#my bean plant put out two beans and I haven’t seen any since

[koifrog]

Salad from my garden is so fulfilling ☺️☺️☺️

#talk #I rarely ever remember to eat my lettuce before it grows flowers so I’m excited #I had some spring onion too #not something I usually eat but I like it #my cucumber plant is going NUTS but no cucumbers to show yet #my bean plant put out two beans and I haven’t seen any since #I’m wondering if maybe we just don’t have pollinators here anymore #I know the landlord sprayed for bugs on the neighbors request a while ago #:(((((

[hayleythesugarbowl]

Hi, sorry to bother you I know requests are closed but can you do a romantic x reader oneshot on Ray Manchester/Captain Man ❤️ for valentine's day

(Where ray falls quickly in love with the newest helper at Junk N'Stuff (unaware that Jasper put out an ad in the swellview news paper saying that junk n stuff is looking for a helper) and wants to ask her out on a date after mindless flirting with her a bit and working his charm on her, on the day of Valentine's Day Ray wanted to set up a surprise romantic dinner for him and the reader down in the Man Cave even though Henry and Charlotte tried to talk him out of it since the reader doesn't know about the elevator, or the Man Cave, or that ray is Captain Man saying that bringing the reader down to the man cave was a bad idea, but ray had decided to tell the reader his secret during dinner so there won't be any secrets between them due to the fact that ray wants to start a relationship with her. During dinner ray finally told the reader his secret which thrilled her (after she found out about the elevator and met and befriending Schwoz), at the end Henry came back after he forgot his backpack and saw both Ray and the reader sharing a long passionate kiss together due to his dismay)

My Valentine || Ray Manchester/Captain Man x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • ray manchester masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: when you start working at junk n’ stuff, ray is immediately attracted to you and wants to do something special for you on valentine’s day

word count: 3.8k

warnings: none

a/n: hey!! happy valentine’s day!! i love this idea and i rushed to get it to you by v day so you could spend the holiday with ray 🤭 hope u enjoy this love!! 💌🫂🍒

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Henry!” A voice called from somewhere behind you “Where’re my beans?”

     “What?” Came the reply.

     “My lucky beans!”

     “I think Jasper has them,” the boy who must’ve been Henry shouted. 

     You turned around to find the source of the yelling, but you couldn’t see anything behind a curtain that blocked of the front of the store from the back.

     You had only been working here at Junk N’ Stuff for a few hours and you were still a bit confused about some aspects of your job.

     Jasper, the curly-haired boy who’d hired you, had given you a quick tour of the store—except for the back, which he’d said was due to the construction happening—before ushering you behind the counter.

     It was odd, you thought, leaning on the desk—you hadn’t heard any sounds of construction over the past few hours. 

     You looked over at Jasper, sorting though a pile of pails and buckets with vigor and ignoring the conversation he had obviously heard about him and beans. He caught you watching him and smiled.

     “I’m looking for the bucket that belonged to Louis XIV,” he called, “You haven’t seen it, have you?”

     You shook your head, “Can’t say that I have, but I’ll keep an eye out.”

     You sighed. It wasn’t your ideal job, working at a junk store. But you had known what it was when you applied for the job after seeing the strange yet intriguing ad in the paper. And this job would do in the mean time while you figured out what to do next.

     “Why would Jasper have my beans?” You heard the first voice again, closer this time.

     “Something about hair growth? I don’t know,” the younger voice answered.

     You weren’t aware that anybody else worked here besides you. You didn’t think the junk store needed more than one or two employees. You hadn’t even seen one customer enter the building all day. 

     The ad had said they were ‘looking for someone to watch over the shop—the perfectly normal, nothing-at-all-weird-about-it shop and handle customers full time. Must have experience with plants’.

     You’d thought that part was weird—actually the whole advertisement was odd—but had ultimately looked past it. The pay was good and you needed a job right now after the unfortunate end of your last one.

     And the store did have some cool items, if you were into that sort of thing. You played with a toy monkey dressed like Elvis Presley laying behind the front desk.

     “Jasper!” A man pushed through the curtain and entered the room. He wore dark jeans and a tight-fitting yellow shirt. He was followed by a blond-haired boy and a girl with dark hair.

     Jasper looked up from where he was sitting.

     “Hand over the beans,” the man said, his back turned to you. 

     “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jasper held his ground. “Henry, Charlotte, tell him I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

     “Nice try, but your hair wasn’t that lustrous and voluminous yesterday!” The older man shouted.

     The girl—Charlotte—massaged her temples. 

     “Just give him the beans, dude,” Henry said. 

     Jasper ran a hand through his hair, “Oh all right.”

     He reached into his pocket and handed something to the other man. But not before kissing what must’ve been the beans and whispering ‘I’ll miss you, my little hair-miracle workers’.

     You watched this whole thing with a strange amusement. What had you gotten yourself into?

     “Oh, Ray,” Jasper said, perking up, “Speaking of beans, I hired a new helper.”

     “You what?” The man—Ray—asked.

     “Yeah, you what?” Henry echoed.

     “Well, you know how you’re always saying we need someone else around to man the shop because I’m just too handsome to be believably working at a junk store?”

     “Literally never said that,” Ray said.

     “You’re delusional,” Henry said at the same time.

      “You’re foot’s stuck in a bucket,” Charlotte added 

     “Well,” Jasper continued, shaking the container off of his foot, “I hired some help!”

     He gestured to the front desk.

     “Jasper, we’ve talked about making decisions without asking me first. I told—” Ray started as he turned around to look in the direction of where you were standing. 

     You attempted a small wave. 

     “—Hello there,” the man finished, his voice taking on a slower cadence. He walked over to you and leaned an elbow on the desk. “I’m Ray. Ray Manchester.”

     He held out his other arm and you shook his hand. “I’m (Y/n).”

     The first thing you noticed about him were his eyes, such a bright shade of blue. You couldn’t deny he was an attractive man, you thought, as you took in his features. You caught yourself staring and quickly looked down.

     Ray rested his chin in his hand and looked you up and down, “So, you work here at Junk N’ Stuff?”

     “As of four hours ago, yes,” you smiled. “Do you work here also?”

     “I’m actually the owner,” Ray smiled at you. “I’m kind of an entrepreneur.”

     “Are you now?” You fought back a laugh at his confident tone. 

     “You bet, darling. And as the owner and this fine establishment, I hope you’ll come to me if you have any questions or concerns about anything,” Ray said smoothly, leaning towards you.

     “Do you treat all your employees this nicely?” You replied, smiling.

     “Just the beautiful ones,” Ray said and even though you knew he was shamelessly flirting, you couldn’t help the blush creeping up your neck. “Especially the ones I hire myself.”

     “Hey—” Jasper started, probably to argue that he was the one who had given you the job, but Ray interrupted him.

     “So,” he continued, “Since you now officially work here, I am required to conduct a, uh…”

     He fumbled for words.

     “Stay Conversation?” Charlotte supplied.

     “That!” Ray said, “Which means I have to ask you some questions about how you’re liking your job, the hours…your boss.” 

     Charlotte smacked her face with the palm of her hand.

     “Ask away,” you said. You were positive this was something that shouldn’t be done mere hours after you began working at a place, but you decided to humor him. 

     “Question one,” he started, “how are you liking your time at Junk N’ Stuff so far?” 

     “I’m liking it very much,” you said.

     “Excellent,” Ray continued, “which brings us to number two. Are you seeing anyone right now?” 

     “So not how a Stay Conversation works,” Charlotte walked away. 

     “Shut up!” Ray whisper-yelled. He turned back to you, “So, your answer to question number two…”

     “No,” you laughed, “I can’t say that I am.” 

     “Very interesting. And, how would you describe your ideal romantic partner?”

     “Oh, I don’t know,” you said playfully, “I like blonds.”

     You said it just to mess with him and you enjoyed watching him process your statement. 

     “Question three. Would you ever date someone who’s not a blond?”

     You giggled. “Depends on the someone. What’s your type Mr. Manchester?”

     “I like beautiful women who prefer blonds,” he winked at you. 

     “What a shame,” you tapped his chest, “I like men who like women who prefer brunette’s”

     Ray got a faraway look in his eyes as he tried to work that one out. 

     “I think you’re just trying to confuse me,” he accused.

     “Guilty as charged.”

     You were close now and you really studied him. You’d been enjoying the back-and-forth banter and you hadn’t realized how you’d both leaned towards each other. 

     You took your gaze from Ray to the floor and back to Ray again, and found him staring at you intently. 

     “So is the questionnaire over?” You said to break the silence.

     Ray nodded, “I found out all I needed to know. You are so transparent, Miss (Y/n).”

     “Oh yeah? And what’d you find out?”

     “Well, I now know you have a thing for blonds,” he said and at your smile he continued. “I know you’re smart and funny and pretty—although I didn’t need a questionnaire for that—and, what was it? Oh, you think I’m devilishly handsome and are wondering how I get my hair to look this good, because it certainly isn’t because of those beans.”

     “You’ve got me all figured out,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. 

     “You’re an open book, gorgeous.”

     “Well,” Henry’s voice interrupted your conversation and you instinctively stepped backwards. “I’m uncomfortable, so I’m going to bounce.”

     You knew you should be getting back to your job and Ray probably had something to be doing as the owner of this place, but you were enjoying talking to him and you wanted to know more about who he was.

     “So, we’ve established that you know everything about me,” you said. “But what about you? Who are you besides handsome business owner with beans.”

     “First of all, told you so,” Ray said winking, “and second of all, I am so much more than—in your words—handsome.”

      A look of determination crossed his features and you furrowed your brow. 

         “You wanna know what else I do, babe?” Ray leaned forwards, “I’m actually—”

     “—a knitter!” Henry finished, rushing over, eyes wide. “Ray loves knitting.”

     The boy glared at Ray and he rolled his eyes.

     “Yep, I just love yarn,” Ray said mechanically.

     You looked between the two, at the unspoken words that had passed between them. What just happened? Was Ray keeping some secret?

     “I didn’t peg you as the knitting type,” you said.

     “Yeah, me neither,” Ray said to Henry through clenched teeth. 

     “Well, it seems I have a lot to learn about you,” you teased.

     “Oh (Y/n),” Ray said, “You don’t know the half of it.”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     And that was how the rest of the week went. And the one after that. And the one after that. 

     You working at Junk N’ Stuff, and getting to know Ray. Trading quips as both of you tiptoed around the attraction that you obviously felt. 

     Well, you specifically felt. You couldn’t speak for him. He didn’t shy away from calling you gorgeous and beautiful every few seconds, but it had been 26 days and he still  hadn’t asked you out yet.

     You thought for sure, or at least hoped, that he would make a move, but he hadn’t yet. 

     And as the days went on, you found yourself wishing more and more that he would just do it. He was obviously attractive—you could tell that the minute you saw him—but as you spent more time with him you realized how funny and charming and interesting he really was. 

     You layed your head down on the counter and let out a breath. The shop was completely empty and only you and your feelings occupied the space right now—you know, other than the piles and piles of junk.

     In fact, you hadn’t seen a single person since this morning. Which was normal in the way of customers—you were beginning to wonder if this was really a store!—but you were surprised you hadn’t seen Jasper or Charlotte or Henry. 

     Or Ray. 

     You wondered where he was right now…

…

     “No. Absolutely not.” Henry crossed his arms and sat down on the couch in the center of the Man Cave.

     “But why not!” Ray pouted.

     “Because it doesn’t matter how hot you think (Y/n) is! You can’t just go around telling everyone you’re Captain Man.” Charlotte finished, annoyed.

     “Yeah,” Henry echoed, “this is one of your worse ideas. And you’ve had a lot of bad ideas.”

     “But Henry, I love her,” Ray emphasized, ignoring Henry’s jab.

     “Ray, you’ve known her for like—”

     Ray picked up a weapon laying on the desk next to him and aimed it at Henry.

     “Alright man, you love her!” Henry said quickly, putting his hands up.

     “And that’s backwards,” Charlotte gestured at the weapon.

     “I knew that,” Ray said sheepishly, turning the thing around and setting it down.

     “But c’mon,” Ray continued, “we can trust her!”

     “Who knows where Jasper found her!” Charlotte exclaimed.

     “Then trust me,” Ray said desperately, “I’ve never felt this way about any girl before. She’s intelligent and sweet and I really feel like she gets me. I want to ask her out, and I don’t want there to be any secrets between us!”

     Henry and Charlotte shared a look. 

     “I don’t know, man.” Henry rubbed the back of his neck.

     “I just don’t think it’s smart,” Charlotte said gently.

     Ray sighed. “No I get it. Superhero code and all. It’s in the handbook. You guys are right.”

     The kids looked relieved.

     “There’s a handbook?” Henry asked.

     “Was. Accidentally set it on fire years ago,” Ray said, dusting an imaginary price of lint off of his sleeve. He looked up. “And hey, why don’t you guys take the day off! You work so hard, and it’s Valentine’s Day. Go, eat chocolate!” 

     Ray shooed Henry and Charlotte away and they both stepped towards the tubes.

     “I guess we could go to Jasper’s Valentine’s Day party,” Henry suggested. “Y’know, so there’ll be actual people there.”

     “Alright,” Charlotte sighed, “but if he brings out that giant roll of cheese I’m leaving.”

     “Bye guys! Have fun!” Ray called as the kids disappeared up the tubes. “I definitely won’t be having dinner with (Y/n) in the Man Cave. And you’re good if I tell her I’m Captain Man, right? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

     Ray smiled, satisfied. “Schwoz!”

     The short man ran into the room. 

     “How do you feel about making this room look like Saint Valentine threw up?”

…

     “(Y/n)?”

     You turned to look behind you and found Ray standing in the doorway.

     He was wearing a tuxedo with a pink bow tie and holding a rose and that wasn’t even the most surprising part.

     “How did you get there?” You said, “I’ve been here since this morning, so unless you slept here…”

     Ray smiled and held out a hand to you, “Allow me.”

     You hesitated but finally placed your hand in his, smiling up at him.

     “What are you up to Ray Manchester?” You said.

     “Who says I’m up to something?” He said innocently, handing you the rose. You took it gently.

     As Ray pushed back the curtain, you caught a glimpse of the room beyond. Even though you’d been working here nearly a month, you still hadn’t been behind this curtain.

     Someone always found an excuse for you not to go back there and you were beginning to wonder if there really were man-eating lounge chairs behind the curtain. That had been Jasper’s latest explanation for why you could absolutely not look for cleaning supplies in the back. 

     Seeing it now, it looked…normal. Just a storage room with an elevator on the back wall.

     Ray walked you over to the elevator and stepped inside, bringing you with him.

     He took a deep breath, “You ready?” 

     You looked at him strangely. “Why wouldn’t—”

     But you never got to finish that sentence because Ray pushed a button and suddenly the world was rushing past you and jostling you around and turning your stomach inside out. You screamed and reached out for Ray. 

     You landed with a loud bang and you attempted to stand up, but your legs protested. 

     Ray grabbed onto you and helped to pull you up. You clung to him, shaky and sincerely hoping the contents of your breakfast stayed inside your stomach.

     “Don’t worry,” Ray said, rubbing your back, “Everyone has that reaction the first time they take the elevator.”

     “You mean this thing isn’t broken?” You managed, “That’s normal?”

     “More or less,” Ray said, looking unconcerned. “Now can you stand? Because you’re kind of wrinkling my suit.”

     You rolled your eyes but let go of his arms. You were feeling much more steady as the effects of the elevator wore off and you smoothed your hair down as Ray smoothed down his suit.

      You still didn’t know what you were doing down here and you told Ray as much.

     He smiled and took a step closer to you. “Let me show you.”

     He pushed a button and the elevator doors opened to a wide room and you gasped.

     The room was dimly lit, with candles lining the floor and rose petals sprinkled amongst them. Strings of hearts hung across the walls and ceiling and in the center sat a table, perfectly set, with two chairs next to it. A small man dressed in a maid’s uniform stood next to it. The maid winked and gave you a wave.

     It was beautiful.

     “Ray, this is—” You didn’t know what to say. 

     You looked back at him as he watched your face nervously. 

     “Do you like it?” He took a step backwards, “Because if you don’t then it was all Schwoz’s idea!”

     He gestured at the maid who yelled ‘hey!’ in outrage. 

     “No, I love it!” You said quickly. “I just—you did all this for me?”

     “Well, I helped,” Schwoz said, crossing his arms. 

     “Zip it, Schwoz!” Ray yelled before turning back to you. “Shall we.”

     He gestured to the table and you followed him there, taking a seat as he pulled out a chair for you before sitting in his own. 

     As Schwoz poured your drinks, you looked at Ray in amusement.

     “What?” He asked.

     “I just can’t believe…all this!” You gestured around you. “That you went to all this trouble for—”

     “(Y/n), it’s no secret how I feel about you,” he said quietly. 

     You stopped breathing. “And that is?” 

     “Well for starters, you’re gorgeous and—”

     “Medium or well done?” Schwoz interrupted and you turned to see he had a grill in the corner.

     You barely registered the question though. You were much more interested in what Ray had to say than the quality of your steak.

     “Medium! Annyway, like I was saying,” Ray continued, “Ever since—”

     “Do you want any seasonings?” Schwoz peered back around to your table.

     “Dang it Schwoz!” Ray pounded the table. 

     You giggled and put a hand on Ray’s. He looked down at your hand atop his and swallowed. 

     “What I’m trying to say is, I like you a lot, (Y/n),” Ray said. “I have liked you a lot from the moment I met you.”

     You smiled, “I like you too, Ray. A lot.”

     Ray grinned giddily before standing up, and beginning to pace. 

     “(Y/n), I like you so much that I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.”

     You furrowed your brow and sat up straighter. Ray walked over to the side of the room and pulled out a small tube of red and blue spheres.

     You raised your eyebrows as he took one of the balls and popped it in his mouth and began chewing what must have been gum.

     “And your secret is you’re a gum addict?” 

     You watched as he blew a bubble and suddenly a flash of light filled the room. You blinked and standing before you was no longer Ray in his tuxedo, but a superhero.

     A superhero who you recognized—who anybody in Swellview would have recognized.     

     “You’re Captain Man,” you breathed.

     “That’s right, I’m awesome,” Ray said, smirking and walking over to you.

     “So you—and this is—we are—” You processed all of the information at once. “This isn’t really a junk shop, is it?”

     “It’s as real as the meat Schwoz is cooking,” Ray said. Note to self, you thought, don’t eat the ‘steak’.

      Everything that you’d known about the store and everything that didn’t make sense all came together in your head. The pieces  clicking together perfectly.

     “This,” Ray continued, “Is the Man Cave. My superhero headquarters. Where I live. And the junk shop upstairs is really more of a front—and a place to keep Jasper busy while we fight crime.”

     “So Henry—” 

     “—Is my sidekick, Kid Danger.”

     “And Charlotte—”

     “She helps too.”

     “Jasper—”

     “Well, he doesn’t help that much,” Ray said, waving it off. “And Schwoz works for me.”

     “Wow,” was all you could say, “I had no idea.”

     “Yeah,” Ray said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess you probably don’t want to keep your job at the store now that you know it’s not really a real store. The only customer we ever get is Jasper.”

     “Are you kidding? This job is the best think that’s ever happened to me,” you said. “Because if I’d never been here, I wouldn’t be here with the Captain Man.”

     Ray stepped closer to you, a grin on his face. “Oh yeah? And what about Ray Manchester?”

     You shrugged, playing along “Don’t tell him I said this, but I’m kind of eternally grateful I met him too.”

     Ray wrapped his arms around you. 

     “Well, now that there’s nothing hidden between us, there’s one thing I’ve really been meaning to ask. So, (Y/n), will you go out with me? Will you be my valentine?”

     A wave of remembrance hit you. You’d forgotten it was Valentine’s Day. The decorations and the flowers, it all made sense.

     You looked at Ray, looking at you like he needed you to say yes. You took in the decorations behind you and all the effort Ray had put into making this a special evening for you. It was finally happening. The moment you had been dreaming of since you had met him.

     “Because if you say no, I promised Schwoz he could eat all this food,” Ray teased

     “Yes, Ray,” you smiled, feeling like your heart couldn’t swell with more joy and elation than it already had. “I’ll be your valentine.”

     Ray leaned in to kiss you and you leaned towards him, your lips meeting.

     “Aww, young love, so touching.”

     You looked over to find Schwoz watching you, and Ray shot him a glare. He scurried away and Ray brought his lips back to yours. 

     You kissed him and he kissed you and it was magical. His hands went to your hair and you wrapped your arms around him tighter. 

     You never wanted this moment to end. 

     “Hey, Ray, have you seen—”

     You and Ray broke apart and you looked at Henry’s shocked expression as his gaze went from you to Ray in his Captain Man uniform to Schwoz and the decorations.

     “I just thought I left my backpack here,” Henry said weakly, “but, uh, I’ll get a new one. See you later, Ray—or should I say Captain Man.”

     Ray turned to you guiltily, “I wasn’t exactly supposed to tell you about the whole ‘being a superhero’ thing.”

     He looked to Henry now, “She begged me to tell her, kid, I couldn’t help it.”

     You smacked him in the arm and Henry let out a laugh despite himself.

     “Besides, we can make an exception for my girlfriend, can’t we?” Ray said, grabbing your hand. 

     Ray’s girlfriend. You liked the sound of that. You leaned in and kissed him softly.

     “Right, well,” Henry looked at the ground, “I should go. Jasper’s cheese isn’t going to eat itself. Happy Valentine’s Day, you two.”

     You watched him turn to leave, smiling. You still couldn’t believe how perfect this all was.

     “And Schwoz?” Henry called, his back to you. 

     “Yes?”

     “Nice skirt.”

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ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope u enjoyed this babes 🫶 i think im going to start a ray masterlist so look out for that!! have a lovely valentines day!!

#ray manchester x reader #captain man x reader #ray manchester #captain man #henry danger #kid danger #dangerverse #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #x reader #valentines day

[hoedorokishoto]

Trust - Part 2

Shoto Todoroki x Reader 

warnings - explicit sex, swearing 

previous | part | next

Todoroki had gotten taller since the last time I had been this close to him. His body also filling out and getting stronger from all the training. Changes that weren't noticeable until I was inches away from him, measuring his body for any new costume changes that might be required. From watching the training exercise I had concluded that putting a mesh suit under his current costume was the best course of action. One that was highly resistant to both hot and cold, to decrease the number of small burns and frostbite he seemed to get from using his quirk at high outputs. The same mesh being impenetrable and good if a villain ever decided to stab the future pro.

"Shinso said you are very good, and that I'm in good hands." Todoroki said, looking down at me as I continued to take his measurements.

"Were you worried beforehand?" I asked, quirking my eyebrow, and standing up. His dual-coloured eyes continued to burn holes in my back wherever I walked around the workshop.

"Is there a reason you keep staring at me?" I asked softly, not mad but uncomfortable with the constant attention.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable; I just like watching you work."

"I'm excited to see what you come up with."

Todoroki looked the part of being cool and confident but sometimes the way he spoke reminded me of what an awkward little bean he could truly be. Hitoshi stating that his social skills could still use a little work.

"Well, I'm glad you are excited. I think I could make a lot of cool improvements."

It wasn't a lie, I was excited. Any opportunity to further my career as Hero Support or be in the workshop creating new inventions was always a plus to me. It was the Hero in front of me that I had reservations about. Being with new people who I didn't really know wasn't my idea of fun. Neither was small talk. At least we had that in common, both of our silences falling over us like a heavy blanket, and it seemed that neither of us knew how to escape it.

"Are you-."

"You shou-."

You both said at the same time, looking at each other. A smile crept onto my face as Shoto's cheeks darkened with a small blush. Shoto looked down at his feet, his two-toned hair coming down to fall over his eyes.

"You were saying?" I asked, stepping closer to Todoroki, and looking up into his eyes, trying to keep him flustered, finding his awkwardness cute and endearing. He didn't step back, sizing me up.

We were so close I could feel the heat coming off his body, the proximity causing goosebumps to spread down my arms.

"I was saying you should have seen my first hero suit; it was really bad. Or as Ashido says tragic." Todoroki said, his voice low, his face still so close I could feel his breath. Todoroki was handsome, I would have to be blind to deny it. His features were sharp and prominent, his half and half colouring only adding to his air of mystery. I wanted to test the waters; see exactly how far I could push him.

"I have a feeling you could wear a sheet and still look good." I stated. Dropping back down in front of him and measuring his inseam.

"You think so?" Todoroki asked a smirk plastered across his face as he looked down at me.

"If I wanted to see you naked I think I know just how I could make that happen." I said.

Despite my brave statement I still blushed as he looked down at me still, his eyes never leaving mine.

"I bet you haven't seen anything like this." He answered quickly, leaving my mind racing. The position we were in doing nothing to help me try to get a handle on the situation.

"Are you trying to fluster me?" Todoroki asked, leaning down and putting his fingers under my chin, guiding me back up to stand with him.

"Is it working?" I asked, a similar smirk falling across my face. Leaning into his touch, his left hand warm on my skin.

"Maybe..." Is all he said, stepping off the platform and turning towards the door, picking up his bag and school uniform jacket as he went.

"Same time tomorrow?" He asked, turning around one more time to look at me, my eyes wide, trying to comprehend the situation. I didn't speak, just nodded my head in his direction and spun around. Heading to the workbench to write down all the measurements I took while it was fresh in my mind. I wanted my mind to be anywhere but thoughts of Todoroki and whatever had just happened.

