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#and now! here we are! but my shitty-ass coloring & line quality make it hard to discern them so. sorry about that lmaooooo

kingdaddydaichi · 3 years

Note

can i request consensual hate sex between bakugou and f!reader

Oooooh yassssss! This idea got better and better the more I thought about it, Nonny. Love it! I hope you enjoy this naughty little slice of grudge fuck pie. 💖

Riding The Fine Line 💥 Katsuki Bakugou x f!reader 💥 NSFW

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT or I'll have my Big Scary BoomBoom Man blow your little ass up!

Word Count: 2k

"Oi! Who picked this shitty restaurant anyway?", Bakugou sneered as he walked towards the table.

You rolled your eyes and mumbled, "Oh look, Gorilla Man is here".

"Watch it, shitty girl. M'not in the mood for your shit tonight".

You'd made plans earlier in the week to meet Kiri and Mina for dinner. You knew Bakugou had been invited too, but after having suffered through it so many times over the past year or so of having some friends in common, you somehow managed to tolerate his presence. It helped that the drink you'd been sipping on made him somewhat less intolerable than usual.

It was like nails down a chalkboard every time Bakugou reared his big dumb head. His only redeeming quality was that he was quite easy on the eyes. Shame that such a hot guy is also such a huge asshole.

He's always given everyone a hard time, but unlike most people, you just wave a dismissive hand at him. And it makes him crazy. He doesn’t understand why he doesn’t get under your skin like he so easily does others. Oh, he annoys the piss out of you to be sure, but he doesn't hurt your feelings per se.

"Y'know, for such a massive ego yours sure is delicate, you meat head".

"Oh yeah? Well, for such a massive ass yours s-"

"God, Bakugou, do you ever just shut up?", you snipped.

Kiri and Mina both jumped in, laughing nervously and smoothing things over to lower the tension. He growled at you. You flipped him a subtle bird before looking away and trying to ignore him.

💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

Kiri's birthday was approaching and several of his friends decided to throw him a surprise birthday party. You, Denki, Mina, and ugh, as luck would have it, Bakugou, were are all put in charge of decorating his house while some other friends took him out for dinner. Midway through, Mina whined while sorting through various sacks, "Oh no! We forgot the disposable rainbow shot glasses!" Mina had a way of putting a cute touch on everything she had her hands in. Denki offered to go with Mina to procure the missing miniature party cups, leaving you and Bakugou alone to hang streamers in Kiri's living room. Probably not the wisest of decisions, but consider the source. 👀

It didn't take long after they were gone for Bakugou to start in on you with his bullshit. Only this time no one was around to referee. You groaned. This was going to be a free for all. You'd already both cut eyes at each other a couple of times.

"You're not doing it right, dumbass!"

"That's a matter of opinion and you can shove yours up your ass, dumbass".

He flipped you off saying, "You can shove this up your ass!", then turned back to his task.

You were so done. Without thinking, you reared back and hurled the roll of streamers as hard as you could, nailing him right in the back of the head. Damn, it felt good.

He whipped around, a vein popping out of his forehead, clenching his teeth. You were quite proud of your aim until he made little explosions in his free hand and said, "You're really pushing your luck with me, woman! If we weren't in Kiri's house right now I'd blast you right through that fucking wall!"

"Pfft, whatever! You wouldn't do shit. You're all bark and no bite, you fucking douche canoe!"

"You ever stop to think that maybe if you weren't such a bitch guys might actually want to talk to you?"

That did it. He'd finally found one of your hot buttons and you couldn't take his shit anymore. You marched right up to him and got right up in his face, height difference be damned.

"You know what, fuck you, Bakugou! I'm not normally like this! You're the only person who…drives me to this madness!", you spat with tears in your eyes.

A second later, his hands were on either side of your face, crashing his lips down onto yours. You were so shocked you froze before pulling away from him, staring at him in astonishment. He just stood there, huffing, glaring back at you, waiting.

You stepped forward and pushed him, his back hitting the wall, hard. But before he could protest, your lips were on his again. He grabbed you by your arms and spun you around, pinning you against the wall. You slipped your tongue past your open mouth, his meeting yours halfway as he pushed his knee between your legs. He pressed his thigh against your sex, shoving his growing cock against your thigh in the process.

Taking the bottom of his shirt into two fistfuls, you eagerly pushed it up to his chest, exposing his washboard abs and god-like pecs. He quickly pulled it over his head and threw it to the floor while your shaky hands got busy with his belt and zipper, urgently, like you couldn't get to him soon enough. But his will took over when he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head so he could peel your shirt off. He dipped down to take a mouthful of your tit, cupping what he couldn't fit in his rough hand, swirling his tongue around your nipple, sucking, then releasing you from the inside of his mouth to flick the tip of his tongue over your pink nub. You grabbed two handfuls of his ash blond locks and arched your back off the wall as he gave your other breast the same treatment.

You impatiently tugged on his hair, hungry for the taste of his sweet lips again. Your tongues once again fought for dominance and you gasped when he picked you up in one swift movement. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to Kiri's bedroom, swinging the door shut behind him before slamming your back against it.

"Put me down", you said forcefully.

He stopped sucking on your neck long enough to rasp, "And why the fuck should I?"

"Because I want to get into your fucking pants, asshole".

For once you two agreed on something and with your feet back on the floor, you got back to work on his pants before reaching in and wrapping your hand around his hot dick. Shit, you could barely get your fingers all the way around it, it was so thick. You stroked him a couple of times before pulling him out, exposing his manhood in all of its mouth-watering glory.

He ran his hand down his sculpted stomach, spreading his fingers to either side of his girth. "Like what you see?" You realized you were staring at his dick and the pre that dripped from it.

"Wouldn't you like to know?", you sassed.

He growled and spun you around, pushing your front against the wall and swiftly closing in behind you. Wisps of your (color) hair fluttered around his hot breath as he breathed down your neck. "You keep on tryin' to hide it, but you want me just as much as I want you, princess, and I'm gonna make an honest girl outta ya".

His battle-hardened hands found their way down your back, around your waist and all the way to your belly before he slid them down, his fingers reaching below your waistband. You willed him to push his hands further down, pressing your backside against his erection. He used one deft hand to unbutton your pants and work your zipper down, granting himself better access. When he mercifully slipped his middle finger between your folds, you couldn't choke back the moan that emerged from the back of your throat.

"Damn", he growled behind your ear, "for someone who can't stand me, your pussy sure is wet for me".

"Shut up", you gritted through your teeth.

The feeling of the rough pad of his finger teasing your swollen clit nearly sent you over the edge. But it was short-lived and you whined when he pulled his hand away to shove your pants down around your ankles, accompanied by your damp panties. Your hands slid down the wall as he yanked your ass back towards him. You hung your head and watched the head of his cock as Bakugou fucked your thighs, back and forth over your slit, coating his fat cock with your slick, readying himself.

When he began pushing into you, your legs shook from the sheer pressure as he slowly filled you up. When he bottomed out, he held himself still, at least considerate enough to give you time to adjust to his size. He waited until you started grinding against him before grabbing your hips, and slowly withdrawing.

"Now let's see if I can fuck all that hate for me out of you". Before you could retort, he slammed his cock back into you, your pitiful cry mixed with his loud groan echoing off the walls of Kiri's bedroom. He set his pace, steady and hard, the cold buckle of his open belt pressing into your skin with every crash of his hips.

"Yeah, who knows? Maybe if you'd get your dick wet every once in a while you wouldn't act like one", you quipped, voice faltering as he pounded into you.

He slowed his pace to bend over you, pushing your hair out of the way before biting down on the nape of your neck.

"Oww!! What the fuck?!"

He stood up straight again, laughing and said, "All bark and no bite, hah? You just hadn't pushed me far enough yet!" The sweet and salty mixture of his sweat and your need could be heard with every loud slap of his skin against yours.

"Fuck! Bakugou-", you whined in spite of yourself.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and gave it a firm tug. "When're ya gonna stop callin' me by m'last name and call me Katsuki instead?"

"When you stop acting like a raging asshole towards me", you managed as he fucked the breath out of you.

"Brave words for someone in such a compromising position. Now - say - my - fucking - name!". Each word came with its very own plunge of his cock into your mess of a cunt.

Your legs started to give out. "Katsuki!" You hadn't meant to obey him, but he'd kept his word and made you honest.

"That's better". You could hear the smirk in his voice after hearing his first name fall from your quivering lips.

You turned to face him when he pulled out, kissing him hard, his fingers going into your hair. You inched backwards onto the bed, Katsuki crawling in towards you with a primal look in his crimson eyes before nestling his thighs between yours and sheathing himself deep inside you again. Your head rolled back as you arched your back off the bed. Gods, the feeling of him filling you up was quickly becoming your new favorite sensation.

He nuzzled his face against your neck as he rutted into you, pulling your thigh up to his hip bone, raking his teeth against your skin. His breathing had become more labored and he started thrusting faster, your pleasure mounting with the increased friction of his pubic bone against your clit until rays of bliss shot out from every pore of your skin at the speed of light.

"K-ka-tsuki, I'm c-cumming hahh oh goddd!" The pulsating grip that you had on him finally sent him to his end as well, growling your name and cursing between clenched teeth, burying himself deep inside you as he unloaded rope after thick rope of his white hot cum into your snug, soft warmth.

"Seems Shitty Hair’s gonna get more than one surprise tonight", Katsuki said, catching his breath.

You laughed so hard that Katsuki hissed at the feeling of your walls squeezing his sensitive cock so soon after his orgasm.

"You still hate me?", he asked, brushing his lips against yours, supporting his weight with his elbows.

"Hmm...that depends", you said thoughtfully, tracing the cut of his back muscles with your fingertips.

"On what?"

"On whether or not you'd still fuck me if I don't hate you".

He smirked. "I'd still hit it even if you love me", he whispered, showing his softer side as he kissed you, smiling.

#grudge f*ck #katsuki bakugou #i want him to hate me this much #ugh #that man #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo #katsuki #bakugou #bakugo #katsuki smut #katsuki bakugo headcanons #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x y/n #king explosion murder #lord explosion murder #dynamight

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touyota · 3 years

Text

Hoe Hoe Hoe

☁️ Summary: Satoru Gojo *cough* *cough* I mean Santa Claus jingles your bells on Christmas Eve.

A/N: y’all this fic whooped my ass literally, but i think it came out pretty good. i think my smut is getting better, so hopefully i keep the momentum going for all my future fics. (also ik i’m late for the holidays but better late than never!)

☁️ Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Elf Reader

☁️ Warnings: Size kink, bulging, slight breeding kink, gojo’s massive 🐓

The holidays were always an overwhelming time at the workshop. You and your fellow elves worked overtime to fulfill the yearly abundance of Christmas lists that were received, and to be quite frank; you were due for a fucking break. As a head elf, you spent your days monitoring the shop floor and managing quality control. Everything and anything went through you, especially before it got to Santa.

You were handling a crisis on the floor, something about a particular video game console shortage, when you received a message from the big man himself.

“I swear... if I hear another word about how we are out of stock, I will personally shove a candy cane up your ass. We’re fucking elves, just go make some more.“ You shooed the elf off before taking a deep breath. You wanted to tear your hair out, every minor inconvenience didn’t require your assistance, yet they always found a way to you. In a last-ditch effort to keep your composure, you began to practice a method you learned in your weekly anger management meetings.

“One….two….three….four….five” You exhaled, opening your eyes to see a particular pink-haired headache, elf approaching waving and skipping towards you. You started counting faster; hopefully, he’d be gone at the end of your count.

“One..two..three..four..five”

“Boss! Oh, boss! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Fuck he was getting closer. You braced yourself, hoping he was referring to another supervisor standing near you.

“Onetwothreefourfiveonetwothreefourfiveonetwothreefourfive”

“What’s with the counting boss? You must be counting down the hours before we give everyone the best Christmas ever!” Yuji cheesed, barely able to contain his giddiness. Oh, bless his heart, Yuji was somewhat new to the shop and was a hard worker, but a few screws were missing upstairs.

“I have a bomb ticking inside my head.” you deadpanned, hoping to spook him off so you could go hide in your office.

“Oh…..Oh no, boss, you need to get checked out immediately, we need to call the police, the ambulance, the bomb squad, we might have to cancel Christmas. If we cancel Christmas, they won’t get their presents, and they’ll all be upset an-“ It was truly endearing. You could almost see the steam pouring from his ears as he panicked about you and your well-being. You pinched his lips shut before he managed to alert the rest of the workshop.

“Yuji, I was lying…what do you need?” The panic drained from his face, a relieved smile taking its place.

“The big man wants to see you, something about squashing a few last-minute details. He trailed off, focusing his attention on someone in the distance. “Nobara, stop drinking my eggnog, and don't touch my cookies!” Yuji ran off, thankfully abandoning your conversation.

You began your trek to the big man’s office, the big man being Satoru Gojo, direct descendant of Kris Kringle and newly appointed Santa Claus. Gojo was indeed an enigma, barely leaving his office only for special occasions such as Christmas Eve and Christmas itself. The only way you could speak to him was if he requested you directly.

The walk to the office required dragging yourself up to three flights of stairs before you reached the red door decorated with brightly colored green tinsel and oversized candy canes.

You made sure to knock, you weren’t completely devoid of manners, and you wanted to keep your job. A sultry voice sounded through the door.

“Come on in.” You gently open the door, almost tip-toeing in before slowly closing the door.

“You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me. I don't bite unless you want me to.” You scurried towards the desk, not wanting to waste any more of his limited time.

“......Sorry, Mr. Claus, I came as soon as Yuji told me he said something about a few last-minute details.”

“He was right; come sit right here.” As inviting as he looked, patting his lap, you took several hesitant steps before perching yourself on his lap. “Get comfortable; we have a few things to discuss, nothing outrageous, just a few... things.” You played the velvet fabric of your skirt as he droned off about the minor details that could’ve been dealt with by any other elf. You grunted in response to the open-ended questions asked. “I think that’s it. Did you get all that?” He skimmed through his never-ending checklist to confirm.

“Oh...um, yes, I did, in fact, I’ll go deal with that right now.” You dust your lap off and lean forward to push up off of the oversized chair. Only to find that you haven’t moved an inch. “Um…...Mr. Claus…I can’t move, and I need to….” you trailed off, disrupted by a gloved hand tilting your chin, forcing you to look directly into those soft blue eyes.

“Tsk tsk tsk, I knew you weren’t paying attention, puddin’.” He faked a face of hurt before using the arm that wasn’t wrapped around your waist to swipe his cluttered desk clear. “I said that-” Pausing to slam your form down unto the oversized desk. “I said that all I want for Christmas is to fuck you until this desk breaks.” He whispered, pressing several gentle kisses along the column of your neck. The room temperature had increased tremendously, and the red wool suit pressed against you made it no better.

“Uh...wow...um, it’s getting kinda hot in here, don’t you think?” You pulled at your collar, hoping to put some kind of separation between you two. You were in no way trying to reject his advances. You were just entirely ambushed by how fast things were moving. Another urgent concern was the sheer size of “Santa.” You were already genetically disadvantaged in the height category as an elf, but this behemoth of a man towered over you. It left you to believe that he was more than proportionate in the nether regions.

“I think you’re right. See, that’s exactly why you’re my right-hand puddin’.” Before you could blink, you were almost instantly rid of your gown, leaving you in your unfortunately modest black undergarments. You pouted, wishing you were given some kind of warning in advance. “Poor baby, next time I’ll let you get all dolled up for me, maybe I’ll wrap you up with a bow and leave you under my tree.” You couldn’t contain your whimper at the thought, roping your legs around his waist, mimicking the same motion with your arms around his neck.

A loud horn sounded off, signaling Santa’s departure was nearing. “As much as I’d love to sit and ravish you till dawn, duty calls.” You were drawn into several more gentle kisses before Gojo deepened the kiss, nearly smothering you. You were on the brink of suffocation when he finally eased up, allowing you to catch your breath. when you felt your panties tugged to the side. “You have such a pretty pussy puddin’. I could sit here and play with it all day long.” Two callused fingers daintily drew circles around your clit, stopping to pull at the sensitive nub causing you to whine at each tug.

“Ah- p-please...Santa” You couldn’t wait anymore. Each stroke brought you closer and closer to your peak.

“Please, what pretty girl? I won’t know until you tell me.” Purposely speeding up his ministrations.

“Please...please...please...fuck me.” You cried out, you could barely contain yourself, and he wasn’t making it any better.

The air knocked out of your chest as the blunt tip of his cock breached your entrance. There was a brief pause before Gojo’s hips slammed forward, setting a brutal pace. You couldn’t form any thought, only incoherent mumbles, and whimpers leaving your mouth. The desk was rocking with each thrust, nearly throwing you off.

“Y-you feel so fucking good, ugh...this sweet little pussy sucking me in. You like that, huh? Using you like a little fuck toy? Y-yeah, you’re Santa’s little fuck toy, you just lay there and look pretty, and I’ll fuck you full of my kids. I’ll make you Mrs. Claus, and you won’t have to work in that shitty little workshop anymore. How does that sound?” Gojo’s cock pounding away at your cervix, blurring the lines of pain and pleasure.

You could almost cry because it all sounded fucking amazing. You were floating on a cloud each stroke. The rhythm was slowing to deep, deliberate thrusts when you felt an oversized hand rest on your belly.

…….Holy shit.

You nearly fainted seeing the outline of his massive cock bulge through your belly. You could tell Gojo was close, skin slapping as his thrusts sped up again. The final press of his palm forcing you over, and Gojo the same with his final thrust. Both of you were murmuring and moaning as he nudged into another breath-taking kiss. The desk finally loses its bearing and falls apart, leaving you both as panting messes on the ground.

You had wood chips in places that they shouldn’t be, and the chuckling giant next to you wasn’t helping. Your quirked an eyebrow up and questioned him. “What’s so funny?”

“I think I need to add a new desk to my Christmas list.”

#satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk smut #gojo x reader #jjk imagines #tw: size kink #tw: bulging #tw: breeding #satoru gojo

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thewolfmanslayer · 3 years

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Honestly the amount of people who say artists and writers should do stuff for free, or try to rip them off on comissions still royally piss me off.

I think the worst part of it is the entitlement, I dont want to make this too much about generations but a lot of commissioners are millenial/Gen z's who grew up on the "steal and pirate everything" mentality, take everything that you can because no one else is going to hand it to you. which I can get behind, when you are screwing over MULTI BILLION DOLLAR COMPANIES. NOT THE STRUGGLING ARTISTS AND WRITERS who are trying to keep food on the table as desperately as you probably are!

