. I wish I had sticker labels but… it’s okay. It will still look good in the end. - Every so often, I would get nervous at the amount of money I’m responsible for. Perhaps, if I had a store with existing products I wouldn’t feel this way, but the fact that the books haven’t been printed yet made me scared. I know, I need this money to even print the books in the first place, but I’m just baffled at my customers’ trust in almost a total stranger. I felt pressured that I could not let them down and lose that trust. It probably didn’t help that I watched a documentary on Elizabeth Holmes (Theranos) that day.

So, I prayed every single day that nothing would go wrong. I’d check my spreadsheet constantly for any mistakes. It was a little obsessive, but I would rather be that than overlook something.

I began collecting cardboard boxes. My plan was to cut them up to protect the books during transit. I would have preferred hard envelopes but they were a bit pricey. If I have to do more work myself, so be it.

I’ve been getting nice DMs from some buyers. I think my invoice due date scared them… I really did not intend to be strict, but I wanted people to pay now if they can rather than forget about it. This happens at work all the time, so the best thing to do is have it due immediately. It would not look good to have to wait on stragglers when I close pre-orders, so I’ll probably reach out when there is one week left. - My Kratos stationery arrived! Aww it is SO CUTE!!! My babies… I have a lot of notes to write so I got started right away. It’s going to be a lot of work trying to come up with creative ways to say “thank you,” but I don’t mind. I said I was going to put my all into the zine experience so I will.

At long last, the charm order has been put in motion. My friend said it could take a while… I hope it won’t be longer than 3 weeks. I really do not want to keep everyone waiting. I may ship out the ones who did not win a charm first. I mean, there is no reason to make those guys wait. I should ask the charm winners if they still want to wait and see if anyone wants to give it up for someone else who is more patient. Hm. - I finally stopped by the post office today to collect customs forms. I have my work cut out for me since I’m filling all of them in by hand. D:

I’m not used to international addresses so I think I’ll ask for help in checking them for spelling errors and typos. Heaven forbid I mess up on the very last part of the zine experience.

In my nervousness, I decided to reach out about invoices early on. If someone wanted to cancel, I would rather find out sooner rather than later. Everyone was really nice about paying and thank goodness they’re still excited.

Feeling kind of overwhelmed by all the things I need to do, but it’s a good thing. If I don’t know what to do, I can either: cut cardboard, write letters, type shipping labels, draw more Kratos for a… possible volume 2? Someone I talked to today already said they’ll pre-order a second book if I make one. Omg I think I’ll die. But we’ll see. It’s just a joke right now haha… - Preorders end today. I had another nightmare last night that the books could not be printed properly and there was nothing I could do. Why do I keep getting nightmares about the zine! I had one a few days before about people canceling their orders when I asked them about the invoices. I’ll take these dreams with a grain of salt. I’m probably just stressed/worried but everything is going to be okay. When I open my eyes, nothing is on fire.

I received my final proof a few days ago. With all of the artwork completed and changes applied. The book looks good, no doubt about it. There was only one thing I was nit-picky about but it can be fixed. The press operator offered to print another book for me to inspect. I’ll go see it on Monday and then submit the rest of the orders. I also asked to to have a meeting with the press operator so we are on the same page. It would be beneficial to have an understanding of how my book is made so that I may be more helpful to him.

I spent the day preparing shipping labels. I hate to admit, I am not too familiar with the format international addresses so I had an address validator open as I was typing them in. For the most part, everyone was helpful in already formatting their addresses in the preorder form! - My parents called me the day after preorders were closed. They wanted to say congratulations on my success. No one thought it would do this well. I couldn’t be offended by that since I was also guilty of it. I’m happy though. It feels like my love spread across the world and was contagious.

I tried to think of what advice I would give to others. Obviously, genuine love for the subject and hard work were a necessity. But it would be good to consider value. If I were selling it at this price, I had to make sure my pieces and presentation looked the part. I ask myself, if someone else sold it, would I buy it?

I sent out messages to all the charm winners in the morning. I wanted to apologize profusely at the ridiculous amount of time it has taken to get them made. But no, I’ve got to stop apologizing. I stated the facts and left it at that. Everyone was really kind and patient⁠—to which I was thankful for. I don’t usually get that when I’m working customer service. - All the books were done printing in one day. Wow! I went to pick it up immediately of course. I can’t believe all of this is coming to an end. I finished preparing the mailers. All that was left was to stuff and seal the domestic orders. They were the easiest to do so I’m going to ship those first. The rest will need customs forms, which I haven’t filled out just yet. It’s going to be a while for those…

The mailers were quite sturdy with the cardboard cutouts I slipped in them. I have nothing to worry about. I’m sure my babies will be okay! - I took a whole box of domestic orders to the post office today. Wasn’t sure what to expect. But my clerk had to input every single address one at a time while I checked for errors. Omg, why are the post office shipping labels SO HUGE. I thought it was going to be half the size. And they’re ruining my designer labels! Slight panic but oh well…

I had a long long line behind me. I’m so sorry, people. Luckily there were two clerks or I would be really sweating. Despite my intimidating box of zines, the clerk and I had Synergy and we managed to ship all of these in about 15 minutes. I received a very long receipt and quite the bill lol. - Shipped the international orders today. I was kind of a mess since I had no idea what to do. I keep wondering if I can help speed up the process in any way but I don’t think I have the option to ship first-class at home.

When shipping international, keep the post office copy of the customs forms together with the package since they use that to type the address info into the system. Also, we get free tracking, which I did not know about. The other clerk told me that we did not get tracking for international first-class but I guess he was misinformed. It’s good to know for next time. - The charms finally arrived!! And THEY’RE HOLOGRAPHIC?! It was pretty awesome, but it makes picture-taking kind of difficult!! Anyway, I was a tiny bit disgruntled that they got my order incorrect, and I even asked for a reprint. But they said no, so I left it at that. Besides, it seems the holographic effect was well-received.