                                                               *

The regular noise of the 3H dorm filled my ears as we all sat down for dinner, various pots of stew and bowls of rice steaming, spread out across the table. The day had ended like any other, covered in grease and staying in the workshop at least an hour later than you intended to only coming back to the dorm when one of the teachers turned off the lights and refused to put them back on.

"Todoroki huh, that's cool. He has a really cool quirk and you're a genius so it's like a match made in Heaven." Mei stated, her hair sticking up behind her goggles and her skin looking just as grease-stained as mine.

I just nodded, scooping rice into my mouth to avoid any real conversation, wanting to be showered and in bed as soon as possible. The exchange between Todoroki and I was still fresh in my mind even now. The intensity of his dual-coloured eyes burnt into my brain.

"Y/N lost for words? I never thought I'd see the day."

"I'm not lost for words; I just don't have anything to say..."

"So you are lost for words?" Mei laughed, swinging her arm around my shoulder, and hugging me close. I was grateful that I had found her, other than Hitoshi she was my first real friend, bonding over our love of machinery and design. She was quick to call me out on my bullshit when I needed it and quick to be a shoulder to cry on. On top of that she was a genius who always had insight into whatever project I was working on, helping, and lending advice whenever necessary. If you looked up mum friend in the dictionary she was it. If your mum stayed up all night, had big boobs, ran on coffee and had a steam punk obsession.

Ding

Sen – Hey, how was your day? You busy tonight?

Even the way he typed was perfect, down to the last comma. I wished that Sen could be anything other than someone I fucked around with but the feelings one should have just weren't there. I often wondered if I was keeping him from someone, someone who could return his feelings. Someone who deserved to receive nicely punctuated text messages over dinner wondering about how their day was.

Y/N – Your room or mine?

                                                             *

His grip on my waist was so hard I thought it might bruise, but that was an afterthought as I felt Sen thrust up into me, filling me up and hitting the spot inside me that caused a knot to grow in my stomach, a sign of my impending orgasm.

I looked down at him, his eyes closed as his head was thrown back, his face was cute in this situation. Different from the handsome angular face he usually wore. His brown hair was stuck to his temples, our bodies sweaty from the activities we were currently partaking in.

"You feel so good." Sen moaned out, his mouth starting to kiss up my neck, his handing snaking around and holding the back of my head and neck. Holding me somewhat steady as I continued to ride him.

We both picked up the pace, chasing our orgasms as the sound of skin on skin rang out throughout the room. He kissed me, hard. All teeth and tongues. Both of us coming together with a loud moan. I slumped into him, his arms circling around me pulling me closer as we both caught our breath. I wished I hated him, I wished I didn't care about his feelings. He was comforting, it was times like this that I really wished I could like him how he wanted me to. How he deserved.

I rolled off him, planting my feet on the ground, walking around the room looking for my clothes that had been thrown around the room. I heard Sen shuffle behind me, taking off the condom, tying it off, and throwing it in the trash can by the door.

He came up behind me, I could feel his presence looming over me like a ghost. He reached out and touched my side as I pulled my jeans back up and clipped my bra up.

"You don't have to go." Sen said quietly, almost a whisper. There it was, the words that had the power to cleave my heart in two. Not for my sake but for his, at every turn I was reminded how bad of a person I was, I reminded myself that no matter how nice people were to you or how good it felt when they were inside you, nothing ever really lasted, and the people who claimed to care the most were always the first ones to leave. Why couldn't Sen see that?  Romantic relationships were a distraction which I didn't want to get myself involved in and neither should he.

I turned and took the shirt from him that he held out, slipping it over my head. Collecting the last of my things like my phone and shoes and stopped in front of him once again.

"I'll text you later." I said softly, stepping up onto my tiptoes and kissing his cheek. Not looking back as I left his dorm and made my way to the elevator. Praying that all his classmates and Mr. Vlad were asleep.

I made it out of the 3B dorms without any fuss, no hero students, or pro heroes in sight. Thank God. The night air was cool and made the walk back to my dorm quite pleasant, I wasn't in a rush, taking in everything around me. The students jogging around the grounds and the dorms that were lit up with life. The 1st years loudly yelling and laughing, no doubt getting used to dorm life.

I came to a stop outside the 3A dorm, contemplating visiting Hitoshi knowing that regardless of the time he would be up and if he weren't he would wake up for me. I wanted to talk to him, but I also didn't want another weird almost lecture like he gave me the other day. It was hard to talk to people who knew me better than I knew myself sometimes because there was never any hiding. There wasn't anything that I could hide from Hitoshi, even if I tried.

Just as I was about to move on the large doors of the dorm swung open, a very pissed Todoroki stepping out, being followed by an equally as pissed Momo Yaoyorozu. Without thinking I ducked behind the nearest bush and hid. Not meaning to spy on their conversation but also not wanting to look like a creep who snuck around other people's dorms at night.

"I honestly don't know why you are being like this Shoto. Just get over it and we can go back to how everything was." Yaoyorozu said in the distance.

"It was almost 2 years ago; I don't want to do anything with you. Even if I did want any form of relationship with you I definitely wouldn't want it to be like how it was back then." Todoroki replied.

Both of their voices distant, further enough away from the dorm so their classmates wouldn't hear but not close enough to me that I could hear all their conversation.

"That's a bit harsh. We should be together. Both of our fathers think it's a good idea."

"When have I ever given a fuck what my father thinks?"

"Shoto, don't be vulgar. You have been hanging out with Bakugo for too long. He has started to rub off on you."

"I don't want to have this conversation with you anymore Yaomomo, I've said what I had to say, it's you that keeps bringing it up. I won't be getting back together with you, I won't be sleeping with you anymore and I won't even consider it just because our stuck-up scum bag fathers think it's right!" Shoto yelled loudly, there was no doubt that everyone in the vicinity had heard.

Yaoyorozu stomped her foot and pouted, turning on her heels and walking away.

"Well, I still have your cashmere sweater! I'm keeping it!" She shouted over her shoulder.

"Yeah well I still have your virginity, so I guess you win some you lose some." Shoto said back, causing Momo to huff and walk back towards the large doors. I chuckled at his statement, this Shoto vastly different from 1st year Shoto, different again from the Shoto that was in your workshop earlier today.

Yaoyorozu didn't look back as she entered the dorm, leaving Shoto Todoroki standing in the moonlight, looking even more ethereal than usual. If it were even possible.

And me, standing in a bush looking like a creep.

#shoto todoroki #shoto x reader #mha x reader #sen kaibara #kaibara x reader #bnha #shoto smut #todoroki x reader #bnha fanfiction

[marvelettesassemble]

Safe House (Bill x F Reader)

Summary: When his family has to go in hiding Bill asks you – his coworker and spy for the Order - if they could stay at your safe house.

Warnings: Reader has problems with sleeping and feels lonely, small swear words, mentions of sex

Words: ~3.9k

A/N: I wanted to write a Bill story for a while, because there isn’t enough stuff about him. But this took me 3 weeks I think and I struggled. But its finished now and hopefully the next one will be better  

You looked up from the little box in front of you after you had inspected the bruise-healing paste for a long time.

“Long time no see,” the tall guy in front of you said with a smirk on his face that you had almost forgotten existed.

“Weasley, what are you doing here? Last time I heard you were still in Egypt,” you sounded surprised.

“It was time to calm down a little bit and to stay closer to my family. I think I need a break from curse breaking and I’m currently on desk duty here in London.”

“So, you’re getting old. Maybe this paste would have helped you,” you tapped your finger on the box that you still had in your hand before you put it back in the stand. “We have to meet up for coffee sometime to see which one of us has the better stories to tell. See you around, Weasley.” You nodded at him before you left the shop owned by the twins of the person you just spoke to.

Back in the shop Bill Weasley picked up the exact box you had just put down and went to the register to pay for it. He was greeted by his brother George who told him he didn’t have to pay for it, he still had some paste in his office that he could have. “No, I want this one. It’s a gift, but if you’ll give it to me for free, I won't say no.” He winked at his younger brother and left the shop and disapparated. When he was at the burrow he opened the box and pulled out the paper you had put in there.

Your last stay had been in Spain and he was glad that he had recruited you for the Order as you were the perfect spy. Nobody suspected anything when you travelled in particular places or asked specific questions with you being a curse breaker just like him, but it could be described as kind of a freelancer. You didn’t stay at one place, which makes it even more perfect. He sighed and had to stop reading your neat handwriting as he was missing his old job.  

While he stayed in Egypt and was busy getting from one tomb to another you had stayed at your family home in England. You started your research from home and when you had enough information or needed to gather information you travelled for a few weeks, maybe a month but not more than two and you always had your home back in Great Britain where you would come back to.

Him meeting you in public and making it seem like you haven’t seen each other for a while had been your idea. Owls had a tendency to get lost in these times and this was the safest way they had so far. His heart felt a bit heavy as he thought back to the times when he had to shield his eyes from the sun and he though his body couldn’t produce anymore sweat, but the excitement flowing through his veins when he thought of the unknown which laid in front of him. He missed those times when he could forget everything around him and just had to concentrate on the mission in front of him.

Long gone were these times, but when he looked at the watch in the corner and saw the faces of his siblings, he knew he had made the right decision. What was a little bit of freedom and excitement when he now had the chance to make sure his siblings were okay? No, he had definitely made the right decision!

He went back to reading your letter and noticed on the bottom of the parchment a code. You would meet him tonight and the letters told him where exactly.

“Hey carrot head,” you smiled brightly at him when he walked towards you. “I brought you something, I hope this will help your mom stuffing your mouth,” you nodded towards the big basket which stood next to your feet and was filled with carrots.

“Not my favourite,” he mumbled and sat down next to you. As it was getting dark he couldn’t really see you.

“What would please you more? Beans? Potatoes?”

“I loved mashed potatoes,” Bill admitted and he though he saw you nodding.

“Noted. Next time I’ll bring potatoes.”

“Why are you bringing vegetables?” He asked confused until you told you him you had a big garden. Your grandpa had taken a liking to growing vegetables and you had taken over and never really let go. Your sleeping schedule was a mess and so you enjoyed tending to your plants when sleep wouldn’t come. It was way too much for you, but you liked the work and you know the Weasleys were a big family.  

“How come I don’t know where you live?” he wondered suddenly.

“Because it is a secret,” you whispered and then you started giggling. “And now to the important stuff, we don’t have all night.”

You noticed Bill playing with his earring. It was a reminder of his first job in Egypt and he refused to get rid of it despite everything his mother said. You had noticed that he started doing that when he was nervous. “What’s on your mind?” you finally asked when you almost got bored of watching him – almost.

“I might have to ask a favour of you,” he started but stopped.  

“Okay, just ask. I do have the option of refusing, right?” you laughed but Bill didn’t join you. He was just so nervous. A few months had passed since you had brought him the carrots.  

“There is a slight chance that the order is being compromised and if the headquarter falls... the burrow isn’t safe everyone knows where we live... I guess what I’m trying to ask is if you’d let my family into your home. I know it has been a safe house for decades, but I don’t really know how to make it and I fear I don’t have the time to learn it.”

You were quiet for a while. “Okay, but I’ll only let your family in, no one else. Bill, you have to promise me, no one else!” You put pressure on the last words, but you noticed that the man in front of you was relieved. He stopped playing with his earring and instead he hugged you. He caught you by surprise but then your arms sneaked around his torso.

“Thank you,” he mumbled and you felt how relieved he was.  

The Order had taken many setbacks but the latest one was the death of Albus Dumbledore. You didn’t really know what or when it happened, you were on your own mission. So, when you came back to the Burrow and the first person you saw was Bill with scars on his face you were shocked, but it also made you realise that you didn’t have time anymore.  

“Is it okay, if I touch your face?” you asked hesitantly. He nodded slowly and you took the seat next to him. Both of you stared in each other's eyes and you carefully put your hands on each cheek. You felt the rough skin beneath your fingertips, then closed your eyes and told Bill to do the same. You then thought about your home, the house and the fields, the massive garden and the small greenhouse, the little lake next to it and pushed that image towards Bill. You opened your eyes again.

“When it’s time you have to take your family and come there. It doesn’t matter when, you can apparate there now. Anytime, okay? I know I said only your family, but now that I know everyone my invitation also includes Harry and Hermione. You can gather them and come even now, but please don’t wait until it's too late,” you begged.

You had met the rest of the Weasleys at the Headquarter and you were surprised how nice and welcoming they were. The whole family risked so much for doing the right thing and protecting Harry, there was no way that you wouldn’t welcome them into your home.

“Now that that is out of the way you have to tell me how that happened,” your fingertips fluttered over the uneven part of his face.

Was there someone knocking? No one knew where your house was unless... You jumped up from the chair and placed the book hastily on the table. You were wide awake now and grabbed your wand and opened the door. The people in front of you didn’t look much better than you considering it was night time and they stood in their pyjamas in front of you.

“Come in,” you said and opened the door to let them all in. Bill entered first, followed by Molly who thanked you and Arthur who hugged you and didn’t stop thanking you either, then Harry, Ron, Hermoine and Ginny and then the twins. “Do you want tea?”

You agreed to have tea before everyone would head to bed and while you prepared the drink Bill filled you in. The ministry had fallen and they got a note from Kingsley so they fled and came right to your door. Your house wasn’t small by any chance but with that many people they had to share some rooms.

The next day three people were missing. Harry, Ron and Hermione had disappeared during the night and only left a little note to tell you all not to worry. This didn’t really ease anyone minds, but no one was really surprised. Everyone had a different way to deal with the stress. Yours was your garden that you tended to when you weren’t discussing your next moves.  

You were currently in the green house tending to the tomatoes when the red head with the long hair joined you. “I have to leave soon. We need some supplies and I have to get some information. But I can’t leave when I’m the only secret keeper, so I’m still doing research how to get another secret keeper.” you informed him when he grabbed himself some gloves and pulled them on. They were too little for his big hands but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Are you sure you want to go? We don’t know how safe it is,” he admitted and pulled some we weed from the soil.

“I’m a big girl, I can look after myself,” you said with more confidence than you actually had. “Will you help me with my research?” You spent an hour together in the green house, sharing stories from your curse breaking days before you made your way inside to start your research. Arthur joined you and you spent the day between books before Molly called you for dinner.

Despite everything that was going on it was an enjoyable dinner. Molly had made a soup from the vegetables from your garden and the twins did most of the talking. You continued the research after your meal and you noticed how your eyes started to get heavy when Arthur announced he found something.  

Bill and you walked over to him and after a short discussion you were sure that he had found what you were searching.  “So, you’re going to tell me that Bill would have been the next secret keeper as I’ve already showed him how to get here and we spent the whole day searching for nothing?” you asked not really believing what you had just learned. It was that easy?

“Well, I guess that I’ll go tomorrow. Maybe you should write me a note what you need so I can get that,” you said still buffed. You said goodnight soon and left the two Weasleys in the room to make your way to the bed.

“Did she just made me the second secret keeper without knowing it?” Bill said when it was just him and his father.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think she is mad. She wanted to do it and she’s just exhausted, poor girl isn’t really sleeping. I hope she gets enough rest so she’s fit tomorrow.”

Bill was fumbling with his earing again and mumbled that he wished he could accompany you.

“Because you want to get out of the house or because you want to make sure she’s safe?” his father asked and pretended to still look in the book so his son wouldn’t feel to pressured.

“Both,” admitted his eldest son.

“Maybe you should just tell her?” Arthur closed the book and put it on top of the other ones they had used.

“Dad, we’re at war. We live in her house because they’re searching for us. I don’t think that this is the right time.”

“Then what is the right time?” Arthur put his hand on Bill's shoulder and squeezed it lightly before he let go and made his way to the bedroom he shared with his wife.

The next day you left after everyone had told you what they needed. You were gone longer than you anticipated and when you reappeared you had to take a deep breath. Bills long hair was flowing around his head and you watched him putting it behind his ears before he picked up the axe again to chop some wood. The noise of the axe hitting the wood carried over to you and you watched him for a while. You thought that you could get used to coming home and seeing him first thing. Suddenly he turned around and when he saw you standing there he let go of the axe and walked over to you.

“Is everything alright?” he asked when you were in earshot.

“Yes, can you help carrying these inside?” you pointed to the bags at your feet. He picked them up so there was only one left for you. “You coming?” he asked when he took a few steps towards the house and noticed you hadn’t followed him. You nodded and walked quickly so you could walk by his side.

The warm air engulfed you when you entered your home. You walked into the kitchen and put the bag on the big table next the ones Bill had already placed there. It didn’t take long for the other to noticed that you came home. You didn’t just bring groceries and clothes but also information you needed. There was a lot to talk about so you found yourself in the living room when it was already dark outside. The once loud conversation turned quiet when Arthur und Molly retired first. You got tired and while you still heard the conversation in the room you started to fall asleep. You were rolled up like a cat, your feet touching Bill's thighs and your head uncomfortably on the arm rest, but you were finally asleep.

“Did you know that a good shag helps with sleeping problems?” Fred asked not really directed at anyone, but Bill sent him a death glare none the less.  

“Would you shut up?” Bill made sure his brother didn’t wake you and you were still out like a light next to him.

“What? It’s not like I offered myself. Although I did say a good shag,” Fred put his hand on his chin as if he was still contemplating before he had to dodge the pillow his older brother was throwing at him.

George caught the pillow and placed it behind his back. “What my brother is trying to say: Will you finally make a move? Maybe it will give you both a little bit of peace."

When Bill looked at you and noticed the awkward state you fell asleep in he decided to wake you up. You excused yourself for falling asleep but the other Weasleys just told you to go to bed and get some rest. When you made your way outside the room you grabbed the armchair to stabilized yourself without noticing that it was George's arm instead. Three worried glances followed you out of the room.

“Seriously, we have to make sure that she finally sleeps, especially when she’s the only one who can leave. Last time I went to grab some water and saw her cooking apples at 3am because she couldn’t sleep,” Fred said. George rubbed his arm and told them he had also met her in the kitchen when he couldn’t sleep anymore.

Bill surprised you that night in the kitchen and you almost threw the spoon in your hand as you hadn’t heard him approaching you. Surprisingly he stayed calm but you were freaking out. You started apologizing over and over again. You were tired and you were preserving vegetables.

Instead of scolding you he just asked how long you’ve been awake and you admitted that you couldn’t sleep after you went to your bedroom. “You need to get to bed,” he said and turned off the stove, put his hands on your shoulder and stirred you in the direction of your bedroom. You were beat and didn’t protest until you laid in bed, Bill sitting next to you and when he started talking about cauldron thickness you soon fell into a deep sleep.

Without you knowing it the Weasleys started to stick closer to you. When you usually were alone tending the garden suddenly Fred and George helped picking up the apples. Arthur gathered the fallen leaves while you picked up the fallen branches and pilled everything for the animals. You and Molly prepared the dinner together and every time you left Bill welcomed you home as he waited in the garden. You couldn’t deny that you heart beat faster every time you saw him standing in front of your house.

Another thing you noticed is that every evening you all sat together in the great living room and the others noticed that you always fell asleep when someone sat with you in the evening. You often played board games and it was then you noticed that you had felt lonely all this time. You loved the noises around you, the feeling that there was somebody else by your side. This was what had been missing all this time. The big house was just too much for one person. Without realising you had grabbed the hand next to you and Bill squeezed your hand shortly before his thumb swiped over your hand. “Is everything alright, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Yes, everything is alright.” You loved the feeling of your hand in his warm one and you didn’t let go of his hand even when you fell asleep sometime later that night. But still when you laid in your own bed you couldn’t find sleep again.  Suddenly an idea struck you and before you could tell yourself how dumb this idea was you jumped out of bed and walked through the hallway to another door and knocked. When you heard a response, you opened the door and quickly walked so you wouldn’t wake another person. Bill had sat up in your old childhood bed. It was strange seeing him in the bed that been yours when you were a kid and a teenager.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked and your heart leapt at the pet name he used.

“It’s dumb, but... ugh, I wanted to ask you, if... ifIcouldsleepwithyoutonight,” you mumbled the last part so fast Bill wasn’t sure if he had understood you correctly.

“You want to sleep with me?” you could hear the smirk and that he didn’t sound as sleepy as before. But he knew you better than you thought because he told you to come over and he lifted the duvet for you. “Come here,” he said and walked quickly over the cold floor into the warm bed. A soft sigh left your mouth when you were surrounded by warmth.

Both of you laid on your back on each side on the bed and you let your hand find his before you fell into a deep sleep. You slept the best you’ve had for a long time, but same couldn’t be said about Bill. He couldn’t find sleep again with you laying next to him, your hand touching his. He wanted to pull you into his arms. Maybe he could sleep with his face pressed into your hair? But he didn’t want to wake you or make you feel uncomfortable so he stuck to this position with his thoughts going wild.

Bill pretended to be asleep when you woke up the next morning and gave you a few minutes before he left his room. But when you stepped into the hallway and closed the door quietly behind yourself George was greeting you with a shit eating grin on his face. “Morning,” he said without adding anything else. “Oh, shove it,” you said and walked past him towards your room. You didn’t see the point in telling him nothing had happened between you and his brother.

When Bill entered the kitchen his twin brothers were already there and of course George had told Fred what he had witnessed this morning. “So, did the shag help? Or were you too busy to even think about sleep,” Fred wiggled his eyebrows.

“Nothing happened,” Bill said and grabbed a cup.

“Too bad, so I think I have to offer my services then.”

“What services?” you asked when you entered the room.    

“Fred wants to expand our services for the shop,” George cut in.

“Tell me more,” you said after you filled a cup and sat down next to the trio. It didn’t take long for them to come up with something so they didn’t have to tell you what they really talked about.

Days passed, then weeks and it was an unspoken rule that you end up in Bills room after a failed attempt of going to sleep. You soon noticed that you couldn’t fall asleep because you didn’t want to be alone. And then it took a few days until you noticed you didn’t want to be without Bill. He made you laugh more and more. Like when you saw him pulling on a lumberjack jacket and asked him what he was doing. He had replied that he you needed more fire wood and you watched him through the kitchen window. You had seen how he picked up the axe without a problem and as if he had known that you were watching him, he slapped his butt with his free hand which caused you to laugh out loud and you had to hide behind the wall so he wouldn’t see that you had been watching him.

You also noticed that every night before you would leave the next day hugged you a little more and pulled you closer to himself. And when you came back, he still waited in the garden and grabbed your hand to guide you back to the house. Everyone noticed this but nobody commented on it. They noticed in the tentativeness when you grabbed his hand after hanging up your coat that the two of you hadn’t talked about what was happening between you.

And suddenly there wasn’t time to talk about it anymore. Suddenly the war was right in front of you with maybe the biggest battle and you had to get out of your hiding place. But in the way that Bill grabbed your hand with such determination and when you pulled you to himself and pressed his lips desperately against yours before you had to leave made you realise that you were in this together.  

#Bill Weasley #Bill x Reader #Bill Weasley x Reader #marvelettesassemble #Bill Weasley Fanfiction #Weasley x Reader #bill weasley ff

[yoongi-sugaglider]

Daegu Quarantine

Jungkook x reader

Gang/ zombie apocalypse au

Warnings:

Gore, violence, zombies, mention of drugs and drug dealing, weapons discharge in self defense, main character death, zombies, course language, zombies, drinking, did I mention zombies?

Summary:

They were the top of their game, known throughout the city as the smartest and most dangerous crew to ever hit the Daegu streets. But what’s going to happen when this group of young men encounter something right out of a horror film?

Word count: 2640

Part 15===Part 16===Part 17

The next handful of days became a blur of activity. Well, more so for the others than for me.

Hoseok and I had been ordered to strict bedrest, which only one of us actually took seriously. While I sat in bed most of the day, watching movies on my laptop or vegging out on as many snacks as I could convince Jeanette to bring me, Hoseok on the other hand snuck by Jimin as often as possible to help the boys with various projects around the house.

The only reason I even found out is because every few hours I’d hear Jimin fussing at him all the way up the stairs and back to the bodyguard’s bedroom.

I sat with Jeanette, Rose, and Jimin one afternoon, chatting away with them while Jimin checked my leg wound when Jungkook wandered into the bedroom, a stoic look on his face as he sat at his computer desk and turned to stare blankly at my injured leg.

“Something on your mind boss?” Jimin asked as he cinched the bandage tight and turned to begin putting his tools away in his bag.

“Mmm…” 

The noncommittal sound drew my attention and I frowned at him, worry creasing my forehead as I reached my hand over to the small throw pillow I’d been using to prop up my injured leg.

“Oi! Earth to Jeon!” I yelled, tossing the pillow overhand at him. He caught it midair, never breaking eye contact with my leg as he tossed it onto the floor beside him.

“We can’t let Eun Kwang get away with this…” He muttered, the stoic look dissolving into a frown when he finally met my eyes.

“We’ve talked about this Kookie. There’s no point to trying to retaliate. We have no idea where they’re holed up. Nor how many of them there are or what kind of fire power they’re packing.” I leaned forward, pulling my pajama pant leg down and leaning back into the headboard.

“If we had even a sliver of that information…”

“Jungkook please…” I whispered, eyes pleading with him to drop it.

He growled, shoving his way out of the chair and to his feet. Fists clenched at his sides he glared at me, though the moment didn’t last long as his gaze softened.

I shook my head, nodding to Jeanette and Rose. “We have far too much on the line to risk even one of us getting dropped because of some half thought out revenge scheme. Jungkook, going out there would be suicide.”