It's simple, you wouldn't walk into a restaurant, order food and tell the server "sorry I don't have any money, but I've got like a few thousand followers on social media, I can get your name out there, get the restaurant some exposure" NO! They don't need "exposure" they need you to pay the damn bill!

On top of that, most of these artists and writers ALREADY HAVE FOLLOWINGS. They already have thousands of people following them, waiting for the chance to get a commission, who are willing to pay for said commission, they don't need "exposure" when they're already out there! He'll even the artists and writers with a few hundred don't need it, they'll get more followers as time goes by, their skill alone will see to it.

And what is with people trying to get free art and writing? It's not going to work! You can't harass someone until they cave, trust me, you'll be long since blocked before you even have the opportunity. I don't do comissions, online anyways, but my own friends and family, people who actually know me STILL PAY ME whenever they ask for me to do art for them because they KNOW it takes TIME AND EFFORT.

How many times do we need to have this discussion???? Like when is it going to finally click that people who need to pay their bills just as much as you do AREN'T going to do this shit for free!?

Here's the thing about art and writing, that you've heard a billion times but still aren't getting; IT. TAKES. TIME. AND. EFFORT. TO. GET. DONE. the art isn't going to magically appear and the writing isn't going to suddenly write itself, if either were so convenient YOU WOULDNT BE ASKING AN ARTIST OR WRITER IN THE FIRST PLACE!

Look at that, you see that? The first picture I did back in 2012-13, the picture beside it? I did that TWO YEARS AGO. I didn't suddenly know exactly what to do, or had anything close to a god given talent for drawing (I'm not that talented). The first picture WAS THE ABSOLUTE BEST I COULD DO AT THE TIME THAT I MADE IT. In the time between these two drawings I admittedly took a break from art, but then I got back into it four years ago. EVEN STILL that was four YEARS of starting over from the basics, relearning everything, learning new things, wanting to actually improve my art.

Which, guess what, DID NOT HAPPEN OVER NIGHT. It was HOURS UPON HOURS of my limited free time as an adult drawing over and over and over and over again, every single goddamn day to get to the point that I was able to make that redraw look as good as it does in comparison. He'll, my art now puts them both to shame! Because I spent the time improving my quality!!

Now look at these artists doing comissions, they've probably put EVEN MORE of their time to get that good! They've put in LITERAL YEARS of sweat, blood, tears, frustrations and dedicated hardwork. Some did the same as me, self teaching and lots of practice, others probably had to go to school, which definitely wasn't cheap. But all of us put in that time and effort TO REACH THESE POINTS. Of being better artists, developing our styles, getting faster at drawing.

And maybe you think that this is super easy, right? That I or every other artist can just fire some art off and boom its good and done in like an hour?

FUCK. NO.

Even now it takes me several hours a day OVER MANY DAYS to make something exceptionally good! It doesn't matter how good an artist is, it still. Takes. Time.

Maybe the issue is that you don't understand how much actually goes into art, let me break it down for you, the steps that most people follow to finish ONE drawing.

-Rough draft: general character outline, get a feel for what I want to draw.

-Rough sketch: I start doing a bit of pencil to start filling in details like mouth, nose, eyes, hair, clothes. Ect.

-Penciling: I go over the rough sketch and clean everything up, maybe do some editing, this is when you can start making out all the details.

-Ink: I trace over the finished pencil with a pen tool and actually have the line art, everything looks clean, presentable, it actually looks like a character now. I'll spend time editing this and possibly redoing the inking many times over to get to a point where I like it.

-Flat color: I decide on which colors to use for skin tone, clothes accessories. Ect.

-Shading/highlights: I figure out where my light source is and how strong it is, I then apply the correct amount of lighting and shadows to the color to give it depth, I also have determine the texture of skin, clothes and accessories to make everything look real and natural.

-Blending: I smooth out the shading and highlights so that it looks more natural and isn't too hard (noticeable difference between color) so that it looks as natural as possible.

-Finish: I go over last minute details, finish any editing or corrections that need to be done. Once it's good I call it a day.

Each process is longer in length then the previous, with the exception of the final editing (as long as everything looks good) and even the rough draft can take some time. Over all this is SEVERAL HOURS of work for a SINGLE DRAWING.

So is it sinking in yet? How much is put into doing even a single character drawing? God forbid if its done with background. This isn't a "scratch a pen around and be done with it in ten minutes" kinda deal, no, this is SEVERAL HOURS OF SOMEONES LIFE BEING PUT INTO THIS

And if you still have the AUDACITY to try and wrangle free art from an artist then there's no helping you, you're just a selfish piece of shit, no question and I want nothing to do with you.

Someone might say "But I got free art/writing from.-" look I don't give a shit if someone did something for you THAT ONE TIME, these other artists and writers? Totally seperate and different people. You're one freebie experience does not, and should not apply to other artists and writers.

"But what if I really want this commission but don't have the money right now?" Well, that's tough shit. Save up and properly commission them when you can, it's not their problem.

"But what if I'm in a really bad financial situation and really want it?" That sucks, and I'm sorry, but again, not their problem. Chances are this is their only source of income and they need to make money so that they don't end up in a similar situation.

"They have a gift! They should share it!" What kind of cheap ass- LOOK, just because someone is talented or really good at something does not automatically obligate them to do anything for total strangers in anyway shape or form. These are living, breathing people, the same as you. They need to eat, they need to pay rent/mortgages, they need to pay vet bills, send their kids to college, do their taxes and everything else that YOU YOURSELF need to do. Asking anyone to spend their time doing something for free, when that something is how THEY ARE SURVIVING is beyond asinine. Not only that, this obviously isn't a hobby to them, it is very clearly THEIR JOB. Would you want to do a job where you didn't get paid at all? Doing a shit ton of work for absolutely nothing? No? Didn't think so.

"It shouldn't be about the money!" Well unfortunately, as with almost every other job, it is. We live in a world where we desperately need to make money in order to survive. That's the painful fact of the matter. If money never had to be an issue ever again then this would be a very different story. But it's not, plain and simple as can be.

Look, these people are just like you, artists and writers who are just trying to get by in a shitty ass world, using the one thing they have that let's them have an income. Leave them be, don't try and trick them, guilt them, or cuss them out when you don't get your way. Either properly comission or leave them the hell alone, plain and simple.

#artists #writers #art #writing #rant #comissions #people

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shera-dnd · 4 years

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A Day at a Time - Flirtation

I have a feeling y’all are gonna appreciate this one just from the title

Have some quality glitra content as we start making our way to angst glitradora end game

Also with a link to AO3 for those who prefer to read it over there

Catra had accepted the fact that Melog was trying to kill her at this point, because once more the little bastard dragged her through the building and straight to one of the prettiest girls she had ever seen, just so she could die of embarrassment.

“I’m fine.” Catra answered, trying to keep her cool considering everything that's happening right now. “My cat just decided to be a little bastard today.”

“You sure you don’t want any help?” The woman insisted. “I could hold your groceries for you, or your cat!” And as if he had somehow understood what had been said, Melog ran for the other woman and tried to climb her. She calmly picked him up, smiling at him as she did so. “Looks like they made the choice for you!”

Catra sighed, not wanting to bother yet another neighbour. “Thanks.”

“So I’ve seen you around a lot,” She commented as she followed Catra back to her apartment. “Don’t think we ever talked though.”

“Yeah I didn’t want to bother you.” Catra shrugged. “You look pretty exhausted most of the time.”

“A shitty office job does that to you.” She commented, “And just a ‘hello’ every once in a while wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” That would certainly make their random meetings in the hallway a lot less awkward. “I’m Catra by the way.”

“Glimmer,” She answered with a smile. “ Pleasure to meet you!”

Catra questioned what goes through a person’s mind to name their kid ‘Glimmer’, but the girl’s trans pride flower tattoo on her arm made it clear her parents probably had nothing to do with that name. That was not the only tattoo adorning her, as Glimmer’s body was almost entirely covered in them.

“And what is this little cutie’s name?” Glimmer asked as she petted the little creature, earning a pleased purr from Melog.

“Don’t encourage him,” Catra complained. “And his name is Melog.”

“I’m sure Melog just wanted to stretch his legs.” She commented, “Maybe he thought you needed to meet new people!”

“He could do that without making me run around like an idiot and annoy the neighbors.” Catra shot a death glare at her pet, who seemed completely unbothered.

“Well, I’m not annoyed.” Glimmer replied, defending the little cat. “He did give me an excuse to talk to a pretty girl.”

“What?” Catra did not expect that. Nor did she expect Melog to jump off of Glimmer’s arms and run back to his napping spot. She had been so distracted she hadn’t even noticed they arrived. “Thanks for the help.”

“No worries.” Glimmer waved off. Both of them stood in the corridor for a moment, waiting to see if the other would say anything. “I think I should get going.”

“Yeah… Wait!” Catra ran into her apartment, grabbed a little post it note and wrote on it quickly. She turned back to hand it to Glimmer, but she stopped herself and added a little smiling cat face to the note before doing so. “Here! It’s my phone number.”

“Oh just like that?” It was Glimmer’s turn to be surprised. “Not gonna keep your distance from the ‘weird pink bitch’?”

“You seem nice and Melog likes you, so you can’t be a bad person.” Catra shrugged.

“‘Can’t be a bad person?’” Glimmer repeated and Catra worried it didn’t exactly come off as a compliment, but the ‘weird pink bitch’ smiled and answered “Thanks, Catra. Talk to you later.”

And with a smile and a wave, she was gone.

~~~

Unlike Catra, Glimmer hadn’t wasted a single second and started her just a few minutes later. Thankfully, baking required a lot of waiting, so she had plenty of time to just talk to her. ‘Hey, Glimmer’ she wrote, but hesitated before sending. Thinking back to the girl’s tattoos, she decided to change that text a bit. “Hey, Sparkles” much better.

“Is this about the star tattoos? Because if it is I’ll fight you.” Catra chuckled when she read that message. She would make fun of how feisty Glimmer was being, but she remembered she had said something similar to Adora the other day.

“You know where I live, Sparkles.” Catra sent, challenging Glimmer. The response took a while as the three dots kept showing up, disappearing and then showing up again.

“I won’t fight you, but only because I don’t want Melog to think I’m mean.” That earned a laugh from Catra.

“I’ll let him know that the weird pink bitch is a nice person.” She joked, but then got a little curious. “Where did that come from by the way?”

“You can thank my coworkers for that one.” Catra suspected something like that, but did raise another question.

“How the hell are you keeping an office job with multicolored hair and tattoos?” This was all relevant information in case Catra ever had to take an office job.

“They wanted to get rid of me, but there were no real rules about colorful hair and I dared their asses to fire the only queer woman working there because they didn’t like her look. Would love to see them trying to recover from that HR disaster.” Apparently Glimmer had a very ‘Fuck you. Fight me’ attitude about everything. “Also they don’t know about the tattoos, so I trust you to keep that secret.” She added, with a little winky face at the end.

She was halfway through writing a witty remark when her line of thought was interrupted by the smell of burning bread. She dropped her phone on the kitchen counter and scrambled to save what was left of her attempt at baking.

~~~

Friday night at the bar was going unusually slow. Catra wasn’t exactly worried about it, she was smart enough to save up some extra money in case she got too many slow shifts. Still, it wasn’t like anything could really bring her mood down right now.

These past two weeks talking to Glimmer and Adora every day had done wonders to improve her disposition, to the point even her boss noticed. Hordak found it all extremely suspicious as he had never been Catra this genuinely happy when she wasn’t up to something. Catra couldn’t exactly blame him for assuming shit, but it was still very rude.

It’s not like Catra was ever planning to introduce the two of them to her boss just to prove him wrong, but it looked like the universe had other plans, because she could see a familiar face approaching the counter.

“Hey, Sparkles.” Catra greeted. “Didn’t expect to see you here. You stalking me or something?” She joked.

“I guess it was a lucky accident.” Glimmer answered, with a strained smile, before taking a seat. “First lucky thing to happen to me today.”

“Shitty day at work?” She guessed.

“Worse,” She answered, pulling up the sleeves of her work clothes, revealing the myriad of tattoos that covered her arm. “My boss found the bar I like to relax at and I’m so not getting drunk in the same room as the asshole that’s been trying to fire me.”

“And this is what? The least shady bar you’ve found all night?” Glimmer nodded “Well, you’re in good hands now and I promise not to use any of your drunk ramblings against you in the future.”

“Why do I find that hard to believe?” She asked, earning Catra’s most innocent look. It wasn’t very convincing.

“I wonder,” She started, playfully “Do you get even more fighty when you’re drunk or are you one of those, ‘You know I’ve always thought of you as a friend’ kind of drunks?”

“Sorry, but I’m only planning on getting a little tipsy.” She explained, “And I’m a flirty drunk, thank you very much.”

“Damn it.” Catra faked annoyance. “Looks like I’m not finding out what that looks like.”

“Maybe some other time.” Glimmer offered.

“But now that you’re not flirting and you’re not gonna start an argument with someone, what are you going to do to pass the time?”

“Very funny.” Glimmer rolled her eyes. “I think I’m gonna relax with a friend and enjoy some good music. Mind making me a Bright Moon?”

“Ugh looks like you share my boss’s awful taste in music.” Catra complained as she started making her drink.

“What is wrong with Fright Zone? Their music is great!”

“Yeah. If you like listening to a sad emo boy groaning about losing his girlfriend.” Catra countered, having heard most their songs more times than she’d like.

“Okay fine, the lyrics aren’t all that great” She admitted “I could try to find something you and your boss would like. Maybe something by Sadie Killer or The Scream Queens.”

“I have no fucking clue what any of those bands sound like, but I like the names a lot more than ‘Fright Zone’.” She commented, placing the finished Bright Moon on the counter. “Here is your drink, Sparkles.”

“A pretty drink from a pretty girl. What else could I ask for?” Glimmer said with a smile.

“You sure you aren’t drunk already?”

“Maybe I’m always a little drunk.” Glimmer joked.

“That sure would explain things.” Catra teased, earning a playful death glare that she happily matched. They kept the stares going until they couldn’t hold it anymore and burst out laughing.

“You’re the worst.” Glimmer said when she finally stopped laughing.

“Hate you too, Sparkles.” She answered, with the biggest smile on her face.

And for the first time in a long time, she was genuinely happy.

#spop #shera #fanfic #catra #adora #glimmer #glitradora

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brynnmck · 4 years

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So. BIRDS OF PREY. (Non-spoilery outside the cut.) The short-short version is that this is the woman-driven superhero/action movie I've been waiting for and I have been fizzing with excitement and glee ever since I saw it and I really REALLY encourage you all to check it out because a) I truly feel it might very well improve your lives and b) I want it to make a billion dollars so that they make more because I NEED IT.

Also I want to make clear that you do not have to have seen or liked Suicide Squad, or have read the comics, in order to understand and enjoy this movie. (One of the best tributes I can pay to it, though, is that BOP was/is my first and truest comics love, and even though this movie is a pretty drastically different take on them and in fact leaves out my favorite character entirely, I still ADORED it. In large part because it DOES contain one of things I loved most about the comics, namely: a variety of interesting, complex, and multifaceted women interacting with and supporting each other. And ALSO kicking ass using a variety of skill sets!)

Just. THIS MOVIE IS SO FUN. As a warning, there is some pretty brutal violence in it (though mostly not against women, for a pleasant change). But it's also hilarious, and really cleverly set up and executed, and grounded in real and relatable feelings, and bright candy colored and just the right amount of unhinged and the soundtrack is PHENOMENAL and the costumes are incredible and the fights were fantastic and honestly, I don't recall a single line in the whole movie that made me cringe for the person saying it. All the performances are brilliant, especially Margot Robbie (who gets the most to do, since Harley is the central character here, but she crushes it all), and Ewan McGregor cheerfully devouring scenery, and Jurnee Smollet-Bell is just. The PERFECT stunning badass Dinah. (Also I found out that she does her own singing in this and it has ruined my life because ONE PERSON SHOULD NOT BE ABLE TO DO AND BE ALL OF THOSE THINGS it's TOO MUCH.) Also it is just generally PACKED with extraordinarily hot women who have agency and depth. So. I THOROUGHLY enjoyed the ride and I wanted it to be at least an hour longer and I am absolutely going again as soon as I feasibly can.

Spoilery thoughts and feelings under the cut!

Okay, first of all, I have never had strong feelings about Harley as a character but holy shit, I had no idea Margot Robbie was such a good actress, and I loooooooooved what they did with Harley here. She's definitely unstable, but I adored that they kept reminding us how smart she is, and the fact that she's got all this education and this ability to analyze people that's a vital element of her power. And she's so much FUN, and her drive to be her own person and to figure out what that means is so poignant and so relatable, I really thought they struck the ideal balance with her of making her larger-than-life but still grounded and complex, someone we could care about and sympathize with. And I loved that she ultimately came into her own, and ultimately did it in part because she chose to make connections with people who fundamentally value her.

And then DINAH. MY BELOVED. I love that even though she starts out working for the enemy, she still has that essential kindness and sense of justice that I feel like is so crucial to the character, and I thought using her mother's death as context for how she ended up where she is now was really clever and gave the story space to show her becoming a hero instead of just being born as one. (And she ALSO gets to parallel what Harley is experiencing, i.e. she's not sure who she is without the man who's been exerting control over her for so long, but she's increasingly ready to find out.) I loved seeing the way that slowly built in her over the course of the movie, that "I'm not getting involved I'm not getting involved FUCK IT I'M GETTING EXTREMELY INVOLVED" bursting of the dam that happened a few different times in a few different ways, all leading up to the Canary Cry moment, which was SO MUCH MORE than the plot device it could have been because we know EXACTLY what she's choosing to embrace by using her powers, backed by all the catharsis of "I'm not fucking taking this anymore and I'm going to defend what I love and what is right with every ounce of my strength and RAAAAAAAAAAAAR." SO GOOD. Also I never thought I would ship Harley/Dinah but here I am? That first meeting between them in Roman's club hit me HARD, just that moment of connection, and actually that was one of my favorite things about the way the movie was structured: a lot of times with team-up movies I feel like things don't really get going until the team-up happens, but here I thought they included so many lovely moments with different combinations of the characters that they felt connected even when they weren't actually all together, so the team-up was still enormously satisfying but it also didn't feel to me like the rest of the movie was just waiting for that moment. (Also clearly the shipping potential here is OFF THE CHARTS because any or all of the four adults in this movie would be FASCINATING together so I'm very much here for THAT.)