I like this size that I made. It’s really cute! Larger than your normal charm but not too huge. It’s almost like an Instax photo! - There was one customer who I found lives near me! I asked her if she wanted me to hand-deliver it to her in a public setting and she agreed (to my amazement). We finally met a few days ago and talked for hours and hours lol! I’m glad to have finally made a new friend here in this town but of course she’s moving away in two weeks. <:’3

We’re going to meet again to make the most of her time left. - I shipped the rest of the orders on the following Monday. I HAD to get these out. The poor guys have been waiting over a month! I think I picked a bad time to go because I had a huge line behind me and only one guy working. People in line were getting antsy or mad. The clerk at the other post office was super fast but not this guy…

For some reason shipping to the UK and Japan nearly doubled in price since the last time I checked. RIP. T_T - Omg I finally made a mistake. I wrote a letter to the wrong person. And the contents of that letter are too personalized!!! I am dying of embarrassment!!!!! Screams!! Had to apologize to both customers too!!! Luckily they were good sports about it but I’m seriously kicking myself AAAAAAAA!!!! - The most rewarding part after sending all my babies away is seeing the commentary on my project. It is so so nice to receive positive feedback. People are happy! Happy with something I created out of thin air. Everything was worth it 1000 times over. I can die happy!

I’m especially thankful to those who show understanding for how much effort went into it. It definitely wasn’t easy and I poured way too many hours into it… not that I regret that.

I don’t want to jump the gun but I would really love to make a volume 2. Because I know I can do better than last time. New and improved art and comics! But we’ll see if I make enough pieces for another book. I was against printing 40 pages before but now I kind of like it. It feels more worth it than a 25-page zine. If i’m going though so much effort, might as well bring in the entire package.

I’ll be printing more of this volume for Aselia Con 2020. Now I know people will appreciate it.

#diary

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bubble-tea-bunny · 5 years

Text

a painted lady

[carol danvers x reader]

author’s note: i started watching iasip and it’s so funnyyy i love it so much. anyway, here’s something short and sweet for my girl carol. hope you enjoy <3

word count: 2,737

Spring announces its arrival with the melting of the snow and the crisp mornings which give way to a sunny afternoon and a gentle breeze not nearly as harsh as the winter gusts that makes cheeks flush and stings the sensitive skin. Warmer weather begins popping up on the forecast. The days grow longer. The flowers bloom. There are many telltale signs to the changing of the season, but this year, they’re joined by a rare spectacle that has become the main topic for news stations and strangers making small talk in the coffee shops or at bus stops.

Channel 2 is on mute, but Carol hasn’t bothered un-muting it or even looking at the screen, since the view outside the bedroom window is exactly the same. Butterflies flutter past the glass in great numbers, taking their time with the plants on the front lawn. The neighbors’ houses aren’t bound to be any different, nor would anywhere else in town really. Seeing butterflies isn’t out of the ordinary when spring is approaching, but what is out of the ordinary is just how many there are. They’re everywhere.

Carol catches the sight of orange wings with black bands on them, and speculates aloud. “Monarchs?” To an outside observer, it might appear as though she’s asking this to thin air.

“No. Painted ladies,” you respond from the ensuite bathroom. After you’ve combed the tangles out of your hair, you set the brush down and walk back into the bedroom. “A little smaller than monarchs.”

Carol hums in acknowledgment, and takes a few more seconds to study the bright swarm before she lets her hand drop and the curtain shifts back into place. She turns around and grins when she sees you across the room putting on your watch. You’re wearing your usual lip color today: a bold red shade that brings out your eyes. “You’re a painted lady.”

That color hadn’t always been a staple in your makeup routine, and Carol has the sneaking suspicion it had found its way there after she had mentioned how much she liked it on you the first time she saw you in it. You’d been so unsure of it then, but she genuinely liked it. While she had told you as much, she’s sure you also could tell by the sincerity in her voice and the earnestness on her face. Not that it’d be difficult for you pick up on what she is thinking. You read people like books and she’s your favorite novel, one you know from front cover to back.

Even at this distance, you notice her gaze lowering to your lips and you roll your eyes but you’re smiling too. “I guess I am.”

Carol had closed the gap between you as you made your comment, and she leans in close. You’re about to take a step back and tell her At least give it a minute! but it’s too late. She steals a kiss and laughs at your expression of playful incredulity.

“It hasn’t even dried down!” You reach up to wipe the bit of lipstick that had transferred to her mouth, then grab the compact on the dresser to check if you would have to re-apply any on yourself.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

“That’s what you say every day.”

“Well, it’s true.” She shrugs matter-of-factly.

And you can never even fake being irritated for too long. Once you’ve confirmed that your lipstick is finally completely dry and transfer-proof, you kiss her. This one lasts a little longer, and she meets you with equal enthusiasm. She smells the lavender perfume you wear—every morning, two small spritz, in the soft spots behind your ears. By now, she has your routine memorized, but that’s no surprise because you’re her favorite book too.

The butterflies are immortalized in a small piece you create for your art class. You wave it off as nothing special, but just as with every other instance Carol has had the opportunity to see your finished art sitting on the easel, oils still setting and your familiar signature with its trademark loops and elaborate flourishes (“My signature is not that fancy!”) tucked away in a corner, she shakes her head and says, “It’s amazing.”

You stand side by side, surveying the canvas like you’re in a museum studying a painting on the wall. You’re mulling it over, considering her compliment and staring at the butterflies and she’s right, you think. It’s not so bad at all. You can’t help smiling because of how supportive she is, has been, and would continue to be, for it’s in her nature to pick you up when you’re down, and a warmth bubbles in your chest.

“Thanks.”

Carol’s watched your artistic endeavors from the sidelines, which she has been happy to do. She doesn’t have much to complain about when she has the front row. As such, when you come home one day and ask if she’d help you with your newest project, her brows raise at the unexpected request.

“I don’t know how much help I can be, but sure. What is it?”

“I need a model.”

Her eyes light up and her grin is big. “How should I pose? Maybe something dramatic?” She rests her wait on one foot and juts out her hip, setting her hand on it and angling her head slightly downward so as to look up at you in mock seduction. “Or maybe something fancier?” She stands back up straight and reaches over to grab an apple from the fruit bowl, then holds it up as if scrutinizing it closely, her other arm folded neatly behind her back.