“You wouldn’t leave a girl widowed before you’ve even gotten a chance to marry her boss, would ya?” Jimin’s quiet words seemed to do the trick.

Jungkook stared at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape as if he’d had half a mind to argue with the words from the wise doctor. But after a moment of fish bowling he shut his mouth, shaking his head with a resigned sigh.

“No...you’re both right. It’s hot headed and foolishness that’d get me killed before I even made it halfway there.” He bowed his head for a moment, eyes closed as he inhaled slowly.

“See, Tae said you were a smart man.” Rose grinned at him, standing from the bed and patting him on his arm. “Come on bud, let’s get some food in ya. I bet you haven’t eaten all day have ya?”

I snorted at the two, waving them off and thanking Jimin for his hard work. The room quickly cleared out, leaving just me and Jeanette to ruminate in our thoughts for a bit while I shifted around in bed trying to find a comfortable spot to mope in.

“Hey y/n?” Came the whispered voice of Jeanette, causing me to pause in my movements.

“What’s up?” A smile came to my lips as I watched the timid woman worrying at the hem of her shirt.

“Well umm… I was talking to Jin this morning while we worked on breakfast...about the pantry and stuff?”

I nodded as she paused, motioning for her to continue when she glanced over to me with a look of worry.

“Well, it’s just that… Yes, we have an amazing pantry. MRE’s keep for ages and so do canned goods. But like...wouldn’t it be nice to have fresh produce?” When I remained silent and smiling at her words her face lit up.

She began talking faster, turning in place to sit cross legged before me. She pulled the pillow I’d discarded earlier into her lap to protect the tiny protrusion of her belly as she spoke at length about her plans.

“Since there aren’t that many of us it wouldn’t have to be that big at first. And of course it would take a while for anything to grow. But just imagine, come fall we could have all kinds of amazing fresh veggies. Corn, carrots, tomatoes and potatoes. I could even manage cucumbers and watermelon if we could find things for the vines to climb.”

I leaned forward, taking her hands in mine and running my thumbs reassuringly across the ridges of her knuckles as she spoke, watching the idea grow bigger and bigger within her. The passion in her voice alone had me picturing the enclosed area, teaming with life and greenery and her tiny plump form tending to the plants as she coo’d at them as if they were her own children.

As she began outlining plans for bird proof netting she paused though, mouth curved into a gentle O of surprise and if I didn’t know any better, fear as her head whipped to the door to stare at Yoongi who’d been watching us...well her, talk this whole time.

“Oh...Yoongi I…” She bowed her head, seeming to shrink in on herself as if seeing the man had taken the wind out of her sails.

“Go on…” He whispered, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe with an encouraging smile.

“It’s just….Jin told me to ask Hoseok, who pointed me to Jungkook, who told me to ask you...and well.”

“Jeanette…” My smile only grew when her gaze finally mine. Hope began shining in her eyes and it seemed that the entirety of her frame lit up with our shared excitement.

“I love the idea. Honestly. We can get Namjoon to draw up your plans. He’s basically a genius so I’m sure he could engineer it to be the second safest place in Daegu. And since we’ve been having issues with Hoseok sitting still for long enough, he can be on duty for helping you till the soil or anything else that you might need.”

“I’ll be there to help as well…”

I glanced over to Yoongi and he grinned at the shocked look on my face.

“All of my end of things is done. You can’t exactly expect me to sit on my thumbs while cleaning my weapons all day now can you?”

Jeanette giggled at his words, gingerly lifting herself from the bed and smoothing out the black YG shirt that drowned her figure, another of Yoongi’s favorite shirts.

“Thank you y/n. Really I mean it. I was worried that I wasn’t able to contribute enough to everything that was going on and well...with this…”

“Hey now, we talked about this.” Yoongi walked over, wrapping her in a side hug and tracing his fingers down the bare skin of her arm. “You’re doing plenty enough. Between laundry and helping Jin cook all the meals?”

“Exactly.” I chimed in, shifting to my side a bit so I could send her a less pained smile. “Nobody in this house thinks you’re a burden in any way. And if they even think it I’ll tell Jungkook to beat them up on the spot.”

Yoongi snickered, sending me another grin. “He’d do it too, no questions asked. So don’t worry your pretty little head about it, yeah?”

She nodded after a moment’s hesitation.

“Well, alright then. It’s settled.” He began steering her towards the door, shooting me one last grateful smile. “Let’s get those plans started on. Let the boss lady get herself some rest.

As my bedroom door shut behind them, I couldn’t help but to wonder when and how they’d gotten so close.

***

By dinner time I’d managed to convince Jimin to let me down to the basement. Everyone was off doing their own thing and frankly sitting alone to eat in the bedroom again had made me so nauseous just thinking about it that I’d almost opted to skip dinner all together. But he’d seen the desperate plea in my eyes and relented, barring that I allowed Jungkook to carry me down there.

I sat with Taehyung and Rose, munching away at my meal as I watched them giggle over stories they shared of when they’d first met.

“It was a coding nightmare. I’d only been working for the main office for two months when they put his case in my lap. Some young kid that’d managed to bully his way into the Seoul Police department’s criminal database and posted all of the corrupt politicians with arrest warrants and speeding ticket fees to every news site that he could get his grubby little hands on.” Rose cackled, throwing her head back as her entire body shook with the force of her laugh.

“Hey! That was some of my best work!” Taehyung pouted, tossing a wayward green bean in her direction and causing her to snort harder.

“Best work? You had everything so scrambled from that little backdoor snipe that it took their tech department 2 years to set everything straight.” She shook her head, popping the betrayed green bean in her mouth before tossing one of her own in his direction.

He caught it in his mouth easily, smirking all the while before continuing his rant. “It was the art job that did me in.”

“Art job?” I leaned forward, almost instantly regretting the movement when a rib shifted and sent a spike of pain shooting through my chest.

“Shit, you good?” Tae asked, looking as if he was half way to dropping everything to come to my rescue.

I waved him off, shoving a hand over the cursed injury and grinning despite the pain.

“I’m fine. Now come on, tell me about the art job!”

Rose snorted, placing her plate beside her and leaning back on her hands to give Tae a coy smile. “It was why I call him Art Nerd. He decided it would be a good idea to hack into the archives of one of the biggest art museums in the world.”

“You wouldn’t believe it!” Tae tossed up his hands, all angst and agitation as he stood abruptly and began pacing the room. “Of all the places you would think that would be trustworthy about their pieces and whether they were authentic or not. The Louvre!!” He paused in his pacing, pointing angrily to his computer before spinning on his heels to scowl at me when I began snickering.

“Did you know…” He paused, stalking closer and bending forward to glare in my face, “that 87% of all the art in the Louvre is fake?”

I gasped, feigning shock at the revelation.

“That’s right! It’s a travesty! They spit on the names of the greatest artists to have ever walked the face of this planet!” He growled, turning from me to begin pacing again. “The nerve of those imbeciles. Displaying Van Gogh forgeries as if they were the real deal.”

“Needless to say when he tried to tell the world what he found out he got caught.” Rose shook her head, picking at the last of her mashed potatoes with her fork.

She glanced over at me, sly smile broadening into a full grin.

“Did you know he was wanted in 27 countries for that little debacle?”

“Tae!!!” I gasped, eyes wide as I stared at him in awe.

He shrugged, literally beaming at this point with pride though he tried to play it off as bashfulness.

Rose pointed behind me and I shifted around to stare.

“Wait…” My eyes widened with equal parts horror and pride as I whipped my head around to glare at Taehyung. “Tae...you didn’t!!”

This time he couldn’t disguise the pride. He bounded around the sofa, skidding to a stop before what I had previously thought was just a bunch of band posters. There, hanging on the wall was what Tae had told us long ago was a quilt that his grandmother had given him.

He’d sworn that he’d remove the hands of anyone who ever dared touch it. Hell he’d chased Jungkook halfway to downtown Daegu once for nudging it with his shoulder during one of the boy’s many playful basement wrestling matches. But as he slowly and reverently lifted the blanket I quickly realized the real reason why he treasured it so much. Right there on the wall, hanging between two trashy band posters was…

“Tae is that Starry Night?? Like… the actual real fucking deal Starry Night?????” I screeched.

“I couldn’t help it. When I found out they’d hung it between two forgeries I just knew I had to save it.” He lovingly traced his fingers above the protective glass, never actually touching it but making the motions nonetheless.

Rose muttered behind me, snickering into her hand as Tae dropped the quilt back into place and turned to frown at her.

“What was that Jangmi?” he growled, his already baritone voice dropping as he walked back to stand over her.

She squeaked, shrinking back as he crouched down and lifted her chin with a single finger so that she was forced to look him in the eyes.

“I said...I...hnnggg…” The brilliant blush rushing to her cheeks had me bursting with laughter, gripping my sides as I pressed myself into the sofa.

“Damn you two are adorable.” I wheezed, wiping at my tears as I watched the two hackers spring apart as if they’d forgotten I was there.

Tae gathered up our dishes, muttering to himself all the while as he disappeared upstairs. But not before I spotted his own crimson cheeked grin.

“Huh…” Rose muttered. I returned my attention to her, realizing quickly that she was now staring at the security feed pulled up on the tv before us.

“What’s up?” I asked, eyes darting over the various live images before settling on one that showed Jeanette and Seokjin talking in the area they’d decided would be the future garden.

“I thought I saw something.” Came Rose’s absent minded reply. She clicked on the video I’d been watching, bringing it up to fill the screen and squinting at a corner of the shed beside the unaware pair.

“Are you sure?” I whispered, straining to make anything out in the depths of the shadows.

“Maybe not… Tae’s better at security monitoring than I am… Let me just…”

She began typing rapidly, a series of commands appearing on screen before a top down view of the area appeared.

“Is that…”

“A live satellite view, yeah. I figured, I’ve got access to them, why not use them…” She clicked again, zooming in rapidly before suddenly screaming. “Oh shit! There’s chatterers outside the fucking gates!”

“The fuck did you just say!?”

We both screamed as Jungkook charged around the sofa, appearing as if from nowhere and grabbing Rose’s arm in a death grip.

“What do you mean there’s chatterers outside the gates?” Jungkook glared at Rose, the hardened criminal in him causing her to cower as far back as his grip would allow her.

“Kook…”

“I’m sorry okay! I was wondering what it was that I’d seen in the backyard, and when I switched to the satellite feed I saw them. It’s at least 30 of them. Jungkook, we’re surrounded!”

#bts #jungkook x reader #jungkook reader insert #jeon jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #bts gang au #bts zombie au #bts angst #bts fluff #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts x reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts imagine #bts x reader #bangtan boys imagine

[harlowsbae]

Always

This is my first ever Draco Malfoy Reader so please don’t hate me. I haven’t written a single imagine in years.

Trigger Warnings: self-harm, depression

Draco watched as the shell of the woman next to him tried furiously to keep up with Professor Slughorn’s directions. When Y/N first came to Hogwarts she was lively and bubbly. She was kind to everyone she met, even Saint Potter much to Draco’s displeasure. But during fourth year when the news broke that she was a half-blood Y/N slowly began to disappear inside herself. The rest of the Slytherins began to look at her with disgust. A half-blood Slytherin was just preposterous. Draco knew he was also to blame. He had joined in on the taunting and laughed at the jokes.  All his life, Draco was immersed in the pure-blood philosophy of things. Anything less was just unacceptable, his father had reminded him of that every day up to his departure for Hogwarts five years ago. 

“Excuse me” came a soft voice from next to him. 

Draco looked over at YN, noticing her long curly brown hair and chocolate colored eyes that peeked up at him nervously through long lashes.

“What?” Draco sneered at the girl.

“I’m sorry, it’s just..Professor Slughorn has partnered us up for the Draught of Living Death” Y/N said.

Draco felt his face soften at her nervousness, but he quickly shook it away and scowled again.

“Go get the ingredients while I set up the cauldron.” he ordered.

Y/N got up quickly knocking her stool over in the process. Pansy looked over and laughed, muttering about how half-bloods were just as pathetic as mudbloods. Draco felt his heart tighten as Y/N’s cheeks turned red and she quickly shuffled to the shelves to get the ingredients. She returned a few minutes later with her arms full.

“Start cutting up the Valerian sprigs while I juice these beans” he told her. Y/N nodded and began doing what he said. Her curls falling over face to hide her once again red cheeks. Draco smirked, the effect he had on the girl not going unnoticed. He could feel Pansy’s glare on Y/N. Her obsession with Draco was unwavering no matter how many times he rejected her. She was a short fling that meant nothing to him, simply something to cure his boredom last year.

Y/N began measuring the ingredients and putting them into the cauldron slowly stirring as she went. Draco looked over just as Y/N began to add the Valerian sprigs noticing that she was adding too many.

“Y/L/N stop you’re-” but it was too late, Draco quickly backed away as the potion bubbled and exploded splashing Y/N with the hot liquid. Her robes instantly had holes in them and her hands were covered in burns from shielding her face.

“For fucks sake Y/L/N! Didn’t your muggle father teach you anything about following directions before he offed himself?” Pansy sneered at her, other Slytherins quickly joined in laughing and smiling.

Y/N tried hard to hold her head up and fight back the tears, but Draco saw one fall down her cheek as she rushed from the classroom, wishing he could wipe it away for her.

“Well class I think we had better finish there for today” Professor Slughorn interrupted, “Put a small bit of your potion in a vial to be graded.”

Y/N POV:

You skipped classes the rest of the day. Too embarrassed to face anyone after Potions. You knew your professors would lecture you tomorrow and give you extra work but you didn’t care. You stared down at the picture of your father, silent sobs wracking your body as you hid behind a statue in one of the corridors. No one hardly ever walked down it as the classrooms sat empty so it was the perfect place to hide. 

He had committed suicide during your fourth year. You had found out when  you had gone home for the holidays. He had left a note but your mother had never let you read it. Instead she made you pack all of your things to return to Hogwarts with you. You hadn’t seen her since as she had decided you were too much of a burden without your father. You spent your summer holidays with your grandmother from your father’s side, but you weren’t necessarily close to her either as she was a muggle and tended to be afraid of you.

You had been extremely close to your father growing up, you were a spitting image of him and your mother often joked that she did all the work and had nothing to show for it. Your parents didn’t have any more kids deciding that you were all they needed. When you got your letter to Hogwarts they were so proud. Although your father was a muggle he loved you all the same.

Another bout of sobs wracked through your body and the pain became too much to bear. You had no friends at school and no one to confide in. You bottled up your pain and took it out on yourself as a way to cope. You knew it was foolish , but you couldn’t stop. You blamed yourself for your father’s death and had decided this was your punishment even though you hadn’t even been there. You took your wand to your wrist, reciting the same spell that had become your only comfort.

Draco POV

Draco didn’t see her the rest of the day. He couldn’t help but be worried. He checked the hospital wing but Madame Pomfrey informed him that she never showed up. He kept an eye out between classes hoping to catch a glimpse of her curls but to his disappointment they never appeared. When Draco still didn’t see Y/N at dinner he decided he had to find her. 

Draco spent the next hour combing the castle starting at the Astronomy tower and making his way though each corridor. Draco was just about to give up when he turned down a corridor that he didn’t recognize. Draco could tell it hadn’t been used in years as the classrooms had more than an inch of dust in them. Still, he opened each one desperate to find her now. Draco was nearing the last classroom when he heard a small noise. He paused, holding his breath to hear it again. He heard a sniffle and moved towards it. He stopped in front of a statue, peering around it he breathed a sigh of relief as he finally saw her curls. 

He knelt down cautiously so as not to scare her, reaching a hand forward he lightly touched her shoulder. Y/N whipped around, her eyes bloodshot and red and her cheeks still had tear streaks down them. She wiped at them furiously, her face hardening at the sight of the platinum haired boy in front of her. 

“What do you want” she sneered, “come to make fun of me some more?”

Draco’s eyes widened at her sudden hostility.

“No actually, I wanted to check on you to see if you were alright,” he whispered.

“Please” she scoffed, “Don’t act like you care Malfoy, you’re no better than the rest of your little friends.”

Draco hung his head, he knew she was right. He had done nothing over the years to make her think otherwise. He looked at her again, his grey eyes glancing over her hands. They were still red and blistered and he suddenly remembered she didn’t go to the hospital wing after Potions.

He grabbed her wrists hearing her wince as his grip tightened when she struggled to get away.

“Why the hell did you not go to the hospital wing are you daft?!” He said loudly. 

His grip tightened even more and she struggled furiously to get away. He looked at her hands examining them. His eyes fell upon her sleeve noticing the cuff was red with blood. He looked at her, her eyes begging him not to do what he was going to do next. Draco slowly lifted her sleeve up, as his eyes took in the fresh cuts mixed with the old ones his heart sank. He felt guilty for each one of those lines knowing they were a result of the torment he and his friends had put her through.

He grabbed his wand from his pocket, still holding her wrist he quietly uttered healing spells watching the cuts become scars and the blisters disappear as her hands returned to their normal color.

“Thank you” Y/N muttered.

Draco sank beside her putting his arm around her shoulder. This time she didn’t flinch and leaned into him.

Y/N POV

You felt as though you were dreaming and were tempted to pinch yourself. It didn’t seem possible that Draco Malfoy, one of your bullies, had taken the time to find you and heal your injuries let alone to now holding you. You leaned into him even more breathing in the scent of his green apple shampoo and pine cologne. 

“I’m sorry” you heard him whisper. You looked up at him in shock, his eyes made contact with yours and you could see the sincerity in them. “I don’t know why I said the things I’ve said or treated you the way I’ve treated you. My father has always instilled in me the importance of blood purity. I’ve never known any different, but for some reason when I look at you, none of that matters” he explained.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Did Draco Malfoy actually...like you?

“Why do you do this to yourself?” He asked, thumbing over the scars on your wrist.

You sighed, you didn’t want to sound like a freak. Draco tilted your head up, urging you to explain.

“When my father took his life, my mother never let me read the letter he wrote. She made me pack all of my things and I’ve been living with my muggle grandmother ever since. I haven’t seen my mother in almost two years.” You said, feeling your eyes tear up again. You felt Draco’s hand on your cheek as he gently brushed a tear that had fallen away. “The cuts..the pain, it’s my punishment. I couldn’t fathom why my father had wanted to leave me, so in the end I decided I must have did something, that him taking his life was my fault.” 

At this you couldn’t hold the tears back anymore, you began to sob even harder than you had earlier. You felt yourself becoming completely vulnerable in front of Draco and you hated it. For years you had put on a brave face taking every insult that came your way and still holding your head high.

Draco shifted and pulled you between his legs wrapping his arms around you completely. You buried your head into his chest as you continued to cry. He stroked your and planted soft kisses on your forehead. You both stayed like this for what felt like hours but was really only minutes.

When you were done crying you looked back up at Draco, he was already looking at you, his own grey eyes reflecting sadness as he stared at the broken girl in his arms. 

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you anymore, Y/N”, he said. “I know I can’t take back how much I’ve hurt you, but from this day forward I promise to protect you.”

You smiled and leaned forward connecting your lips to his. You felt him tense up and then relax as he kissed you back harder tangling his fingers into your curls. 

You pulled away breathing heavy and so was he. Draco smiled at you planting another soft kiss onto your lips.

“Always?” you whispered.

“Always.” he said.

#draco x you #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco x female reader #draco x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #harrypotter #draco reader #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy reader

[365days365movies]

January 14, 2021: GoldenEye (1995) (Part 1)

He’s suave. He’s sophisticated. He’s spy. He’s...

The late, great Sean Connery. 

Ignoring the less then savory aspects of his personality (AKA the Barbara Walters interview...both of them), Connery is undoubtedly the most famous Scottish actor of all time. Sorry, Whovians, I love David Tennant, too. But Connery’s got him beat. He’s been in so many iconic films and roles, his influence is undeniable. But most famous of all is his turn as Agent 007, the man himself, James Bond.

I’ve seen all of Connery’s original Bond films (not counting Never Say Never Again), and my favorite is Goldfinger, in case you were wondering. But outside of that...I haven’t seen any Bond movies. Since him, the character’s been played by David Niven, George Lazenby (now THAT’S an interesting story, lemme tell you), Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton, and the two I’ll be looking at this month: Pierce Brosnan and Daniel Craig.

I’ll be looking at Brosnan tomorrow, in Casino Royale. But today, I’m looking at arguably the third most-famous Bond, Pierce Brosnan, in one of the most famous modern Bond movies, GoldenEye.

Also, yeah, never played the game I KNOW IT WAS A ‘90S CLASSIC I WASN’T ALLOWED TO HAVE VIDEO GAMES. 

So, what to expect from a Bond film? Well, I’ve got a checklist here, hold on...HERE we go:

Gadgets

Girls

Good-for-Nothings

...Good music?

I’m feeling a little alliterative of late. But, yeah, looking for the Bond Girl, looking for cool gadgets, looking for dastardly villains, and listening for the theme song for the film. Got my list set, and expectations are set to Connery levels. Let’s do this, shall we?

Recap

We start at a dam in Russia. Bond James Bond (Pierce Brosnan) is infiltrating the dam, and we get our gadgets checked off right away, as he whips out an acetylene torch. He barges in on a guy in the bathroom (rude, and awkward), then meets up with Alec, AKA Agent 006 (Sean “he dies, he’s the villain, or he’s the villain who dies” Bean).

Yeah, calling it now, Alec here’s gonna die, or he’s the villain, or he’s the villain who’s gonna die. It’s Sean Bean. More importantly, it’s Sean Bean in the ‘90s. There are very few options for him. Anyway, the Russians try to stop them from blowing up the plant, and...well, Alec’s being held hostage. Yyyyyyup. And he gets shot?

I don’t know how...but I’m betting that he’s still the villain. He’s Sean Bean. C’mon. He doesn’t die this early in a movie.

The unambiguously evil Russian general (hey, the Cold War just ended) almost get Bond, but he escapes in typical Bond fashion. They chase after him, and Bond chases an airplane. How, do you ask? I WILL FUCKING SHOW YOU HOW.

WHAT??? WHAT??? Physics just broke, and Issac Newton just tunneled to China. And then the facility blows up.

And THEN the opening begins. Let’s hear the Bond song and check out the opening.

...WOW. Just...I mean...OK, so Bond songs. From the first Bond movie, Dr. No, up until the one before this one, Licence to Kill, the intros were designed and directed by Maurice Binder. They were all composed of silhouetted women, often against colorful backgrounds, and almost always nude or skimpily dressed. There would often be themes or objects seen in the film itself, and sometimes actual scenes, often projected onto women themselves. They all definitely had a similar feel and style. And then, Binder sadly passed away in 1991.

Enter Daniel Kleinman. This is Kleinman’s first take, and this is also the first movie to use CGI. While it’s not terribly obvious or gaudy in the film proper, Kleinman uses this new technology to make this intro SURREAL AS HELL. It expresses the film’s connection to the fall of Soviet Russia, and a post-Cold War society. And is does that in a pretty obvious, if abstract and dramatic, manner. And honestly, on retospect...yeah. It definitely works. Even the song, which is sung by Tina Turner and written by Bono (yes, really), works well by itself, and in my opinion, better when with the actual film. So, crazy and weird as this sequence it...kinda grew on me. I like it! Weird, but I like it a lot.

We cut to nine years later, with Bond taking a woman on a drive/race on a cliffside highway with...well, there’s our Bond girl! This is Famke Jannsen, playing...Xenia Onatopp.

Yes. Really. Oh boy. We aren’t being even slightly subtle about this, huh.

The woman in the car demands him to stop, and they make out, as one would expect. That night, he heads to a party, as James Bond does. At the party, James enters a card game with Xenia. Again...as James Bond does. This is immediately followed by him hitting on Xenia, ordering a vodka martini (shaken not stirred), introducing himself as “Bond, James Bond,” commenting on the Bond Girl’s name, and saying suave shit. 

HOLY SHIT THAT SENTENCE ALONE HAPPENED WITHIN 1 MINUTE OF SCREEN TIME

Look, movie, when you got a Bond...you gotta space that shit out. Ration it a little bit, not front load all of it WITHIN FIVE MINUTES AFTER THE OPENING’S FINISHED. It’s like giving someone a beer, and then they EAT THE FRIDGE.

Jesus. OK, Miss Moneypenny (Samantha...Bond, that’s neat!) gives Bond some information, tells him not to have sex with Xenia until they tell him to (yes, really), and then say’s that she trusts he’ll say…”On-a-Topp of things.”

YES. REALLY.

Speaking of Xenia, she’s with an Admiral, having the most TERRIFYING sex I’ve ever seen in a movie. And I’m legit not sure if he survived after it. Like, real talk, it was...frightening. Somebody steals his ID, real nonchalant like, and we cut to the next morning, after his maybe-death? James makes it onto the yacht the next morning (they were on a yacht, by the way), planning on getting some information.

Meanwhile, the ID is used by...someone...to get into a leader of global military leaders. Pretty sure the Admiral got Kegel’d to death; not even joking, it’s a real possibility, and I am shaken AND stirred. And so was the Admiral.

See? Toldja.

Looks like their unveiling a new tactical helicopter, the Tiger. However, the pilots are shot by Xenia and someone else, and they take their place, stealing the helicopter. Bond tries to stop it...even though there’s literally no way he could’ve known they were going to steal the helicopter? I mean, I guess you could assume that, but...I dunno, it’s a stretch.