Cass was also DELIGHTFUL despite bearing almost no resemblance to any canon version of Cass that I've ever seen, but she was still a LOT of fun and resourceful and snarky and secretly sweet and her pragmatic-and-then-actually-affectionate bond with Harley was absolutely adorable. I love that Cass is the only one who doesn't know anything about the Joker, so she just takes Harley for who she is, and that's part of what Harley responds to (eventually).

I also LOVED Renee, how SMART she is (her breaking down that crime scene early on was soooooo fucking cool and also HOT AF), how snarky she is, how OVER IT she is. I also loved that she was a little bit older, and obviously CANON LESBIAN YAY (as was Harley being canonically bi!!! see how easy that was???), and I loved that she was flawed but still doing her best (as are all of them, really). I loved the way they used her to illustrate all the bullshit that women face in so many workplaces, and it was INCREDIBLY satisfying when she quit at the end. (Also her telling Dinah that Dinah wouldn't have been abandoned on her watch gave me CHILLS. The conviction!!! The dedication!!!)

Huntress gets left out a little, and I wouldn't have minded seeing her explored more, though I ADORE BEYOND WORDS what they chose to do with her, up to and including her being kind of disconnected until she shows up at the end and she's like "uhhhh, look, I'm just here to kill this guy, I don't want any of this drama," HEEEEEE. But Helena is so broody (though also extremely snarky!) in the comics and I love her very much but it's not my favorite quality, so choosing to show her deliberately cultivating that broody exterior (and somewhat failing at it) was GENIUS and made me love her SO MUCH. Her moment with Cass during the last battle was such a fantastic one, too--that was a moment that very easily could have been skimmed over, and honestly I don't know that I'd have thought of it, but it was PERFECT and such economical character development for her and just generally evidence of a writer/writers who think of all these characters as three-dimensional people with their own thoughts and feelings and experiences. Also Harley's heart-eyes when Helena rolls up on her motorcycle to save her were BEAUTIFUL.

Also beautiful: the fight scene once they all team up, seeing all their different styles and how they support each other and how they take care of Cass. And that scene in the diner at the end was just. ALL I EVER WANT IS THAT SCENE AND THEY GAVE IT TO ME. The snark! The margaritas and shitty food! The exhausted, semi-awkward bonding (Helena being like, "Um… you also… did cool things…! Is this how humans communicate?" was AMAZING)! And even ending with Harley stealing Canary's car was perfect, because at the end of the day she's not really a long-term team player, so I loved them all kind of sharing this moment and then Harley and Cass go on to do their thing, their way, and Renee/Dinah/Helena do THEIR thing, their way, and everyone gets to live their best lives, fundamentally. And it would also be VERY VERY EASY to slot in Babs (Oracle Babs PLEASE, this movie was so good in a lot of ways about diverse casting and I'd love to see them take that a step further) in a future iteration of this, like, I can perfectly see her just being like, "Uh, you guys are doing okay but you could really use some help" and coming in with all her technology and her strategic bat brain and taking things to the next level. (Also Christina Hodson, who wrote this, is also supposedly writing the Batgirl movie, so… hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.)

Basically it was just… everything I wanted and pretty much nothing that I didn't (though I couldn’t help noticing that there were a lot of POC in this movie who were… not great people, though there were also three central POC who WERE great people, and the two main villains were white, so maybe that helps give a more multi-faceted perspective, but). It has SO MUCH POTENTIAL as a franchise but even if this is all we ever get, I think it's a glorious shiny batshit heartfelt gift and I'm so SO glad we got it, and hats off to all of the amazing women involved who pushed so hard to make this as amazing as it was. YOU ALL DID FANTASTICALLY.

#birds of prey #LIFE: CHANGED #i love everyone in this bar

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chernoblank · 5 years

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Ulana's sartorial choices

Everything she ever wore, going from this, to this:

Now, I’m not a fashion connoisseur by any means, and tbqh I’m more likely to dress like her or worse than her IRL, so grain of salt and all that. All gifs are mine. Images are either screenshots or from HBO/BBC/not mine. Sorry for potato quality.

Lab wear

So, we first meet Ulana in her lab, asleep at her desk, on April 26, 1986 at 8:30. We can either assume she: a) spent the night in her lab and fell asleep, b) came ungodly early and fell asleep. I hope it’s b), because she doesn’t change clothes the next day, which would make her be wearing the same shirt for 3 days straight if it’s a)

So we have a red button up shirt, with a dark red/purple tight-ish cardigan. She’s wearing a watch on her right hand (?), a golden locket necklace, and a ring on her left hand.

Before you all freak out like I did, I’m told married rings are worn on the right hand over there - certainly the other characters do. This also seems to be some kind of jewel ring, not really a marriage alliance. We’ll revisit it later.

Not really lipstick.

Here are her reading glasses, typical 80s round glasses, I remember my mother, teachers etc wearing those

Even though she wears her watch on her right hand, Ulana operates the instruments with her right hand so she’s not a leftie.

Here’s a glimpse of her skirt.

Girl, what? I mean, kudos for vaguely matching because the um, pink bird poo motives of the fabric kind of go with the red on red theme she’s doing but uuuh.

Party Headquarters

Ulana grabbed a really fucking ugly brown leather overcoat, a brown briefcase and her black? purse and went to the Party Headquarters dressed as she was. Not really lipstick again.

But! We see her shoes, and oh my god, I like them.

Here’s a purse close-up

Smallish purse, nothing worth talking about.

Now, in the show continuity, night falls in Pripyat, Valery goes to the hotel, the next morning they start dropping sand and boron.

Back to the lab

The next time we see Ulana she’s in her lab, it’s daylight, and Dmitry’s hair looks like he hasn’t gone to bed all night. I can only presume they stayed in the lab worrying all night.

Ulana looks relatively groomed, but is still wearing the same button up dress shirt (unless she owns, idk, 10 of them and wears them all the time), but now has added a wonderful, enormous BRIGHT ORANGE cardigan.

Peak Ulana fashion.

Now it seems her skirt is brown (possibly grey?) but it’s difficult to see.

For my sanity, I’m going to pretend she went home, had a shower, and changed clothes at some point in the evening, and she just happens to really really like those red shirts. It might even be that this is a darker red shirt, hard to tell.

Pripyat

Ulana drives to Pripyat herself, is stopped, and brought to Valery and Boris. I have no words for what she’s wearing. First glimpse here. Very little lipstick, if any.

Here she is, in all her glory

The lighting really sucks on this gif and I’m sorry. But it looks like the skirt is grey and different from the bird poo one. So at least she changed! I like this skirt, actually. The scarf thing, I, um, well, I have no words, again.

Can I just point out that even dressed so unfortunately, Emily Watson is SO GORGEOUS and I’m in love with her? Her eyes, aaa

The lipstick that is visible in the still image above seems “show make-up” because it doesn’t look very visible in the action scenes. The shirt is, you guessed it, red.

She’s still wearing her ORANGE CARDIGAN underneath, in case you were doubting.

I’ll just leave this here because I can

Same, Boris. S A M E.

Kremlin

Now the stakes are higher! Ulana had to up her game.

Now, on my first couple of watches of this scene, I thought her dress was underwhelming and a little inappropriate. I mean, it’s definitely not what I’d wear if I were to meet the President of my country in a formal meeting.

But on second thought, idk, the material looks nice, it’s sober, the neckline isn’t too low, she removed all of her bling. It looks like a formal-ish working dress. About 100 steps above anything we’ve seen her wear so far, in any case.

Edit: 29/09

Now you all know my theory about how she came to wear that, but it’s not out of the question that she thought of packing something vaguely formal before going to Pripyat, and this so happened to be the best thing she had on hand.

My girl is wearing more evident lipstick now, her hair is combed, and she looks amazing. Second best look of the series, imo.

Back to Pripyat

Next time we see Ulana is in Episode 3, on May 2-3, working at the bar of the hotel when Valery joins her to flirt ask her to go to Moscow. Now bear with me, the lighting is atrocious for the whole scene.

Bare legs unff. Excuse the shitty brightening:

She is wearing a grey cardigan, a skirt (possibly grey BUT SEE BELOW), what seem to be her nice shoes of episode 2 and a red shirt again, but this one with a uhh, questionable pattern. Little lipstick again. Also she’s definitely writing with her right hand in this scene.

I think she really really likes red clothes ok?

BUT WAIT

I brightened the scene as much as I could

Edit 29/09:

IT’S NOT A SKIRT

SHE’S WEARING A DRESS

A RED DRESS WITH THAT WEIRDO PATTERN

IN THE MIDDLE OF AN IRRADIATED ZONE

man sometimes I make leaps in fic character-wise and then I realize I was actually right and just lmao Ulana ilu

Moscow - Nurse

Not much to see here. She didn’t have a choice, standard nurse clothes. Even the shoes. This is what she wears for the rest of episode 3, until Valery frees her.

Moscow - Library

This is, in my opinion, Ulana’s third best outfit of the series. A grey, tweed-like dress, both professional and as elegant as the poor girl can get.

See this excellent post for a good look at the dress in an exhibit (we'll revisit the look shown there in a bit): https://littlethingwithfeathers.tumblr.com/post/186844994289/so-i-was-fortunate-enough-to-get-to-visit-the

Notice her shoes are a little different this time, with the square heels and possibly cream - light brown in color

Still wearing her ring (and the watch, and the locket)

Definitely a jeweled ring. Looks like a family heirloom imo.

Abandoned Building scene

Oh my god. Oh my god. She’s never looked as pretty as in this scene.

Production stills:

Where do I begin!! The beret! The lipstick! The scarf! The coat!

The red leather gloves

The coat, peeps. THE COAT. I’m DYING. My girl is dressed to SLAY.

Valery breaks her heart hurts her academically and she still looks like this

GIRL, WHAT HAPPENEd

WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN THE BIRD POO SKIRT AND THIS FASHION-SHOW-LOOK-AT-ME-I’M-GORGEOUS-AND-I-KNOW-IT OUTFIT?

All the awards for this look, omfgggg.

Listen, if it’s not Boris, at least she idk went shopping in fucking Moscow for new clothes or something while she was researching.

Back in Minsk

I’ve spoken about this mysterious look before:

and established it comes from a deleted scene in Minsk where she makes a spur of the moment decision to go see Valery. She’s wearing her excellent grey tweed dress again, but alas, the orange cardigan is back. Is it a comfort thing? Does she really like the thing, does it make her feel comfortable? All in all, I have to say the combination doesn’t look bad? It actually is a splash of color on the boring grey tweed, giving more liveliness to her look.

Valery’s flat

Ulana takes the train to see Valery in his flat, and wow

My girl. What is even that pattern but it looks SO GOOD with this white jacket.

When we pan down, it’s AGAIN a whole dress with that pattern, which um, I’m not too sure about. I mean, she looks GORGEOUS from the waist up. It matches her eyes! (Is this Marfa's second dress?)

ULANA REALLY LIKES HER WEIRDO PATTERNED DRESSES ok? And I can’t help noticing it’s the same kind of “look” she wore when Valery made that request of her in the hotel - intentional? I think so. I LOVE HER SO MUCH.

Heeled shoes, but I can’t quite tell which ones they are.

Edit 30/09: she is wearing earrings in this scene! I don’t think we’ve seen earrings for her in the entire show.

Looks like her ears are pierced? Those don’t really look like clip-ons but I’m not sure. They are red and gold (silver and green would have looked amazing, don’t you think?).

Trial

We arrive at Ulana’s last look. I think she looks really good from the waist up

I LOVE THE SKIRT

but when I look at it as a whole I feel the jacket is a little bit too tight and short for her? And I don’t really like her look in motion.

I think with her body type (and very nice ass), a jacket looser at the bottom and a bit longer might have worked better with this type of pencil skirt, instead of forcing a straight line to her figure.

Also not a fan of the ribbon thingy on her shirt, but you know, idk, whatever it’s ok. Wish she’d tied it more symmetrically.

But she looks polished and professional (and a little soft? innocent-like?), and I approve.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk! I clearly have too much time on my hands. I hope you agree with me that Ulana’s clothes took a turn for the better as episodes went on.

#ulana khomyuk #chernobyl hbo #emily watson #ulana fashion

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dollsorwhatever · 6 years

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Can we talk about Moxie Girlz, ya’ll? Because I fucking love them lmao.

Moxie Girlz came out in fall of 2009 and were meant to be a temporary replacement for Bratz during all of the legal stuff that kept them off shelves (for like, one season), and if you look at them it’s pretty obvious. Lexa, Sophina, Avery and Sasha (LOL) were clearly based off of their older, more glamorous predecessors, complete with snap-on feet. To make this even more obvious, their first ‘Deluxe’ line was originally a Bratz concept and pretty much all of the outfits in the first season were either exact copies of ones previously worn by Bratz or re-purposed Bratz concepts that weren’t released . Since I haven’t found any Bratz Jammaz I’m just going to assume that was an original Moxie line, but the rest were all recyicled Bratz looks. I was into them the minute I found the stock photos on Target before they were supposed to be released, and I was beaming when I got my Artitude Lexa doll at Kmart, despite her nasty ass hair.

Despite the blatant pod-person aspect of the line (and the fact that they ALL had polypropylene hair that season) they were pretty successful! I remember they were all over the news in Christmas 2009, with articles about how they were sold out everywhere. In Spring of 2010, however, they actually invested a bit more money in them- all of the lines were new editions of the original 2009 collections, but with original fashions, saran hair and a new character! This is when they REALLY went up for me. They also replaced Sasha with Bria around this time, presumably because Bratz were just about to be relaunched. And in Fall of 2010, the quality rivaled the Golden Bratz years, with every ‘deluxe’ collection having long, soft saran hair, variations in makeup and the release of 3-4 new characters! Some of my favorites include Magic Winter Snow (by far the BEST, highest quality collection they’ve ever done- every single piece is thoughtfully designed, with multiple fabrics, saran hair, glitter makeup, just PERFECT), Magic Hair Head Gamez Avery and Sophina (which had some gorgeous new character heads, like the pale Brunette that is basically my twin, Monet, Amberly, and that lovely Lexa with Avery’s skintone!), and the beautiful Moxie Girlz Twins that had an entirely new skintone, green eyes and gorgeous outfits! The lines after that were good, still with nice quality fashions but they started using poly hair again and still reused some Bratz outfits (like this Sophina wearing p4f Yasmin’s second outfit lol ), while most of the amazing lines of those last years( like Color Studio, Rockin Band and one of my favorite lines, Fantasea) were pretty hard to find in the US, I think they were only really available at TRU IIRC and in 2015 they were reduced to nothing- decal faces with simplified head sculpts, attached feet, shitty hair and Target Exclusive (photo from ToyboxPhilosopher ). Their last line wasn’t even a Moxie Brand line- rather a generic princess giftset from TRU. Apparently, coming from friends of mine, retailers actually WANTED Moxie Girlz to come back in 2015 but considering the fact that Bratz were so unsuccessful that year, I doubt MGA wanted to dedicate any resources to this line, so now it’s dead and I’m soooo bitter about it. Moxie Girlz started out as a stand-in for Bratz, but they really built their own space and further emphasized that MGA can do amazing dolls if they try. I wish they were kept around, especially when playline is really missing some high quality, pretty fashion dolls right now. This has become a really long post but I’ve recently been playing with my small Moxie Collection and it made me realize that I not only miss the absolute fuck out of them, but I miss the fact that MGA used to make some really incredible playline fashion dolls, with higher quality clothes than the 2018 Collector Bratz (that I’m buying, but I’m not nearly as excited as I would be if they were executed properly) at half the price or lower.

Here’s a (blurry) photo of my display lineup; this is only little chunk of my small collection, I also have Fantasea Monet and Avery rerooted with ankle-length saran hair (and I’m currently planning to have my Magic Snow Bria rerooted in purples and have her body painted like Fantasea Sophina, because she’d look way better in that outfit than Sophina does), as well as this prototype head that was used on the Fall 2009 Avery stock photos (though I have washed the gel out of her hair, because it was hella sticky and dusty- sorry to the designer that styled those curls lol) but these are the ones I’m playing around with and keeping on display atm! From L-R: Magic Snow Kellan, Magic Swim Kellan, Magic Snow Avery and Sophina! Magic Snow is clearly my favorite line- they all have gorgeous makeup, saran hair, and their outfits are INCREDIBLY detailed (like Sophina’s knit sweater, complete with sleeve detailing and lined on the inside to prevent fraying). I’m currently in the process of trying to locate the best versions of each character so that I can have a full lineup of my favorite girls. I especially need Ida because she’s literally me and I want a tiny twin.

#bratz #moxie girlz #MGA entertainment #moxie dolls

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bowlegsandbiceps · 4 years

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Suptober Day 9: Electric

So Let It Out and Let It In

General / Rock Star!Dean & Cellist!Castiel / destiel if you squint / 2,300 words

Read on AO3

Suptober Masterlist (A03)

Dean Winchester, bundled in a ratty hoodie with dark sunglasses and a ball cap, kept his head down as he trailed behind the gaggle of people surrounding his brother. It was as close to a real campus tour as the kid was going to get with Dean tagging along, and Sam, stubborn as always, insisted that Dean accompany him. Not that Dean didn’t want to, he just knew what a liability his presence was.

As they passed what the recruiter called The Oval, Dean could hear his latest single blaring from a portable speaker somewhere on the lawn. A few of the campus guides turned to glance at him, and he pretended not to notice. This was Sam’s day.

Sam craned his neck, looking over his shoulder and grinning, jabbing a subtle finger towards the lawn and tapping an ear. Dean pulled his sunglasses down so the kid could see him roll his eyes then flicked his fingers, bidding him focus. A young blond fell into step next to him.

“Is it still exciting hearing yourself on the radio?”

Dean didn’t look at her. “Never gets old.” Conversations like this, however….

“I’m… I’m sure you get this a lot but I really love you music. When they asked for volunteers to help you tour the campus-”

“My brother,” Dean cut her off, still not looking at her. “My brother is touring the campus. Sam graduated high school with a 4.5 GPA despite never setting foot in a classrom, Idn’t that right Sammy?” Dean kicked his foot out, managing to hit his brother right on the ass.

Sam stumbled and glared over his shoulder at his brother, reaching up a hand to flatten the hair that flopped into his eyes. “It’s Sam. Sammy’s a chubby twelve year old with acne.”

Dean chuckled, but it died in his throat as he felt the girl loop her arm through his casually. “Stanford is a good choice. Close enough to L.A. for frequent visits.”

“Sam hates L.A. I double he’ll be visiting.” Dean slipped his arm free and took a few quick steps to fall in line next to Sam, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “Lotta beautiful women here,” Dean made a point to check out a girl as she ran past, hearing the blond behind him huff.