You laugh at the various poses she strikes, and she breaks character quickly, laughing as well. “No, nothing like that, although that would be pretty fun.” You take a deep breath as you calm down. “I’ll have to get back to you on pose ideas. I’m not really sure what mood I’m trying to go for here. The prompt was really vague.”

“But that’s good right? More open avenues.” Carol sets the apple back down and leans back against the counter with crossed arms.

“It is, but it can be overwhelming too… The key is just to let the inspiration come to me. If I try too hard to come up with ideas, I might just get more frustrated than anything else…”

While waiting for this inspiration, you fill your time with sketches, thumbnail drawings of people in motion and positioned this way and that. You also draw Carol quite a bit. It’s your warmup for when you move onto the real piece, and if she hadn’t noticed whenever you stared before, she definitely does now, catching your eyes as you look up at her then back down at your sketchbook.

You draw her over and over again, pages of your sketchbook filled with her face at different angles and wearing various expressions. Even if the drawings are hasty, the care behind each is apparent. You ache to understand every detail, the natural sway of her hair as she turns her head whenever you call her name; the crinkle of the corners of her eyes when she flashes you a wide smile; the high points of her cheeks that catch the sunlight just right. And Carol peers over your shoulder at these pictures and she knows exactly what you are trying to do and she understands that you don’t just see with your eyes. You see with your hands.

One slow morning you’re doing it again, sketchbook in your lap and pencil in hand. Carol’s still laying down, drifting in and out, her body trying to cling to the last bits of sleep but she can’t tune out the scribbling and scrawling and the erasing. She’s not mad about it though; she probably shouldn’t be trying to sleep this late into the day anyway. So she rolls onto her side and props herself up on her elbow to look at you better—you’re sitting cross-legged facing her, which means she can’t see the page.

“How many times is this now?” she asks to break the silence.

You glance up at her but don’t answer immediately, your eyes tracing the line of her jaw, which you then replicate on the paper. “I dunno. Haven’t been keeping count. But I need to make sure I get everything… perfect…” You trail off, enamored with your task.

The fact is, you don’t draw many people. Portraits aren’t your forte, and that’s the main reason you’ve had to draw Carol as many times as you have before you take out your paints. Still, she can’t resist teasing. “You’ve never drawn me before this, have you?”

“No…” More scribbling.

“This isn’t quite playing out like those romance movies where the artist draws their partner all the time.” She tries to sound disappointed, but it falls apart the moment you look at her with a raised brow, and she cracks a grin.

“Since when have you wanted one of those storybook romances?” you shoot back, playing along.

“Hm…” She purses her lips pretends to be deep in thought. “Ever since you started drawing me I guess. I have to admit, it’s flattering, and you make me look good.”

You chuckle. “While by this point I’m confident I could draw you from memory, drawing from reference is always better.” You grow quiet again, presumably putting the finishing touches on your newest study, then set it off to the side as you turn your attention back to Carol. “And for the record, I only draw what I observe, so if anything, you make you look good, not me.”

Carol’s not one for bashfulness, but there’s something about your tone and how you look at her that prompts her to avert her gaze as she suddenly finds the white bedsheets very interesting. She only ever reacts like this to compliments when they come from you because you’re the artist and you can find the beauty in everything so when you say that you found it in her, well, that’s the highest honor, isn’t it?

Her eyes slide back up and you’re grinning because you know what your words can do to her. You want her to love herself like she loves you. Plus, you won’t lie: you like having this power. Shy Carol is a rare sight (and a sight, she would tell you, is reserved solely for you).

Deciding the space between you is too great, you crawl forward into Carol’s bubble to kiss her and she welcomes you because really, her bubble’s got enough space for two.

When you paint, you tie your hair into a bun and use paintbrushes to hold it in place. Carol won’t admit it but she really likes when you do that. You also change into clothes you don’t care about getting dirty, like a ragged and flimsy shirt with loose threads and a pair of sweatpants with holes. They’re well-used and paint-stained, much like the plastic storage cabinets in your art room.

The designated art room of the house is organized chaos, but there’s a certain charm to it. It’s the physical manifestation of all the ideas you have in your head, and Carol feels privileged that she’s able to take a peek into your mind via the drawings taped to the walls and the sketchbooks stacked on the desk. It’s the room with the largest windows and she’s not surprised you’d created more butterfly paintings since the first one; you can see them all the time.

She’s seeing them right now from the glass sliding door leading to the backyard. It’s dark out, but a few painted ladies remain exploring, not yet ready to turn in for the night. Her cup of coffee has been empty for a few minutes now, and her attention only shifts when she hears your footsteps padding through the hallway.

“You okay?”

It’s late and the darkness always seems to warrant lowered voices. Your enquiry is gentle and fatigued, and Carol turns to look at you rubbing your eyes, an attempt to fight off sleep but that’s a losing battle.

“Yeah,” she replies, speaking quietly in turn. You join her in staring outside. “There’s been so many of those butterflies.” While the painted ladies have been around for a few weeks now, she, as well as many others in town, still like to reiterate the peculiarity of the occasion. The subject hasn’t gotten old, and it might not anytime soon. It’s too special to gloss over that easily.

You hum and smile sightly, and Carol spots it in the reflection on the glass. Then you tell her you’re going to clean up and go to bed. You sound faraway, evidence of sleep finally taking over, and she grins as she nods okay. She kisses you quickly and says good night.

As for her, she lingers for a short while before following your lead, taking her time washing her mug and setting it on the drying rack where it would be ready for the next day. One of your sketchbooks is on the dining table, so she picks it up and walks to your art room to return it. The only light on in the house is that in the bedroom, visible through the crack at the bottom of the door, but she needs none to find her way to her destination.

The moonlight pouring in from the windows is enough to illuminate the canvas sitting on the easel. After Carol sets the sketchbook down with the others, she walks over to inspect your current work in progress. It’s not finished, but you’ve completed enough of it that she recognizes herself staring back, and she understands that you don’t make paintings; you make mirrors.