Meanwhile, in Siberia, a group of radar analysts or some such, where we meet Boris (Alan Cumming, who I feel like I never see play an actual Welsh person...or in a good movie) and Natalya (Izabella Scorupco). Boris is a thirsty computer nerd who hacks the US government for fun (because ‘90s nerds in movies were basically only this), and Natalya puts up with him.

The Tiger helicopter arrives, carrying Xenia and the General (Gottfried John, by the way) from the dam 9 years ago. They show up here, seeking something. Xenia shoots up the place, killing everybody except Natalya (and maybe Boris, since we didn’t see him die). Xenia, by the way, appears to be a straight sadist, enjoying inflicting pain on unsuspecting victims. The two leave, getting what they came for.

London! James Bond returns to MI6 headquarters, and meets his secretary Miss Moneypenny, who calls him the fuck OUT. She is my favorite character now.

MI6 has intercepted a distress call from the station in Siberia, and found the helicopter. The mission is heard by both Bond and M (Dame Judi Dench herself, pre-Cats). Meanwhile, the base in Siberia is hit an electromagnetic pulse originating from an orbiting satellite, which causes EVERYTHING to explode. Pretty sure that’s not what EMPs do, but why not? Suspension of disbelief. 

Natalya’s still alive in there, by the way. And she’s not having a great day. You know those work days, right? Your coworkers are all dead, your equipment and office space explode, you’re trapped in a burning building, two American jets get hit by an EMP and crash into the building. Mondays, amirite?

And in case literally everything didn’t make it clear by now, this is a Cold War movie, taking place after the Cold War was concluded. See, the McGuffin for this film (it’s a Bond film, it’s kind of a requirement) is Project GoldenEye, a nuclear weapon meant to detonate in the upper atmosphere, creating an EMP. The weapon was developed during the Cold War, and has now been stolen by the Janus Crime Syndicate, whose heads include Xenia Onatopp. General Ourmunov is also suspected to be a part of it.

This information all comes out during an exposition speech, as is standard for a Bond movie. But after that speech...OH...OH, it’s so good. See, up until now, Miss Moneypenny was really the only major female recurring supporting character in Bond’s life. But we’ve flipped the script, having M played by Dame Judi Dench. And lemme tell ya...what follows is Dench REAMING BOND THE FUCK OUT. And it’s glorious.

Mind changed, M is now my favorite character. She tells him what’s what, then gives him his mission: get GoldenEye back.

We finally get our big gadgets showcase, as we see...Q (Desmond Llewelyn)! First introduced in From Russia With Love in 1963, Q is the MI6’s spy gadget man, and has been played by Llewelyn since then! He’s the only remaining cast member from the original Connery films, and it’s awesome to see him here! He’s been in more James Bond movies than anyone else, at 17. Sadly, he died in 1999, but it’s still cool to see him! We get cool gadgets, of course, including a pen grenade, a car with missiles behind the headlights, a leather belt with a grapple, a LOT of shit in the background, and a missile hidden in a leg cast and wheelchair. This is such a funny sequence, and absolutely the best scene in the movie so far, holy shit. More of THAT, please.

Meanwhile, in St. Petersburg, the General finds out that Natalya is alive, as well as Boris being missing. Calling it now, he’s been taken by Janus, or he’s working with them. Bond arrives and meets up with CIA Agent Jack Wade (Joe Don Baker), whom I also really like. He’s had enough of Bond’s spy bullshit, and he cuts to the point. He also identifies himself by showing a rose tattoo with the name of his ex-wife, Muffy. Yes, really.

Bond meets up with a Russian gangster whom he has a...pre-existing relationship with. Apparently, he shot him in the knee, then slept with his wife. You stay classy, Jimmy. You stay classy. This man is Valentin Zukovsky (Robbie Coltrane), an ex-KGB agent and current gang leader. He tells him that the head of Janus is descended from Cossacks, a group of Russians that worked for the Nazis in World War II.

Natalya finds a way to contact Boris over the internet, who tells her to trust no one, and sets up a meeting with her at a church. This is, of course, a trap, as Boris is working with Janus. Xenia, for her part as a Bond Girl, does her duty and finds James to have sex with. Xenia, it should be noted, is ABSOLUTELY THE FREAKIEST of the Bond Girls. Like, Goddamn is she kinky, you have no idea. Like...is this sex or a fight scene? The film genuinely can’t decide.

Bond forces Xenia to take him to the head of Janus, who’s in a Soviet statuary of some kind. And who’s waiting there but…

Yup. Called it.

See you (and Sean “died, but didn’t die, and is a villain, but is still gonna die” Bean) in Part 2!

#james bond #goldeneye #007 #pierce brosnan #martin campbell #sean bean #izabella scorupuco #famke jannsen #judi dench #dame judi dench #samantha bond #desmond llewelyn #action movies #spy movie #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #user365 #movie challenge #a movie a day #xenia onatopp #natalya simonova #alec trevelyan #userleo #action january

[softlass27]

Aaron Week Day 5: “You tricked me!”

AO3 link here

Aaron Dingle is not a cat person. He has never been a cat person – give him a happy, energetic dog he can play fetch with any day.

So why won’t this furry little shit leave him alone?

One evening a few weeks ago, he’d been sat in his living room, minding his own business, when he looked up from his NME magazine to see an orange face watching him from his balcony.

Letting out a startled yelp that he was glad no one heard, Aaron had stared at the ginger tabby cat in the doorway. The cat had stared back. Aaron narrowed his eyes. The cat narrowed its eyes right back at him.

Shaking his head, he’d tilted the magazine a little higher so that he blocked his view of the fur ball outside. By the time he’d finished reading it, he lowered the pages to see an empty balcony. The cat was gone. He forgot all about it.

Until the next evening. It had been warmer that night, and Aaron had left the balcony door open for a cooling breeze. He’d been pottering about in the kitchen, making himself some beans on toast, when he heard a quiet “mrow” behind him.

“What the – ”

Aaron had whirled around to see the same ginger tabby – at least he thought it was the same ginger tabby – sitting innocently on the floor behind him.

“What the hell d’you think you’re doing?”

The cat licked a paw primly.

“You don’t live here, get out.”

Nothing.

Aaron sighed, dropping the tins of beans on the counter before gingerly picking the cat up, praying it didn’t have fleas, and putting it out on the balcony. As he quickly slid the door shut behind him, the cat looked at him with an outraged expression on its face.

“I see that collar round your neck, go to your own home!”

Instead the cat rolled to its side, putting on a real show of stretching out languidly and making itself comfortable. Essentially a massive fuck you right to Aaron’s face.

Aaron snorted. “Whatever.”

*

So now he’s got himself in a situation where this ginger nightmare appears on his balcony every day without fail. Always staring at Aaron, giving him grief and trying to mess with his head. It’s a little like having a tiny, fluffy stalker.

The point of no return comes on the day the damn thing learns how to open the sliding balcony door by itself (the lock broke months ago and he hasn’t gotten around to doing anything about it), and Aaron comes out of his bedroom to see it sitting in the kitchen sink. It hisses when Aaron tries to move it, and Aaron very nearly hisses back.

Despite his less-than welcoming attitude, the thing never takes the hint, returning over and over again.

“Why me, eh?” Aaron asks as he scratches the animal behind the ears one day (probably a mistake). “All the flats you could go to in this building, why’s it my doorstep you darken?”

*

Aaron trudges through the entrance to his building one Friday night, shaking rainwater out of his hair. It's been a week of long shifts at the garage where he works, topped off with the day from hell, one stupid customer after another coming through like the place had a revolving door.

Adam texted him earlier, trying to get him to come on a night out, and his mother’s also been trying to get him to come to the village for his tea, but he’s ignoring them both. All he wants to do is get into his flat, collapse on his bed and sleep for at least twelve hours.

As he walks up the stairs to his floor, he hears a familiar arrogant voice coming from above him, and mentally curses. The last thing he wants to do is run into Tall Blond Arsehole right now, but there’s no escape route.

Tall Blond Arsehole had moved into a flat on the floor above Aaron’s a few weeks ago – the penthouse. The first time Aaron had seen him, the bloke had been on his phone and been coming into the building just as Aaron was leaving. He’d been walking at top speed and had bumped Aaron had on the shoulder as they had passed each other.

“Watch where you’re goin’,” Aaron had grumbled, just loud enough for the man to hear him.

The man barely paused, throwing a quick glare over his shoulder and snapping “You watch it, mate.” before returning to his phone conversation and disappearing up the stairs.

They hadn’t spoken since that morning, and that suited Aaron just fine. Tall Blond Arsehole doesn’t seem to talk to anyone in the building, always on that bloody phone yelling at some poor sod named Jimmy, nattering on about contracts, deals and meetings. Nothing more than a boring businessman with an over-inflated sense of his own importance.

(He’s also incredibly fit, but that’s by the by.)

Now, Tall Blond Arsehole comes breezing down the flight of stairs, dressed in one of his usual sharp suits and barely sparing Aaron a glance as he passes by him. Aaron rolls his eyes, before continuing up the stairs and practically falling through the door to his flat.

He shuffles down the hallway to his bedroom, not even stopping to take his hoodie and jeans off before collapsing on top of the covers.

“Mrrrp.”

Aaron’s eyes fly open instantly and he rips the duvet back to reveal a curled up orange ball.

“Are you kidding me?” He shoots the cat an incredulous look. “My bed now?”

The demonic creature just uncurls and glares at him, as if Aaron’s the one who invaded its space, rather than the other way around.

“How did you even – you know what, fuck it. M’too knackered to give a shit. Do whatever you want.”

He slides under the duvet and lets his eyes fall shut. A few moments later, he feels slight movement next to him, and then soft warmth pressing against him. He falls asleep with the cat purring against his chest.

*

He awakes to knocking at the door. Blearily opening his eyes, Aaron realises that it’s much later now, the room pitch black. Too late to move.

Determined to ignore the noise – whatever the hell this person wants will have to wait – he rolls over until his face hits something soft and fluffy.

“Jesus Christ!” He jerks up and fumbles to switch the lamp on, the low light revealing the ginger nightmare still lying in his bed. “Oh God, you’re still here.”

The cat paws at the strings of Aaron’s hoodie, seemingly unconcerned by the fact it had nearly given him a heart attack. The knocking at the door starts up again. It’s louder this time and a quick glance at his phone tells him it’s nearly two o’clock in the bloody morning. For fuck’s sake.

Aaron staggers out into the living room and flings the door opening roughly, ready to tell whoever it is exactly where to go, only to find Tall Blond Arsehole standing in front of him.

He looks different to usual, smart clothes swapped for a soft-looking blue t-shirt and grey pair of jogging bottoms. His hair has lost its neat style, sticking up in all directions as if he’d been running his fingers through it, and instead of looking cocky, his entire being seems to be full of panic and distress.

“Uh… ” The furious words Aaron had been about to bark die on his throat, and he vaguely wonders if he’s still asleep and this is just part of some weird dream.

“Oh… it’s you,” the man says, a hint of awkwardness creeping in his expression.

“Er, yeah. What’s up?”

“Um, I’m sorry, I know it’s really late… ”

“It’s okay,” Aaron finds himself saying without meaning to. Christ, he must be going soft.

“I’m just… I’m looking for my cat. He’s a ginger tabby, has a blue collar and I can’t find him anywhere. Have you seen him by any chance?”

That little fucker.

Aaron grabs the man’s arm and pulls him into the living room.

“Wait here a sec.”

Aaron jogs back to his bedroom and picks up the cat, who rubs its head under his chin (probably thinks it’s getting a cuddle), and returns to the living room.

“Pippin!” Tall Blond Ars – okay, maybe just Tall Blond for now – gasps, taking the cat from Aaron’s arms and cuddling him to his chest. “You absolute demon.”

The cat – Pippin – yowls loudly, its head turning to Aaron with a look he can only identify as betrayal. The damn thing barely reacts when Tall Blond fusses over him happily, stroking his fur with a thumb and pressing relieved kisses to his head.

Tall Blond finally looks up at him with shining eyes, and Aaron swears he feels his heart skip a beat. Shit.

“I’m – God, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know where – I thought he might’ve – ” he rambles quickly, cradling the cat like a baby, and Aaron wonders how long his neighbour has been frantically searching for his pet demon. “I know he likes to go walkabout, but he hasn’t come home in days and… Sorry if he’s been a bother.”

Aaron frowns. “What? Days? No, he was just… oh.” His eyebrows raise in surprise. “He normally just comes and goes, lets himself out. I haven't been home much these last few days, I didn’t realise he’d been staying.”

His gaze drifts down to Pippin, who now looks impossibly smug. “You tricked me, you little stowaway!”

Pippin sneezes unapologetically.

They stand there awkwardly for a moment, before Aaron asks, “Pippin? Cute name. Doesn’t fit him at all.”

Tall Blond's face twitches into a smile. It makes his eyes crinkle in a way that has Aaron’s stomach doing somersaults, and Jesus Christ, how had he not noticed those freckles before?

“Yeah, it’s er… it’s from Lord of the Rings.”

“Oh. Never seen it.”

“You’ve never – ” Tall Blond’s eyes widen, scandalised. “You’re missing out.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Well, thanks for having him over… even if you didn’t know it? And sorry again.”

“S’no bother. At least now I know who to call when he knocks my plants off the windowsill.”

The smile drops off the man’s face and he looks down at Pippin.

“Pip, mate!” He scolds Pippin like he’s a naughty child, and the cat meows back at him angrily. “What the hell, we talked about this!”

It’s ridiculous. This attractive man and his argumentative cat are both ridiculous, and Aaron can’t help laughing slightly hysterically.

“Oh God, I’m sorry. Again. How much do I owe you?”

“Mate, don’t worry about it.” Aaron waves away the man’s protest. “Honestly, I don’t care, they were just some cheap B&Q ones my mum forced me to get. Said my place needed brightening up or summat. Glad to have an excuse to be rid of them, if I’m honest, I’m hopeless at keeping plants alive.”

“Okay, if you’re sure… ” He still doesn’t look happy, though. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

The words fly out of his mouth before Aaron can stop them. “Buy me a pint if you like?”

The man blinks at him, before his mouth curls into a small (flirtatious?) smile. “A pint it is.”

“Okay. Great. Uhm, I’m Aaron, by the way,” Aaron smiles back as he opens the door so they can step into the corridor.

“Oh. Robert.” He gestures to the squirming cat. “And you know Pippin.”

“Good to finally have a name for him, I’ve just been calling him ginger nightmare most of the time.” He decides not to share what he’d been calling Robert up until now.

Robert's surprised laugh echoes loudly in the hallway and he presses a fist to his mouth to muffle it. Aaron looks at him, helplessly fond, and can’t help but wonder how the man he’s been silently hating for weeks on end and this man giggling in his pyjamas can possibly be the same person.

“I dunno, that’s pretty accurate,” Robert says eventually, still chuckling. “Well, I… should let you sleep. And thanks again, I know this was a bit… ”

“Random?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s okay.”

“So can I… pick you up tomorrow night for that drink? Around seven?”

“I’ll be here.”

“Great. Night, then.”

Aaron nods, watching Robert walk towards the staircase. They smile at each other one last time, and Robert disappears upstairs, Pippin’s meows still faintly audible.

Before he goes back to bed, Aaron spends twenty minutes scrolling through his phone for the best cat toy he can find. He owes Pippin a thank you present.

#a fluffy one after yesterday's angst! #robron #my writing #aaronweek2020

[queenladyknight]

Queen of the South

Chapter 1: Dealing With it

Naomi POV

Texas. The Lone Star State. But to you, it's always been home. You owned 150 acres of land to fill with your heart's content. You chose to follow in your grandfather's footsteps in owning a farm. You had 25 milk cows, three pigs, two Appaloosa horses, and an Australian Sheppard named, Bear.

Your farm was your life. You took pleasure in making sure it was taken care of. This farm allowed you to be free when for most of your life, you've been caged away. Hollywood Acres ( what you named it), made you almost forget your life before. Almost.

"Beep! Beep! Beep!" The alarm woke you from your peaceful slumber. You sat up n bed rubbing your eyes. You glanced at the clock while getting out of bed. It read 6:30 am. "I have plenty of time," you thought out loud.

Today was a special day. Your dear sister would be visiting for a few days. She lived all the way in New York, and you had not seen her in a few months. You wanted to make sure everything was in tip-top shape for her arrival.

You stepped out of bed and began getting ready for the day. Bear was running around your bedroom, exited. He seemed to know that today was important. You pulled on a plaid shirt and overtop you put on a pair of short jean overalls. As you got dressed, Bear sat on your bead watching intently. You loved Bear with all your heart. He had been there for you through thick and thin, unlike a lot of people.

You walked out of your bedroom, with Bear at your heels, downstairs to the kitchen. Your farmhouse was too big, but you loved it anyway. It was meant for a family, not just one person and a dog. As you make breakfast, you think about how your grandmother would remark about how this house should be filled with the laughter of little children. She wanted to have grandbabies before she passed, but that was one of the many things I failed to do.

The eggs sizzled in the pan as you poked it with your fork. You had bacon in the oven for you and Bear, his favorite treat. Bear ate and acted as a human most of the time. He barely ate his dog food and had a place at the table.

I put some scrambled eggs and bacon on two small plates. I put one plate in front of Bear and grabbed a fork for myself. "Dig in, Bear." As soon as the command left your mouth, Bear started going to town on the bacon. You laughed and started eating yourself.

Third Person POV

"This is going to be great, you know that?" Tony asked Pepper. The couple was in Tony's lab in Avengers Tower, looking over remodeling plans. Pepper lowered her head on Tony's shoulder while swirling her flute of champagne. "I know it will be amazing, honey," she replied while kissing his cheek. Tony smiled and leaned over the table of plans.

After the Battle of New York, Tony had been emersed in trying to make the Tower better and making new suits. This had not gone unnoticed by Pepper. She was seeing him less and less, and she was worried. Pepper walked to the other side of the table and began her lecture.

"You know Tony, you haven't been getting much sleep lately. And you think I haven't noticed." She paused for a second to make sure Tony was listening. He was too lost in his papers to pay attention. "Tony! This is serious you need to listen!"

With the shout of his name, Tony stood up straight and remarked, "Pepper, hun, don't shout I'm right here." He reached out his arms playfully to go hug Pepper, but she smacked his arm away. "Tony, you think this is a joke, but it's not. You really need to take a break," Pepper scolded.

She walked towards the floor-to-ceiling windows and gazed out. Tony frowned and walked towards her. He had been avoiding this talk for some time, but she was right. He had not been getting any sleep. Nightmares invaded his rest and were unbearable. Smothering himself in his work allowed him to take his mind off what troubled him.

"Pepper, you know you don't have to worry about me. I'm fine," Tony said. He wrapped his arms around Pepper and laid his head on her shoulder. Pepper sighed and replied, " If you say so, Tony, but I'm here for you if you want to talk."

Tony let go of her and walked to the bar. He poured himself some whiskey and walked back to Pepper. " I know Pep, but speaking of break. I think that's a good idea." Pepper nodded and he kept going. " We should go somewhere like Paris or Australia."

"Paris sounds fun, you set it up and I'll go, but for right now," Pepper planted a kiss on Tony's head, " I'm going to fly Stark Headquarters. I'll be gone for a few days." Tony grabbed Pepper's hand as she began to walk out.

" You know how much I love you right?" he asked. Pepper turned toward him and smiled, " You love me to the moon and back."

Naomi's POV

"In other news, the price of gas has gone up significantly in the past few weeks." The news reporter babbled on and on about the gas, while you cooked. You knew your sister was going to be really hungry, so you had to cook a feast.

Cooking one of the other things that gave you joy. It was comforting and peaceful, well usually. Bear was making a lot of racket with his squeaky toy. Bear was sitting in front of the TV, knawing on his toy.

You flipped the pork chops over in the cast iron pan. They sizzled and filled the kitchen with its delicious scent. You wanted to impress your sister with your cooking. You had not seen her in forever and wanted to prove that you were doing something with your life.

As you hovered over the food, the TV caught your attention. "It has been officially a full month since the Battle of New York. With the help of Tony Stark, New York has been slowly picking up the pieces, but it won't look the same. Let's hear more from our New York correspondent, Tina Lakes. Tina, what are you hearing from officials?"

You quickly picked up the remote and turned the channel. The Battle of New York brought up too many things that you weren't ready to deal with yet. Even though you had not been a part of it, seeing the destruction and the fight brought forth many bad memories. You stared at the TV in thought, not realizing the pork chops were getting burned.

"Ruff! Ruff!" Bear barked twice to snap me out of it. I swung around and ran towards the stove. "Shit!" The chops were burnt and inedible. I threw them out and started over. So much for proving myself.

3 hours later

You had finally finished. You had a good-looking dinner prepared. Pork chops, green beans, mashed potatoes, rice, rolls, and a coconut pie. You expected your sister to be here any minute. You walked over to the mirror hanging on the wall. You had fixed your hair in a high ponytail and had changed out of your overalls and into a forest green sundress.

You knew green was your sister's favorite color and you so happened to look good in it. You twirled in the mirror and faced Bear. "How do I look Bear, honey?" Bear barked in response, putting a smile on your face. Just then you heard a knock at the front door. "Coming!" You ran and opened the door with a blazing grin.

"Naomi! How are you!?" You opened the door wider and lept into her arms. "I'm doing good, Alex. Come on in!" You broke the hug and ushered her inside. You and Alex walked into the kitchen. " I like what you've done with the place," Alex remarked looking around the home.

"Thanks! Ready for dinner?" you asked, but you already knew the answer. " I'm super hungry, that plane ride has given me an appetite!" You both laughed and you got out the food. You finished putting the food on the table and sat opposite Alex.

" You made a feast, Naomi!" I grinned and called for Bear. "Bear, honey, it's time to eat!" Bear jumped up and landed in his chair at the table. " Let's dig in!" exclaimed Alex. We all started to devour our food.

"So tell me, Alex, how have you been?" You talked to your sister on the phone once in a while but you really didn't know much. Ever since grandma died we've drifted farther apart.

" I've been well, I recently started a new job and it's been going well. Jason wished he could be with me right now, but he has other responsibilities." You nodded as she kept going about her life. That's one thing you did not miss about your sister, she was a talker.

"Enough about me, what have you been doing?" Alex questioned. You swallowed down some mashed potatoes and responded, " Nothing much, just tending to my farm and hanging out with Bear." You nodded to yourself, pleased with your answer, but Alex was not.

"Naomi, you need to get around more. You can't stay cooped up in this house every day," Alex said. I stopped eating and responded, " Taking care of the farm is a big job, Alex. And I don't have any help. This takes up most of my time. Besides," you reached over to pet Bear, " Bear has been here with me."

Alex scoffed and looked at you straight in the eye. She had striking honey golden eyes. It was like she was piercing into my soul. " I'm going to give it to you bluntly. You haven't been the same since grandma died and you know it. Acting as though nothing happened and running away isn't going to help. You literally ran away from all of us to this place." Alex gestured to the house around her.

You looked down at your food in shame. She was right. You had run away from your problems thinking that getting away would be the answer, but in reality, it only made it worse.

" I'm sorry, Alex. After grandma's funeral, I couldn't do it anymore. I had lost too many people. I didn't realize how it might have affected everyone else." You looked up to see Alex holding back tears.

" We were so worried about you Naomi. We didn't know how to help because wouldn't tell us anything. After you left the Army, you changed a lot, like you went through something."

You looked in your food once again, not wanting to break down in front of Alex. That was a tough subject to talk about. What you went through was traumatic and changed your life drastically.

" I did go through something, Alex, and I'm sorry." Alex nodded and smiled again, " How about we change the subject a little?" You agreed and spent the rest of the evening chatting and eating.

#the avengers #mcu #marvel #the south #iron man #tony stank #steve rogers #natahsa romanoff #bruce banner #thor

[blatantescapism]

Solar punk action week

Today I got a bunch done! We’re trying to create a garden / farm that can support a significant amount of our food needs. The previous residents liked to decorate with invasive plants around the house and ignore the land that had been cultivated by their predecessors. We’ve only had this place for two years, so we haven’t made a ton of progress yet. 

I feel like it’s cheating to be a baby wannabe farmer, but solar punk action week helped motivate me to get my butt in gear and tackle the intimidating amount of work. And it’s full of resources for Doing Better and Making a Difference and all the many, very important issues that I feel great personal responsibility to address.

So! Shit I got done today!

The plot where I’ve set up the raspberry trellises had gone feral, with shrubby oak saplings, poison ivy, an invasive species of lawn grass, goldenrod, . Underneath all this, there are a significant number of native wild blueberry plants, the lovely kind where the berries are very small but super sweet. There are also native wild red raspberry vines.

The wild blueberries were getting choked out by all the other stuff, and also by their own dead wood from previous years, so they were barely putting out any fruit. The raspberries were in the same situation but full of thorns, and fighting with the blueberries.

Now that I’ve got a dedicated place for raspberries to thrive, I can remove the raspberries from the rest of the field without guilt. I’m mostly planting cultivars, since they’ve been bred for disease resistance and great fruit, but I’m going to save a few wild plants to put at the end of one trellis row.

This means that the rest of the field is going to be dedicated to the wonderful wild blueberries. Today’s task was cutting down the shrubby oak saplings. I saved the straightest and trimmed off their branches to make free, sturdy bean poles for the veggie garden. The rest went to the brush pile to be mulched. It took all day and now I need to whet my loppers.

I didn’t pick up any ticks, thank fuck. I think last night’s hard frost helped. Whether I’m going to be screwed by the poison ivy remains to be seen. I’m not looking forward to pulling it out.