Sam looked over his shoulder and glared, elbowing Dean in the ribs gently. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, Sam.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Dean, this might interest you..” One of the student ambassadors piped up, and Dean took in a measured breath, trying very hard not to be annoyed. “Bing Concert Hall. Our music department is-”

“Sam’s pre-law,” Dean replied sharply, and the group stopped, looking at each other and then at the ground.

“I like music though,” Sam said after a moment and then chuckled. “Obviously. Can we go in?”

“Sam-“

“Dean, after seeing you play on every stage on the face of the planet I cannot spend four years at a venue with shitty acoustics.”

Dean’s mouth popped open as the rest of the group laughed and moved up the steps chattering about different concerts they’d seen and where they’d seen them. Dean scurried after, catching the massive door before it closed in his face, grumbling to himself as he listened to Sam relay the various places around the world Dean had played and argued the merits of their acoustical properties. The kid couldn’t play an instrument to save his life or carry a tune in a bucket, but he could wax poetic on tonality and sound quality with the best of them.

They were in the lobby, getting the rundown on the types of events held there when something buzzed at the back of Dean’s neck right along his hairline. A tune, barely audible where he stood though he was sure he heard it and found himself wandering towards the sound, pulling off his sunglasses when it became too dark to see.

One door in a set that led into the auditorium was ajar, and Dean slipped through the crack, removing his hood and then his hat to avoid the potential creek of the door. He ran a hand through his hair to tame it, moving to stand at the top of the steps and taking in the vineyard style concert hall. A group of four young cellists was seated on the first riser of the sunken stage as an older man, perhaps a professor, paced languidly in front of them, arm crossed over his chest with the elbow of his other resting against it, a finger to his lips as he listened.

Thanks to his father, Dean grew up on the likes of Zepplin and AC/DC, Eric Clapton and Queen, Black Sabbath, and Bad Company, and that was the type of music he made. Rock and Roll that surged from his fingers through his black Stratocaster, Baby, and out the amplifier at the same time it brewed in his belly and wailed its way past his vocal cords.

But his mother, Dean paused to smile at her memory, fuzzy now after nearly 18 years gone, had been connoisseur, not a purist, and her voice, clear and high as she sang “Hey Jude” until he fell asleep, was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. Standing there, in an overly bright concert hall gave him a strange sense of vertigo as if the present were meeting the past. Listening to that familiar melody being wrung out of the strings made him feel like if he were to turn around right then, he would see her face, smiling and mouthing the words.

Dean wasn’t aware that his feet were carrying him down the stairs as the bridge crescendoed into the coda, and the swell made him feel full to the bursting point. He was also oblivious to the fact that the professor, who had been pacing in front of the quartet, had now stopped, his eyes trained on Dean as his head tipped to the side, curious. Dean felt almost robbed when the coda only went for two rounds, a tear tracking down his cheek as the song came to a close in a bright swell before dying away to silence. He stared unblinking, unaware that the professor held out his hand, bidding his students remain in their seats as he approached the young man.

Dean’s cloudy vision was suddenly filled with blue eyes, the color of a deep ocean, and a brow crinkled in concern, full lips set in a grim line. Dean felt a hand rest on his shoulder, and the instinct to jerk back at a stranger’s touch seemed to have gone missing. Dean was acutely aware of the breath passing in and out of his lungs, the scratchy sound it made, and the wildly out of sync metronome of his heart. On some base level, he understood that he was probably having a panic attack, but something about the gentle rumble of the professor’s voice and the warmth of his hand on his bicep allowed him to hold it together.

“Holy shit that’s Dean Winchester!” The exclamation paired with the break in eye contact as the professor turned to look over his shoulder made Dean jump. The first cellist stared at them in awe.

Dean reached up to wipe his face, swallowing hard, and he was a heartbeat away from turning his heel to run when the professor’s eyes met his again, still impossibly blue and his expression still holding cautious concern.

“Your name is Dean?” The professor asked, his voice like thunder in the distance, and Dean found himself nodding as he blinked, and two more tears tracked down his face, bringing the professor into perfect clarity.

He did jump when the professor brought up a handkerchief and dabbed the wetness away, the gesture so tender despite the matter-of-fact way he’d done it as if it were just what you did when world-famous rock stars crashed your rehearsal blubbering over their dead mothers. Dean tried to take a step back, but the professor followed him.

“I’m Castiel Novak. I teach Cello. Are you a student?” Dean snorted, and Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know where you are right now?”

“Y-yeah, man.” Dean brought a hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose hard. “Yeah, I’m… shit I’m sorry.”

Castiel’s chuckle was accompanied by a squeeze of his fingers around Dean’s bicep that made Dean almost shiver. “Not a problem. I’m certainly flattered the arrangement induced such a visceral reaction. Are you a musician?”

A chorus of “OH MY GOD PROFESSOR!” “ARE YOU FREAKIN KIDDING ME?” And “Of course he has no idea who he is.” sounded behind him, making him frown and crane his neck as Dean let out a sharp snort of laughter that he had to cover his mouth to deaden. The professor turned to look at him again, and Dean allowed his face to settle into the thousand-yard smolder he deployed for interviews and album covers. Castiel merely blinked.

“Dean?”

Dean turned at the sound of his brother’s voice wafting from the top of the steps, and Sam was trotting down at a quick clip, face set in a frown as he jerked Dean out of the professors grasp.

“Can we help you?” Sam nearly snarled, and Castiel’s eyebrows raised, his arms crossing over his chest as he stretched himself to his full height though Sam was still a good five inches taller. When his eyes narrowed, turning from flat calm to a budding tempest, however, Dean saw Sam swallow hard.

“Since you came barging in to my rehearsal I feel that I should be directing that question at you?”

“We’re sorry,” Dean said, immediately grabbing Sam’s arm as Sam craned his neck to look at the cellists who were all filming the exchange and asked, “What rehearsal?” At the exact same time.”

“Sam we’re gonna be late for your meeting with the Law School we should go.” Dean tried to tug Sam away, but his moose of a brother wouldn’t budge.

“You’re law students?” Castiel asked, and another groan sounded behind him, making him jump. Sam looked absolutely delighted.

“I’m a prospective student and this is my brother.” Sam wrestled Dean under his arm and forced him to face the professor again, his eyes rolling as he shifted from foot to foot. “He’s a musician.”

Castiel’s eyebrows raised. “What instrument.”

“Oh god I can’t take it.” A student stood, handing their instrument to the person next to them to balance while they stepped over, tapping away on their phone. “Here. This is him.”

Dean cringed as the new single, tinny and shallow, emitted from the phone speakers while the cinegraph of him looking to the side then straight into the camera to give a slow blink before his lips parted in a hitched breath began to loop. Castiel stared down at the phone for several bars before his eyes flicked to Dean’s face and then down again to watch the cinegraph loop a few more times. He cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, I don’t listen to a lot of popular music. Forgive me.”

Dean waved a hand, feeling a smile tug at his lips. “Don’t worry about it man you’ve got what matters.” Dean nodded at the cellists, who was beaming at him. “The Beatles trump me every time.”

“Well I am rather fond of ‘Hey Jude’” Castiel gave Dean a small smile, and Dean felt like he was witnessing something rare and beautiful.

“Wait…” Sam held out a hand, keeping Castiel in his peripheral as he turned to look at Dean. “Hey Jude Hey Jude? Like Mom used to sing?”

Dean felt his cheeks grow hot and knew he must be red as a tomato right about then, exacerbated by the penetrating look Castiel was giving him. Dean reached up to scratch his ear as he looked at the ground and nodded. He felt Sam shift excitedly next to him.

“Can I hear it?”

“Sam!” Dean said sharply, and Castiel’s head tipped to the side in confusion as Sam sighed.

“Come on, Dean! Clearly it was good or you wouldn’t look like you swallowed a slug.” Sam looked to Castiel and offered his hand. “Sam Winchester, pre-law. Don’t mind him he’s emotionally constipated.”

“Fuck you, Sam.” Dean whacked him hard upside the head, and Sam lanced him with his most potent bitchface.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to hear it.” Sam looked from Castiel to the cellists who were already putting their phones away and settling in their seats. “Our mother, she-”

“He don’t wanna hear my tragic origin story, Sammy,” Dean muttered out the side of his mouth.

“-passed when I was one and Dean was four.”

Dean was still amazed that Sam could rattle that off without so much as a stutter. Then again, Sam hadn’t gotten a chance to know their mother. She’d never held him after a nightmare or made him chicken and rice soup when he was sick. Dean had been the one to do all those things for him. Just as Dean had been the one to sing him “Hey Jude” every night before he went to sleep when Sam was little.

“Is that alright with you, Dean?”

Castiel’s voice interrupted his brooding, and Dean found himself once again a little starry-eyed under that stare. Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth, hoping it hid his blush. “Uh, yeah fine with me.”

Castiel eyed him skeptically, and Dean felt as if he were being x-rayed, every thought and emotion laid bare under the older man’s concerned gaze. Dean didn’t even jump when Castiel’s hand closed around his wrist, giving it a light squeeze before he turned to the quartet.

“Okay, from the top, please.”

#suptober #suptober20 #spn fic #supernatural fic #supernatural #fanfic: supernatural #writing by me

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br0adwa5 · 7 years

Text

deh apartment hcs

so i was just scrolling thru Tumblr Dot Com™ and I saw a post that said “does anyone else ever daydream of decorating their first apartment?” (if anyone knows who made that lmk) but anyway i saw that and was like omg if that ain’t alana and then i was like wAIT WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF THEM so here’s this. fyi this is like a college au type thing ish??

(im sotired this is kinda shitty lol)

(also thank u so much for the luv on my last two hcs? i cr ied? les get to the point sorry)

alana:

ok so this girl would obviously have the neatest apartment ever

it would probably be like a medium size ya know

white walls.

lots of white walls.

and there would be like really pretty marble countertops

her beadspread (or whateverthefuck u call it) would probably be like grey with white little lines on it

in a pattern tho

like a cute pottery barn one

she would so freaking use evan’s discount at pottery barn are u kidding me

like her entire house would look like a pottery barn catalog

anyway

idk if all apartments have this so excuse me if i sound mega stupif

but she would use the little intercom-buzzer thing to get into the apartment to her full advantage

like if u wanted to even go up there she would legit do a full on background check

(except for zoe)

(zoe would be like “hey alana it’s-” and alana would be like “yOU CAN COME RIGHT UP”

but it would be like

“hello who is this?”

“alana you know it’s jared. i just texted you.”

“… ok then what’s your middle name”

“aLANA”

but anyway back to what inspired this in the first place

so alana would SO plan her apartment out from when she was like young enough to understand it ya get it

like she would pick out furniture at age six

(her taste would obviously change as she got older but u get it)

and she would literally have it down to the p a i n t color

like she would walk into home depot or whatever and the worker would expect her to look around for like 40 minutes but she’d be like

“hi hello i’ll take seashell grey in the gloss finish please. make it quick.”

(i totally just made that up what the hell is a gloss finish never heard of her)

i also picture her having lots of house plants? like most of them would be fake bc she’s too busy to keep them alive but they wouldn’t look fake

yeah alana’s apartmetnt would be so put together and like clean cut and nice

zoe:

her apartment would be rad okay

i feel like it would be v hipster and cool

not like Hipster™ but like… hipster?

what am i even saying

okay

so she would definetley have a room with yellow walls

like her rooms would be painted cool colors and stuff

but yellow specifically

she just seems like a yellow person

she would have a big wall that’s all chalkboard paint

wait now im really excited about this wall oh my god

like when everyone would go over her house they would all take a chalkboard marker (real chalk makes too much of a mess) and write and draw on it

evan would do little doodles of trees and write sweet and encouraging stuff

connor would either draw a hecking masterpiece or write really small in the corner “fuk u”

there’s no in between

alana would just doodle hearts and stuff

or when she’d be over doing homework w zoe she’d try to teach her math and science and stuff on it

a w

jared would just draw memes

i think we can all agree on that one

but annyyywwayy

she would refuse to get anything like store bought mainstream

like she would go to little shops in the middle of nowhere

or garage sales

and get the cutest stuff

her house would be so homey but at the same time like “wtf why is this so perfect”

l o t s of tapestries

don’t fight me on this

it wouldn’t be the regular mendala ones that a lot of people get

(but she would for sure have a few of those too)

it would be like really cool unique stuff

lots of maps of the world

tie dye

ya kniw

they would mostly be taking up all of the celing space and some wall space in her room

she would so have a polaroid camera i KNOW IT

and she would put them all on pieces of string w clothespins and string them up around her room

all pics of her frands and stuff

awwww zoe

she’d also probably have a room just for her dog

(btw if u didn’t see my other hc i see her as having a golden retriever named kiwi)

(but anyway)

like it was supposed to be a closet sbut she just didn’t use it

so she was like “well… okay let’s do this”

and evan will spend h o u r s at a time in that room

ugh she would just have the cutest apartment v colorful and stuff

evan:

evan’s apartment would be v small

he llved with his mom the first two years of college but decided to move out because he was feeling like he made a lot of progress and was ready to live on his own (btw is it canon tht he lives w his mom first year of college? i forget lmk)

(but he wasn’t really living on his own bc connor was always over or he was at connor’s place)

he would have a v little sitting area w a really old tv and a worn out couch that was probably free on the side of the road or cheap from a garage sale

he would have a fridge and oven and stuff but he’d mostly just use the microwave

(ho;ly shit “some people say just use a microwave…”)

(i h8 myself why why why ok moving on)

his diet would mainly consist of ramen noodles

bc he doesn’t want to leave and have to socalize with people at fast food places or the grocery store

but every once and a while zoe would come over like “evan wtf” and make him food to hold him over for a while

(uh hc that zoe’s a really good cook??/)

he would have a little bedroom with a big window in it

and his comforter would be blue with navy stripes (similar to The Shirt™ but not completley the same)

he would have lots of sticky notes everywhere

like ranging from “don’t forget to feed the dog” to “don’t worry about it, it’s probably not a big deal”

and when he was in a really good mental state he would write them and stick them in places he know he’d see when he wasn’t in the best shape

and it would encourage him to keep going

wow that’s equally heartbreaking and adorable

ok don’t fight me on this we all know it’s a thing

he would have plants. eve ry wh ere

like there wouldn’t be a single fake plant in there

but he loved them bc he felt like it made the air fresher??? like it supplied more oxygen in the room which made it easier to breathe when he was feeling anxious??

(idk i can’t really explain it but that’s how i feel when i get anxious so i feel like it would help him too)

but it would range from huge ass borderline trees to succlents the size of his thumb nail

he would have s o many succulents

he would name them all

aaaaaaaAaAAAA

and each of his friends would have a plant named after them

even though it was small he really loved his apartment

bc he worked really hard to be able to pay for it and buy the furniture and stuff

so it was like his baby

yeah that’s my boy evan handsoap!

connor:

connor’s apartment would actually be pretty big

like everything would be super super high quality and nice

he would so have a recliner chair

you know the one i’m talking about okay

and he would spend most of his time in there

even though he def has a huge nice sectional

(btw most of his furniture is black)

when evan would come over he wouldn’t want to get up out of it

but even always wanted to cuddle

so the first time evan was like “con come over hereee”

connor just scooched over

and evan was like “??”

but just went over to him

and they were kinda squished but they loved it

bc they were so close to eachother

AW IM SCREECHING

but yeah they would love to cuddle on the recliner

his kitchen would be p nice too

like he would have a weirdly high tech fridge and a really nice oven and stuff

but if u opened the fridge there would just be like a half dranken (that is nOT a word) bottle of mountain dew, a cheese stick, and maybe on a good day some random leftovers

(btw idk why but i see his parents buying him most of the stuff in his apartment,, this doesn’t really make sense when i think about it but i can’t not do it what am i saing now awioehfdlsnk)

his room would be nice

he would have a big bed with a black and white plaid duvet cover

omg evan would l o v e his bed

like evan of course loves his own bed but connor’s is just so comfy

(plus connor’s bed also has connor)

(anywho)

his walls would be like a greyish blue color

but his furniture would still be all black

he would have a big desk and he always kept sticky notes around for evan to doodle on if he ever got anxious

and he has an entire drawer in his dresser just for his hair ties because he has an unhealthy amount of them

at all times

partly because he wants to keep his hair up sometimes

but partly because he always wears one around his wrist to snap when he gets mad or can’t control his emotions

and he always ends up loosing them

oh also his shower in his bathroom would be BOMB like im talking it has one of those little ledge chair thingies

and the water pressure is a plus

and evan’s shower at his apartment is like sucky so he always just showers at connors

(i mean this in the least innapropriate way possible btw jus clearing that up)

but connor would spend SO much time there

so would evan tbh

so yeh

jared:

ok guys

hear me out on this one

but i feel like jared would have a surprisingly nice apartment??

like,,, actually very nice

they would all love hanging out there when they were all together

the first time he asked them over they were like “… u sure”

they were expecting to walk into something that looked like a super crappy hotel room with garbage all over

but they walked in and were like “jared what the fuk”

because this place was nice

like,, , he would always have the most food out of all of them

(which wasn’t saying much but still)

he would have a big nice couch with lots of extra like beanbags all over

they would all have their own that they used

and his tv would be poppin okay

he would have his old wii hooked up to it

and they would constantly have mario kart tournaments

jared always insisted on being wario

for the Memes™

he would be the only one out of all of them with an amazon fire stick so they would always watch movies all together at his house

and sometimes they would just randomly take it without telling him

(i’m looking at u connor)

and he wouldn’t notice for a few days but when he did he went cRAZY

but anyway

his room would b supa cool

he would have a really nice bed

omg he would have like video game and other nerd stuff posters e v e r y w h e r e

like everywhere

little to no wall space for anything elsee

every once in a while he would go through his camera roll and print the pictures that he liked the best to hang up on his wall

hear me out bc this is gonna sound weird

he would probably have a dead meme shrine in one of the corners of the wall on the bottom

that he started as a joke with connor and zoe once but it jst spiraled out of control until every dead meme was recognized as soon as it went out

he would have a tv in his room

not as good as his one in the living room but still

he has two tvs what even jared

that’s where he would put his xbox

and he would game all night man

ah i love jared sm

ok that’s it hope u enjoyed ahhahah

520 notes · View notes

theboykingofhell · 7 years

Note

9, 15, 16, 18, 26, 31, 32, 34, 41, 42, 45, 46, 47, 49, 51 for TSG, 54 :*

ricky found fucking dead in miami after looking at these PROMPTS,

9. Least favorite trope to write.

what a weirdly phrased question because if i hate it, i ain’t gonna write it... UHH. i really don’t like bringing dead characters back to life???? i don’t like writing scenes for shock horror... well, that’s a lie, i DO like to horrify the reader through my writing, but i don’t want to cheapen the emotional ~journey~ they go through by being like ‘JUST KIDDING! everything actually DOES work out in the end!!’