This is your final draft, she realizes. It’s the culmination of all your studies, in which you’ve enshrined the planes of her face on paper and on canvas and in your mind because your soul will live forever and you carry the thought of her like a rabbit’s foot tucked into your pocket.

One of your sketchbooks is open on the desk next to the easel, and she picks it up so she can see the page more clearly. It’s from the morning you’d drawn her while in bed, the picture she hadn’t seen at the time. This is the reference you’re using. She’d been wondering why you hadn’t yet gotten back to her about pose ideas, or announced that you’d be starting the final piece so she’d better clear her Saturday to be your model. She just assumed you wanted more time to practice and to settle upon the perfect pose for the mood you wanted.

And the perfect pose, it would seem, was no pose at all. Carol’s posture in the drawing and the painting is relaxed, half her body concealed by the bedsheets she’d struggled to untangle herself from that morning (they’d just been so comfortable). She’s propping herself up on her elbow and the hand of her other arm rests atop the blankets. Her eyes stare directly ahead, like she’s watching the viewer, and even she’s unable to deny the sense of intimacy this affords. It makes the viewer an active participant rather than a mere observer, which appears to be your goal—you want the viewer in your shoes. You want them to feel what you feel.

Carol’s eyes switch back and forth from the sketchbook to the canvas, comparing the details. The painting is still missing a date and signature, but they’re present in the drawing, at the bottom and off to the side so as to be non-invasive. There’s a title too, in quotation marks: My Favorite Place. Her chest blooms with warmth and her lips curve in a fond smile. You want the viewer to feel at home.

There’s a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach, an inexplicable mix of heaviness like there’s something there and an airiness like she’s about to sprout wings and lift off from the ground. Her heart wrenches hard enough she swears it might shatter—for you, always for you. She loves you with every bone in her body and perhaps the town’s influx of extraordinary visitors these last few weeks has been her doing because every time she thinks of you, she gets butterflies.

#captain marvel x reader #captain marvel imagine #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers imagine #captain marvel #carol danvers #marvel imagine #bubble-tea-bunny

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chuckling-chemist · 4 years

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Everybody Needs Somebody

((They say a picture’s worth 1000 words so I wrote 3750 because I can’t draw and then rushed the gag itself. Also probably the only thing I’ve really written of all this that I’m posting, be it here or anywhere, since my interpretation of the ball being at a swanky hotel was incorrect, but also everything else is only like....debatably relevant? All 1.5 other pieces, that is. idk, might another short piece or two but this one was certainly a vanity project written in the early hours of the morning in post-Stardew Valley Christmas hazes that is only getting posted to make myself feel better, for some sense of “welp did the thing I said I was going to write 6 months ago and here it is” type of thing.

Anyway there’s a lot of silly references in here so kudos if you pick them all out))

Joilet tapped his foot impatiently from behind their practice room. He hadn’t meandered much around the crowd of the ball -- ignoring the current charges against him, high class crowds weren’t his scene -- but current security was still enough to make him worry. Brownblood host or not, he knew enough have true highbloods stalking around as guards. Bouncers who Joilet’s certain were watching him and recognized him the last time he did a sweep of the temporary hivestem. After their performance, Joilet and Akroid were going to have to peel out immediately.

At least they were paid upfront this time upon meeting him in person the night prior. In cash.

Though, to be fair, the Blue Brothers shouldn’t have been paid. A friend of theirs in similar line of work, a brownblood named Elliah Fagane, performed last sweep and she was slated to perform again. She was perfect for the job, a good little songbird who kept complaints she had about anything to herself and was the perfect paragon of elegance and grace -- lowblood or not. The Blue Brothers, meanwhile, were two midbloods (Joilet was a stocky cobaltblood while Akroid was a lanky tealblood) who both had a penchant for getting into trouble. Under normal circumstances, the two of them alone -- much less the whole band -- would ever be asked to perform for a traditional socialite of any caste. But, they needed the money and so Joilet was able to pull a quick favor from her to have her drop her spot while simultaneously recommending them as adequate replacements. He accepted, playing as if he knew who the two of them were the whole time. He told them how much of a fan he was of their “country and western band”, how Elliah “just wasn’t the sound he wanted”, and how excited he was to get some “representation of their own people’s music, in a more palatable fashion” in the setist.

He was partly right: once they performed a cover of Stand By Your Rail at a dive bar, pretending to be an actual western band. He’s pretty sure this guy wasn’t aware of that, but an attempt was made. At least.

Their tight, uniform appearance also helped matters. Despite the different castes and heights, Joilet and Akroid looked the part of a two person midblood group with a backup lowblood band. Same black sunglasses that cover up half their face, same black fedora hooked onto their respective short horn (Joilet’s left horn, Akroid’s right), same unruly hair covered up by said hat, same black suit and skinny black tie. Sure, Joilet’s other horn broke off during his stint in prison while Akroid’s just hooked off again and Joilet’s sideburns were unkempt, but otherwise? Perfectly uniform. If the host had any questions of their legitimacy, they were quickly quelled after seeing the two of them in person the other night and, to Joilet, that spoke just as much as their actual skill level.

Joilet glanced over to Akroid. Damn teal looked as unflappable as ever behind those dark sunglasses. It was him who got them in this whole situation in the first place. Akroid, the idiot who picked him up from the big hive at the start of the perigee with a pipe dream of getting the band back together. The idiot who resisted arrest for public intoxication from the drones all because he was a former felon himself, starting them on this stupid honkbird chase in a desparate bid for cash. Akroid, the idiot who helped get his ass out of prison in the first place, all due to whatever strange desire for the other’s companionship they developed over the sweeps.

Fuck him.

Akroid must have caught his gaze because he gave a short smile and a thumbs up. “We’re doing good,” he said. “Remember, we’re on a mission from God.”