#solarpunkactionweek #solarpunk action week #solar punk action week #raspberries

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Exploring the Land of Sweets

It's a strange feeling, being cut off from the outside world. When I said I wondered what it's like to live under a rock, I didn't mean it in a literal sense. At least in this case it was a good thing that the Land of Sweets is actually under a rock - the whole city's practically underground. I'd hate to imagine the full extent of the damage done by the thundering storm if we were above ground.

I haven't been able to see much of the destruction itself other than a bunch of fallen trees around the area. Electricity, phone, and wifi were all down so that was interesting. I'll admit it's frustrating being without all three but we managed to live with it for the time being. Honestly, I'm surprised that I survived!

I think the biggest problem for me is not having wifi. Because of that and phone lines were down, we had no way of communicating. Texts weren't getting sent or received and calls were breaking up. If we had to follow the news closely in case of emergencies, we'd be screwed!

As for electricity, well, a lot of things rely on that - like pretty much everything from cooking, cleaning, lights - so we had to make do. At least in a place like the Land of Sweets - the candy capital of the world! - there's still stuff to do that don't rely on electricity. It'll take a lot of work, but it's worth it and it'll keep us busy.

On the first morning without power, we went cacao picking. I've never seen a cacao bean before, nor harvested them, so that was fun! Daisy Jane, Lolly, and I made a little game of who can pick the most beans. To our surprise we managed to pick out good beans! Then after that we took the fruit to The Choc-Choc Bar where Brownie taught us how to make chocolate bars. We got to make our own by melting different flavors of chocolate, pouring them into molds, and decorating with toppings. While the chocolate set we decorated our own wrappers and voila! So there went the first half of the day.

From late afternoon to evening we went swimming at the Sweetfish Lake, where we caught dinner to cook over a bonfire. I tried not to use my phone too much since I didn't want to use up my power bank - which was fully charged before the storm thankfully - but in case a call goes through or phone service comes back then I'll know right away. Sadly, aside from a few very delayed texts from concerned friends trying to reach each other, it looked like it'll be a while before things get back up again.

Next day and no word on when electricity or phone will be fixed. Starting to feel a little weird from being cut off from everything. If I were at home I'd probably be going stir crazy. It sucks not being able to check in with my friends and such but I gotta deal with it. At least it's another fun day making more sweets and hiking around the hills.

So on that day we made caramel and fudge from scratch at Sugar Sweets. Like with Choc-Choc, we can't use the usual equipment so we did things the old fashioned way with a fire instead of a stove. In a way it's not too different from cooking over a campfire in the wilderness. I was wondering abut the fridges, then Cinnamon explained that the fridges in the stores have a backup energy source in case of emergencies so they'll keep running for up to a week.

After making a bunch of sweets we went hiking at the cobblestone trail, which was a good way to destress and unwind. Being out on the trail, lost in the flowers and clouds, it really helps you get your mind off things. Of course, I couldn't let go completely so I occasionally checked my phone for any changes - none still. Daisy Jane and I picked flowers - strawberries, berrypetals, lollipoppies, gingeraniums, marzipanies - and a bunch of other rare plants I've never seen before! We saved the strawberries for a later activity and made bouquets and flower crowns with the rest.

Day three and the electricity came back on. Phone service was sporadic so at least we were getting something. Still sucks to be cut off though. But at least we don't have to worry about the fridges anymore. With the leftover flowers from yesterday we made perfume and with the strawberries we put aside, we made shortcakes and pie.

Once the desserts were baked and cooling off we went out to the fields to collect vanilla beans to make fresh cream. The fields are so big, some areas are like a jungle! Like the cacao beans, I've never seen fresh vanilla. I heard that using actual vanilla instead of just the extract is a game changer so I'm looking forward to trying it out on different recipes.

On our way back to Puffy's Pastries, we stopped by Coconut Farm to get milk. Puff and Milky showed us how to milk cows, which takes a lot of muscle. It was also fun getting to know the livestock - I swear Milky has a way of speaking with them that makes it interesting to watch their interactions. Once the milk was ready to go, we headed back to the bakery to make cream for the desserts. And I have to say, the fresh vanilla bean really does make a difference!

Around evening something came through, I went online and was able to refresh my feed. A lot of things wouldn't load but at least there's a signal, even though it's a weak one. No word on when wifi will be back yet but at least we can finally have a glance of the outside world. Feels weird not being able to scroll through social media for a couple days now. Hopefully the world's still standing by the time I get back online.

Day four and Daisy Jane manages to snag an update on the whole wifi situation. In short, phone and wifi should be running no later than Monday - two days from today. Because of the damage from the storm, it's taking a lot longer to get things back up. At least now there's some places that are getting their phone service back so it won't be long until we're able to connect again.

In the meanwhile, Daisy Jane and I have gone for a short hike at Gingerbread Way, a winding trail scattered with colorful lollipoppies. It was a beautiful day, butterflies were fluttering about and the air was fragrant with vanilla sugar. We really needed this - to get lost for a bit and get our minds off things we can't control.

I'll be honest, we couldn't have picked a better time to visit the Land of Sweets. Even when things are iffy and uncertain, there's usually a silver lining. Though I'm looking forward to when this is over so we don't have to keep worrying.

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

[emybain]

After the Battle

hey @rubys-finger-cymbals im your secret santa for the gift exchange!!! ive never written an osby/tuckva-centered fic before so I hope I did okay with this one:) I had so much fun delving into ruby’s mind, and hopefully this wont be the last time I write these two beans! I hope you have a merry Christmas if you celebrate it, and if not, I hope you have a wonderful day!!

THIS FIC CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR SUPERNOVA!!! 

    It seemed like an eternity had passed in the amount of time Ruby spent searching for her friends. If it weren’t for Max, she wouldn’t have been there in the first place. He convinced her to sneak him out of her home, as her mom put the two of them on house arrest, and take him to the scene of the battle. For someone so young, he was a pretty persuasive kid when he needed to be. Now, after witnessing the near destruction of Gatlon and it’s unexpected reconstruction, she knew bringing Max was the right thing to do. However, she had dozens of questions in her head about what the heck just happened. Gatlon was saved, Ace Anarchy was finally killed, and silence...silence, and then out of nowhere, a powerful energy sweeping out from the cathedral and over Gatlon, bringing with it a beautiful light. At first, she was frozen in awe, until she felt familiar aches from her arm, chest, and stomach where she had been stabbed all those years ago. After being neutralized at the arena, her mom patched up her wounds, which had grown more painful than when she was a prodigy. Peeking underneath the bandages confirmed her giddy, although confused, suspicions. The murmurs and gasps and screams of joy further confirmed that she wasn’t just hallucinating; those who had been neutralized were prodigies again. 

    Ruby shoved through the mass of people gathered at the cathedral, only barely paying recognition to the gathering media stations and helicopters to the battle scene. There were three people on her mind, one more than the others perhaps. Her heart began to sink, tears springing to her eyes, at a possibility that she refused to be true. But then her eyes laid on Captain Chromium and the Dread Warden, embracing tightly. Nearby stood four figures, three of them that Ruby knew. A grin broke out on her face as she ran towards them, calling out their names. 

    Oscar was the first to turn, eyes widening at the sight of her. That dopey, relaxed grin that Ruby adored played at his lips. She all but hurled herself into his arms, burying her face into his neck. She felt his hold on her tighten, tugging her closer to him. Pulling back just slightly to look at him, she could tell he was exhausted but elated to see her. The tension in her shoulders relaxed upon seeing that other than a few scratches here and there, he was mostly unharmed. 

    “I was getting worried when I couldn’t find you,” she murmured, bringing her hand to rest on his cheek. “You’re a big, dumb, stupid idiot for doing that to me.”

    Oscar leaned into her touch. “Didn’t I promise I’d come back to you? We still haven’t gone on a first date, after all, and me dying would’ve been a bit awkward for timing.”

    Ruby rolled her eyes, and was pulling him in for a kiss when a throat cleared. She opened her eyes and glanced over Oscar’s shoulder at Danna.

    “We’re alive too, by the way,” she teased, gesturing to Adrian and herself. Ruby broke out into another smile and planted a kiss on Oscar’s cheek before her racing heart could decide for her otherwise. 

    She parted from him and hugged her other two friends, gripping them tightly. The fourth person she had seen earlier stood awkwardly off to the side behind Adrian, and Ruby gasped when she recognized who it was. But...why was Nova dressed like...like…

    “Nova’s Nightmare?” She frowned up at Adrian, then Danna, then Oscar. Clearly, she had missed a lot more than she had originally thought. “But...but what about Cronin’s granddaughter?”

    “It was a cover up to get me out of prison,” Nova explained, taking a hesitant step forward. Ruby stepped back, mouth agape. If Nova was an Anarchist, then why was she still alive? And here with Ruby’s friends? “Ruby, I-”

    “You betrayed us,” Ruby snapped, causing Nova to flinch. “You manipulated us and tricked us and...and-and…” her mouth struggled to find the right words, her body suddenly filled with anger, “you neutralized innocent people! Among dozens of other things,” she added. 

    “She’s on our side again, Ruby.” Adrian reached for Nova, who tentatively allowed him to pull her beside him. Ruby’s frown deepened at the protective way his hand rested on her arm. “Listen, it’s been a long night, and we’re all tired. We’ll explain more tomorrow, okay?”

    Ruby shook her head firmly. “No. I don’t trust her, not after everything she’s done to us, to Gatlon. And I frankly don’t understand why any of you would trust her, either.”

    Oscar wrapped an arm around hers. “She helped us kill her uncle, Ruby, as well as other Anarchists. I didn’t want to trust her at first, either, but I think she’s genuinely sorry for everything.”

    Nova coughed into her arm. “Right here, you know.” Her gaze shifted to Ruby, and her eyes softened, almost making Ruby’s frown lighten up. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me, Ruby, and I understand if you never want to speak to me again.” She glanced over the others quickly. “That goes for the rest of you. I’ve been blinded for most of my life, and because of that, I’ve been following the wrong cause.” She shook her head. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but it turns out I was just lied to my entire life and-” her voice broke, and she dropped her head to the ground, releasing a slow sigh. She raised it back up again, and at the sight of unshed tears in her eyes, Ruby’s frown disappeared this time. “I’m sorry, really. If I could turn back time and fix all my mistakes, starting ten years ago, I would.”

    Although she didn’t want to forgive Nova just yet, Ruby nodded.  Her apology would do for now, and in all honesty, Ruby had a feeling there was more to the story that she hadn’t heard yet. Deep down, even when she had previously believed Nova to be an Anarchist when the other girl was arrested, Ruby knew that she had a good heart. Too many instances had occurred where Nova had proven that, and Ruby couldn’t forget about them. There were still questions dancing at the tip of her tongue, but judging from the worn state of her friends, they would have to come later. 

_______

    Adrian and Nova had left to check on Max, who, according to Adrian, was more spent than the rest of them but resting. Danna had also left to speak with some other Renegades, leaving Ruby alone with Oscar. 

    They sat in front of the cathedral in the dirt, joined at the hip. She leaned against him, playing with his fingers that rested in her hand. They didn’t speak for a while, just letting everything sink in and settle before saying anything. Ruby didn’t want to talk about the fighting or the events of the night, not yet anyway. Not until her questions were ready to be answered. Oscar, apparently, didn’t either. 

    “I had a plan, you know,” he spoke up, turning his head slightly to look down at Ruby. 

    Ruby hummed, lacing their fingers together and letting their joined hands fall into her lap. “What do you mean?”

    “To ask you out.” A small blush formed on his cheeks; Ruby would’ve teased him about it had she not felt her own heat up. “Called it Operation Crown Jewels.”

    Ruby scrunched her nose in disgust. “Ew, seriously? What the hell, Oscar?”

    He threw his free hand up in exaggeration. “Because, you know, your gift and your name and all. Crown Jewels.”   

    Okay, she had to admit that the thought was sweet. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, heart thrumming at the way his thumb traced a pattern over the back of her hand in response. “And what was this plan?”

    Oscar dropped his eyes to the ground briefly before returning them to Ruby, his expression sheepish. “Well, it was many things, really. Poems, speeches, grand declarations of love…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “But nothing was ever good enough. It had to be perfect.”

    Ruby snuggled closer to him, reaching her free hand up to push back one of his curls. She thought back to the arena and how he fiercely defended her after she lost her gift. And their kiss…

    “It was perfect, planned or not.” A teasing smile appeared on her lips. “Although, I wish you would’ve made a move sooner, dummy.”

    “Hey!” Oscar nudged her shoulder playfully, causing a laugh to escape her mouth. She pushed him back, their hands separating from one another. But the chill that went through her body at the loss of his warmth was brief, for he wrapped her up into his arms once more. This time, though, she was practically in his lap, his arms draped loosely around her waist; she had to twist her whole body toward him to be comfortable. Their laughs slowly disintegrated, their smiles falling shortly behind. 

    Oscar placed a hand under her ear, fingers curling around the hair at the nape of her neck. Ruby’s heart pounded in her chest. In her mind, she chided herself on this sudden burst of nerves. It was just Oscar. Her friend. Her best friend. 

    “I’ve had a crush on you since I first saw you at the trials.” Ruby’s lips parted a little at that; while she had been crushing on him as well, it hadn’t been as long as that. Her crush had only surfaced about a year and a half ago, confusing and terrifying and wonderful and painful all at once. “And since then, I’ve been a sucker for girls with white and black hair. Oh, and also the color red.”

    Ruby blushed furiously, wanting to look away in embarrassment but forcing herself to keep her focus trained on his eyes. “Oscar, I-”

    “You’re the most amazing girl I know, Ruby,” he interrupted softly. “You’re also the girl of my dreams, which is why I’ve been terrified to do this.”

    Ruby scrunched up her nose when he didn’t continue. “Terrified to do what?”

    Oscar inhaled slowly, then exhaled. His gaze shifted to the ground, then back up to her. “Ruby Tucker, will you be my girlfriend?”

    The world around her shrunk to just her and Oscar. No longer were they resting on a battlefield, surrounded by Renegades and the media. It was just the two of them and the overflow of happiness expanding in Ruby’s chest. She beamed at Oscar, laughing wildly before leaning forward and smushing her lips against his. 

    He hummed in surprise, but quickly reciprocated the kiss with enthusiasm. Her hands were just starting to wound their way around his neck, her fingers itching to dig themselves into his crazy curls, when he pulled back suddenly. Her lips, not expecting that, chased after his. 

    “Wait wait wait.” He held up a hand between them, a goofy sparkle in his eyes. “Is that a yes.”

    Ruby groaned loudly, fingers wrapping around strands of hair as she pulled him back to her. She had waited a year and a half for this, and didn’t want to waste a single moment. “If I say yes will you go back to kissing me?” While she was fully teasing him, like he had teased her, her answer wasn’t completely a joke. 

    His hand dropped to her waist. “Mhm.”

    “Then yes.” She peppered light kisses around his face, from his nose to his cheeks to his eyebrows, then to his lips. “A thousand times yes, Oscar Silva.”

    When they kissed again, Ruby shivered. Very quickly, the kiss deepened, possibly more than it should considering they were in public and surrounded by dozens of people. But Ruby didn’t care, not one bit.

    The only thing she cared about at the moment was right there in front of her.

#supernova spoilers #Oscar silva #ruby tucker #Adrian everhart #nova artino #danna bell #renegades #archenemies #anarchists #my writing #osby #tuckva

[warpinator]

the horror show

Rated: G

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shouto, Uraraka Ochako

Summary: 

"It's not that weird, Uraraka, I haven't seen one either."

She gasps again, clutching her chest.

"You too Deku!?"

--

Neither Izuku or Shouto have seen a horror movie. Ochako seeks to correct this.

Uraraka gasps, scandalized.

"You've never seen a horror movie?"

She is staring at Todoroki like she's never seen him before. Izuku knows the reason that Todoroki hasn't seen a horror movie probably relates to Endeavor and decides to intervene before the other boy has to say anything.

"It's not that weird, Uraraka, I haven't seen one either."

She gasps again, clutching her chest.

"You too Deku!?"

She sounds so shocked that Izuku is taken aback. Surely it can't be that weird? He just never had because his mother hated horror movies and he hadn't really had any friends to watch them with when he became old enough to watch them. Izuku figured that it was probably pretty common, but judging by Uraraka's concerned gaze sweeping between Todoroki and he, there's the sinking feeling that it, perhaps, is not normal to have missed an entire genre of movies by the age of fifteen.

"That's it," she says, planting her hands on her hips, "we're watching one! Tomorrow night! You two are coming over to my room and watching a horror movie with me!"

Todoroki sends him a questioning look. Izuku just shrugs, it can't hurt, right? Besides, they haven't been able to hang out that often with internships in the way, so it'll be nice to just...relax.

"We'll be there," Izuku tells Uraraka, smiling. She pumps her fist in the air.

"Fantastic! Don't worry, I'll pick a good one for your first time."

Izuku tries not to notice the devilish slant to her smile. He's seen enough in real life that horror movies should be a breeze, right?

The next evening, Izuku meets up with Todoroki and heads to the Uraraka's room.

"So..." Todoroki starts, "You know why I haven't ever watched a horror movie, but what about you?"

Izuku doesn't really want to admit that it was because he had no friends to watch them with. The reasoning seems...petty in the face of what Todoroki has gone through. Plus he really just. Doesn't want to get into his pre-high school backstory, no matter how unfair that might be to the boy who has shared a ton of his with Izuku.

"I was always hyper-focused on heroes, I guess," is what he says instead, "plus my mom never wanted to watch any, so our movie nights never included them."

It's true, really, and a safer option. Todoroki seems to have no questions with his statement, regardless.

"Well," he says, "we should probably have fun while we can, since I'm sure things are only going to get harder here on out."

"Yeah!" Izuku agrees, smiling widely. Todoroki's right. Now that he has friends to spend time with, he better make the most of it. A warm feeling spreads through Izuku's chest, only growing stronger when he sees Uraraka fiddling with the television in her room.

"Hey guys!" She plops on the bed, patting the space beside her. Izuku sits in the middle, Todoroki on his left.

"I have popcorn," Uraraka motions to the table, the chair that usually sits by it pushed out of the way.

"Thank you," Todoroki says, taking a handful.

"So! I chose a ghost one! Classic and also hopefully not similar to any villains we've met," She pops back up, heading to turn the light off.

"That works for me," says the other boy, glancing at Izuku. Izuku's read a few ghost stories and those were fine, so this should be too, really.

"Me too," he says.

"Good!" She sits back down, sitting cross-legged on her end of the bed, "Now, this is a pretty spooky one, so I hope you enjoy it!" Uraraka clicks the remote and the movie starts.

The movie starts out fine.

The movie is not going fine. The atmosphere is terrifying. Izuku hasn't even seen the ghost yet, but he feels horrified anyway. The movie has the awful habit of just. Not having. Any music. Especially during the more tense moments. He wants to crawl out of his skin he's so tense.

And the worst part.

The worst part is that Uraraka is leaning forward in interest and Todoroki has his head tilted, obviously interested but not terrified. How are they not terrified? Izuku is trying to become an unnoticeable ball, the dark of the room making him jumpy.

Then the movie chooses then to pull its trump card then, because the ghost creeps onto frame with an unholy noise and Izuku yelps, shoving his head into Todoroki's side. He cannot. Cannot. Watch anymore of this. He does not see it. The ghost is no longer there.

"Midoriya?" Todoroki's shocked tone would be funny in any other situation but the horrible noises are still coming from the television, so he tries to burrow deeper.

"I, uh, don't think Deku is doing too well with the movie," he hears Uraraka say, her voice tight with mirth. Traitor, he thinks, uncharitably.

"Ah." Izuku can feel Todoroki put a hesitant hand on his back, patting it awkwardly.

"Do you want me to stop the movie?" Uraraka says and now he can feel her hand softly touching his shoulder. She pauses it in the meantime.

"No," he manages to choke out, "it's okay, you guys are enjoying it! I just...uh...it's scary"

He mumbles the last part.

"If it's any consolation," Todoroki says, "you were about ten times scarier than that ghost when you fought me at the sports festival."

"What!?" Izuku squeaks. The admission is one part flattering and one part mortifying.

"Yes," the other boy continues, "you really should have seen your face. Terrifying."

"Todoroki!" Uraraka scolds.

"Ah. You were terrifying in your fight against Bakugou as well, Uraraka."

"That isn't- ugh, Deku, it's okay! Ghosts aren't real!"

"I know that!" Izuku whines, "they just, uh, feel incredibly real while I'm watching this?"

"Do you want to stop?" She's serious, Izuku can tell, but he doesn't want to stop it for the both of them. He can do this!

The green-haired boy releases Todoroki from the tight grip he had on the taller boy.

"No. I can do this!"

Uraraka smiles at him.

"If you're sure?"

He nods, decisively.

"Totally!"

She unpauses the movie and Izuku rapidly realizes, no.

He cannot totally handle this.

The movie is still, for some reason, absolutely terrifying. Izuku just...handles himself better during it. He's tense, One For All held at the ready, even, for how out of his mind he feels at the moment.

Uraraka's hand is still on his shoulder, though, and Todoroki has let his hand slip down to cover his, so he is more settled. The ugly ghost and the appalling noises it's making still cause him to jump every time it's on screen though.

But Izuku does start to, not calm down , but feel less likely to jump out of his skin. That is until what probably is the climax of the movie.

The ghost, until now, has mostly settled for haunting the house and being seen like the creep that it is. Now it's choosing to attack the protagonist and at her scream Izuku can't help himself.

He grabs Uraraka tightly and hides in her shoulder.

"Deku!?"

"It's fine! Keep going!"

He can hear Todoroki snort, the bastard. Another scream and the ghost's rattling sobs cause him to cling tighter. Uraraka grunts.

"Deku, I can't breathe!"

"Sorry!" He tries to let go but there's a wet squelch coming from the screen and he clings desperately to her arm instead. Todoroki has returned to patting his back in a strange out-of-rhythm manner.

"Goodbye arm," says Uraraka mournfully.

"We'll hold a memorial," Todoroki is solemn.

"I hate you both!" Izuku whines as harsh sobbing and clinking sounds fill the room.

He holds position for a few more minutes, before Todoroki ceases his patting and taps him instead.

"It's ending, Midoriya, you can look."

He peeks over Uraraka's shoulder to see the protagonist facing off against the ghost, chanting something and waving a candle around. The ghost is dissipating, turning from its monstrous form to a beautiful young woman. The two hug before the ghost disappears.

Izuku heaves a sigh of relief, letting go of Uraraka to flop back on the bed.

"The future number one hero...afraid of ghosts..." Todoroki sounds like he's about to laugh.

"I am not afraid of ghosts! Just that.. .one. ..particular ghost is extremely scary!"

"If you say so."

Izuku grabs Uraraka's pillow and bashes it into the side of Todoroki's head. The other boy yelps.

Uraraka laughs at them both.

"If I had known you were going to be so scared I would've chosen something for kids," she says between chuckles.

Izuku gives her a bash of the pillow as well, ignoring her "oof".

"You both are so rude."

"It was kinda cute though," the girl says, straightening back up, "clinging to both of us like that."

He blushes furiously, hiding behind the pillow.

"Even though you did murder Uraraka's arm," Todoroki says. Izuku is tempted to hit him again.

"Yeah," Uraraka says, twisting her arm out, "poor arm, lost in the line of duty."

"Shut up," Izuku hisses.

The brunette sticks her tongue out at him, he returns the favor.

"Let's watch something sweet, to help Deku calm down," she picks up the remote flicking back to the opening menu, "I have a really neat space documentary, if you want to watch it?"

Izuku sighs in relief, the dark of the room is still unsettling to him and a chance to wind down before having to go back to his room alone...it's nice.

"Thanks, Uraraka."

"No problem," she says, getting up to get her other movie.

"I haven't ever seen a space documentary either," Todoroki stands to stretch.

" What !? You haven't! Todoroki is there anything else you haven't seen?"

"Plenty, but I don't mind catching up with you all," he replies to Uraraka's disbelieving question.

"We should do movie nights," says Izuku, "invite Iida next time. Just. No more ghost movies, please."

Uraraka snorts.

"Of course not."

"I don't know, it might be good to let Iida see how he reacts to them."

Izuku feels entirely justified beaning Todoroki with the pillow again.

#midoriya izuku #uraraka ochako #todoroki shouto #bnha #boku no hero academia #boku no hero fanfic #bnha fanfic #the horror show #my fics

[pilot-boi]

Shouting In Cafes: Chapter Eight

After Thoughts

Sun hasn’t shown up to the coffee shop in awhile, and Neptune might have caught slightly more feelings from their drive than he is prepared to deal with.

AO3 LINK

“I don’t like him, Jaune.”

“Really? Because after your little joy ride with him, you texted me freaking out about how you were admiring his beautiful hair and his beautiful eyes and his beautiful hands and-”

“Monster hands! Monster hands that need to see a nail salon. He probably just sticks them in his mouth and rips them off, God help me.”

“Hey! The point is, is that because you were scared about it doesn’t make those feelings go away.”

“They weren’t feelings! They were just observations that I overthought.”

“Really? Because now you’re asking where he is. And looking forlornly towards the door.”

Neptune was in fact doing both of those things. He leaned on a broom, peering past the pinkish autumn evening light and into the parking lot. Sun had stuck to his word. He hadn’t turned up at The Daily Grind since two weeks ago, the night of the race that wasn’t really a race.