i have a story where narratively its kind of leading to a place where i have to make a ‘dead’ character come back (chaos actually, since i use her in red’s actual story) and it’s making me so mad like wtf thought we had a deal

15. Where does your inspiration come from?

SONGS... and just insp in general but i get a lot through music and nnnh... there’s just so many good aesthetics and quotes on my dash tbh i’m like constantly and consistently inspired, it’s great

16. Where do you take your motivation from?

imma be honest, the thing that motivates me most sometimes is either reading a rly shitty novel or seeing a shitty show and just getting livid and writing out of spite because THAT DRIVEL WAS PUBLISHED????? MY SHIT IS SO MUCH BETTER WTF... or i think to myself ‘what the fuck, what if i die tomorrow????? with my damn novel unfinished?!?!! HELL NO’... pretty much anything that reminds me that my stuff is Great but no one knows how great it is because it’s not DONE and OUT THERE yet makes me get off my ass

18. What’s your revision or rewriting process like?

depends! for books it mostly just consists of rereading after a long period of ignoring my story and just tweaking lines that seem out of place or that ruin the flow i’m imagining. if i’m rewriting, then i have two word documents out (which the program scrivener makes SO easy god BLESS that program) and just... rewrite it word for word while STARING at the old version. that always makes the prose come out slightly different, it smooths out stuff or lets me cut away or add things i really like and, most importantly, it adds length, which i tend to struggle with a lot because i like just being TO THE POINT

with playwriting though it’s mostly about the format.. i write all plays like i write everything online... in lowercase with little regard to actual grammar. so i gotta actually pretend i give a damn about the english language and format it all properly and add stage directions cuz in a first draft for plays, i always just focus on dialogue and that’s it

26. Standalone or series, and why?

standalones are far more fun and way more satisfying and, quite honestly, require way less fluff. i keep FORGETTING how much fluff is needed in a goddamn novel. MULTIPLE BOOKS OF FLUFF no FUCKING THANKS

31. Hardest character to write.

in the rp: tyler (because he dissociates in a way that literally cuts me off from? any parts of his character? which is like the ESSENCE of his character but it’s VERY unenjoyable to write tbh) and nicki (because i put too much pressure on myself to make her seem a certain way instead of letting it happen naturally)... tbh canon characters and/or characters that are based on people are generally just rly hard sometimes cuz there’s SO MUCH IMAGINED PRESSURE TO MAKE THEM GOOD!!!

in original shit: honestly i’m really tempted to say aaron and that’s just because he’s so... unlikeable to me???? but also i think it’s just because i’ve really only written one scene for him (i always write in order unless a scene is just KICKING MY ASS to write, like this particular scene) and... he seems like a Lot... of annoying bullshit to have to write out lmfao that bitch

32. Easiest character to write.

red because i’ve been writing him for like 7-9 years now, i would hope he’d be easy by now... honestly, really explosive and dramatic characters too like bert or nora come SUPER easy for me, they’re so fun to write (especially dialogue-wise) because they’re very emotional and i can get PARAGRAPHS based on one reaction. characters who try and hide shit from everyone, INCLUDING ME, are so annoying,

34. Handwritten notes or typed notes?

typed because they’re legible,,,,, but then again, my handwritten notes make more sense because they’re kind of fully crafted ideas like ‘***make nisha and aaron meet at 42nd street for transformation chap???’ while a typed note will be like... ‘42nd street+aaron’... what did that mean, ricky-at-5am... why did you do this to us

41. How many stories do you work on at one time?

two... kind of as a minimum, sort of as a maximum... like there’s usually the MAIN story and then there’s something i’m kind of doodling in the side, something that’s just sort of cooking in the backburner that i’m not too serious into the process of it, but it’s goin... i’ve never tried to do 3 stories at a time but i feel like my attention would be too divided and it wouldn’t work

42. How do you figure out your characters looks, personality, etc.

UHH........................................... i’m very fond of faceclaims cuz idk i just kind of... feel how they look... i don’t ever really envision a full person though, i get like traits... i’ll be like... oh she has long black hair and she’s not white and her eyebrows look like this... and then i’ll see a pic of pooja mor and be like THAT’S HER THAT’S EXACTLY IT. idk what it is about eyebrows and why that’s literally always the deciding factor of how a character looks, but there it is

personality just kind of... man, characters just poop out of me, i don’t decide any of this shit wtf jhsfjg

45. Worst piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.

once someone told me to stop making the boys kiss in the first chapter of my story so i made the boys fuck instead

46. What would your story _______ look like as a tv show or movie?

scrolls WAY up... sees you didn’t add a story as a prompt WELL i’m still riding the tsg train here so

a tsg movie better look like the 90′s, goddamnit.. not like... found footage really, but i want something in the quality to be a little fuzzy and sort of tinted that one kind of grayish brown color i always associate with the 90′s for some reason... like, i can’t stop thinking about all these amber lighting and how dull everything looks, and how higher in quality things look the further and further it goes, like, it’s something i would concentrate a lot on visual cues with because i focus so much of the storytelling of tsg on nisha’s narration. sometimes you don’t know how many days have passed because nisha doesn’t know how many days have passed, if she dissociates, i’d want that shown on camera, if she keeps repeating the same number over and over again, i’d want to watch one little piece of a scene getting repeated again and again. it’d be VERY disorienting as a movie tbh but it’d be fun...

47. Do you start with characters or plot when working on a new story?

characters!!!! plot is such a backburner thing for me, if you have rly great characters, you already have a great plot right there. the plot is just set so i can see how characters react to things, man...

49. What do you find the hardest to write in a story, the beginning, the middle or the end?

THE MIDDLE, FUCK THE MIDDLE.... endings are literally the easiest thing for me, beginnings similarly so, it’s just getting from that BEAUTIFUL starting scene to that GORGEOUS ending that fucking kills my poor undeserving asshole

51. Describe the aesthetic of your story _______ in 5 sentences or words.

low-res pictures of old cemetaries... that’s five words right there, i’m sorry but the END IS IN SIGHT, I’M ALMOST FREE AND CANT BE BOTHERED

54. Any writing advice you want to share?

can’t stress how useful having an insp blog is... creating a story through the unconscious collection of pictures and quotes that just feel relavant is just SO useful not just when it comes to really constructing a character an an atmosphere to your story, but making a fucking plot????? my tsg blog is like my most perfect insp blog because i got the idea to seperate it by chapters, and i’ve found that i can literally just... go into the chapter tags... and make connections and build on plotlines that i had NO IDEA ABOUT when i made or filled those tags, IT’S REALLY FUN and it keeps me inspired to write

#i did not proofread this at all cuz OOP IM DROWNING HERE...#w #mmementommori #ask tag

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this-ginger-has-no-soul · 7 years

Text

Left leg

(A/N): Still trying to get over this writer’s block you guys! So sorry for the shitty quality of my fanfics! (Also this one is hella long)

Summary: Bucky knew he had dealt damage in D.C. but he never thought he’d come face to face with that damage

Warnings: some angst, Bucky feels horrible, swearing

Tags: @mcuimxgine, @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x, @saradi1018, @holland-toms, @superwholockian309, @fly-f0rever, @capbuckthor, @livandlilah

Bucky knew he caused damage in D.C, that’s half the reason he couldn’t go back there. He knew he killed hundreds of innocent people and injured hundreds more, he knew he had fucked up lives in the worst kind of way and that was something he could barely stand to live with. He knew he destroyed the heart of America, he knew he had caused irreparable damage and that’s why he couldn’t face the facts. He couldn’t stand to go back to D.C only to find the hearts of so many people full of hate, even if he did deserve it. He couldn’t stand the thought of having to look at the damage he caused, or having to walk past the memorial site, he couldn’t stand to see all the weeping families at gravestones, holding flowers for the ones he had killed, he simply couldn’t do it. But somehow Bucky’s past always caught up to him, even if it wasn’t in the most conventional of ways.

He’d been out on a coffee run for all the Avengers at 7 in the morning, a time no one should even have been alive at but here he was, rubbing at his eyes as he made his way into Starbucks. Surprisingly there was one or two other people already up, most likely those who worked or were those crazy morning people (a type of person Bucky did not like whatsoever) and so Bucky had to wait in a line, begrudgingly at that.

“I’ll just take one black coffee, thank you,” The voice in front of him was chipper, much to his distaste.

“Can I get a name for that?”

“It’s (Y/N),”

“Okay, I’ll have that up for you in no time,” And with that the barista turned on her heel to go and make one boring, plain cup of coffee. This (Y/N) person turned on their heel, smacking right into Bucky’s chest with a small noise of surprise.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you there-” Their voice trembles off as they look up at Bucky, no doubt recognizing him from the many articles, tv shows, and interviews he had done in the last couple of years.

“Sorry,” Bucky supplied simply, giving the smaller person a tired smile. “I shouldn’t have been standing so close,” (Y/N) nods gulping slightly.

“It’s uh- It’s totally okay,” Their eyes seemed to be trained in on his face, looking up at him with a wide, fearful gaze.

“I promise I’m not as bad as the media makes me out to be,” Bucky provided with a soft chuckle, waiting for (Y/N)’s expression to soften just a bit but alas it did not, it still held that same, scared look to it as before.

“(Y/N), I have your coffee,” The barista waves a small cup, smiling at them softly. With an air of the utmost gratefulness (Y/N) accepted the coffee and paid before nearly rushing out the door, not even excusing their rather crude behavior and that’s when it catches Bucky’s eyes, just beneath the fabric of their sweatpants is a gleam of metal; the connecting joint of a prosthetic.

Bucky had ordered and taken the coffee’s back home to the tower, thoroughly confused by (Y/N). They seemed so perfectly happy one moment and the next they had lost their entire attitude, falling timid and feeble before Bucky. For gods sake it was just some random stranger he had met in a coffee shop, not someone he needed to be dwelling on but no matter how hard he tried to focus on something else other than (Y/N)’s petrified expression he simply could not. It was burned into his head- the look of sheer fear in their eyes, the way their face had drained of all color the minute they looked at him. With a displeased little growl Bucky gnawed on the lid of his coffee cup, staring at the floor intently, as though it had all the answers.

“What’s bothering you Barnes?” Sam asks as he walks into the communal kitchen, sweat dripping from his face as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Nothing,”

“You’re a terrible damn liar Bucky, now what the hell is going on with you,” Bucky sighed as he chucked his cup away, folding his arms over his chest almost defensively.

“There was someone in the coffee shop today, they were super chipper until they turned and looked at me,”

“Well I’m sure your giant ass metal arm is sure to intimidate some people,”

“I know, I get it, but for some reason I just can’t get their face out of my head, the look of fear that appeared there as soon as they looked at me,”

“Maybe you remind them of someone? I’m sure there are a million logical reasons for this,”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs as he bites his lip in thought. “I’m sure,”

Bucky didn’t sleep much that night, every time he closed his eyes he’d see that face, those eyes, that fear struck expression and surprisingly all sense of exhaustion would be wipe from his body. He tossed and turned all night, trying to sleep but eventually he found it was futile- it wasn’t going to work. With a grumble Bucky rose from his bed, stepping into the chilly air of his room to grab some clothes and his running shoes. If he wasn’t able to sleep why not work out brutally until he passed out instead? Bucky quickly got dressed, before throwing his hair up into a messy bun and running out of stark tower, into the still dark morning of New York.

The streets were already loud, people walking to and fro, taxis here and there, but Bucky loved it, it was such a stark contrast to his desolate life as the winter soldier, void of any life such as the bustle of New York.

Bucky smiled politely at an elderly woman as he made it to central park, already taking up a path to jog along. It was a little more quiet here, a little colder, but Bucky was fine with that too, he enjoyed the silent time he could run and enjoy the view- Bucky’s brows furrow as he rounds a corner, stopping when his eyes caught on a certain metal glinting in the dark of Central Park, the same glint that walked out of the coffee shop only a day prior. Perhaps if he just kept his distance, ran a safe distance away- or maybe he could change his direction of running to a whole other path? Bucky was just about to turn on his heel when the same glint shifted, along with the rest of the body attached to it.

“Are you stalking me now or something?” (Y/N) asks, huffing at a stray piece of sweaty hair. It had been obvious they’d been running, due to their leggings, tank top, and running shoes. A thin sheen of sweat covered most of the skin Bucky could see, almost shimmering against the dark of the park.

“N-No,” Bucky stuttered, feeling a bit nervous, even shy, “ I’m just running,”

“And you were in the coffee shop yesterday,”

“I was uh- I was getting drinks for my friends,” (Y/N) looks him over, their gaze still holding a bit of fear but the more Bucky talked the more that fear diminished.

“At 7 in the morning?”

“They’re early birds unfortunately,”

“And what about you?” (Y/N) asks as they take a step towards him, their prosthetic making some clicking noises as they do. “Why are you up so early?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Bucky provided, shrugging a bit. “What about you?”

“Running’s good for the leg,” (Y/N) looked him over, scrutinizing him with squinted eyes. “What’s your name?” Bucky looked at them strangely, his head cocked to the side and his brows furrowed once again. Based on their looks from yesterday he could have sworn they knew him, or at least knew of him, no one looked at him so fearfully without reasoning.

“I thought you already knew-”

“I know who you are, everyone knows who you are, I just wanna hear it coming from you,” Bucky smiled just a bit, it was small and barely there but it had happened.

“I’m Bucky Barnes, and you are?”

“I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). It’s nice to officially meet you Bucky,” (Y/N) glanced him over, taking in his appearance with a small smirk. “Since I think I trust you I was wondering if you’d like to go running with me, a makeup for our last little run-in,” Bucky nodded, his smile growing a bit wider.

“I’d love to,”

“You’ll have to try to keep up, I don’t mess around Barnes,” His last name sounded fond on their tongue and it nearly made Bucky melt but before he could even dwell on it (Y/N) took off, booking it much faster than he would have imagined. With a loud exclamation of something not being fair Bucky took off after them, smiling a bit brighter than he had in a long time.

Bucky returned from the tower that day feeling more refreshed than he had in days, he had finally corrected his wrongs with (Y/N), he got a good run in, and he dared to think he was slowly on his way to making a new friend. With a giddy little smile Bucky grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, guzzling it down rather quickly.

“And what’s got you all excited this particular morning?” Nat asks as she meanders into the kitchen, already seeking out her pre training cup of tea.

"Who said I was excited?"

"The stupid smile on your face says so. Who is it? Is it a girl? A guy?" Bucky blushed as he looked down at his water, his thumb tracing along the plastic cap. "Nat-"

"Oh my god, it is someone, tell me all about them, I wanna know," Bucky sighs as Nat all but drags him to the kitchen table, all but forcing him into conversing.

"Nat, I literally met them yesterday, we went on a run today, nothing's happened,"

"But you want something to happen, don't you?"

"Nat, I've known them for a day, if that, I don't know anything about them other than their name and number and-"

"They gave you their number?" Nat looks at him as she leans forward over the table, her hands clasped together in an orderly fashion.

"Yes?"

"Bucky, they're totally into you! You should take them out!"

"Nat, a day, I've known them for a day, plus I don't think they like me all too much,"

"And why not Mr. Chiseled jaw, high cheekbones and a personality of gold?"

"The first day we met they kinda gave me this weird look- weird is the wrong word- more like terrified,"

"But how we're they today?"

"Better, I suppose,"

"See? You two are getting somewhere, that's great!" Bucky groaned, as he buries his face in his hands, his skin nearly beet red.

"It's not that big of a deal Nat,"

"This is one of your first encounters with someone other than an avenger in 70 years so excuse me if I seem excited Barnes,"

"That's it, I'm going to train," Bucky got up with an aggravated sigh, taking another bottle with him just in case. Nat smirked as the brunette stalked away, all his tension following along with him. She'd figure out who this person was and she'd get them together with Bucky even if it was the last thing she did.

"You're late Barnes!" (Y/N) called out as they stretched out their legs- or leg to be exact.

"Sorry," Bucky panted in the cold air of New York, damn near freezing his ass off in the temperature. "I woke up late," (Y/N) looked up from their deep leg stretch, Eyeing Bucky curiously.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Bucky smiled a bit, despite the cold settling into his bones. "I'm just a bit cold," (Y/N) smiles as they stand up, stretching their arms a bit.

"Tell you what, I'll buy you some coffee afterwards, sound good?" Bucky nodded, his chattering teeth making his jaw click loudly. (Y/N) smiled as they settled down, their legs and arms relaxed for the time being. "Try not to slip on any ice Barnes," (Y/N) warned before taking off, leaving Bucky behind to shiver. With a soft quirk of his lips Bucky chased after, hoping the desperate run would warm up his nearly frozen fingertips.

It had been nearly 3 weeks since his first encounter with (Y/N) at that coffee shop and although the two hadn't progressed past the running buddies stage of their friendship Bucky knew that somehow they'd advance in their "friendship". Perhaps all they needed was a bit of coffee and some time to talk...

(Y/N) sipped calmly at their drink, making content little slurps as they happily drank the liquid and Bucky thought it was absolutely adorable. He too sipped at his drink although he couldn't enjoy it to it's fullest when (Y/N) sat before him, drinking their own coffee so- so- so cutely.

"So what does Bucky Barnes do when he isn't training or going on missions with the famous Avengers?" (Y/N) asks as they set their cup down, much to Bucky's displeasure.

"Well Bucky Barnes just so happens to really like science and art so he spends a lot of his time going to conventions and museums," (Y/N) smiles, flushing a bit at his words.

"So you're kinda a geek?" Bucky chuckles as he allows the warmth of his coffee to seep into his bones, warming his chilled fingers.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. But what about you? Hm? What does (Y/N) like to do in their spare time?" (Y/N) smiles gently as they take another sip of their drink before setting it down again.

"(Y/N) likes to read in their spare time, writing is pretty nice too but watching classic old movies is their favorite," Bucky smiles at this; he knew a bit about classic movies, he'd grown up watching the classics.

"You should stop by the tower sometime, I'm sure Stark has every movie in existence,"

“I also found this cool old theater on Main Street, they show old movies all the time, we should go there some time," (Y/N) looks at Bucky as they quietly drink their coffee, their slurping noises a bit quieter than before. "There's also a record store full of old albums, I think you'd really like it," Bucky smiles as he leans backwards, bringing his steaming cup to his lips.