Right. The mission from God. Joilet found himself relaxing almost instantly. He distinctly remembered the out of body experience he had upon visiting one of those criminal infested freeports before departing; where, if he hadn’t talked to the God (Joilet didn’t believe the clowns held any sort of stranglehold on the concept of godhood), he certainly talked to a god. If nothing else, they made it this far without a single hiccup they couldn’t solve in their plans. It’s hard to believe someone’s not looking out for you when you escape a chase by driving through a busy mall and still make it out on top. Without their current employer hearing any of it.

“And what if God lets y’all get caught again?” their saxophonist, Marini, asked. He was a skinnier rustblood, long curly hair that went down to his mid back and oddly pointy teeth for such a red caste. “Leavin’ us high and dry again like when Joilet got hit.”

“We’ll be fine,” Akroid said. He shifted the sleeve of his suit, pausing in his speech to check the time on his watch. “Just follow our lead and look like nothin’s wrong.”

The rustblood let out a huff with a brief shake of his head, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he asked, “How much longer do we have anyway?”

“Ten minutes,” Joilet answered. “We got ten minutes.”

“Well good.” He removed his saxophone off the neckstrap and set it on the stand. “I drank way too much Faygo. Gotta piss.”

“Then go piss!” Akroid’s stone face cracked into a distinct scowl. “Geeze, you don’t gotta announce everything. Just get back before we perform.”

Their drummer, another rustblood by the name of Barkay, stood up as well. He looked about the same age as Joilet, with curly hair partially that was obscured by his dark green visor. Barkay looked about as respectable as anyone of his caste could, with a dark red dress shirt and black tie.

“I’m goin’ with him.”

Joilet blinked harshly behind his sunglasses. “Okay? It’s the damn ablutionblock. Do what you need to.”

They apparently didn’t need to be told twice. The two trolls were out the door before Joilet had a chance to add anything else.

“You’d think his bulge was on fire,” Joilet finally said. His gaze swept around the rest of the band rapidly. They were quiet. Somber. Hell, if he didn’t know any better he’d have mistaken the lot of them going off to war, not performing for big money at some fancy gala-thing. “You think he’s gonna bail?”

“Marini? Nah. He was the only guy we didn’t have to pester who was workin’ at that diner. Been itchin’ to rip on that sax.” Akroid smirked wryly. “And doin’ it here? In front of all those rich pricks? I’d worry more ‘bout yourself. You gonna choke?”

Joilet snorted. “ ‘Course not. We’re in too deep.”

“Didn’t seem like that a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah well….” Joilet trailed off. Akroid wasn’t wrong. Joilet had panicked. It seemed like every jackass out to get them were outside waiting for them. And Akroid, bastard he was, simply reminding him that those jackasses hadn’t got them during the rest of the sweep brought him back.

Not like he’d admit it out loud.

“Had a moment of panic’s all. Then I remembered this kid’s probably being a nervous wiggler about staffing with his first year. Nothin’ else.”

“Uh-huh.” Akroid’s smirk widened a bit, giving Joilet the sudden urge to punch it right off his face. But not now. They were too close to their goal.

They stood in comfortable silence for a few more minutes before a new figure came out from the curtain, an indigoblood with short, cropped hair in a suit matching his caste walking next to Manini and Barkay. That was the guy who’d be ushering them on, sure, but he’s almost certain it hadn’t been ten minutes. Did something happen?

He glanced back over to Akroid, who just shrugged. Figures.

“Are you ready?” the indigoblood asked. He had some smile plastered on his face in some attempt to be friendly, but it didn’t look friendly. The offset, sharp teeth broken off at odd angles gave off a distinct predatory vibe.

“I dunno, did they get their break?” Joilet said.

Barkay grinned, giving the two trolls a thumbs up as he walked seat. “I got what needed done. No worries.”

The indigoblood’s face split wider, if that were even possible. He beckoned Joilet and Akroid with an open hand, unmoving until the two of them actually started following him through the narrow hallway. “Excellent. Let’s get moving then. Your stage is set, guests are waiting...you wouldn’t want to disappoint such eager crowds I’m sure. They could get aggressive.”

Joilet refrained from mentioning he passed time in prison by performing old classics, and just how dangerous some of those trolls were. Hell, he even learned a few new songs thanks to an actual country musician of a brownblood involving being stuck in prison. Aggressive wasn’t a problem. It was authority.

“Got it.”

“Good.” He stopped in front of a door, giving them a nod. “You can go ahead and enter through the door. Hopefully you don’t need any final warmups?”

“We’ll be fine,” Joilet said.

The indigoblood nodded. “If you’re certain. I shall return at the end of your set.” He opened up the door. “Best of luck.”

The two of them exchanged a look. “We don’t need luck,” Akroid said before disappearing through the door.

Joilet followed suit, giving the inidgoblood a curt nod of acknowledgement before adding, “We’re on a mission from God.”

As he walked through the door, he was immediately greeted with a dark blue curtain in front of them with a short opening to the left of them where he could catch the smallest glimpse of the piano on a raised platform. Nothing else. The piano obscured most of the view of the crowd beyond them. He imagined it was exactly the same on the other side.

It was a small exit. But it would be perfect for escaping out.

He wondered if Akroid was thinking the same thing. Probably. There was no way to tell, no way to properly read his expressionless face their last moment of respite before their performance and subsequent frantic escape before anyone did a serious background check about who they were. Still, there was a twinge in his gut that his partner in crime agreed.

When they exchanged one final nod in solitude and took their places in front of two microphones, Joilet had a feeling he was right.

As soon as he made it, he did another quick scan of the room. It was blue. Blue tablecloths covered the guest and dessert tables. Blue curtains shuttered the ball off from the outside world. Blue lights in the punch bowl made the ice snowflake sculpture inside look blue. And if it wasn’t blue, it was white. White tree sculptures adorned with white lights twisted around each marble pillar. Vases of white flowers topped every table. A white rug ran down the center of the ballroom. Small, white lights dotted an otherwise dark ceiling to give the loose impression of stars or snowflakes down onto the dance floor.

Even the trolls did nothing to break it up. If the dress didn’t match the owner’s blood color, it was a distinct blue or white with sparkles or shimmers. White lacing and white boas perfectly match the white boots and white dresses. The flashes of gray due to the high cut of many of the dress slits managed to break up the coloration more than anyone matching caste color.