Not in a million years did Neptune expect that idiot to stick to his word, and yet there he stood. Alone with Jaune. And annoyingly worried.

Neptune dropped his broom to the side and turned his gaze towards Jaune. His cheeks were puffed out in annoyance at a lock of hair that kept falling in front of his eyes. 

Neptune sighed and leaned even further onto the broom if that was even possible. “Look. I’ve seen how he handles his own well-being now and I’m not really set at ease by it. I haven’t seen him at school.”

Jaune crossed his arms. “You never saw him in the first place.”

“Yeah, but the deal was that he wouldn’t visit me here. At work.” Neptune ran a hand through his hair, fixing it in the reflective side of the coffee machine. “I assumed he would’ve tried to visit me at college.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure his exact wording was ‘I’ll leave you alone.’”

Neptune snorted, glancing over at him. “Your Sun impression is awful.”

“It’s not that bad!”

“You sound like the Green Giant.”

Jaune hit him in the arm. Neptune winced. He always forgot that under his awkward nerdy exterior, Jaune was fucking strong as hell.

“Anyway!” he huffed, giving Neptune a look. The one where he tried glaring but ended up smiling good naturedly through it. “So what if you like him? What’s the big deal?”

“He’s a dick.”

“Not really.”

“He’s straight.”

“You don’t kno-”

“He’s straight, Jaune,” Neptune said firmly.

“...Yeah,” Jaune sighed dejectedly.

“I’m not crushing on another straight guy. Not that I found him attractive in the first place. But even if I did, I’m done with straight guys. No thank you.” He said this with as much conviction as he could muster. Almost managed to convince himself.

“Neptune.” Jaune looked incredibly doubtful.

“I’m fine.” 

Jaune put his hand on his shoulder in a gesture that would’ve been awkward and condescending if it had been coming from anyone else. “Dude, if you really care that much, try to find him at school tomorrow.”

“I don’t care,” he insisted, shrugging off his hand.

Jaune gave him another look. The one with his brow lowered and his hands on his hips in a move that had to be adopted from one of his sisters. 

He shoved his hand into his apron pocket, his name tag attached upside down. Unintentionally, Neptune was sure. The flowers and smiley faces surrounding his name were a sure sign that at some point either Nora or Ruby Rose had gotten hold of it. Possibly both of them.

Jaune produced his phone. He swiped to messages, and cleared his throat, glancing meaningfully at Neptune.

“‘Jaune, help! I think I just thought Sun was hot!’” Out came his approximation of Neptune’s voice. It was lowered too far and sounded a little like he had a cold. He also used a surfer dude accent.

“That’s not at all what I sound li-”

“I asked ‘what happened?’ like a good friend,” Jaune continued, flicking up his eyes from the phone. “You replied: ‘I don’t know! We jumped a hill in his bright blue Mustang and I started laughing because of the panic and then I passed out and I woke up and he was right by my face. I noticed his eyes and hair and hands and stuff. It was really weird and I don’t know what’s going on.’”

Jaune stared at him. Neptune stared back. He was silent. Then, “I was really tired, obviously, that doesn’t prove anyth-”

“I said,” Jaune interrupted. Neptune closed his mouth. “‘Wow, Neptune. That’s pretty gay of you.’ You said, ‘I know.’” He looked up at Neptune again, and tilted his head.

Too smug.

“I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Jaune snorted. “You sure weren’t.”

“Jaune!”

“What?”

“Stop smiling! I am not gay for Sun Wukong!”

“But you could be.”

“Oh my God.”

“Run to him, Neptune,” Jaune declared dramatically, doing an incredible impression of Nora.

“Remind me why we’re friends?”

“I act as a restraint on your personality.”

“Yeah right.”

Neptune pinched his brow, puffing out a sigh. “Jaune, please believe me when I say that I don’t like him.”

He glanced over at Neptune with narrowed eyes, scepticism painting every line of his face. Finally, he let out a breath and rolled his eyes, slipping his phone back in his pocket. “Fine! Fine. I believe you.”

“Thank you.”

“But when you two start making out in the backroom, don’t c-”

“Jaune!”

“Fine!” He nudged Neptune away from the counter before taking up residence beside him, planting his chin in his hands. “Then why are we still staring at the door?”

“It’s… Weird,” Neptune began at a crawl. “You would expect someone like him to just come in anyway. So why isn’t he?”

“Maybe because you don’t actually know him,” Jaune posited. “You met him like a month ago, and the only words you’ve exchanged were over shitty coffee.”

“Language, Jaune!”

“I can curse! Shut up!” he exclaimed, standing bolt upright and flushing pink. 

Neptune snorted. “Yeah, sure you can.”

“Besides,” Jaune sighed, plowing ahead despite the interruptions. “The only things you’ve said about him were how he was the dick frat boy stereotype. People aren’t really stereotypes, man.”

“He is.”

Jaune glared at him. “No, he’s not.” He paused. “Probably.”

“Fine,” Neptune conceded, leaning against the back wall and crossing his arms. “He still doesn’t really seem the type to hold up his end of promises.”

Jaune shrugged. “Maybe he just likes you.”

“Jaune,” Neptune said, warningly.

“In a friend way.”

“Sure.”

“I’m being serious!”

“Oaky, okay.”

“Or in another way, hypothetically speaking, who knows right?” Jaune said, smiling cheekily and jumping away to dodge Neptune’s swipe.

Or he tried to jump away. All he actually managed to do was jump to dodge the hit, cheer in triumph when he succeeded, and then promptly slip and fall onto the ground anyway. After helping his coworker to his feet, Neptune sighed and leaned back onto the wall, raking his eyes over the coffee shop.

The coffee shop was nearly empty, the air filled with the aromas of coffee beans and caramel, yet somehow it still remained stagnant. The soft bass of the coffee shop playlist pumped through speakers overhead. 

The clacking of nails against laptop keys issued from Weiss’s distant corner. Calm light was streaming through the unopening glass cafe door, staining the floor with the colors of fall. He didn’t miss him. He was just bored.

As if reading his mind, Jaune’s expression softened and he said, “Dude, if you miss him-”

“I don’t miss him.” He might have responded slightly too quickly. But who was there to call him on it?

“Okay. If you’re worried about him…” Jaune amended, watching his face for any sign that he was going to get cut off. When Neptune said nothing, he plowed on. “...Just find him at school.”

“No.” No way. No freaking way was he going to voluntarily look for that idiot during the little free time he got.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want him to think we’re friends.” Neptune shrugged.

“Do you have friends?”

Neptune turned to him, expecting malintention to show up on his face. But no. It was just a gentle smile, curling blonde hair that didn’t stay put, and a smattering of freckles across his nose. A kind face. An approachable face. A face Neptune didn’t let anywhere near him for the first few months of knowing him.

“I have you,” he said, more sincerely than he thought himself capable of being.

Jaune rolled his eyes. “Besides me.”

Neptune thought for a second. Scarlet? Probably. Weiss? Less than probably. Most of the people he could maybe say he was friends with, they were really friends with Jaune. He was friendly with many, flirtatious with more, but did he really have any friends other than Jaune? “Not really,” he said finally, and more than a little sullenly.

“Yeah,” Jaune said and gave him a smile. A sad smile. Jaune wasn’t one to hide his feelings. Neptune hated pity even at the worst of times, but somehow Jaune was so genuine it made it okay. “Make some friends, dude. Please. He seems nice, and he has good intentions.”

“He does?”

“Totally. I’ve got a good sense about these things.”

“What about that Winchester dude?”

“We don’t talk about him, shut up.”

Neptune looked over at Jaune, still keeping his arms crossed. Jaune meanwhile, just looked hopeful. Like a puppy.

“Fine,” Neptune huffed and rolled his eyes. “But not for him.”

“That works for me!”

#rwby #neptune vasilias #jaune arc #sun wukong #seamonkeys #weiss schnee #nora valkyrie #ruby rose #cardin winchester #mine #my writing #writing wednesday #shouting in cafes #chapter 8 #coffee shop rwby

[yeats-infection]

hard agree with ur roommate on that WIP, that snippet was sooo good oml

by popular demand, here’s what i have so far of the possibly never-to-be-finished or maybe eventually-to-be-finished band of brothers weed farm AU, tentatively titled PURPLE HAZE, below the cut: 

Dick was no hippie. He was also no fool. “We’ve got to hide it from the air,” he said thoughtfully.

“The real pros plant it between rows of corn,” Nix told him.

All in all this was going better so far than he had thought it would.  

“What do we do with all the damned corn?”

“Why, moonshine, of course.”

“That’s pushing your luck,” Dick said. He was a real pragmatist. “How do you know all this?”

Nix scratched his head. He knew it was his poker tic, and he knew that Dick would know that too. “Family connections,” he said.

“I thought your family connections were in the fertilizer business,” said Dick, who knew this well, in fact, having worked for said company, for a brief time after the war, during the period when they had all independently decided they were going to try to hack it in the Real World.

“Well, what do you think they started off fertilizing?”

Dick hesitated. “I just don’t know why you never told me any of this before,” he said. “You haven’t made a habit of lying to me.”

“This was just omission.” Nix shrugged. “You’re a straight laced kind of man.”

“That I never wanted to drop acid with you when we were over there doesn’t mean I’m… entirely opposed to mind-altering substances.”

Nix had sure as hell fielded a lot of dirty looks, and, worse, concerned looks, in the CP over in Vietnam, when he closed the tent flaps behind himself and Dick after some particularly rough patrol or briefing and sparked a joint. Dick had always put a thoughtful hand up to go with the dirty or concerned looks, because Nix had always offered the joint to him, even knowing he wouldn’t take it. Especially knowing he wouldn’t take it.

“Well,” Nix said, “before I brought this proposal to you I wanted to make sure I had retained anything at all from my degree in horticulture.”

He took the film canister out from his pocket and put it between them on the kitchen table. For a moment Dick studied him, and then he grabbed the canister and opened it and poured the contents out onto one of the nice floral cotton placemats that had been made for him by his sister.

“I’m calling it Easy Diesel,” said Nix.

“You’ve got to be god damn kidding me,” said Dick, but he picked up one of the larger of the buds and carefully started pulling it apart. They had come out nice, if Nix did say so himself. They were big and sticky and a psychedelic iridescent purple-green.

“It’s my own breed,” Nix went on, wondering if he sounded desperate. He sure as hell felt desperate, not least for a god damn toke. “Good for sleeping.”

Dick cocked a pale eyebrow in his direction. “It helps you sleep?”

“Sure, this strain does, but I can breed different strains that’ll make you feel different things…”

“Nix, you grew this?”

He turned the bud in the light through the kitchen window, curiously, like a jewel.

“Well, I grew its grandparents from seeds, and then I crossed them, and this is the cross, second generation, grown from a cutting.”

“How many of these have you got?”

“Four in my bathtub in Jersey,” Nix said. “I’ve been showering at my sister’s. Couple more in the basement too, under a light.”

“And where do you get the seed?”

He’d hoped not to have to involve Dick in this part of it. “I have a contact,” he said.

“Nix, if I’m going to go in on this with you, I need to be an equal partner.”

“Fine. It’s Spiers.” As it had been over there. “You know he lives in Texas now, and he can get seed from Mexico. But I don’t need him anymore unless we want to grow another strain.”

“We might want to keep that in mind,” said Dick.

“Alright. I’ll write to him.” He indicated the bud in Dick’s hand. “We might want to try that before you sign on the dotted line.”

Dick passed the bud back across the table to Nix who set about expertly shredding it into flakes. “I don’t have any papers,” Dick said, watching him.

Nix cocked an eyebrow. “You used to smoke rollies exclusively!”

“Been trying to quit cigarettes. You just can’t keep anything in the house.” At Nix’s upward glance he said, “This is fine, though. As long as you have a way to smoke it.”

“You think I’d come all this way and level you with this without a way to smoke it?”

Nix had a little pipe in his overnight bag. He packed it and they lit up. The rest was history.

--

Nix had enlisted right after college. He didn’t want to go through the whole song and dance of avoiding the draft, and his father was breathing down his neck, having gotten a Purple Heart at Monte Casino in the Second World War. Dick had signed up straight out of high school, having believed out of his damnable earnestness that it was the right thing to do. Dick was like the “some folks are born, made to wave the flag” line from the beginning of “Fortunate Son,” but none of the bad stuff after. That was just the way he was. He had been at boot camp then in school learning to be an officer. They saw each other summers and went to the drive in movie theater and talked about the news from the Soviet bloc, and about spies and space and music. Sometimes Dick had Things to Say about the stuff Nix was learning about at Yale, like colonialism and hegemony, but they argued about it good naturedly and then they moved on to arguing about music. Dick liked those Greenwich Village folkies and he was legitimately let down when Dylan went electric. Nix had Are You Experienced on repeat. There were other things they didn’t talk about at all, like that Nix had read Alfred Kinsey’s reports in class and thought of himself first as a one, then as a two, then a three, and now intermittently as a four, sometimes even a five. The truth was he only incidentally thought of any people who weren't Dick. He couldn’t even regret being doomed to such a sorry condition, because being around Dick was such a joy. It was a joy, in its brutal way, even when they were over there. It was a joy when he had forgotten he could feel joy.

Now, after everything, Dick had all this land, off Route 6 not far from the New York border, on which the trees moved quietly, and the hills were low and green. He had all that land, and just about nothing else, because he had spent just about every penny of his salary from Nixon Nitration and his war pension and his inheritance from his parents' deaths buying that plot to get himself away from the world. In New Jersey, working for his father as little more than a body in a suit, Nix had just about everything he wanted, except his own soul. That was somewhere yet to be seen. In Vietnam, he must have put it down somewhere, like his helmet or his canteen or something, except that he had forgotten to pick it up. This had happened to most of them, except for Dick, who had doggedly held onto his somehow as he had also held onto his life, his relative sanity, his damnable good looks, and his even more damnable good humor.

The big idea was a relatively obvious one to Nix, who had had his first toke in San Francisco just before shipping out, and who drove out to Dick’s farm twice a month or so to shoot the shit at the kitchen table and lie sleepless in the twin bed in the guest room listening to the woods and the snoring from the next room over and debating numerous impossibilities until dawn, when he would get up and go down to the fallow fields and make estimates as to the soil quality. Then he would make coffee and biscuits. “Well damn, Nix, you didn’t have to do that,” said Dick, coming down around seven, chuffed and bedheaded, which was exactly why Nix had to do it.

He understood he had ulterior motives. But he could make an entire list of reasons why this wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever had that weren’t those ulterior motives.

Finally Dick said something like, “I don’t know how I��m going to do this anymore.” They were sitting at the kitchen table in the sunset. He offered Nix a weak smile that might be described as heartbreaking. “Might be scrounging for a job around Nixon Nitration.”

Nix couldn’t help himself, though it did feel like the first second when you had to stand up and start running across an open clearing under enemy fire, before the adrenaline kicked in and everything cleared. He had been waiting for the right moment for what felt like his entire life. “You wanna know what I think?”

Dick’s brow tightened. “I always wanna know what you think.”

“But do you really wanna know what I think.”

--

It was expensive to get a grow operation going. Nix had some money, but he’d long since drunk most of his nest egg, so it was barely enough to get seed and nitrogen and decent irrigation. They woke up with the sun and worked the field until it went down, and some nights they came stumbling in at dusk, sunburned, parched, and there was hardly any food to put on the table. It wasn’t much worse than it had been at war — rice, stale bread, cans of beans or tuna fish, hot water with lemon. Ears of steamed or grilled corn, eventually, when the crop got kicking. By night Nix hunched over the grow light in the living room and tended to the hatchlings. “Never seen you act so gentle,” Dick said, putting the radio on, settling onto the couch with the paper, dirt under his fingernails.

“Yeah, well.” His face was hot, not just because of the proximity to the light. “They’re notoriously fragile.”

They shared a joint, went separate ways to bed. Most nights Nix passed out before his head hit the pillow. This was a marked improvement from what things had been like back in Jersey. Who knew the secret all along had been back-breaking agricultural labor? He thought about writing a letter to the Secretary of Veteran’s Affairs or whoever was supposed to be handling the burgeoning public health crisis that was an entire generation's rampant PTSD.

They were accustomed to working hard together. Dick had never been the kind of officer who had gotten off on asking the underlings to do all the shit-shoveling, and Nix had followed suit, only wanting to be an officer half as good as Dick. He remembered participating in a kind of bucket relay, tossing sandbags off a truck toward the CP on one of the many, many nights it flooded. In the highest heat of the day he sat in the cool grass in the shade, drinking too-tart lemonade and puncturing a hose just-so with a knife to lay some makeshift irrigation. Dick came out after a few minutes with what passed for sandwiches. His sunburnt nose was peeling, even though he sometimes put zinc oxide on it like a lifeguard in a soap opera. “Remember when you got hit in the head?”

It was a ricochet that glanced off his helmet — the closest he had come over there to turning in his dance card forever. He had a headache for a few days after, and the doc had moved a flashlight between his eyes with an air of concern. Dick had been quite alarmed. He hovered for a while like some kind of fairy godparent. It was kind of embarrassing, but Nix didn't say anything about it.

“Of course I do.”

“Well,

TK

--

Nix went to town to buy nitrogen at the Agway. On the way back he stopped for cigarettes at the general store. Scanning the magazine rack whilst the shopgirl fished out his Marlboro Reds he nearly had a massive coronary. There was a picture from Vietnam on the cover of Esquire Magazine with the following caption:

HEART OF DARKNESS: D.K. WEBSTER REVISITS VIETNAM

He picked it up. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What’s that?” The shopgirl was a pregnant woman in overalls and a man’s ribbed tank top. She tossed the cigs Nix’s way.

“Nothing.” He showed her the magazine, wishing he had the sleight of hand to just shove it up his shirtsleeve. “I’ll take this too.”

In the parking lot, he checked that the bags of nitrogen were secure in the bed of Dick’s pickup, and then he sat on the back bumper in the profound sun and opened to the table of contents, then, skipping cologne ads and spreads of beautiful women in states of undress, opened to the introductory page preceding Webster’s article. According to the byline, the pictures had been taken by a photographer who had been with their company for a little while, had been all over the country and had disappeared in the Spring of 1970 somewhere on Cambodia’s Highway 1. The article was preceded by a two-page spread of one such photograph of Easy Company on Hill 926 toward Christmas ’69. He looked over the faces of all the boys, naming them, the dead ones and the alive ones and the should have been dead ones and the should have been alive ones, inside his mind, until he came upon the pixelated black mar of his own eyes. Then he folded up the magazine and put it in his back pocket and drove back up to Dick’s farm in something of a fugue state. Over there, on the rare occasions upon which they had access to a Jeep, Dick usually drove it, because Nix was usually under the influence of something or other. Dick could not be gotten under the influence of anything besides grief, or anger, a few times that he let Nix see, and these did not seem to cloud his judgement overmuch. It had been something to see Vietnam that way — like a tourist, watching the forest from the windows, the beach and the water, the blood in the water, the great napalm swaths like deep burned scars. He had thought at first that Dick thought he was stoned and useless, but now he wasn't so sure, and anyway it had felt like a strange gift, like new eyes…

Back at the farm, he practically threw himself down in the better chair pulled up to the kitchen table. He rolled a joint and sparked the end of it. Thus prepared, he took the magazine out of his pocket and began to read:

In March 1969, D.K. Webster appeared before the editor of this magazine and just about prostrated himself before the news desk to ask if he might be permitted to cover the conflict in Vietnam. He flew to Saigon that June and embedded himself with E Company of the elite 101st Airborne, where he remained until February of the following year. Shortly after returning stateside he checked himself into an inpatient mental health facility. Now, three years later, he has at last filed his first story for this magazine. — Ed.

The boys were just about to go to the wire for the night when I got to the camp on Hill 926. The guns among them were varied and babied like children. Spit-shined barrels caught the last sun. The medic came over at the last with speed pills. There was no dinner. I was shaken up, literally, from the chopper, and also figuratively, being as I had been the only living cargo, unloaded en route to Saigon with corpses draped with their camouflage ponchos, ripped through with bulletholes and muddy with blood. I was pretty sure my brain had released the store of psychedelic chemicals you were supposed to get at the moment of death so it was just as well the medic didn’t offer any speed to me, that first night, though he would later.

The boys were my age. Some were younger than me. After some spiteful if hushed debate among themselves they gave me a helmet which had belonged to someone dead. There was blood splattered inside it and nothing to clean it out with. Still, I put it on. The bodies in the chopper had put the fear in me and there were not, absolutely were not, enough cigarettes. I waited for someone to offer me one, but nobody did. Instead the First Sergeant offered me a gun.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

Remembered belatedly you were supposed to call them sir. Some of the grunts snickered.

“Point it and shoot it,” said the First Sergeant.

I’d been in places where they wanted to put a show on for me and in other places where they herded me back onto the chopper as soon as they heard I was a reporter. I had also been in Saigon, where there was not much to do but lie in bed drunk and jerk off until raw. On Hill 926 I was another body with a beating heart. I took the gun and we went to the wire. There were more boys out there taping sixteen clips together so they’d go faster. They had gloves to move the big box guns by the hot barrels but the fabric was wet and rotting. Cassette player spinning Donovan. Somebody had VOODOO CHILD engraved into his helmet. At last somebody gave me a god damn cigarette. You would have needed something to look across what men like these in previous wars might have termed no man’s land. The napalm had turned the edge of the forest into a bridge between this world and Hades. The night fog was coming out of it. Between us and that was barbed wire stretched over blood-slaked mud, hung with charred corpses. Now I was glad there had been no dinner.

The speed was kicking in for just about everybody else. Because there was nothing to shoot at yet they took a keen interest in my well-being. “Keep your head down.” “Keep your mouth shut.” “Keep the belt flat.” “If you get hit, yell for the medic. Only if you get hit!” Finally, “For gods sake wait for one of us before you god damn start shooting.”

I asked them if they ever got friendly fire.

“Medic in 4th Company got killed that way.”

“Took out some of the Lurps in the 67th.”

You were always learning new words which were just ways of saying things that took less time.

“Long range recon patrollers,” explained one of the boys. The nameplate, as well as the sleeves, had come off his jacket, but everybody called him Babe, except for the medic, who called everybody by the surname, and Babe’s was Heffron. When he looked to the forest, he saw something I didn’t, because of his training, and because he had put greasepaint around his eyes, like an ancient Egyptian lady, against the infernal messaging of the high yellow moon. Ready to burst like a pincushion mushroom on the edge of the horizon. “Ours are coming,” he said.

“You see em?”

The call went down the line to hold fire. The movement in the fog and the skeletons of the trees — like actors on a stage, like apparitions, ghosts. There were two negotiating the brutal wasteland, delicately around the landmines. Someone put a flare up. There was a captain and a corporal, differentiable by the insignia upon their tattered uniforms. They wore greasepaint and carried rifles. The corporal had let his rest against his forearm and shoulder so that he could roll a cigarette from a pack of loose tobacco drawn from inside his destroyed fatigue jacket.

A line from Dylan surfaced in the civilian part of my mind: Maggie come fleet foot face full of black soot…

“How long have they been out there?”

“Since yesterday noon.”

The captain went toward the CP to speak to the major. The corporal came into our foxhole and sat up against the sandbags to light the cig he’d just rolled. His boots were so bad he might as well have been barefoot. His eyes were dark, helmet askew and dented. A startling quality of blood on his person not necessarily his own. “How many, Lieb,” said the gunner, Toye.

“Two companies coming down from the mountain camp. Who’s got pills?”

“Two companies?”

“That’s what I said, ain’t it?”

“Lieb, we’re just one company.”

The dark gaze found me. It was like looking back into the edge of the forest, the skeletons and fog, shadows, death lurking close at hand. “Who’s this then?”

Heffron cackled. “They gave us a correspondent.”

--

I made up my mind I had to talk to the LRRP that the boys called Lieb, because he scared the shit out of me.

The Lurps’ job was to go into the woods and try to figure out whereabouts the VC were moving, where they were encamped and the gear they had, their numbers, the locations of their traps and tunnels. The company at the camp on Hill 926 had two men who served this purpose, the captain, Spiers, and the corporal, Liebgott. Rumor was general in the camp about the quantity of VC these men had killed and the things they had seen and done. Between them they had done five tours before this one. Between them they were rumored to have survived a chopper crash, at least three VC ambushes, a court martial, a suicide attempt, a week without sleep, more than fifty parachute drops, booby traps galore, setting foot in the city of Hue, flushing out a collective six VC tunnels, and stepping on a no doubt exaggerated quantity of dud landmines. Spiers was unapproachably scary. He had allegedly executed prisoners on numerous occasions. In the heights of misery when not even the Dexedrine pills could bring you up out of the depths of the fear the men would joke about asking the captain to take them behind the CP and get it over with.

Liebgott, called Lieb, not seeming to understand what this word actually means in the German language, was also a stone killer by all accounts, thoroughly dead in the eyes, like looking at them you were surprised his lips weren’t blue, and they caught no reflection, but he spent all his time at camp, which was slim, listening to Da Capo and The Notorious Byrd Brothers (Do you think it’s really the truth that you see? I’ve got my doubts it’s happened to me) on cassette and chain smoking. This made him seem like someone I might have gotten to know if I had stayed in college, though I understood this was a fallacy. Anyway, by this point I was taking the uppers when the medic offered so I went over of an early morning when he was shaving his face.

He had Love on. “You know you have the same name as this band,” I said.