"That sounds really nice, I don't have much to do with my life so most if the time I'm free,"

“Really? The all star Avenger doesn’t do much with his life?” Bucky chuckles, his cheeks warming just a bit.

“When the avenger isn’t training or on missions he doesn’t do much with his life, sound better?” (Y/N) hums as they nod, smirking just a bit.

“Well, when is this particular Avenger free next?”

“All this week actually,”

“Okay, how about Wednesday we can check out that record store, maybe catch a movie later on?” Bucky nods and smile, a different kind of warmth seeping in through his bones, a pleasant, soul encasing kind of warmth and goddammit Bucky loved it.

“I’d be glad to,”

Bucky couldn’t help eyeing (Y/N) with every step they took. They were checking out a number of records, flipping through each one with a fond smile upon their face. It was evident that they had put some effort into their look based on the way their outfit and hair looked which meant that they had put effort in for Bucky and damn did they look gorgeous.

“Are you going to look at the records or are you just going to keep eyeing me?” (Y/N) doesn’t even look away from their browsing as they smirk, their thumbs flipping each record carefully.

“You’re not even looking at me, how do you know-” (Y/N) turns to look at Bucky, smirking even more.

“I’m looking at you and you’re looking at me and you have been for the last 5 minutes, I even pointed out the swing records to you and you haven’t even touched them,” Bucky blushed, his chilled cheeks dusting just a bit. The two had walked here together in the freezing air of New York and not even the peppermint flavored drink in his hands could warm him up but for some reason looking at (Y/N)’s smile did.

“Sorry,” Bucky murmurs as he looks to the ground, smiling sheepishly at the stained concrete. “You just look really pretty is all,”

“I could say the same to you Barnes, you look pretty damn good without the sweatpants,” Bucky chuckled a bit, his dust only growing redder by the second. “Now look at your records you dork, the movie starts in half an hour,”

Bucky’s date with (Y/N) had gone amazingly. He bought a few records and when they were done they went to the old theater and watched countless silent movies. Bucky was pretty sure it was illegal to hop from movie to movie but with (Y/N) by his side he didn’t seem to have a care in the world. In fact, the movie hopped until midnight, well past the time their first movie ended.

“Isn’t it illegal to do that?” Bucky had asked on the way back as he stuffed his face with a handful of leftover popcorn.

“Only if you get caught,” (Y/N) sent a little wink Bucky’s way and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t melt his heart a bit. “I wouldn’t recommend eating that entire bin Barnes,” (Y/N) eyes the half eaten carton of popcorn with an air of amusement.

“How come?” Bucky asks as he deliberately shoves more popcorn in his face, just to spite (Y/N).

“You’re going to be sluggish in a few hours, wouldn’t want me to beat your time in laps today, hm?”

“Oh my god, there is no way we’re running today, it’s nearly one and-”

“And you have to be up in four and a half hours to race my ass around Central Park, so put the popcorn down Barnes,” Bucky looked at (Y/N) in shock but there was no denying the small smile on his face, a smile that no one had seen in years.

“You little shit,” Bucky muttered as he threw the carton away, listening to it hit the bottom of the trash can noisily. (Y/N) hums smugly as they march on their merry way, only stopping when Bucky lagged behind a bit.

“You comin’ or what?” (Y/N) smiles at the soldier as he takes a bit to walk up to them, smiling at them just a bit.

“You really do look beautiful,” Bucky whispered as he looked at (Y/N), the way their eyes shined under the lights of New York, or the way their smile was best light in spite of all the dazzling billboards, or perhaps the way their hair was a mess beneath their beanie but it still looked amazing anyways. And that’s when Bucky noticed their blush, it was very slight and so light he could barely see it but it was there, he had finally gotten (Y/N) to blush.

“You’re such a sap,”

“I do come from a time where that was popular,” Bucky chuckles as they begin walking again, back towards central park, where they had originally met up. “Are you gonna let me walk you home or are you just gonna demand I stay here while you waltz away?” (Y/N) smirks as they stop in the middle of the park, looking at the somewhat still city.

“I think I’m just gonna waltz away for now,” (Y/N) smiles at Bucky’s expression, a small chuckle falling from their lips as they do. “Maybe I’ll let you walk me back on the next date, hmm?” Bucky nods, stuffing his nearly purple hands into his pockets.

“I’d like that,”

“ ‘Course you would, you sap,” (Y/N) chuckles as they begin to walk away, stopping a few feet just ahead of Bucky however. “Don’t forget, four and a half hours,” Bucky laughs, rolling his eyes playfully.

“You better be buying coffee afterwards,”

“You know it Barnes,” And with that (Y/N) walked off, a little spring in their step due to their prosthetic. Bucky watched them for a bit, until he could barely see their dark beanie in the even darker light and then he turned on his heel with a smile, slowly making his way back to the warmth of Stark Tower.

“Up and at Barnes!” (Y/N) yells as the supersoldier trudges to their side, more than exhausted.

“How are you already so fucking happy?” Bucky mumbles as he rubs at his eyes, yawning softly as he does.

“I don’t need a lot of sleep unlike you Princess Aurora,” Bucky smiles just a bit, despite the exhaustion settling into his skin and bones. “I’ll buy you two coffee’s if you can catch up to me, sound good?”

“No, no that does not sound good-” But before Bucky could interject furhter (Y/N) had already taken off, nearly flying down the sidewalk as they booked it. With a loud groan Bucky followed after them, slowly and tiredly but at least he was running.

“Come on Barnes!” (Y/N) shouted over their shoulder. “Hurry up! I’m the one missing a leg and I’m still running faster than you!” Bucky huffs at a piece of his hair in annoyance, the damn strand smacking against his forehead with each spring of his step. “You and that damn hair!” Bucky focused on (Y/N) to find them walking backwards, looking at Bucky with a satisfied little smirk. “I ought to chop that mane off for you,”

“Like I trust you with scissors near my head,” Bucky called back as huffed at the piece again, just barely managing to get to sway to the right.

“Oh my god Bucky, my dead grandmother runs faster than you,” Bucky growls a bit, looking back to (Y/N) with a sort of menacing glare.

“Oh, did I offend you?” (Y/N)’s smirk only grows with each passing word. “Well in that case- hurry your old ass up, I could run faster than you with no legs at all!”

“You want me to run?”

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point here,” (Y/N) smiles nonchalantly but said smile immediately falls when the supersoldier books it towards them, running faster than he’d ever run in his life. (Y/N) squeals in surprise as they too take off rushing down the pavement in an attempt to get away from the rather menacing looking man but it was too late- Bucky snatched them up by the waist before they could even contemplate running. (Y/N) laughs and flails in Bucky’s embrace, trying to fight the man off but he was having none of that, he squeezed their waist a bit as he nuzzled an already damp forehead against their own neck (It wasn’t doing stretches with Nat, especially when he had only gotten four and a half hours of sleep). “Bucky no! that tickles!” (Y/N) screeched when the supersoldier nuzzled his scruffy face into their neck, the short whiskers tickling them more than a bit. “Put me down you fiend!” (Y/N) laughs as Bucky holds them tighter, making it impossible for escape but luckily Bucky was an understanding guy and he dropped (Y/N), immediately taking off down the path.

“Who’s the slow one now?” Bucky shouted over his shoulder as he ran as hard as his legs would take him.

“You cheater!” (Y/N) yells as they laugh from a distance, double over as they attempt to catch their breath from the brief moment of tickling. Bucky smirked as he ran around the park, only stopping once his lungs were burning and he’d most likely finished any record time of his or (Y/N)’s. With a heavy sigh Bucky dropped onto a bench, placing his cool metal hand against his burning forehead.

Bucky had to have been sitting there for ten minutes by the time (Y/N) came back, panting and sweating just as much as he was.

“You- You loser,’ They manage between gasps for air.

“I actually think I’m the winner,”

“I- hate- you,” (Y/N) pants yet again, a small smile rising to their flushed features.

“Would a few cups of coffee remedy that hate?” (Y/N) looks at him skeptically before nodding their head, gulping once again. “Do you need me to carry you to the store?” Bucky asks as he stands up, already feeling better after his ten minute break.

“Haha, you’re very funny,”

“No, I’m being serious, do you need me to carry you there? You aren’t looking to great,” Bucky notes the heavy rise and fall of their chest, the way their sweat dribbled down their face at an almost alarming pace.

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) struggles to breath, “I just haven’t ran that hard in years,”

“Why?” Bucky asks as he dares to snake one arm around their waist, the other grappling their arm to hook around his neck. (Y/N) didn’t object, something Bucky was glad for; it wouldn’t have been easy to carry them if they were struggling against his grasp and given how stubborn they were he wouldn’t be surprised if they did do something like that.

“I lost my leg 3 years back, recovery wasn’t exactly the easiest for me,” Bucky listens intently as he marches them towards the shop, only a few blocks away from the park.

“I understand,” Bucky wiggles his metal fingers against (Y/N)’s side. “Recovery wasn’t easy for me either,”

“How’d you- how’d you lose your arm? If you don’t mind me asking,” (Y/N) leans on Bucky a bit, their body using his own as a means of support.

“I lost it back during the war,” Bucky supplies, not wishing to go into too much detail about his horrible experience. “What about you?”

“My leg was crushed under a metal beam, immediately sliced it clean off,”

“Did it hurt?”

“More than anything,” Bucky bites his lip, only imagining the pain (Y/N) had gone through. Bucky had been knocked out cold when he lost his arm but (Y/N)- (Y/N) had not; they were alive and conscious through it all. “The therapy is what killed me though, I thought I was going to die trying to get my new leg to start working,” Bucky looks at their leg, at the less than par piece of metal and plastic, a piece of junk compared to some of the prosthetics today.

“I could have Tony Stark fit you for a new leg,” Bucky murmurs quietly. “If you’d like one, maybe one that moves a little better-”

“I wouldn’t want to burden any of you guys like that-”

“Nope!” Bucky chirps as he turns them a bit, directing them no longer towards the coffee shop but rather the tall tower that belonged to Tony. “He’d love to work on a new leg for you-”

“Bucky, the coffee shop is the other way-”

“Clint can make excellent coffee,”

“Bucky-” But Bucky wasn’t listening anymore, he was too busy directing (Y/N) towards the tower without it looking like he was abducting them which was a struggle given that they were now trying to break away from him.

“Plus Nat can make really good food, it’s gonna be great, I promise,” And with that Bucky pulled (Y/N) into the tower, ignoring the weird looks from all the passerby’s on the street as they surveyed the large man hauling the smaller person into the extravagant tower.

“How long have you had this leg?” Tony asks as he surveys the prosthetic, completely ignoring (Y/N)’s rather awkward facial expression. It was evident that they were uncomfortable without their leg, especially in front of someone they didn’t know, and especially in front of one of the most famous people in the world.

“3 years,”

“3 years and you still have this piece of junk?” (Y/N) winces a bit, Tony’s tone suddenly taking them off guard. “You need an upgrade right away, I could get you one that locks into place, maybe one that attaches to the leg itself, maybe i could design you one like Bucky’s?” Tony gestures to Bucky’s arm, as though (Y/N) had never seen it.

“How long would that take?” (Y/N) asks, gnawing on their lip in thought.

“Maybe a week or so, not very long, although we would have to wire the leg to your thigh...you’d probably have a really nasty scar for the rest of your life,”

“Like me,” Bucky smiles at them gently, hoping his playful words would calm them down just a bit.

“Would it hurt?”

“Not at all, we’ve found much more humane ways of surgery since Buck’s time,” Tony smiles at them, “It would be done in an hour tops,”

“I could be there when you woke up, if you’d like me to,” Bucky adds in, hoping his offer would entice (Y/N) to make a choice.

“I’d- I’d be okay with that,” (Y/N) finally smiles, an unsure, shaky thing but it was there and that’s all that mattered.

“Good!” Tony claps his hands, visibly excited by the news. “We can start on casting your leg right now!” Bucky and (Y/N) both smile at Tony’s excitement as he scurries about the lab, collecting his needed materials.

“I can help you with therapy too,” Bucky adds as he slides up beside (Y/N), standing to them closer than he had been before. “That way it’s not as unpleasant as before,”

“I’d really like that,” (Y/N) smiles up at Bucky as Tony grabs some drill of some sort. “But you still owe me a few cups of coffee,” Bucky laughs, nodding his head in defeat.

“Fine, I’ll buy you your stupid coffee,”

“You’re the best Barnes,” (Y/N) presses a gentle kiss to the man’s cheek, sending his heart spiraling out of control, spreading a huge blush over his cheeks, and melting his heart on the spot. God- (Y/N) was going to be the death of him and oh how right he had been.

It was Tony’s third day of casting and he was starting to get a pretty good shape of (Y/N)’s natural leg, or at least what it once used to be. Working countless hours to create a fully functioning robotic leg wasn’t the most fun thing to do so Tony took up conversing with (Y/N), asking them little question here and there, getting a feel for them. Occasionally Bucky would join in but most of the time he sat beside (Y/N), holding their hand and smiling at them as they talked with Tony. Bucky didn’t know how it had started but suddenly one day he looked down to find (Y/N)’s fingers intertwined with his own, how long they’d been there he didn’t know that either but somehow throughout their little appointment with Tony the two would end up holding each others hand (most adorably as well).

“So, how’d you lose the leg?” Tony asks casually as he measures their knee and calf of their good leg, looking for proportions for the robotic leg.

“It was crushed by a metal beam,”

“Metal beam you say?”

“I was in D.C. the day those planes came down, or whatever the hell you want to call them, well they hit the ground and unfortunately I was pinned beneath one, cut my leg clean off-” (Y/N) goes on to tell their story more but Bucky wasn’t listening, his ears had stopped working after the word D.C.

Bucky now knew why (Y/N) had looked so scared the day he first met them, he was the one to take away their leg, he was the reason they were sitting here now, having a robotic leg fitted for them.

“Bucky?” Tony asks softly, placing a gloved hand on the soldier’s knee. “Are you good?” Tony’s eyes held concern for his friend given he knew all about D.C, everyone did in fact, the records were out there for anyone to see and you can bet your bottom dollar Tony was the first one to get his hands on all of shields secrets.

“In- In D.C?” Bucky’s voice quivers a bit, his raw emotion starting to take over.

“Yeah...” (Y/N) eyes him strangely, their hold on his hand tightening just a bit. “Remember those terrorist attacks three years ago?” They weren’t terrorists, it had been Bucky, Bucky was the terrorist.

“The plane crushed you?”

“Just some shrapnel from one of the ships...”

“Oh my god,” Bucky sighs shakily as tears blur at his vision.

He had always tried to avoid D.C, he didn’t want to think about it or what he had done but now there was a piece of what he did sitting right beside him, holding his hand tightly.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” (Y/N) shifts in their seat, turning to face the quivering man. “What did I say?”

“Oh my god (Y/N), I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry-” But a sudden sob cut him off, closing his throat as the tears began to roll. “I’m so fucking sorry, oh my god,”

“Bucky, what’s wrong? What are you sorry for?” But he couldn’t respond unless it was to curse himself and apologize profusely.

“I’m so sorry, It wasn’t my fault, I promise it wasn’t-” (Y/N) suddenly lurches forward, holding Bucky tightly. God- he didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve to hold this human being, he didn’t deserve their kindness and concern. He deserved to burn in hell for what he did, he deserved to suffer pain because he took away their ability to walk, he was the one who caused them pain and misery for three years-”

“Bucky, it’s okay, it’s okay,” (Y/N)’s soothing voice whispered to him, washing over him like a wave of comfort. “Whatever you did it’s okay,” Bucky sobs a bit as he holds (Y/N) close, nearly pulling them onto his lap with how close they suddenly were. “Can you tell me what you did? Can you tell me why you’re sorry?”

“It’s my fault,” Bucky sniffles as he attempts to reign himself in, trying to hold back all of his hatred and shame. “It’s my fault you don’t have a leg,”

“Bucky, you’re not making any sense, what are you-”

“The ships, I helped take the ships down, if it hadn’t been for me you’d still have both your legs and- and-” Bucky stops once again, biting his lip so hard that he nearly took a chunk of skin out.

“Bucky, hey, look at me-” (Y/N) nudged Bucky’s face up with their hands, forcing him to look directly into their eyes. “Whatever you did, it’s not your fault, okay? I’m not mad at you or anything, don’t feel bad, okay?” Bucky sniffles again, too ashamed to look (Y/N) in the eyes for any longer.

“You don’t have a leg because of me-”

“I don’t care that I don’t have a leg,” (Y/N) mutters, “I don’t care that you think that you’re the reason I’m missing a leg too, and neither should you,”

“But (Y/N)-”

“No buts Bucky,”

“(Y/N), you could be out running and jumping, you could be swimming for fuck’s sake but because I’m a goddamn disgrace-” Bucky stops again, only this time it wasn’t of his own accord. There were no lumps in his throat or tears pooling down his cheeks to stop his words but rather was a pair of lips pressed against his own, silencing him softly yet firmly.

(Y/N)’s lips were soft, soft and sweet and nothing Bucky could have ever imagined and holy fuck did he love it. He could kiss their lips all day if they’d let him, he’d savor them, allow their taste to linger on his tongue for days but he didn’t deserve that, he didn’t deserve to indulge in someone so kind and great as (Y/N).

(Y/N) slowly pulls away, letting their lips slowly but surely part from Bucky’s.

“But instead I’m here with you, and that’s worth more than any of those things anyways,” (Y/N)’s lips brush against his own with each syllable, sending little shots of pleasure down his spine. “Plus, if you hadn’t taken my leg then who would buy me 3 cups of coffee, hm?” Bucky smiles, chuckling a bit. The sound was watery at best but it was sweet nonetheless.

“No one in their right state of mind,”

“You got that right,” (Y/N) smiles as they gently nuzzle Bucky’s nose. “Now no more tears, okay?” Bucky nods a bit, wiping away the last of his tears. “And no more of this shaming Bucky stuff, okay?”

“Okay,” Bucky whispers, scrunching up his nose as (Y/N) kisses it sweetly.

“And after this you’re gonna buy me my coffee, no negotiating there,” Bucky chuckles, his shame and guilt finally starting to ebb away. It was going to take a long time for Bucky to finally feel okay, to actually accept the fact that he had done this to (Y/N) and that (Y/N) was okay with it but he knew he’d get there eventually...perhaps he just needed a bit of coffee and some time to talk.

~Extended Ending~

“Bucky,” (Y/N) whispers as they press a series of kisses along his shoulders, slowly but surely waking him up. “Come on Buck, it’s 5:30,” Bucky groaned as he rolled over, throwing an arm over his eyes rather dramatically.