Thankfully, the heavy blue-white combination made the distinct pinks, purples and blacks of those on their tail easy to spot. And oh boy, were they available -- even more so than earlier. Joilet wouldn’t be surprised if their host figured out about them at some point, but not early enough to cancel and reschedule so he let these brutes in instead. Burly indigo and purplebloods in suits stood along the edges, away from the crowds with their arms crossed in rapt concentration of the two of them. Standing next to the dessert table were a series of inidgobloods all dressed in formalized cowboy outfits, complete with stetsons, glaring at them -- the very same western group the Blue Brothers once impersonated. A few particularly annoying “seadweller master race” types in colorful gowns and military pinks stood in the back next to cobalts in military regalia, quite possibly from some local, non-drone law enforcement they managed to pick up to defend themselves. On the other side of the cobalts were a few subjuggalators who definitely were full into the “highblooded landdweller supremacy” in full face paint and religious purple clown robes. Both were groups the Blue Brothers have antagonized, whether it be intentionally with the seadwellers (they deserved it), or accidentally (turns out subjuggalators don’t like lower castes hearing the voice of their god, whatever god answered Joilet and Akroid notwithstanding). It was, however, the first time Joilet’s ever seen the two work together for a common goal. Traditionally the two groups go at it worse than a bad kismesis. He was almost proud that they were able to perform such a feat, though he wasn’t sure if the pride was directed at the supremacy groups or himself for bringing them together.

He let out a slow breath. Only one thing to do at this point. Start.

“One. Two. One, two, three, four.”

The band kicked off with the sound of upbeat horns while the two trolls gave a short dance around the mics for a few bars. After which, while the intro kept repeating, Akroid grabbed his micrphone and said, “We’re so happy to see so many of you lovely trolls here tonight. We would especially like to welcome the esteemed members of Kilran’s hired law enforcement who have chosen to join us at the 12th Perigee Ball here tonight. We hope you all enjoy the show and hope you remember that no matter who you are and what you do to live to try and survive, there’s still some things that make us all the same. You, me, them--” Akroid looked directly toward the back of the room toward the cobaltbloods assisting the supremacists with a disappointed shrug “--everybody. Everybody.”

And from there, it was Joilet’s turn. With the second mic in hand he started singing their opener, Everybody Needs Somebody to Love. It was a speedy tune, possibly a little too fast for what their host was intending, but they sounded perfect and that’s all that mattered. The band’s hits fell right within the pauses in Joilet’s vocals, and Akroid knew exactly when to come in to accent with his deep baritone. Each transition into the next part of the song was smooth, from pointing to various people in the crowd at the you, you, you, to Akroid seamlessly whipping out his harmonica to accent Joilet’s singing the pre-chorus.

There were a few scattered cheers of appreciation, but for the most part these people weren’t dancing. Only one way to change that.

As they gave a pause in vocals to allow for a harmonica solo, Joilet started through a complicated dance twisting around the band members, ducking and weaving through saxophones and trombones while he turned this way and that. It was finished with a cartwheel across the front end of the stage, landing him right in front of the microphone for the next verse.

It was the opening some of the trolls -- lower castes mostly, but he caught flashes of higherbloods in the mix -- needed. The dance floor segment had all sorts of trolls, be it single or paired off in some fashion, dancing in whichever way they fancied. Akroid must have led them into a rhythmic clap too, judging by the trolls unwilling to dance instead clapping and even chanting at every repeat of you, you, you. He caught the leader giving them a death glare. Joilet ignored it.

At the next verse, Joilet swung on his heel back toward the band. He pushed his outstretched arms down toward the floor in an overemphasized quiet down for the crowd, and every instrument dipped off except for a cymbal hat to keep time and the grooving bass guitar.

It was Akroid’s time again. He moved right toward center stage, mic in hand and announced, “You know people when you do find those special trolls for any quadrant, you gotta hold that ‘rail, hold that ‘sprit, love him, squeeze him, love her, please her. Signify your feelings with every gentle caress or angry glare. Because it’s so important to have that special somebody! To hold. To kiss. To miss! To please and squeeze!”

Akroid dropped into a kneel on the stage, as if enraptured with his statement, as Joilet finished out with the chorus. He didn’t stand back up until the harmonica came back in. He rejoined Joilet in the back for the end, and the two mimicked each other dancing on the balls of their feet as the band played out.

When the last note struck, the two of them landed simultaneously on one knee, head down with their hand holding the brim of their hats.

Two songs left. Then they bolt. They could do this.

Their performance of Soul Man was just as energetic. This song was pretty much entirely Joilet’s, so he let Akroid dance around the stage now. He could catch the other troll jumping up and down, legs moving so loosely and briskly they may as well be jelly. He only cut in for parts of the chorus, letting that deep baritone accent Joilet’s raspy vocals.

In only a few short minutes Soul Man ended and their final song, Sweet Home Gusthollow opened with swift guitar licks in a short solo. As the rest of the band kicked in and Joilet sang out the first few bars, Akroid raised his hands up to lead those listening in a clap. Barkay joined in as well. He raised his own drumsticks high above his head, tapping off the beats until those in the crowd kept time on their own.

As the first verse ended, Akroid took hold of Joilet’s mic. “Six and three is nine. Nine and nine is eighteen. Look there pupa partner and see what I’ve seen.” He nudged Joilet and pointed toward the cobalt in the back standing between the supremacists. Shit. Another look and Joilet realized he knew that troll. He was one of the wardens of the prison he was released from. But he also noticed at his angle, with the growing crowd of dancers and listeners, they might be able to slip away. After all, the stage wasn’t raised. The only reason he could still see the warden was thanks to the gaps down the main walkway.

The two of them waved confidently at him as they continued through the chorus. Even with the distance, he noticed the cobaltblood drag a thumb across his neck.

It struck Joilet numb for a few seconds. Good to know where he stands, he supposes.