He was trying to figure out if I was serious. He had the razor poised right over his carotid artery. Under all the greasepaint he had good skin, thin beard, hollow cheeks. His hair was limp and filthy. In another life he might have been good looking. I sat down in the mud. That’s how bad I wanted to talk to him. I sat in the goddamn mud. The mud was made of blood and piss and worse around here. It didn’t even faze him, because he was sleeping in worse every night he was out there.

Tried another in: “You listen to Forever Changes?”

He set the razor gliding again over the bone of his jaw. “Had a tape,” he said. “It rotted.”

“Well, I’ll see if I can get you another one.”

He was trying to get the read on me. “What do you want.”

“Talk to you.”

“Not enough to get shot at out on the wire?”

“This is for Esquire,” I said. “It ain’t for Newsweek.”

He spat in the mud, but it came so perilously close to the toe of my left boot that it might’ve been intentional. “Can’t say I’d make a good centerfold,” he said. His face was twitching with the smile he was playing like he was too tough to put on it. “Even in lingerie.”

I liked him, though he made himself very difficult to like, and was out in the bush with Captain Spiers more nights than not; when you got him warmed up, he would talk about it, sometimes too much, sometimes things you didn’t really want to know. I went back to my bedroll and wrote them down and tried to put them out of my head. Six months later, I was at the tail end of a sleepless 36-hour benzo binge, and the wind was blowing wrong, out of the wrong mouth at the wrong end of the world, bringing rain and the smell of death and napalm and the latrines, on the suffocating humid night when Spiers half-carried him out of the woods —

Dick’s shadow loomed over Nix’s shoulder and distorted the light on the text. “This is mildly embarrassing,” he said.

Nix felt like someone had grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and yanked him out of a dead man’s float. “Hell,” he said, voice cracking, “for who?”

Dick shrugged. “Everybody involved.” He headed over to the stovetop percolator to spoon in fragrant coffee grounds. “David might've played it a little less fast and loose on the schoolboy crush front.”

“Schoolboy crush?”

Dick cocked an incredulous eyebrow. “Nix, your reading comprehension leaves something to be desired.”

“On — wait. On Liebgott!”

Dick turned back to the stove. “Maybe you need an eye test.”

Nix dropped the magazine on the table like it was radioactive. He supposed it might have been. His heart was acting up. What other kinds of things had Dick noticed? “My head was pretty damn far up my own ass.”

“I’d say so. Anyway, in my day we called that kind of prose florid.”

“In your day! Where the hell?”

“High school English.”

TK

--

The knock at the door in the night was a sharp shock, bright as lightning, that sent them both back to Khe Sanh and before. Nix ducked. Dick went behind the doorframe. They kept low into the kitchen, where Nix took his old officer’s pistol out from where he kept it hidden behind the fridge. Then they went to the door, keeping to the edges of the hallways.

On the porch was Liebgott. He could have made his own way in likely right onto the couch without either of them noticing, so it was something that he had knocked on the goddamn door. It was particularly something given that none of the boys from Easy should have known about the grow operation, or even about Dick’s farm, being as Dick’s address on file at the V.A. was a post office box in town and Nix’s was still in Jersey. These considerations were nil to somebody who had spent the better part of five years in the bush of Vietnam. He took a last draw from his cigarette and put it out against the rubber sole of his boot, then he put the butt in his pocket. As far as Nix knew, he hadn’t said a word since January 1970.  

“Joe,” said Dick diplomatically. He put his hand out and Liebgott took it. Then he took Nix’s. He had handsome dark eyes, but they were full of a wall. You could tell he saw you, but it was like nothing followed the necessary channels to the brain to spur emotional response. It had been like this even while he was still talking, and after a while you got used to it.

“You comin' in,” said Nix, knowing he probably would even if he wasn’t invited.

Inside, they all three sat at the kitchen table in silence nobody was about to break. Finally Dick got up and went to the drawer where they kept the rollies and their share of the product. He passed a sheaf of papers and a film canister full of bud to Liebgott across the table. Nix understood as well as Dick apparently did that there would be no getting anything over on this kid, who had eyes in the back and sides of his head. He’d probably had a nice tour of the property before coming inside. “You hungry, son,” Dick said.

Liebgott shook his head. He extracted one of the buds from the canister and inspected it. They did look mighty good if Nix said so himself. They looked artful in Liebgott’s hand. There were black scabs across his knuckles and a dark rime of filth under those fingernails which still existed. He seemed satisfied enough with what he saw to take a paper out of the sheaf and start shredding the flower into it.

“Captain Nixon calls it Easy Diesel,” said Dick, like he was trying to pretend it wasn’t the funniest thing in the world.

Liebgott looked up and a smile flashed across his face like the savage golden light of a flare falling over the far hills. His smile was sort of brutal, like the edge of a knife in a barfight, or like a seething animal. Luckily it went away as quickly as it had come. He rolled the joint with a quick grace and lit the business end with his old silver Zippo Nixon hadn’t seen since the war. There was a skull engraved on one side and on the other it read IF YOU ARE RECOVERING MY BODY, FUCK YOU.

“I don’t know how you found us, Joe,” Dick said thoughtfully. “You don’t have to… tell us. But we ain’t exactly keen to have just anybody here.” He paused and looked quickly to Nix, who tried to make it abundantly clear by means of eyebrows that he wasn’t sure they ought to go down this road, wherever it was leading. Dick ignored him. Liebgott was watching them, fully understanding their attempted clandestine exchange. “We ain’t exactly keen to have the DEA here,” Dick said at last.

The cherry at the end of the joint atomized with a crackling hiss. Liebgott looked between Dick and Nix with extreme seriousness sullied only by his exhaling a dignified white cloud out his nose. Then he nodded, once, curtly, demonstrating he understood his orders as they had been relayed.

Nix flashed Dick what he thought was a what have you done type look. But Dick looked totally unbothered. He should have gone into this business years ago for how violently unflappable he was. He said to Liebgott, “I’ll get some blankets and you can make up the couch.”

Liebgott shook his head to say no need. He got up, careful not to scrape the chair against the floor, shook each of their hands again, and in less than a minute’s time he was back out the door with nothing more than what he’d come in with except the joint.

Nix and Dick, on the porch, listening to the crickets, watched him disappear into the darkness.

“Are we hallucinating,” said Nix eventually.

“I sure as hell hope not,” Dick replied. “We’ve got to ship all that product or we’ll starve.”

--

In the morning Nix was in the field, inspecting the plants. Liebgott was standing there at his quarter for god knew how long before he cleared his throat and Nix jumped about six feet in the air. There was a smirk shifting across Liebgott’s face that he would have been better about hiding when Nix had been his commanding officer. He looked like he hadn't slept. Back over there he had looked like that a lot, but it had been different, because of all the uppers they were taking. He cocked his head back over toward the long driveway and then he was off across the dew-wet grass which had already soaked through the hems of his canvas pants and his destroyed shoes.

Nix followed, like a duckling behind a hen. Liebgott still walked as though there were eyes in all sides of his head quickly processing information as he moved. Nix doubted you ever lost that kind of skill, even if in the real world it made you look like a mental patient. He caught up so they could walk side by side through the dew-wet grass. “What did you think,” he asked Liebgott.

Liebgott passed Nix the universal sign of furrowed brow that meant please clarify.

Nix gestured with pinched fingers to his own mouth as though Liebgott were also deaf. “The grass.”

He shaped his hand into an a-ok sign.

“You get any sleep?”

He nodded an infinitesimal nod, like the answer was a secret just for Nix to know.

“Well if you think it could be better just tell me how.”

Nix had had a high school friend whose sister was deaf from scarlet fever and whom he had watched on occasion communicate with her by means of sign language. Early on, back over there, he had sent off to command for a book, but by the time it came he understood it wasn’t that Liebgott couldn’t speak, he just didn’t want to. It was something like how people’s hair supposedly turned white if they witnessed some evil thing, or how people became ascetics in the name of god. If you were really fucked up on drugs or fear or otherwise, or if the natural magical thinking from childhood hadn’t been fully beaten out of you, you might have seen it as the sacrifice he had given to the forest for letting him out without a scratch so many goddamn times. It had been a bit of a trial to explain this to Spiers, who was practical almost to a fault, sometimes.

Liebgott showed another a-ok sign. Then he did a thumbs up which Nix knew meant it was good.

All in all it was smart. If he was still talking, Nix might have asked him, what have you been up to? You been sleeping on the street? You been to the V.A.? What did they tell you? And the answer would’ve been nothing good. Instead they just walked in the cool grass together in the sunshine and the morning was beautiful, and the air was sweet. It was all lovely until Liebgott had to physically stop him, laughing, somehow silently but also hysterically, from stepping right onto the razor-thin tripwire stretched invisibly across the dark gravel.

In the kitchen, Dick was doing the numbers. He took his glasses off when Nix came in and put the coffee on. “He learned a thing or two from Charlie,” Nix said, leaning against the counters.

“Who, Joe?”

“Our driveway is thoroughly ratfucked.”

“Hmm,” said Dick. He put the glasses back on and turned back to the accounting book. He was going to do this whole thing as above board as was humanly possible. The vivid daylight came through the window and struck the lens of his unstylish Ray-Bans and threw a kind of prism of color upon the white paper and the chicken-scratch sums. Nix felt like maybe this was something you would paint if you had the necessary implements and artistic ability. “Maybe we should see if we can get any more help.”

--

He was mildly ashamed to say it, but the doc had always kind of creeped Nix out. He imagined a hypothetical conversation with Dick, who he knew loved the kid, almost like a son: Listen, don’t get me wrong, he’s a good kid, I owe him my life, yadda yadda. But either he’s dropped the brown acid one too many times or the voodoo exorcism went FUBAR.

The doc had arrived on the farm on the heels of Sunshine and Rainbows, aka Mr. Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed, aka one Edward “Babe” Heffron. Nix had written Babe in South Philly, being as he was a connoisseur of bud and once upon a time had been famed among their company for smoking anything anyone put in his hand, often to his own detriment. The operation was getting big enough that Nix needed another pair of hands, other than Liebgott, of course, who was still fortifying the long driveway whilst giving away his cover by playing Led Zeppelin IV as loudly as was possible. It was a tough calculation, because Babe was a genius of pot, but he couldn’t keep a damn secret, and lo and behold he had dragged along with him a dark shadow in the human form of Eugene Roe. They came up the driveway in a big old Ford pickup that rattled its rust off in the potholes. Liebgott had dismantled the traps specially for their arrival when they had called from Williamsport to say they were an hour out.

“I figured we could use a medical professional to lend some credibility to the operation,” said Babe thoughtfully, sparking a joint on the porch over sweating jam jars of iced tea.

Roe snorted or something but it wasn’t really a normal person’s self-effacing laugh. Winters clapped his back. Nixon knew Roe had dropped out of medical school after two years but there was no need to say anything. Everyone knew that. Now he was working construction and Babe claimed to be working as a mechanic in a garage, but this seemed suspect given the state of the car they had driven up in.

“Well we sure as hell are glad you boys are here,” said Dick magnanimously.

Babe exhaled an opaque cloud that rivaled Nix’s own father’s ability with a stogie. “Can we see the bush?”

They went out all together to the field and ducked between the rows of corn. Babe knelt in the soil. It was damp with dew and quiet in here. It would have been almost like over there except it smelled good. “What’s the cross,” Babe said, inspecting the plants.

“It’s an indica blend…”

“Well, I can tell that,” he said.

“So you’re an expert on the plant now too?”

“I’ve just smoked an awful lot of joints in my life, Captain Nixon.”

Roe snorted again. When they all looked to him he said, “You said in the letter there was some kind of altruistic reason for all this.”

“It’s medicine, Gene,” Babe said gently, but also like they had had this conversation thirty thousand times. Nix filed away for later the intimation that Roe had read the letter he’d sent Babe at home in South Philadelphia.

“I guess you don’t remember the psychic break you had at the Do Lung Bridge.”

Babe waved this remark off, even though Nix remembered it too. It threw a chill down his back, like a water balloon had hit him at the base of his neck. “That was laced,” Babe said.

“With what!”

“I don’t know! Something bad!” Babe turned to Dick and Nix. “Gene’s teetotal,” he said, like this was a big old point of contention.

So that counted out the bad acid. Maybe he was just like this. Maybe he had had those big sad bug eyes as a child or an infant or a fetus in the womb. “Good on you, Doc,” Nix said.

“I ain’t trying it,” Roe said, folding his arms over his narrow chest, “no matter what it does.”

The doc was a tough cookie. Babe had claimed, over there, about as high as the Byrds song, that the doc came from a long line of the kind of folks described in Dr. John’s “Gris-Gris Gumbo Ya Ya” and that, as such, he could heal wounds with his mind. When it didn’t work, as on the night when Jackson died, or the night when Hoobler died, or in the forest when Muck and Penkala died, or the night when Liebgott stopped speaking, he went to sit for a while on the edge of camp until Dick went over and made him eat something. Nix watched them in a state of confused envy, and then he went to write the letters to the families, so that Dick wouldn’t have to.

At dusk, after they ate a light dinner of corn on the cob and rice and beans, he took the boys up into the hayloft with an armful of blankets. “Sorry this is the best we got,” he said. He had said that about a hundred god damn times since they got here.

Roe looked like he wanted to say, you’ve got to stop apologizing for everything. Instead he said, “Where does Lieb sleep.”

Babe perked up. “Joe’s here?”

“You didn’t see him in the driveway?”

Nix sighed. “He’s gonna want to know what he did wrong that you saw him,” he said.

“Does he still — ”

Nix shook his head. “Not a peep.”

--

In a couple days time, he couldn’t take it anymore, and he was hot and tired and stoned, up to his elbows in earth in the field, showing Babe how to replant the hatchlings he’d grown from seed. “You guys room together or what?”

“Me and Gene?” Babe’s eyes were red in the corners from smoking and from the sun. “What about you and Dick?”

Dick, who had the radio on inside turned up as loud as it would go, so that they would hear it in the field, playing Crosby Stills and Nash doing “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.” “What about me and Dick?” said Nix.

Babe was a smart kid. He realized this was going nowhere. With muddy hands he popped one of the seedlings out of its little pot and cradled it into the ground. “Well, I think he thinks he’s looking after me, but in actuality, I am looking after him.”

---

--

-

i do hope to someday finish this. webster in this AU is based on michael herr and that whole section is my impression of dispatches. the band that lieb and webster start to bond over is arthur lee’s band love. lieb’s lighter is based on a real one i saw on here sometime. this whole conceit is inspired by steve earle’s “copperhead road.” 

[azvolrien]

Fifteen Years at Dun Ardech

Like the little series about Asta in Stormhaven, this is more a collection of slice-of-life vignettes than a single story; unlike them, it didn’t end up quite as long in total, so I’m posting them in one big lump.