“I’m too tired,”

“What did I wear you out last night?” There’s a smug tone to (Y/N)’s voice and they no doubt have that stupid smirk on their face like they usually do. “Were we up past your bed time old man?”

“I swear I’m gonna throw something at you if you don’t stop,” Bucky joked as he peeked at (Y/N) from under his arm, smiling at them softly.

“Hm, You’ll have to catch me first to do that,”

“Is that a challenge?”

“I do believe so Mr. Barnes,”

“I’m giving you a ten minute head start and I’m still gonna outrun your ass,” Bucky chuckles as he flips back over, snuggling into his bed. “So I suggest you quickly get dressed and get moving,”

“Loser buys coffee?”

“You bet,” Bucky smirks as (Y/N) jolts out of bed, quickly putting their running clothes on and lacing up their shoes as they stumbled out of the door. Even through the fabric of their leggings Bucky could see the little blue lights of their new prosthetic, the one Tony had given to them only a year prior. That day in the lab felt like years ago, (Y/N) was like that, they made time fly by so fast. A day with them could feel like a lifetime and nothing all at once and Bucky loved it.

“Be prepared to lose,” (Y/N) whispers as they lean down, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s forehead before booking it out the door, slamming the apartment door shut behind them. Bucky snuggles into his bed, sighing softly as the sounds of New York buzzed around him and if he listened just close enough he could nearly hear (Y/N) smacking into a wall on their way down. With a satisfied little smirk Bucky buries his face in his pillow, breathing in deeply as his body relaxed.

“I’m still gonna outrun their tiny ass,”

#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier imagine #the winter soldier #Sebastian Stan #Sebastian Stan imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #captain america #captain america imagine

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littlewalken · 6 years

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June 20

Well, I have decided I’m not going to use Prismacandle pencils any more. Even though the bulk of my pile is from the set I bought back during the Wish era after using once color and discovering it had a big ass chunk of black imbedded in the core that was it.

Now when it comes to a large set with colors I don’t know if I’ll even use I have Crayola, their regular colored pencils are rather good for cheap colored pencils, and the Spectrum Noir Aquablends. And with the way I art I don’t even know if I’ll have much of a call for one of those sets with five yellows.

So, if I do buy myself a big ass set what would I chose? First it has to be something I can buy loose because of cupcakes. Derwent Coloursoft maybe, they do wear down fast if you have to color a lot but easy to replace and opaque. Dick Blick/what ever it is are good but more translucent.

I want a pencil on the opaque side. I’ll go over my notes from all those Teddies I did but honestly there wasn’t anything I didn’t really like. (meaning the artist quality lines not the coloring book lines) Only the Bic Conte black barrel pencils were given a GTFO order.

But if you’re looking for spider change in the couch get a box of regular Crayola colored pencils.

Crochet kitty here has been around the house possibly as long as I have. I’m going to think about trying to make one. It doesn’t look hard, there’s a seam up the back, the ears and face are done after, the arms are done separate. It’s filed with polyfloof but beans or pellets might make a nice weighted critter.

And she’s chipped a knee... I am so glad I bought her nude and her hair was dry and and I never really got in to Gene dolls because this uneven discoloration is shitty. I picked up a few of these at the turn of the century and some patterns when I was hopeful I could turn an interest in sewing in to selling some custom doll outfits.

And to add to the shittiness the handful of official outfits are falling apart, all the rubber parts have hardened and shattered, all the elastic is loosening, all the snaps and fasteners are falling off.

And it’s so not me because Madra looks fine, the mustached Trent looks fine, and all 3 were displayed together in the same out of the sun spaces.

If any doll people feel the need to have them we can talk. That Madra is fullset, there’s a fullset Lover in Disguise Trent. Official outfits include witch, devil for him, suit of armor, and an indigo colored dress, there are assorted sewing patterns, and what’s there of the home made clothes. They’re really just living in their boxes right now.

As for dying my hair the color... The lighting in my bathroom makes it look ginger but there’s a touch of pink. Generally it lightened my hair and should grow out okay. I’m not taking pictures because I don’t want any of it. It’s not bad but I won’t miss it when it’s gone.

A week in to the anemia treatment and I still don’t feel back to my normal. Just going out to get cat food and other morning chores that usually are fun were downright tiring. It’s a thing where I have no energy to do much so I’m resting but then it’s depleting my tolerance for having the energy just to do my usual things.

Then there’s going to be putting off thing like the MRI because if I’m low on hemoglobin adding contrast dye doesn’t seem like a good idea.

Maybe I’ll see what Coloursofts I already have and just add to that, unless a tin comes on sale. Some of the new Derwent tin artwork sure is ugly, glad I got the seahorse and fox tins.

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fashiontrendin-blog · 6 years

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When a Hotel Is Home: A Bellman, a Bartender and an Artist Share Their Stories

http://fashion-trendin.com/when-a-hotel-is-home-a-bellman-a-bartender-and-an-artist-share-their-stories/

When a Hotel Is Home: A Bellman, a Bartender and an Artist Share Their Stories

In partnership with Freehand Hotel NY.

Freehand New York is one of those places you hear about over and over until you finally cave, give it a visit, and then suddenly, urgently get it. At least that’s what happened to me. The hotel carries the kind of word-of-mouth lore normally ascribed to old New York institutions like the George Washington Hotel (where Freehand is now housed). But it’s actually fairly new, and it maintains both a modern and old-world charm that either confirms and defies that, depending on the minute.

Freehand New York sells itself as more than a place to book a trendy room, get a fancy cocktail, or enjoy a social media-worthy meal — although I can personally confirm it more than checks those boxes. It’s a transient space founded on the idea that art and community need to be celebrated and nurtured, and that spirit is present in the rooms as much as in the people who populate them. Sometimes I stop by for no reason. It’s a nice place to just be.

In partnership with Freehand New York, I asked three people who work at the hotel and contribute to that magic to tell me their stories. First, in the lobby, you’ll meet Hero, the friendliest bellman in the world. Then, on the 19th floor, you’ll meet Miguel, the artist in residence who’s choreographing a new dance performance. Finally, up on the roof, with sweeping views of New York City before her, you’ll meet Yoly, a bartender from Puerto Rico who’s game to make you any cocktail you can dream up. Read their stories below, and then pop over to Freehand New York to meet them yourself.

Heroni Navarro

Hero is a bellman at Freehand New York.

I am one of the bellmen at Freehand New York, which means I’m in charge of making sure people’s luggage is checked in and checked out, and that people feel welcome and want to come back. We’re diplomats, as bellmen; we make sure that everyone’s happy.

I’ve always been a very outgoing person. A friend of mine wanted me to work with him as a bellman for years because he knew I had the personality for it, so that’s how I started. At other hotels I’ve worked at, though, I’ve felt like a robot reading a script. At Freehand, we’re allowed to be ourselves and professional at the same time. We have a saying: Good vibes only. The guests bring that, too. If I’m having a shitty day, someone will be like, “Hey! Why are you not smiling? I like when you smile.” They bring me up; it’s uplifting. I haven’t had a day where I didn’t want to be at work.

There are five bellmen at Freehand. We’re close, like brothers — one is the little brother, one is the middle brother, one is the hard-headed brother. I was the first hire, so I feel like I’m the older brother. I want things to be perfect, so I take a lot of responsibility for all of us. Some of us are lax; others are more organized. We all have different personalities, but that’s what makes us work.

The wildest thing that’s happened at Freehand is probably Hotel Man Repeller. We had a wild checkout; there were like 200 people from Man Repeller who came at one time. We had all these bags lined up outside and when everyone ran to the bus, I had to move out the way because I didn’t want to get stampeded. That was one of the funniest moments for me working as a bellman. It was really fun.

The most challenging part is the physical aspect. I stand on my feet all day, I carry bags, I get taxis, I am outside in the cold, I am outside in the heat. It’s very physical. People always ask me, “Where do you get the energy for this?!” I do get tired, but I just have to bring it regardless.

I like making friends with everyone. We had this Italian guest, and I kept trying to say “nice to see you” to him in Italian, which is “piacere.” Instead I was saying, “Porcini, porcini!” This dude was like, “What?!” Turns out I was saying “Mushroom, mushroom!” We were laughing so much. He never forgot me after that. He left a note in the elevator that said, “Porcini Hero!”

I like putting a smile on people’s faces. I had a guest the other day who came up to me and told me that I’m his kindred spirit because I’m always so jolly and so happy. This guy is always here and in a good mood. That makes me feel good, that I can make an impact. That’s what keeps me coming back.

Miguel Gutierrez

Miguel is the Bard artist in residence at Freehand New York.

I am a performing artist, a dancer and a choreographer, and I also compose and perform music. I’m currently the Freehand Fellow Artist in Residence, in partnership with Bard College, where I’m using the studio space on the 19th floor to create a dance-based performance. Right now I’m rehearsing a new dance piece called, “This Bridge Called My Ass.”

The piece explores the tensions that exist between identity-based work — in this case, LatinX identity — and abstract-based work which, for better or for worse, has often been rooted in whiteness. I’m working with an all-LatinX cast and we’re playing with questions that come up for us around those issues and seeing if identity-based and abstract-based art are, in fact, in opposition to each other.

The title is a play off of this famous book in the 80s called This Bridge Called My Back — a series of poems and essays put together by Cherríe Moraga and Gloria E. Anzaldúa and a seminal text of third-wave feminism. This book was really important to me when I was younger, but a lot of issues raised in it really haven’t shifted that much. If you read one of the essays from it, you might think, This sounds just like a Facebook post I read yesterday. It makes you think about the weird, cyclical nature of our relationship to the politics and poetics of identity.

With the kind of work I do, I don’t think of dance as a mode of interpretation as much as a mode of perception. I think what I do is create physical relationships and engaged actions that then have an associative quality. When people watch a performance, their minds go through a whole range of thoughts. Dance puts people into a space where they don’t know what the fuck they’re looking at, and I think that’s a really fertile space. The same could be said for music or non-figurative painting. A lot of people get confused by dance because they think it’s supposed to be mimetic, that it has a one-to-one relationship with meaning. Like if someone does a gesture with their arm, it might mean they’re hungry — but no, they just did that with their arm. With dance, you’re looking at a group of people, and when you look at people doing something together, you start to interpret and read identity into those people, whether they want that or not.

I’ve been thinking about what it does to people to look at brown or brownish bodies doing actions that are read more as abstract. Does abstraction belong exclusively to white bodies? Do people want brown bodies to perform entertainment? We’re also using objects and different colored fabrics that obscure us and also evoke things like seeing versus being seen.

I came into dance really young. My sister was a cheerleader, and I was obsessed with watching her practice. I would teach myself the routines. Later I took visual comedy classes in school. They put me in the yearly performance of the Nutcracker because I was one of the few boys in school — boys are always overly-privileged in dance contexts. I got really into that and thought I’d end up in more jazzy, entertainment-based stuff. When I got to college, though, and learned about modern dance and post-modern dance, I realized there was this whole world of dance tethered to philosophy. I’m a person with a whole lot of ideas, and this form felt like the way I could access those things. I dropped out of college but kept working with small ensembles — companies where the process was highly collaborative.

Art is severely undervalued in this country. I’ve been in the field for some time, but I’m in the same pool of competitors as anyone else applying for stuff. When you’ve been doing something for 25+ years, to feel like there’s no security that you’ll get what you need to do what you do, that’s hard. It’s a very precarious position. Yesterday’s successes are not tomorrow’s. It takes a tremendous amount of resources to make these projects happen. The conceptual things are difficult, too — people are interested in the new, hot, young people. But I still have a lot that I want to do with my work, and I want my practice to evolve.

We’re still really early on. We’re just generating the piece here at Freehand, and we will probably perform it at a larger performance-based venue in New York. I’ve spent a lot of time in hotels because of the nature of my work. They’re like airports in that they become the people that animate them at any given moment, but no one — except maybe the staff — owns the experience of what that is. It’s nice; it gives us a different sense of allegiance while working here. It gives the place a slightly different life.

Yoly Báez

Yoly is a bartender at Broken Shaker, a bar on the rooftop of Freehand New York.

I’m from San Juan, Puerto Rico. I moved to the States six years ago and I lived in Miami for three years. That’s how I got to work at Broken Shaker in Miami. I started as a cocktail server there, and after a year and a half, they asked me if I wanted to learn to be a bartender. I started intense training for six or seven months, and after that, I was working behind the bar. But I always wanted to live in New York, so when I heard that we were opening a Broken Shaker here, I came to visit in November for a pop-up that we did here and I fell in love with the view and the location and with Freehand. So I decided to move here to help with the opening and to bring the Miami vibe here to New York.

I’ve been bartending for five years. In Miami, I was very active in competitions and representing the bartending scene as a woman. Bartending has a few big national competitions such as Bacardi Legacy and Bombay Sapphire’s Most Imaginative Bartender. I got into the semifinals of both of them. You have to create cocktails that are very creative — you can make anything that you want and you have to do an entire presentation. It’s a whole production. They have 500 to 700 submissions, and people make crazy stuff!

Bombay Sapphire was my first competition. My cocktail was called Catch My Wave — my inspiration was the ocean because I’m from Puerto Rico. It was clarified milk punch with blue foam on top. Clarified milk punch is a cocktail that has milk in it but is completely clear. It’s a five-day process to make. I wanted to do something I’d never done before. I am a filmmaker and I wanted to combine both passions, so I also created a fish tank effect by projecting a video of waves in the background. It was a trip. It was super fun. I made it to the top ten. In 2017, I also won the Pineapple Award for Rising Bar Star in Miami. It was a People’s Choice Award. I was really proud.

I like working at Broken Shaker because I can be myself. I can create anything that I want, not just vodka sodas. We have so many ingredients and so many tools to be creative; we make everything from scratch. It’s like I’m cooking but with liquid; that’s the way I see it. And I get excited to see people get excited. I like to create an experience for my guests. It’s not just about creating a good cocktail for them, it’s about creating the best experience and seeing their faces light up. For me, it’s like a performance.

I like when people come to my bar and say, “Make me whatever you want,” and then just list a few flavors they like. I like that they trust me, and I like to surprise people. I add little flamingos, alligators, flowers. I like to play around and make it fun because that’s the whole point. I don’t see bartending as a job. It’s a space to have fun and be creative.

My first day at the opening of Broken Shaker in New York, I was working the bar by myself, taking care of the entire room. I had no idea how to use the sale system because it’s a different system than the one we have in Miami, so I was taking care of the service bar, the terrace, and with the new system I was like, “Aaah! Somebody help me please!” We had 906 guests on opening night!

I love it. It’s a challenge, but it’s fun. I never thought that I would make it behind the bar. Never in my life. But the people who trained me listened to me and worked with me, and now I’m here and I love it. It’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.

9 PHOTOS click for more

Visiting New York soon? Freehand NY is hooking MR readers up with a 15% discount if you book through the website with code MANREPELLER. See you there!

Photos by Edith Young.

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nicestbitchyoulleverlove-blog · 6 years

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FML

So today has been a rough one, but I started this blog in part to hold myself accountable for my behavior, so I am just going to keep it real. I am devastated by my marriage ending, especially how it did. I cannot fathom being with another person right now, and it kills my heart to know he moved on so quickly. What did I do wrong? Am I ugly? Did I drive him away? Can I fix this? What happened to the man I married? Its a lot. I am finding myself a thirty two year old woman desperate for friends and a sense of belonging. I look desperate. I am desperate. I have disclosed to you guys in part why I cannot drink. I am the type of alcoholic that does not wake up with the shakes every day. I get triggered, have panic attacks, and then want to self medicate. Today, I self medicated. I drank. And nothing good came from it other than me making an ass of myself. I could not stop texting my ex. No matter how hard I tried, its like I just HAD to get the final words in....even when he would not respond, I kept going. Yikes. The rational side of me knew I looked pitiful and sad, but the irrational part was screaming “TELL THAT MOTHERFUCKER EXACTLY HOW YOU FEEL.” I do not recommend the latter. I did not feel any better after sending the heinous messages...and I am sure he and his new love mocked my desperation. Moral of the story, some people just do not give a flying fuck if they hurt you. I cannot sit around the rest of my life waiting for an apology. In his mind, he did nothing wrong. Although I cannot grasp the horrific things he has done, he is clearly capable of doing those things. I do not even want to be with someone like that...why am I clinging to him? Bottom line...I invested my life into this man. I gave him my cars. I gave him all of my money. I turned against family. I lied for him. I took him back after he cheated and hurt me physically. I thought our histories made us destined to be best friends. But clearly not, because he can manipulate me to leave treatment, move across the country, and shit on me while not feeling sorry one bit. That hurts....bad. People look at me with little to no sympathy stating “Jesus get over it already.” haha oh my gosh if only it were that simple. I don’t know much, but I know love. Its magical. Its once in a life time. It makes a black and white world turn to color. It makes music fill my soul. It gives life a meaning. I had that with my ex. We zinged. But I cant dwell on that anymore. We no longer “zing.” I can sit here saying I am over it and what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger, but then I’d be a damn liar. This is one of the worst pains I have ever experienced. And no matter how much I call my ex names or think of how big of a loser he his and always will be, I cannot get over that man. But was I honestly happy with him? After really looking back, I was miserable with him. We were growing apart years ago...we both knew it but we fought on and off because we did really love one another. The part that gets me, is that we did not even end civilly. We really did not end at all. Although I know my ex, and know he feels horrible about what he did and cannot face me, he owed me a face to face break up. Let me say how he hurt me. How he hurt my children. Even just talk about what we really loved about one another. He cannot even do that. And I need to stop hoping he ever will. His actions showed me he is done and no longer loves me...I need to accept that harsh reality....although I never want to. One word of advice, though, seriously is that if you are with someone...married or dating...and you just aren’t feeling it...fix it or give your partner the respect of a break up. It is cruel to be a coward. I begged my ex for the truth and he refused to honor that. Knowing would have absolutely been better than feeling like hes cheating and that I am bat shit crazy. Not cool, man. Not cool. Why did you even keep me around? Ya used me...thats why. To be the “cool guy” with the hot, smart wife that is a raging bitch but in a sexy way....who will inevitabley be successful someday because nothing stands in her way. And I always took you back. You are probably thinking right now I will take you back any time. I normally would have...but not now. I literally almost died out of devastation. My children almost lost me. I almost lost my chance to show the world how RESILIENT I am. A couple months out from that and I am on my way to an amazing full time job with benefits...with a team that supports my vision and believes in me. My daughter adores me. I edit papers and do algebra and give my babies baths. I wasn’t even a good mom really because my ex always came first. I always loved him more. And it was literally never reciprocated. I took the love of my children for granted...and I will never, ever let that happened again. I have never been more excited to find myself, but I’m also heartbroken. I never thought I would have to live life without my ex. Miserable or not, I wanted him day in and day out...like a real marriage should be. I am not a quitter and I did not take getting married lightly. He bailed when times got tough, and I feel like that is a damn shame. Not everyone almost loses their father in an emergency where he was fine one moment and dying the next. Especially the father that took FMLA when my PTSD was too overwhelming for me to go back to school for awhile. He never judged me. He always supported me....and in one day my whole world changed. I am blessed, he survived. He woke UP from a serious coma...remembering me!!! But it is not the same. It will never be the same. And it is hard to watch. I see my main role model of courage and strength unable to feed himself, drive, work, or do anything really to enhance his quality of life. He cries a lot. And I just want to take the pain away, but I can’t.. I do not wish my ex almost losing or losing someone that is his world, but someday we all lost someone that makes us change our ways or think about our lives. Anyone who walked a mile in my shoes would see that some incredibly serious shit Ihas happened, and I am just doing the best I can. I want to make my pain a testimony, but I am not perfect. Today I tried to drink my feelings and failed miserably. The pain is still here. I need to be strong, trust in God, and accept my circumstances. I am starting totally over. The man literally kept all of my belongings...but now I get to say I truly was the only one to rise up from nothing. No one is helping me...except a few good friends that let me cry ugly cries and hold me. I have done some really shitty things in my life, I will be the first to admit that...but I did not deserve how I was treated. It was really, really bad. And humiliating. Now I want to shut down and never make friends again. I get rageful when I try to explain myself. I hate people that judge or make fun of me. I am delicate right now. I want real love. Like, friend through thick and thin love. I’m sick of thinking everyone has an ulterior motive with me. I want to me loved and cherished for who I am. My ex does not love me. He is not sorry. But I am here, still breathing. Still fighting. And imperfect, but really trying to change. Thanks ya’ll for letting me vent.