The two finished out the chorus with a flourish, letting the band take over. Joilet turned over to Akroid, offering out his hands to dance. The other troll accepted, and the two pranced right off the stage and into the crowd, swinging around as Marini moved center stage to crank out a solo. With the focus off them, they were able to swing right back onto the stage and through the small opening to the area behind the stage. He could still hear the band, but it was muffled.

“You think that creep’s waitin’ for us back here?” Akroid asked.

“I sure fucking hope not. Could do without running from his slimy ass too.”

Joilet whipped open the door, ready to run from whoever Kilrun left to deal with them back here. What they were greeted with instead was a troll leaning on the nearby wall wearing a tight, long sleeved red dress that pooled onto the floor. Yellow and orange flowers, though Joilet wasn’t sure what kind, outlined her skirt. A large, black wide brimmed hat wrapped outlined in string lights covered her whole face. When the door closed, they looked up, revealing a noticeable pair of fins and tyrian pink eyes.

A fuschiablood.

“So...you must be the two trolls I was informed of.” She gave the two a grin filled with those sharp seadweller teeth, just as predatory as the indigoblood earlier, but for some reason it didn’t feel directed toward either of them. “Ran into your two bandmates earlier. He gave me a heads up you might be headed back this way before you run off.”

“Who the hell’re you?” Joilet asked.

“Call me Mayola. You two pissed off those buncha entitled rich fucks who think they’re better than everyone else right?”

Joilet and Akroid glanced at each other in silence. “What about it?”

“I’d like to bring you and your band on for Sandyhorn’s next festival. You two would make a great fit.” She pulled a thick envelope, quite obviously stuffed thick with cash, out of seemingly nowhere and handed it to Joilet. “Consider this a down payment. You’ll get the rest when I see ya there.”

Joilet thumbed through the money, eyeing her. This was a lot. More than he they could’ve gotten from this gig alone. “Yeah sure. Sounds like a deal.”

“Hey, just one problem.” Akroid jutted his thumb out toward the direction of the ball beyond them. “All those goons seem to have caught on our tail and we can’t perform unless we get outta here without goin’ to prison.”

Her face brightened. “Oh well that’s an easy one. Here, follow me.” She pushed herself off the wall and sauntered toward the door, that red dress almost appearing to shimmer in the dim lighting. With a quick motion of her wrist, she opened the door into the back of the stage. Only a few further steps in, and she leaned down and pulled at a small hitch in the floor. A trapdoor immediately popped up without a sound. “Found this out the other day when I couldn’t sleep. Should lead outside without a hitch, though you might have to go through some sewers.”

She looked up at them, eyes wild and filled with pride, catching the two troll’s equally bewildered and ecstatic expressions. “You’re brilliant!” Akroid exclaimed. “Amazing! Fantastic! Wonder--”

She held up a hand. “Save your praises for later. For now...just think of me as today’s savior.”

#my writing #fanfiction #should i tag any characters?#the only regular one only has a few lines #....eh tagging barely works on tumblr anyway

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timeoutforthee · 5 years

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Like it or Not-Chapter 16

Taglist: @itsausernamenotafobsong, @sea-blue-child, @iaminmultiplefandoms, @princeanxious, @uwillbeefoundtonight, @zaidiashipper, @arandompasserby, @levyredfox3, @falsett0, @error-i-dunno-what-went-wrong, @scrapbookofsketches, @podcastsandcoffee, @helloisthisusernametaken, @amuthefunperson, @michealawithana, @yamihatarou, @heck-im-lost, @unlikelynightmareconnoisseur, @idkaurl, @bubblycricket, @fnp-alizay,

Summary: Logan, Patton, Roman, and Virgil are all struggling in their recovery. Their doctors, Thomas Sanders and Emile Picani think they can help each other out.

Aka Group Therapy AU

Trigger Warnings: overexercising, ignorance

Roman creates like it’s the cure for his sickness.

He isn’t sure what his sickness is, if it’s the eating disorder that weighs him down, if it’s all the darkness swirling in his head that he pretends isn’t there, if it’s the smog in his environment that feels like poison in his mouth every time he breathes it in. Whatever it is, he feels like if he has something-a pen, some markers, a script, something-then he can hit the ground running and leave it in the dust.

“So I have one good coping skill?” he asked Picani when they first started working together.

“Hey,” he replied, “It’s more than some people have.”

Ever since he cut theater out of his life, he had felt a sort of emptiness. It was almost as if he had been holding on to something for years, and he finally let it go. He didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. Either way, he didn’t have time for a moment of emptiness, or of silence.

Which lead them to the current discussion.

“Does your aunt always pick you up late?”

Logan and Patton had already left, leaving Virgil and Roman alone. Usually the group would be too emotionally exhausted to talk after a session, but for some reason, the silence seemed unacceptable today.

“Uh, actually,” Virgil lifted his hand to rub his neck. “My aunt is right there.” He jerked his head in a general direction. Roman looked over and squinted. There was one woman sitting in a silver car. Even from a distance, Roman could see that she and Virgil had similar ice blue eyes.

“Then why don’t you…?”

Virgil groaned, “Like, don’t make it a thing? I just like to make sure you guys get into your cars okay.”

“Wait, so you wait for us to get in our cars and drive off before you go home.”

“I said don’t make it a thing. You’re making it a thing.”

“I didn’t make it a thing, I think it just is a thing,” Roman tried to hide a smirk, but he couldn’t help it, “You secretly looooove us.”

Virgil groaned and tugged his hood down over his eyes. “Can you not?”

“I’m telling Patton.”

“I will leave you, I swear-”

“Noooo, don’t leave me alone,” Roman says.

“Yeah, where are your parents anyway?”

“I guess they’re busy,” Roman says, and there’s a little, anxious voice in his head that whispers they forgot you which is stupid. And he knows it’s stupid. So why is it not going away. “They’ll be here soon.”

As if on cue, a loud horn blares from the opposite side of the parking lot. Virgil jumps (just Virgil, definitely not Roman, nope.) and turns his head. A tall, muscular guy gets out of a stupidly shiny red car and waves at Roman. He waves back, even though his eyebrows are furrowed.

“Who-?”

“That’s my oldest brother, Maximus,” Roman says, cutting him off.