I’ll upload a little cheat-sheet for the names of the months tomorrow.

~~~

           12th of Sirakithi, AI 2740

           Asta set the pencil aside and lifted the knife. The edge was sharp, and the point fine enough; it would do. Perhaps she could neaten it up later, once she had determined whether the principle of her idea was sound. With her tongue between her teeth, she laid the knife point against the stencil and made the first cut: a circle as perfect as she could manage, forming a ring around the centre of the piece of wood, itself a hand-sized disc as thick as her thumb and still with bark around the edges. She ran the knife around the stencil a few times until the circle was inscribed deeply into the surface.

           Movement in the corner of her eye and the creak of the bench told her Roan had sat down beside her, but she didn’t look up from her work and Roan did not speak.

           Time for the second cut. Asta put down the circle stencil, lifted a metal ruler instead, and scored a line across the wood and through the exact centre of the ring, then a second line dividing the ring into perfect quarters. She nodded, sheathed the knife, and checked her notes.

           “What are you doing?” asked Roan.

           “Well, it’s a bit of an experiment, really,” said Asta, tapping a fingernail against the runes neatly written in dark blue ink. “I’m not completely sure if this will work – and I’ll need a little help from you a bit later on.”

           “Mm-hmm. So what are you trying to do, then?”

           “One minute, my love.” Asta picked the knife back up and, with the point, carefully carved out the first of the required runes in the middle of the first quarter.

           “I have a proper chisel you can use for that,” offered Roan.

           “Maybe for some later refinements,” said Asta. “This is working for now.” Roan nodded and sat back, folding her arms and crossing her ankles.

           More runes joined the first, one in each quarter of the circle then more outside the rim, on either side of where the dividing lines crossed it. Asta held it up to eye level, blew away the wood shavings, and nodded again. Finally, she reached down to her feet and picked up a small pebble, the perfect white quartz worn into a smooth oval about an inch long and slightly flatter on the underside, then took a pen from behind her ear.

           “I haven’t seen you with that pen before,” said Roan. “Looks fancy.”

           “It’s a Constructist’s pen,” explained Asta, uncapping it and carefully drawing over all the lines she had carved, before just as carefully drawing more lines onto the surface of the pebble and dividing it into quarters like the circle. The greyish ink glittered oddly on the white stone. “Calburn – you remember I told you about him – gave it to me as a present for my last birthday.”

           “When is your birthday?” asked Roan with sudden concern.

           Asta grinned at her. “You haven’t missed it if that’s got you worried. The eighth of Rivedi – not for a while yet. What about yours?”

           “Twenty-sixth of Voynithi.”

           “Ha!”

           Roan frowned, not angrily. “Wh-why is that funny?”

           “Well – by the traditions up here, as a berserker you’re called a Child of Torravon.”

           “The old Sea Loch war goddess, yes.”

           “So it’s interesting that that was when you were born, since – well, the twenty-sixth of Voynithi is usually right in the middle of the festival of Voynazhret, the festival of the Kiraani war god.” Asta shrugged. “Whether or not Torravon and Voynazh are just different aspects of the same overarching war deity is something for the priests to argue about, but if that’s when you were born, maybe you really do have their blessing.”

           “I… couldn’t say,” said Roan thoughtfully. “So what’s special about that pen again?”

           “Oh, yes. It contains a special metallic ink. You see, for constructs and associated magics, pretty much any medium – well, not any medium, but you know what I mean – will work in the short term. You can turn an ordinary kite into a messenger construct if you know the right runes to draw, but wood and cloth just don’t hold the enchantment properly and it’ll wear off after a while, anything from a couple of days to a few weeks. For a long-term enchantment you need to work in metal and stone – specifically crystalline stone, very solid with low porosity. Which is where you come in!” Asta held up the pebble. “Crystals are fantastic at holding magic. So – if it’s all right – I’d like you to put a little bit of magic into this stone. Not a lot, just, say… as much as you’d use to summon a witchlight for reading.” She handed it over. “Don’t worry about smudging the ink; it dries quickly.”

           A faintly uncomfortable look had appeared on Roan’s face, but she clasped the pebble between her hands and closed her eyes in concentration. Nothing visibly happened.

           “I… think that’s it,” said Roan.

           Asta nodded and took the pebble back. “The moment of truth, then.” She placed the pebble in the centre of the wooden disc and rotated it until the lines matched up. Immediately the pebble began to glow with a soft white light. Holding her breath, Asta moved the pebble again so the markings were out of alignment, then back again. The light faded and reappeared accordingly. “Yes!” Asta punched the air, making Roan jump. “It worked!”

           “You were making a lamp?” asked Roan, smiling.

           “The broch’s very cosy,” said Asta, “but it also doesn’t have any windows. I can’t always be pestering you for a witchlight when I want to do some reading, but candles don’t give a very good light for it. Hence: pebble light!”

           Roan leant in to plant a kiss on her hair. “The gods were brutal not to give you magic of your own.”

           Asta shuffled closer and rested her head on Roan’s shoulder. “Whichever gods they were.”

          ---

           18th of Sirakithi, AI 2740

           After the seventh time Roan came down the stairs, ran out to her workshop, and rushed back upstairs with various materials in her arms, Asta closed her book with a snap and sat up on the couch.

           “What are you doing up there?” she asked. Roan stopped with one foot on the bottom step. “I’ve never seen you so full of beans.”

           Roan started climbing the stairs again. “I’ll show you in a wee while!” she called from halfway up them, out of sight. “I’m nearly done.”

           Asta smiled, shook her head, and went back to her book. After another ten minutes, Roan’s heavy booted footsteps clumped against the wooden boards overhead and – far less excitably than before – descended the stairs. She crossed the room from the stairway door and sat down at Asta’s feet at the opposite end of the couch, wringing her hands.

           “Are – are you all right?” asked Asta.

           “Oh, aye, aye. I was just thinking about something… Something you said earlier.”

           “…Roan, if anything I’ve said upset you, I’m sor-”

           “No, it’s nothing like that,” said Roan, brushing the apology aside with one hand. “But – you remember when you made your wee lamp?” She pointed at it on the end table beside Asta, with no sign of deterioration to the pebble’s glow.

           “Of course.”

           “When you got me to put the magic in the stone, you said to use as much as I would for a reading light. Well, I… I don’t. Conjure lights for reading, I mean. Because I don’t… I don’t read.”

           Asta blinked. “But – I know you went to university. How could-”

           “It’s… Look.” Roan picked up another book Asta had left on the couch – High Master Rathlean’s The Making of Constructs – and opened it to a random page. “What does the first sentence on this page say?”

           Asta glanced at it. “‘The exact ingredients and proportions of spell-fluid will vary depending on the size and purpose of the intended construct.’”

           “See, I can’t do that. Just… look at a page of writing and see what it says. Something just doesn’t click in here.” She prodded her forehead with a fingertip. “I have to go through it slowly, one word, sometimes one letter at a time, or it just… doesn’t make sense. So I can read, yes, but it doesn’t come easily to me, so it’s not something I do for fun. But you do! You brought your books with you when you came back here, and if there’s nothing else that needs your attention you’re always reading even if it’s a book I know you must have read before. And you… probably don’t want to just leave them in a stack all the time, so I…” She bowed her head until her chin touched her chest and mumbled something unintelligible.

           Asta leant closer. “Sorry, what was that?”

           “I said – well, just come upstairs for a minute.”

           Asta marked her place with the dust jacket, put the book down, and followed Roan upstairs to the bedroom. She had rearranged it a little, moving aside some rugs and the laundry basket to make room against one wall.

           Roan leant on the wardrobe and pointed across the room, looking at the floor. “I built a bookcase for you.”  

           There were four shelves made of flat, neatly-sanded wooden boards, evenly spaced by supports made from pine logs stripped of bark but still fragrant. On the top shelf, Roan had placed two little statues of polished stone – one a seal, the other an otter – to act as bookends.

           “You – you can rearrange the books any way you like,” said Roan as Asta knelt beside the shelves for a closer look. “I wasn’t sure what order you’d want them in, so I made sure the shelves are all far enough apart for the tallest book to stand up, and that it’ll stay steady even if you put the heavy ones on the top shelf.” Asta didn’t reply; Roan frowned, straightened up from her slouch against the wardrobe, and crossed the room to stand behind her. “Asta?”

           Trembling slightly, Asta took a deep breath, got to her feet, turned to face Roan, and tackled her onto the bed.

           “Well,” gasped Roan when they came up for air a few minutes later. “I think there was a ‘thank you’ in there somewhere.”

           ---

           6th of Gracilis, AI 2740

           Roan was singing to herself in her workshop – an old Sea Loch folksong about bringing in the catch of the day. Asta paused on the path to listen. Roan had a good singing voice, a warm, clear alto similar to her usual speaking tone, but even after months together Asta couldn’t persuade her to sing with any sort of an audience. She waited until the song was over before she steeled herself and rapped her knuckles against the door. It wasn’t latched, and swung open at her touch. She held a precautionary sleeve over her nose, but it didn’t stink as much as it sometimes did.  

           “Something the matter?” asked Roan, looking over her shoulder. “You don’t usually come in here.” She was scraping the flesh off a large fox pelt stretched out on a board, and while a leather apron protected her clothes, her hands were red to the wrists.

           Asta dragged her eyes away from the blood and sat down on a chair by the door. “Nothing’s wrong, no – but there was something I wanted to ask you about. A couple of somethings, actually.”

           “Something so urgent you made yourself come into my workshop?” said Roan. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

           “I thought I should ask before I forgot about it… or lost my nerve.” Roan gave her an encouraging nod and turned back to the pelt. “So, first something… Will you teach me to fight?”

           “What brought that on?” asked Roan.

           “I – look, I know I don’t exactly have what you’d call a… a warrior temperament.”

           “You don’t need to say that like you’re ashamed of it,” said Roan, still scraping.

           “I’m not, not really. But I – I’d like to be able to protect myself a bit better. So – will you teach me?”

           “Aye, I’ll give you a few self-defence tips.” She glanced back over her shoulder and grinned. “Tip number one: if you can, run.”

           “Well, that’s a good start.”

           “We can do some more later, once I’m done with this pelt for today.” Roan paused and considered it. “This should be a good one once I’ve finished preparing it. I was going to sell it out at the market, but would you like a new hat for the winter?”

           Asta sat up slightly. “That would be nice, actually – but please don’t leave the mask on it.”

           Roan gave her a thumbs-up and kept scraping. “What else did you want to ask about?”

           “This might be a taller order, but… The next time you go hunting, not just checking the traps but taking your bow and going up into the hills for a few days… Can I come with you?”

           “If you’re sure you want to, but – why?”

           Asta sighed and laced her fingers, looking down at her hands. “It’s not that I enjoy hunting – I don’t really have an outdoorswoman temperament either – but I… I don’t like being left on my own here with just the chickens for company.” She raised a hand to her forehead and dug her fingers into her hair. “It… gives me bad thoughts. And – and if I came too, you’d be able to use Pardus to carry more stuff!”

           “We’re going to have a chat about that ‘bad thoughts’ comment later,” said Roan quietly. “But of course you can come too. To be honest with you, I don’t like leaving you here either – not since I came back to find you’d been kidnapped, and I’d only been gone for a couple of hours that time! I hadn’t planned on going hunting for another couple of weeks, but – aye. We can set up the chicken feeder and head out together.” She paused again and cast an eye over Asta’s clothing. “You’ll need to wear trousers, though. Skirts aren’t very practical up on the hills.”

           Asta looked down at her skirt. “I don’t think I have any trousers.”

           Roan laughed. “You can borrow a pair of mine. I love you, but – picking ticks off your legs is not a task I’d look forward to.”

           “Oh. Yes, that’s understandable.” Asta turned her gaze to the fox pelt, curiosity taking over now that the shock of the blood had passed. “So… What’s the next step once you’ve finished scraping it?”

           “The skin? Well, first I buff it up a little with that stone there,” Roan nodded towards a smooth lump of granite sitting on the nearest workbench, “and then it’s time for the first coat of, um, oil.”

           “Why did you hesitate there?”

           “The oil is made out of… its brain.”

           “Oh, eurgh,” said Asta, half laughing. “Really?”

           “Aye, it makes for a nice soft pelt. And the amounts work out pretty evenly at one brain per skin, so nothing’s wasted.” She grinned over her shoulder again. “Still want that hat?”

           ---

           10th of Messis, AI 2743

           Asta crawled out of the tent and straightened up, stretching out her back. The camp was sheltered among some huge boulders on the high, windswept plateau above Loch Gorm, and a small copper kettle was already boiling on the campfire. Asta rescued it and poured out some water for a morning cup of tea. “Roan?”

           “Up here.” Her hushed voice came from the top of one of the boulders.

           Asta circled the boulder and clambered up to join her, by some small miracle not spilling any of her tea on the way. “What’s the matter?”

           Roan pressed a finger against her own lips, staring intently to the north-east where a high, steep-sided ridge rose up, its craggy summit rounded by the same long-gone glacier that had smoothed the plateau and dropped the boulders. In the far distance beyond it, the higher, sharper peaks of the Dragon’s Teeth were just visible on the horizon, black and white with stone and snow. Though it was only early autumn, a few patches of snow still clung in sheltered hollows on the ridge, and the wind from the north cut like a knife; Roan had the hood of her cloak up against it, the seal skull resting on her head. Asta pulled her coat tighter and wished she hadn’t left the fox-fur hat in the tent.

           A pair of binoculars sat on the stone between them. Asta sipped her tea as quietly as she could. “What are you looking at?” she whispered.

           “On the ridge over there,” said Roan just as quietly. “Towards the left, about halfway up, there’s a wee tree sticking out at a funny angle. You see it?” Asta nodded. “Just above that tree – on the rock face.”

           Asta shaded her eyes. “There’s – something moving?”

           Roan picked up the binoculars and held them out without looking away. Asta took them, found the tree through the lens, and slowly pointed them upwards until the moving object came into sight. Then she almost dropped the binoculars.

           “That’s a-”

           “Yup.”

           “But they’re supposed to live-”

           “Uh-huh.”

           Asta cleaned the lenses on the hem of her woollen jumper and lifted the binoculars back to her eyes as if that might change the view. “…What is a snow leopard doing this far out of the Dragon’s Teeth?”

           “No idea. Maybe it’s lost. But isn’t it beautiful?”

           Asta watched through the binoculars as the cat picked its way across the cliff face, leaping nimbly from one tiny ledge to the next until finally it reached the top and disappeared over the ridge. “Yes,” she breathed. “It is. The menageries in Kiraan and Stormhaven had tigers, lions, southern leopards – but until now the only snow leopard I’d seen was stuffed in a museum.”

           “I’d never seen any cat bigger than a lynx up here,” said Roan, shaking her head. With a faint sigh of effort, she got to her feet and offered her hand to Asta. “Mind your mug there.” She looked to the north, narrowing her eyes. “We left enough in the feeder to last the hens another couple of days, but I don’t like the look of those clouds on the horizon. Best we start heading back down to the broch.”

           They broke camp and loaded the packed-up tent, the kettle, and the gralloched carcass of yesterday’s red stag onto Pardus’s back.

           “It’s an older beast,” said Roan as she wrapped the antlers in cloth to protect Pardus’s smooth fur from the points, “so it’ll need to hang for a while, but we’ll get a good bit of venison out of it. Should last us a while if we store it right.” She caught Asta’s eye and pulled her in for a hug, leaning down a little to touch their foreheads together. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you help with the butchery.”

           “I think I had too genteel an upbringing,” said Asta as she led Pardus along the narrow deer trail through the heather.

           “Oh, aye?” said Roan, up ahead; the trail was too narrow to walk side-by-side.

           Asta paused to button up the ear-flaps of her hat. “It – well, you know it’s not a moral objection. You don’t let them suffer and nothing goes to waste – and I love being out on the hills with you. It’s just, watching the process of it…”

           Roan stopped walking to let her catch up. “You don’t need to worry about it,” she assured her. She beckoned Asta nearer and drew in close to her ear. “I’ll tell you a secret,” she murmured. Asta nodded. “The first time Granda took me hunting and I saw him gralloch a deer… I just about sicked my own guts out.”

           “Oh, Roan!” Asta laughed and pushed her away. Roan just smiled and started walking again.

           As the trail reached the edge of the plateau and wound down through a forested glen towards the sea, it gradually widened until they could walk two abreast again. It was warmer beneath the sheltered trees; Roan had to lower her hood, while Asta tucked the fox-fur hat into one of Pardus’s saddlebags. The sun cast a shifting light through the leaves, which were only just beginning to turn.

           Then, down the slope to their right, towards the sound of the river that had carved the glen, something moved among the trees – something huge. Roan stopped in her tracks and flung a protective arm out in front of Asta, readying her spear in her other hand. Twigs snapped and branches rustled. The creature emerged into the open, turned, and froze at the sight of them. One ear flicked.

           “Well,” said Roan softly, wide-eyed. She slowly lowered the spear. “Isn’t this a day for wildlife.”

           The great elk stood completely still. It was even taller than an ordinary elk with broad, flat antlers tapering out to long, sweeping points along the leading edge, each antler almost as long as Roan was tall, but its muzzle was more like that of the stag tied over Pardus rather than an elk’s comical drooping snout. It lowered its head a little as if considering a charge. Roan groped blindly for Asta’s hand and held it tightly; Asta squeezed Roan’s hand hard in reply. Neither of them took their eyes off the deer.

           Roan swallowed, let go, and took one sudden step forwards, flinging both arms up with a wordless yell. The great elk bolted like any other deer, bounding away down the trail and back into the trees and out of sight.

           Asta allowed herself to breathe again. “I thought they were extinct in the Sea Lochs!”

           “They are rare,” said Roan. “I’ve found tracks and the odd carcass, but that – I’ve never seen a live one before.”

           Shaking a little as the tension eased, Asta edged closer to Roan and wrapped both arms around her waist. Almost absently, her eyes still fixed on the point where the great elk had disappeared, Roan gathered Asta in against her chest and kissed her forehead, smoothing down her hair with one hand. “You all right?”

           Asta nodded, breathing deeply. “You?”

           “Aye. Aye, I’m all right. Not gonnae let any daft stag mess with my wife, even a stag as big as that one. Whew. Let’s get this other one home, eh?”

           “You remember the last time we were in Auchtertan?” asked Asta as they began to follow the trail down once again. Roan nodded. “I picked up an interesting volume in that little bookshop near the mercat stone, written by a wizard with a background in hunting and farming. There were some diagrams that might be useful – runic arrays he used to stop meat from spoiling, or slowing it down at least.”

           “We wouldn’t go through as much salt,” said Roan thoughtfully. “Aye, we can give them a try.”

           “Roan?” said Asta a couple of hours later, as the trees thinned out and the glitter of sunlight on seawater came into sight up ahead.

           “Mm-hmm?”

           “You called me your wife earlier.”

           “I did, aye. We’ve been together long enough for it – suppose it’s a wee habit I’ve got into. Nice habit, though.”

           “Do you… want to make that official?”

           Roan stopped dead and stared at her, eyebrows raised and a faint smile on her face. “Asta zeDamar, was that a proposal?”

           “Not a very romantic one, I know,” said Asta ruefully. “But I thought – we could maybe ride up to Duncraig for a few days. Book a hotel room, go to the registrar’s office… Make a little holiday of it.”

           Roan lifted her off her feet and kissed her soundly.

           “Was that a yes?”

           “It was, aye.”

           ---

           15th of Gracilis, AI 2743

           Pardus galloped over the massive Kingsferry Bridge, leaving Duncraig further behind with every step. Asta tried to concentrate on riding, but every so often her eyes were drawn to the brand-new silver ring on her left hand, and a small smile appeared on her face.

           “Maybe we should have tied a ‘just married’ sign to its tail,” laughed Roan, seated behind her on the construct’s back with her arms snugly around Asta’s waist. “Hey, Asta?”

           “Yes?”

           “When we get to the crossroads at the far end, can we go straight over?”

           “What? The road home is to the left.”

           “I know, I know – but there’s something I want to show you first.”

           Asta didn’t answer. Her smile faded, and Pardus slowed to a sedate jog.

           Roan leant forwards to try and see her face. “Are you all right?”

           “The road straight over goes to Castle MacArra,” said Asta quietly.

           “Ah.” Roan held her a little tighter and kissed the side of her neck. “We don’t need to go that far – there’s just a house I need to visit, well outside the estate borders.”

           “Really? Why?”

           Roan hummed for a second. “It’s a surprise.”

           “So mysterious,” said Asta, the smile creeping back. “Well – all right. But we might have to stop overnight before we get home.”

           The house in question was a sprawling single-storey building with a slate roof and walls of warm red sandstone, placed in the middle of a huge garden with plenty of shrubs and winter-bare trees among the flower beds and patches of long grass. To one side, a carriage with two constructs in harness sat in an open-ended coach-house, while a little pointed turret above the main door was decorated by an iron weathervane with a silhouette of a running dog above the points of the compass.

           “Roan, what is this?” asked Asta as she climbed down from the saddle.

           Roan took her hand and led her over to the door. “I – I wanted to get you something really special for a wedding present. So I started asking around at the markets, and went to the library in Auchtertan…”

           “You went to the library for me?” Asta touched her heart, eyes wide.

           “The librarians were very helpful. And I found out about this place! The woman who lives here breeds rough-coated wolfhounds, and she has a good reputation. I – I’ve never had a dog. But the books said that they’re a clever, affectionate breed that take well to training, and that they’re very long-lived for dogs – almost twenty years!”

           “They’re also very big,” Asta pointed out.

           Roan’s smile was only a little embarrassed, and she clasped both of Asta’s hands between her own. “I still worry a bit about leaving you alone in the broch,” she said. “Even if it’s only for a few hours, I worry. In case something happens while I’m away. I know it’s daft, I know you look after yourself just fine – but I still worry. So if we’re getting a dog, I… I want it to be one that can keep an eye out for you.”

           Asta freed one hand and reached up to brush Roan’s hair out of her face, stroking her forehead with one thumb. Her fringe was getting long. “That wasn’t an objection,” she said gently. “It won’t hurt to give your self-defence tips some backup.”

           Roan smiled and rang the doorbell.

           A stout, motherly woman answered it with a smile. “Yes, you’re here to see Whisky’s litter, right?” she said when Roan introduced herself. “I got your letter – I’m Siobhan. Through here, through here – the pups aren’t old enough to leave her yet, not for another couple of weeks, but I can introduce you and you can see if there’s anyone you get on with.” She opened a door into a pleasant, airy room, its floor covered with straw and newspaper, and waved them through. Asta paused, her path firmly blocked by an enormous dog with a rough, shaggy, grey-brown coat.

           “This is Whisky,” said Siobhan, stroking the massive wolfhound’s ears. “Each of you hold out the back of your hand to her, let her have a sniff, and she’ll settle right down.”

           They did as they were told. Whisky took her time inspecting them, snuffling at their hands, but she seemed satisfied by whatever she found and, tail wagging, lay down on a wide, somewhat chewed cushion in the corner of the room. In her place, half a dozen boisterous puppies wobbled over to say hello.

           Asta sat down on the floor with a bump.

           “I’ll leave you to it for a while,” said Siobhan, smiling. “Would you like some tea? I’ll go put the kettle on.”

           “I’ll give you a hand,” said Roan, trying not to laugh as the puppies swarmed Asta under Whisky’s experienced eye.

           “Yes, we can have a chat in the kitchen – I like to have an idea of the homes my dogs are going to.”

           They returned to the dogs’ room a while later, half-finished mugs of tea in hand.

           “Well, it doesn’t sound like there should be any problems,” said Siobhan. “You ought to have plenty of room out there, and I know there’s a good vet working out of a surgery in Auchtertan. But if you’ve no objections I’ll send one of my daughters out for a wee inspection in a few days, just to be on the safe side.”

           “We don’t have a spare room for her,” warned Roan. “She’ll have to sleep on our couch if she ends up staying the night.”

           “Och, there’s a wee inn near the vet’s place she can use,” said Siobhan, waving a hand. “Let’s see what your wife has to say.”

           Roan opened the door, took in the scene, and closed it again. “Can you give her a minute? She’s completely covered in puppies.”

           “Ah.”

           Roan let herself back into the room and knelt down. Asta lay flat on her back on the floor with a look of delirious happiness on her face. One of the puppies had made itself comfortable and fallen asleep on her stomach, while its siblings joyfully wrestled each other across her legs.

           “So, ah…” said Roan. “Have you chosen a puppy?”

           Asta managed to lift a hand and laid it over the one using her as a bed. Her smile somehow grew even wider.

           Roan laughed and leant down to kiss her. “I’ll tell Siobhan.”

           ---

           8th of Nivalis, AI 2754

           “Any plans for today?” asked Asta. “Other than the usual chores, I mean.”

           Roan stirred a spoonful of honey into her porridge. “I thought I’d take the boat out and go fishing,” she said. “See if I can catch something more substantial than the river traps can take. It looks like it’ll be a nice day for it – bright for this time of year and not too windy. Want to come?”

           “No, I’ll let you wrestle fish by yourself,��� said Asta. “I think the chicken feeder’s timer needs a few tweaks – I was going to see if there’s anything I can do with the clockwork. Can you make sure you’re back before dark, though? I’ll need your help if the runic arrays need refreshed.”

           “I’ll see to it,” promised Roan. “Bramble can keep you company in the meantime – won’t you, Bramble?”

           Bramble’s attention was focussed on her morning biscuit, but she wagged her tail at the sound of her name.

           “That was a yes,” translated Asta, reaching down to scratch the back of the huge dog’s neck. “Do you think Riabhach will help out again?”

           “Aye, he usually shows up outside the mating season,” said Roan. “He’s quite good at chasing fish onto my line – not sure why, when he can catch them just fine by himself.”

           “Maybe he just likes your company,” said Asta.

           “Maybe. I’ll set a fish aside for him anyway.”

           With the morning’s chores out of the way, Roan packed herself a lunch, kissed Asta farewell, and jogged up the coastal track to the boat shed on its beach. Asta watched from the wall top until she was out of sight, smiled, and went to inspect the chicken feeder with Bramble trotting at her heels. Fully-grown, the top of her head reached slightly past Asta’s waist.

           There was nothing wrong with the chicken feeder that a little grease to the gears couldn’t fix, but the arrays on the feed container that halted rot and deterred pests were getting worn and scuffed. Asta freshened the runes with some metallic paint, but anything more would have to wait until Roan came back from fishing. She washed her hands and glanced up at the sky. The earlier clear blue was gone, replaced by ominous shades of grey. Asta sighed and whistled to Bramble, collecting her harness and leash from the hook by the door. “Time for a walk, eh, girl?”

           Bramble wagged her approval.

           The rain started on the way back from a long walk up the coast of the loch. Asta muttered a curse and pulled up her hood, breaking into a run that Bramble easily kept pace with, but the downpour only grew heavier until she was soaked to the skin before she had even reached the broch. Trees thrashed in the rising wind; somewhere behind her, the creak of wood rose to a scream as a branch tore off and was carried away. Had the sun set? It was hard to tell – black clouds shrouded it completely. Asta reached the gate and rushed through. The outer wall held off the worst of the wind, but even so the hens had already taken shelter in their coop. Asta closed the hatch and bolted it to keep them safely inside, then let herself and Bramble into the broch.

           “Roan?” No answer. Nothing to worry about – she must have taken the boat into some sheltered cove to wait out the storm. “Stay,” Asta added to Bramble, who had just given herself a vigorous shake in the middle of the entrance passage. Bramble sat down to wait by the door, licking the water from her whiskers, until Asta returned from upstairs with an old towel for her. “There we go, that’s better, isn’t it?” said Asta, untying Bramble’s harness and drying her fur as well as she could. “Who’s a good dog? Yes, you are, you are! No, don’t – don’t lick me. Let’s get the fire going so you can lie down and dry off properly. Then…” Asta looked down at her sodden clothes. “Then I’ll try to dry off.”

           Changed into dry clothes and with the rest draped over a frame by the fire, Asta settled down on a couch with a book, firmly nudging the still-damp Bramble back down on the rug with one foot when she tried to climb up beside her. She was far too big to nap on Asta’s stomach any more, but she never quite seemed to understand that.

           They waited.

           Asta got up to fill Bramble’s bowl and heated a couple of leftover fishcakes for herself. The wind shrieked outside and did not let up until long after Asta had dozed off on the couch, one hand resting on Bramble’s shoulders.

           The storm had passed by morning, leaving a clear sky and still, cold air, but Roan had not returned. Asta climbed to the broch’s rampart and looked in all directions for any sign of a tall red-haired figure in a sealskin cloak. Still nothing. Asta let the hens out and collected the eggs, then boiled a couple of them for breakfast; one for herself and one for Bramble as a treat. After another silent hour, she buckled Bramble’s harness, clipped on the leash, and set off towards the boat shed. It stood open and empty on the deserted beach.

           Asta’s nails dug into the palm of her hand. She let Bramble off the leash and climbed to the top of the rocks past the boat shed’s beach. Still nothing – wait. She called for Bramble to follow and began to run, along the coast and over the uneven rocky pavement, stumbling on patches of seaweed and splashing through shallow rock pools.

           She slid to a halt and almost lost her balance at the edge of the rocks, staring down into a deeper channel carved where the sea had found a point of weakness. It was like a miniature gorge, about as wide and as deep as Asta was tall, and as the tide ebbed it left white sand bare at the landward end.

           White sand covered with spars of shattered wood. Treated boards, not loose branches, smoothed and curved into the proper shapes. Some were still nailed together; most just ended in a mess of splinters. One loose board still carried some decoration: patterns based on the carvings from the ancient symbol-stones, and writing in a hand Asta recognised as her own.

           A name: Each-Uisge. Asta’s breath shuddered in her chest, harder and harder until it almost wouldn’t come at all. Bramble whined and licked her hand, leaning against her hip.

           Asta fell to her knees and screamed at the waves until her voice died.

           ---

           Light-Through-Waves’ 34th Winter

           Sometimes, Light-Through-Waves really wondered why he bothered. Seal-That-Walks was quite clever for a human, and he was rather fond of her and her mate Black-Mane, but she often couldn’t understand even the simplest things without a flat shape to look at. Any foal could tell the storm was coming, could taste it in the wind and the water – the rest of the herd had gone to ride it out in the south coves – but when he had tried to warn Seal-That-Walks she had just taken it for a game and kept floating out on the hollow log. He had thought that if he helped her catch enough fish, she would go back to her tower on the shore before the storm hit, but no. She had eventually realised he was worried – just before the storm hit, by which point it was far too late. The wind had ripped away the log’s wing and raised waves that crushed the wood to pieces.

           Light-Through-Waves had tried to help. Every foal knew it – if you couldn’t make it to a cove, then you should dive deep below the waves for as long as your breath would hold. He had grabbed Seal-That-Walks’ front flipper in his jaws, careful not to break her fragile human hide with his teeth, and dragged her down to a safe depth, but the foolish creature had fought him, battering at the soft skin around his nostrils with the tiny claws of her other flipper until he had to let go and she shot back to the dangerous surface. In a storm! Seal-That-Walks was a strong swimmer for a human – so, not very strong at all by any proper standard – but even a grown stallion like Light-Through-Waves had trouble at the surface in such weather, and the sea had carried her away. He had tried to follow at a safe depth, only resurfacing when his lungs could no longer bear submersion, but the current had her and she was out of sight in the space of a heartbeat. Light-Through-Waves pinned his ears back against his skull and swam with the current.

           Slowly, the storm above weakened, and as the sun rose Light-Through-Waves lifted his head from the water, trying to catch any scent on the wind. There – a faint breeze from the west. He ducked back below the surface and bared his teeth as he swam, letting the water filter across his tongue without going down his throat. Beneath the salt was the sharper taste of human blood.

           The water was getting shallower; he could feel it in his whiskers. There was an island up ahead, one he knew; the Whale-That-Was-Not swam there whenever it left the loch by Seal-That-Walks’ tower. Not much good for hauling out – the rocks were steep and any beaches big enough for a herd were always busy with humans – but there was a reef off the coast that was all right for a quick rest. He would be coming up on it soon.

           The taste of blood grew stronger. Light-Through-Waves lifted his head from the water. The reef was just up ahead – and it was occupied. Seal-That-Walks hung from the rough stone, half in the water, bashing against the rock with each wave, and limp except for one clutching flipper. Light-Through-Waves drew up beside her and gripped the rock with his own claws. The edges were sharp, but his hide held up better than hers and none of his blood clouded the water.

           He barked softly and nuzzled her face as he would to encourage one of his foals. Her face was almost white beneath the streaks of blood and her odd blue markings, but she breathed. One eye was bruised and swollen shut, but the other opened a tiny crack. She coughed, water splattering from her mouth, and made the sounds she used to mean Light-Through-Waves: a small growl behind her teeth and a hiss at the back of her throat. Alive. Good. Light-Through-Waves drew back and shoved his long head beneath her foreleg. With vast effort and little strength, Seal-That-Walks released her grasp on the stone and clung to his neck. Light-Through-Waves pushed off from the reef and swam for the beach. It was too close to where the Whale-That-Was-Not rested for his liking, too near the humans that cared for the Whale, but humans were what Seal-That-Walks needed.

           He hauled out on the beach, tired after the long swim. Seal-That-Walks lost her grip on his neck and collapsed to the sand, shivering and exhausted. One of her hind flippers did not look right. Light-Through-Waves gave it a nudge, and she flinched away with a strangled cry. Injured, then.

           Humans had less blubber than a newborn foal, nothing to keep them warm but the extra skins they wore over their own. Next to useless. Light-Through-Waves curled around her and lay down to wait for help.

           The sun climbed higher, casting a warm light over the beach, and his fur fluffed out as it dried. The Whale swam out from its den and away towards the mainland. Then – human voices up the beach. Light-Through-Waves raised his head. There was a large group of them coming down the sand, picking through the debris along the tideline. He roared to get their attention. It worked – they began to run down the beach towards him, shouting and waving their arms. One young female with a red mane like Seal-That-Walks drew ahead of the herd and flung out one arm, throwing something that stung Light-Through-Waves’ snout. He flattened his ears and backed slowly away from Seal-That-Walks, baring his teeth. The young female showed her own and he reared back in surprise – since when did humans have fangs? – but it wasn’t a real threat and she knelt on the sand beside Seal-That-Walks, her shoulders up as if she was trying to make her mane bristle.  

           The rest of the herd caught up, all of them fully-grown or near enough. None of them carried blades, but the air shimmered where they raised their arms and more unseen wasps struck at his muzzle and shoulders, painful but without drawing blood. They thought he was the threat! But they didn’t want to hurt Seal-That-Walks; as far as he could read human expressions, there was concern on their faces as they gathered around her. He retreated into the sea, watching as the odd shimmers disappeared and one human ran back along the beach. More of them arrived, lifted Seal-That-Walks onto a strange flat log, and carried her away.

           There was nothing more that Light-Through-Waves could do. He dived beneath the water and began the long swim to the mainland. His herd would be wondering where he had gone – and Black-Mane would want to know her mate was safe.

           Quite how he would explain to Black-Mane that her mate was safe… He would have to give that some thought.

~~~

To Be Continued! ain’t no bury your gays over here

Some notes:

Asta originally mentioned the bookshop being near the mercat cross, that being what they’re called in the real world (here); however, since they don’t have Christianity but are aware of crucifixion, the cross has a rather different cultural meaning for them and I changed her line to a more neutral ‘mercat stone’. 

Bramble’s breed isn’t just referred to as a rough-coated wolfhound because they don’t have an Ireland; while they were the main inspiration for how she looks, she isn’t an Irish Wolfhound. For one, they generally don’t live for more than about eight years compared to Bramble’s expected twenty.

As you might expect for a wild animal, Riabhach doesn’t actually call himself that. However, both Roan’s name for him and his own refer to his markings: riabhach means ‘brindled’, while ‘Light-Through-Waves’ comes from the patterns you get on a surface when light shines on it through water. He also, despite his intelligence, has a rather unrealistic idea of human lung capacity.

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