“That’s your brother?”

“One of them, yeah,” Roman shrugs, “Aw, guess I can no longer grace you with my presence.”

“Tragic,” Virgil deadpans, turning to head to his aunt’s car.

Roman walks over to Max, wrinkling his eyebrow.

“What are you doing here?”

“Good to see you too, baby bro.”

“Please don’t call me that,” there’s no bite to it. Max knows Roman doesn’t mind and Roman knows Max won’t stop calling him that. It’s been that way for as long as Roman was actually a baby.

They both get into the car. Roman glances up to the window and sees Virgil pulling away. He sends him a quick wave, and Virgil throws him a little two finger salute back.

“So you’re...making friends at your…” Max does a little circle with his hand.

“What is that?”

“You know...the…” Now he’s making a zig zag pattern.

“You’re making no sense. If you’re trying to ask if I’m making friends at group therapy, yes.”

Max lets out a breath, as if he’s grateful that part of the conversation is over.

“So what are you doing here?”

“You know, I do sometimes just want to check on you guys, you know.”

He really means check on you but neither of them need to say it.

Max is a personal trainer at a gym one town over, putting him basically forty five minutes away. The whole family knows this, because it was something their mother obsessed over when he was moving. People said she did such a good job raising her sons, especially since they wanted to stay close.

So Max and the other oldest, Alexander, stayed close by and visited on the weekends. Key word being “weekends” and not picking Roman up during his therapy appointment. In fact, everyone in his family preferred to stay far, far away from his sessions.

“So, did you draw the short straw this week?”

“What?”

“Well, I assume, since it’s a such a harrowing task, that everyone gets together and draws straws behind my back to see who’s stuck taking me to and from therapy. Did you lose this week?”

“That’s not fair, Roman,” Max says, in the same voice their father uses, “Of course it’s not fun. Do you even like it?”

Roman, for once, keeps his mouth shut. He feels like this is a trick. Say yes and they’ll think he’s going because he enjoys it. Say no and it’s a perfect segue into “great! Guess you don’t have to go anymore!”

Max sighs, and steadies himself, as if he’s been dreading what comes up next.

“You’re my baby brother, Ro. I just wanted to check and make sure you’re okay,” he pauses, “Are you okay?”

Roman turns to look at him, but Max keeps his eyes on the road. So, Roman summons his brightest smile, and just says “Of course!”

“You know, they’ve started yoga classes at the gym,” Max tells everyone at dinner, “It’s really enlightening, and we can take part for free.”

His dad scoffs and he frowns at him. “I mean it, Dad. It’s really cool.”

“Oh, are you opening your chakras?” Philip asks sarcastically, taking a bite of his steak.

“No, but I’m practicing mindfulness and being aware of the present-”

“You can be plenty aware of the present without yoga,” his dad says. Max sighs. He’s not winning this argument, and it’s not worth fighting, so he lets it drop.

“Any interesting clients?” his mom asks, quick to change the subject.

“Well, I’ve gotten a few people in, just some people who started school recently and want to drop ten or so pounds,” he pauses, “But actually...there’s this girl who I’m training.”

“Yes?” his mom prompts.

“She’s recovering from an eating disorder.”

Suddenly, Roman is choking. His family turns to stare at him, which makes everything worse, so he tries to drown the tomato he just swallowed whole with water. After a while, it works.

“You were saying?” he asks, voice strained.

“Huh? Oh, yeah-so this girl has been struggling with extreme dieting a binge eating and such her entire life, and a year or so ago it escalated into anorexia. She’s just now been allowed to start exercising again, and we have to really ease her into it.”

“Why?” his dad asks, “You know what they say-dive in head first, sink or swim.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s just what you say,” Max jokes, “But her body has been neglected for so long that she really needs to build her strength back up. If we help her do that, then she can keep growing. If we just push her in, she won’t be strong enough to ‘swim’.” Max does air quotes around that last word.

“Hm. Tragic how girls can get to that point,” his mom says, taking a bite of her steak.

“Always did find that strange,” his dad adds, “You really wanna know a girl, then take her on a first date to an all you can eat buffet. She gets some steak, she’s a keeper. She wants a salad, she ain’t worth it.”

Roman is suddenly very self conscious of his own little salad. But it doesn’t matter, because no one is looking at him.

“So,” Philip says, leaning back and looking at Max, “Anyway I could convince you to help me out on some workouts? I need to get ready for football. The coach has some workouts for us, but you know. They don’t really compare to one on one.”

“Sure, I can spare an hour or two.”

“You want to get in on that, Roman?” his dad asks, raising his eyebrows, “You don’t have theater anymore, you could always sign up for-”

“I don’t think I’m going to sign up for anything,” Roman says quickly, cutting him off, “But I would like to join, if you guys don’t mind.”

“Sure,” Philip says, shrugging.

Roman turns to see Max staring at him. Not just staring at him, analyzing him, with narrowed eyes.

“Uh, earth to Max?” Roman smiles, and he hopes it’s as dazzling as it always is. Max blinks and shakes his head.

“Of course,” he says, but his eyes are still burning into Roman’s.

When Roman can’t create, he destroys.

He pounds away at the punching bag in his family’s home gym, until it shakes.

“Baby bro,” and why is Max’s voice so gentle? So quiet? “You need to slow down.”

“Maybe,” Roman says, accenting every word with a punch, “You. Need. To. Catch. Up.”

Suddenly, the punching bag is moved back, out of his reach.

“Hey!”

“Try some weights,” Max says.

Roman doesn’t want to try weights. The thing with weights is you could clearly see the numbers. He knew he wouldn’t be on the level of Philip, who needed to stay in shape all summer for football, or Max who was a personal trainer for a living so all he would see was how he was less than, less than, less than.

Instead, he got on the treadmill, and ran. He could hear Max through his headphones, lecturing him about a proper warmup and increasing slowly, and just to spite him, he pushed the button as high as he could stand it.

He could not create, so he tried to outrun. Outrun the sickness, the darkness, the poison. But as his sneakers hit the ground, he knew he wasn’t really going anywhere.

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