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bwicblog · 7 years

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> HADEAN

Sip made you all pretty while you chatted about beating Emerel's ass in. It was... Fun in a way you've never gotten to experience before, really. And hey, you were pretty enough to pull of anything.

And Sipara seemed sure that this goo wouldn't melt off your mug. She would know better than anyone else... You hope. Back in your normal clothes it seemed right to head to the fighting rings and see about scouting out your opponent. You'd had your fun at the faire, gotten to meet a bunch of trolls and have enough quality bonding time to last you a few sweeps...

That meant it was time for business. You absently tapped your staff against your shoulder as you walked, eyes sweeping over the trolls assembled. Honestly, you had no idea who you were looking for! Just that he was jade.

"Siiip. Which one of these dirtbags is Emerel? Fucker was hella rude, not even sending me a picture. He's not actually hideous or something, is he?" You had thought Pheres had taste. But... With what he was wearing... Maybe not.

> EMEREL

You walk back into the arena, sweat dripping down your forehead that you can't be bothered to wipe off. Besides, it's kind of attractive. You had some rage to let out and you feel a bit better now. There's a bit of blood streaked across your garb and you're not sure if it's yours or that blueblood you took a quick drink from while he was knocked unconscious with a very rude halberd pole. Ironically, you're pretty sure that's the same blue you drank from during the faire where you meant Pheres. Small world. You decide you'll hang out on the benches with your waterbottle for now, thoroughly overheated and in need of something for your throat. Hadean will make himself known when he gets here, you're sure.

> SIPARA

Hadean's pretty as a goddamn picture, and you _absolutely_ crammed your phone full of 'em. Between Pheres's horn-shining and your work, there's something deeply satisfying in how positively _glam_ he looks. And he'll look even better when he's kicking someone's ass in it. Empress, you miss being in the ring. "Ha~aaaaads," you drawl back, squinting at the crowd. "He's the mossball over --" You bounce up on your toes, peering at each troll in turn, before you jerk your chin towards Emerel. You've only seen him in person once or twice, but with as many pictures as Pheres's put up, he's kind of hard to miss. "There! And - eye-dee-kay, dude, he's not _my_ thing. You like 'em long and gangly and nubby-horned?" "Because if you do.. looks like you might have competition. Haha, holy shit, did he fuck around with a teal before he's _fighting?_"

> HADEAN

Huh. First thought it he looks like a sweaty gross nerd. Second thought is woww, was he really fighting before your bout? "Looks like it. Hella rude, doesn't he know he was supposed to save himself for me? Might start bawling as soon as I try talking to him, I can already feel myself getting choked up." Well if he wanted to tire himself out before his fight, fine. You were used to being looked down upon for your blood color, obviously he didn't think you were worth his best. His loss, it'd just make it an easier win for you. You stroll your way over to the benches, whistling loud- like you would for a woofbeast. "Oh Emerel~ Are you always this sweaty and dirty, or was this your attempt at cleaning up for me?"

> EMEREL

You're quietly minding your own business, drinking your waterbottle on your bench, when you're whistled at. It's not the first time someone's whistled at you, so you can't say you're bothered. You love it when strangers pay attention that kind of attention to you, usually. When he calls your name, however, you pause with your bottle still at your lips. You don't look towards the source of the sound and your only response is to tap your fingers on the bottle. "You could say-" You look over to him, snorting when you notice how prettied up he is. Even you know better. "-That I simply look the part of a man who just went to war." You HAVE been doing reenactments all day, after all. You stand up, setting the bottle down to look Hadean over. He's not much taller than you, horns notwithstanding, and the only thing about him that's really concering you is that dumb floating horn. You're sure you should be wary of that one.

> HADEAN

"A man who went to war. Sure, buttercup." You make sure your voice is as dry as possible. War? Is that what he thinks fighting trolls one on one for a while is? Man, he's a dramatic one... But you guess it comes with the territory of being a fucking. Historical nerd. "Well, you need a little more time to freshen up, or are we fighting now? Because I came all this way to this stupid faire to beat you up. Might as well get it over with." You lean against your staff, giving him you best cocky smirk. You didn't have to get serious about it until you were actually going at it, after all. Let him think you the cocky lowblood who was getting in over their head. You could play stereotypes to your advantage any night.

> MAIDEL

You’re sitting in the stands with Sipara, watching Hadean and Emerel anxiously, but then Prisma really does come over! You beam at the yellowblood. “Hi! Are you excited for the fight? I’m a little worried, but…” You trail off and look at the two trolls. “…they both seem pretty capable.”

> EMEREL

"I'm ready when you are. Question is, Hadean, just how good are you at putting your money where your mouth is?" You look to his face, a wide smirk crossing yours as you summon your halberd to your hand, copying his lean. For all your talk, you're making all sorts of immediate observations about him: Face tattoos. High pain tolerance. Floating horn. Some type of psionic bullshit. You probably shouldn't get too close. Staff. Another indicator that he keeps a distance. Cocky. It's a trick you know quite well. Tall. Inherently on the tough side. Long hair. Doesn't spend too much time in close range fights if he's not worried about getting his braid yanked on. You think you might try fighting close to him and seeing what happens. "But, you know, if you want to apply a little more makeup before we get into it, I'll wait. Be my guest."

> PRISMA

"I am marginally excited. I am more excited to see Hadean destroy this mysterious jade blood," You remark simply, cocking your head lightly at Maidel. "You found time to get away from the booth, finally?"

> VATRRA

You've locked up your shop in favor of wandering around until you find where you need to go. And it's not hard to spot the familiar face in the crowd once you remember what to look for. The greenblood and goldblood next to Nzinga are unfamiliar, but based on the chrome in the chat these are probably the other people you were just talking to. You walk over and take a seat at the end of them, nodding in greeting.

> HADEAN

"Oh my god, clearly you've been watching way too many shitty movies with Gliese is you're going to spew that line and try to look cool doing it." You roll your eyes at him, but you're taking note of him while you trade jabs. But let him try to compartmentalize you! As much as he likes to think how good he is at fighting, you've just had a lot more time alive to fight. And you're used to fighting trolls that are physically stronger than you. "Now don't go tossing Sip's skills or she might give you a good kick when you're down. Are we going to stand around all night, or are we going to fight?"

> LOKKIC & CO Somehow, all of you have managed to sit on the bleachers without causing a scene. Of course, it helps that you have yourself, your lusus, Nikola, AND Desmon in that order between Natali and Daiyel. It seems to be working as far as keeping them seperated goes. You're so glad. Your arm still hurts and you hope it's not infected. Where even is the med tent? You never were able to find it and you gave up.

> EMEREL

"You say that, but I think you're just pissed that you're missing out on the movie night food. Too bad, it's good stuff too. Oh well. Sucks to be you." You shrug at him, twirling your halberd once and hoisting it on your shoulder as you approach the ring. You think you have a strategy worked out for this guy, at least for the first few minutes. You'll have to see what other surprises he has up his sleeve. "You're the only one still standing, Hadean." You look over your shoulder, winking at him. "Be sure to get a good look at my ass while you can because this is the last chance you'll get to see it."

> MAIDEL

“Well, Pheres will be here too!” You say. “He’s hardly going to miss his matesprit…so I think we’re just closing for a bit.” You say, shrugging, then realizing Prisma doesn’t know who Emerel is. “Oh, Emerel’s not mysterious! He’s very nice, really, and he’s a military history expert.” You wave to the redblood who you assume is VA, and you feel bad that you don’t remember her name. “Hi! You’re VA, right? Good to see you!”

> CANELA Fight, fight, fight! You're so glad you found the fighting rings. You love watching people beat each other up! Especially when there's blood involved. And that is exactly why you're polyp-levels rooted to your bench, happily tapping your feet as you rest your chin in your hand. Your other one is reaching into your box of tasty fried crabs. You were so glad you found a seadweller food booth at the faire! She was such a nice girl, too. And she makes tasty crabs. You can't wait for the killing to start.

> PRISMA

A military history expert... You raise an eyebrow at this, pursing your lips somewhat tightly. This is an increasingly odd collection of people. Even more so with the newcomer, and you look at the redblood appraisingly. They must all really believe in comraderie. "But then why are they fighting? For the sake of it?" You ask Maidel, turning your gaze back to them.

> LALEDY

Even front row seats don't manage to make this a fight worth bothering to try and actually view. You're kind of having fun with the rest of it, though - Sipara's done up your face in a way that actually makes you want to preen, and you can already hear Hads and the other guy talking shit to each other. It's like a bad drama, and you're snickering into your left-over pizza plate as you wait for the real theatrics to start. You're probably not going to see much of it, but you're fully prepared to make fun of the crowd.

> VATRRA

You give the greenblood a small, slightly awkward wave, "Aye. You're AC, right?" You catch the tail end of the yellowblood's question and hope that it gets answered. You're not so sure why there's a fight either, and it seems a little rude at this point to ask if it's a deathmatch or what.

>SIPARA "Because it's _fucking cool_," you declare, looking up briefly from your phone to grin at Prisma, at the same point that Pheres huffs, from down against the fence: "- because they're a pair of _morons_, that's why."

> LALEDY

You were right, the crowd is totally the best part. You lean over so you can raise an eyebrow at Pheres. "Ain't one of them your, like, matesprit?" you ask.

> MAIDEL

“Um.” You say. “I think they think it’s fun. Hadean really likes fighting in general, and Emerel does re-enactments.” It’s not your thing at all. “Oh! And I think some trolls bet on it, too.” You remember, then laugh a little as you look at Sipara. “Maybe Sipara will make some money!” “Yes!” You say, smiling at the redblood. “But my name’s Maidel - what’s yours?” You have to restrain giggles at Sipara’s statement - it’d be rude to laugh! Unfortunately a few escape past your hand on your mouth, your floppy ears flicking.

> PRISMA

You can't help but grin at Pheres's reply, looking away to keep it politely hidden. It is strange they would let their matesprit get caught up in all this -- you're confused still by the connections everyone has. It seemed like too much to take in, and you sigh briefly. "Hadean likes competing. Emerel's interest seems more skewed, based on that," and then you quiet as Maidel reels to the other troll.

> HADEAN

Ugh. Is he showing off to intimidate you, or to piss you off? Doesn't he know the brat section of this fight belongs to you? Well, he'll probably lose it when it gets to the actual fighting. No one can play dirty quite like you. "What, is getting to look at your ass a scare tactic? I mean, it is a pretty sorry sight." You stroll over to catch up to him, giving him your least impressed look.

> VATRRA

Sipara's answer tells you that it's probably NOT a deathmatch, and the other rust's answer cements the idea, which is sort of a relief. Jade is kind of up there, but it would still be a shame to see them or a rustblood murdered in the pit. You lean forward, trying to not make the greenblood- Maidel switch between talking to you and the goldblood. You look between the two of them. "I'm Vatrra". "So, they're just gonna duke it out for the fun of it?"

> EMEREL

"Well, if you want a better look to make a decision on that, all you have to do is ask~" You put your finger to your lip, giving him a one-finger blown kiss before stepping past the circle into the ring. You know he gets weirded out from shameless flirting. And that's something you're very, very good at. "Now are you going to fight me or weep mascara on my face?"

> PHERES

Being mean to Laledy would be dreadful, given how much Sipara chatters about him: she clearly _likes_ him, and that's rare enough. And you're fond of him, too. And it wouldn't do anything to stop your sulking. "Mm," you say, not quite an agreement, and watch Emerel spin in the ring. "He's the jade. Who're you betting on, Laledy?"

> HADEAN

undefinedUgh. You keep you unimpressed look up, tapping your staff on the ground as you look around. "Oh, we're fighting. I just wanted to make sure we didn't have to do anything like cross weapons or bow or any of the other fancy shit that only historical losers would do!" Hah. You're throwing jabs and making constructs at the same time. Under your clothes where no one can see it, hardening your energy to take blows for you. Your psi are sneaky- there's some sparking of your horn, but not much to show for it. For all he knows the flames dim and flare naturally.

> MAIDEL

“I think Emerel likes showing off.” You say fondly. “He’s good at it! And aha, yes, Vatrra. They both seem really down for it, they’ve been talking about it for nights.” You smile at Pheres, and oh, there’s another jade! What unusual hair. Laledy? Huh. You don’t want to interrupt

them, but you’ll have to say hi at some point. Any friend of Pheres’s is always worth talking to.

> LALEDY

You blink. Well, that's not exactly the answer you expected. Pheres's words don't say much, but his tone speaks volumes. Did you say something? "Nah," you tell him, "Ain't bettin' nothin'! And it's totes cos I'm a respectable and carin' friend and ish and not, like, cos I ain't got nothin' but pocket lint and pizza to bet. You doin' aight, pal?" You pause, debating, and eventually resign yourself. "... Got pizza if you want some," you say proferring your plate. You've still got two perfectly respectable slices on it. You can probably spare one, at least.

> EMEREL

You chuckle, taking another look up and down him. He smells like he hasn't showered in a while. Or at least like he doesn't do it nearly as often as he should. Does he spend a lot of time sweating? Because old dirt and sweat is what it smells like to you. You vaguely recall that he travels. Talk about traveling on foot a lot. But that means he's probably got some good muscle built up, at least in the legs. So avoiding them is a good idea for now. Your most likely target is going to be his front: The face, neck, and chest. But you promised Pheres no lethal blows, so you think a good crack over the head and a kick out of the ring might work out here. "I only bow to people who aren't named Hadean, I'm afraid. So unless you change your name, that's out of the picture." You raise your weapon, tapping the handle on the ground twice. "We do do this, though." AKA, only you do it. But he doesn't have to know that. "Let's go."

> HADEAN

"Oh wow. Did you stay up all day thinking of quips for me? Managed to rub those two functioning circuits in your thinkpan long enough for that one, good job." Huh. You just tap your staff twice before you shift it in to both hands. Your energy is a low hum against your skin, familiar- ready to spread when you're ready to reveal your hand. "Hope you can use that pig-sticker." You don't like pressing an attack, not at first. You set your stance a little bit, waiting to see what he'll do- if he thinks he's naturally got the advantage and come charging in.

> EMEREL

This is going to be interesting. Since you don't know yet what Hadean can do and all your observations have indicated that you shouldn't take him lightly by any measure, you're playing the safe route at first. You ignore your buddies at the side yelling out their bets, deciding you'll try and fake him into making the first move. "You know, they normally wear something a little different in the ring." You shrug, tapping your fingers on your halberd which is still balanced on the sand. You note the tightness in Hadean's muscles and try to figure out where he's the least defended. "We normally wear a lot more padding. Even if we didn't, where's the fun in your jeans?" Before you've even finished speaking, you've made use of how long your weapon is, the tip of the axe aimed right at his face.

> PHERES

You would really rather dig holes into the fence post and seethe. But Laledy's trying to be kind, so you roll your eyes and slog up to his seat. Your smile's crooked, but at least you manage it. "I'm fine! Disappointed, but. Ah. We'll see how it goes. Thank you for asking, though. Sipara, scoot over," you demand, and as soon as she shifts, you cram yourself onto her lap. She's got her phone. It'll be _fine._ And you do steal a piece of pepperoni off of his pizza. Well, if he's _offering..._

> HADEAN

Ah, the old keep them distracted with talking while you swing at them. Good to know he's not above using tricks! Means you can't rely on him playing by the rules, which is fine by you. You feint back and let your staff come up, trying to sweep his halberd- a test to see how much he'll fumble, knowledge of how long you might have to strike in the future. You don't press an attack now, you're still using a staff after all! It's a defensive weapon and you're going to take your time when you can get it. Build up some energy weapons under your shirt to play with. "Jeans are comfy. The fun is in beating you. Duh."

> MAIDEL

Pheres doesn’t look happy, but you can’t help smiling as he scoots onto Sipara’s lap and takes a piece of pepperoni off of Laledy’s pizza. You look down at Emerel and Hadean, wondering when they’ll actually start fighting. You’re nervous - naturally - but also excited and a bit curious - Ooooh, there goes Emerel. You suck in a sharp breath, until Hadean swings his staff up to meet him. Your eyes are still wide, though.

> LALEDY

You can't quite read Pheres's face even when he gets closer, aside from a general smile. His tone is still stiff, though, until he shoves Sipara over and grabs a slice. Well, if the food's gonna help get the stick out of his ass. He's probably worried his boyfriend's going to get shanked, you figure, but it's not like these things are to the death. Besides, Emerel's green - and hasn't been living on fumes and duct tape for the past quarter-sweep like you. He's going to be fine. You nab the last slice of pizza for yourself (anchovies: not actually as bad as everyone has been making them out to be, but hunger is the best topping) so Pheres can't grab it if he decides he wants another, and lean back to munch on it as the fight starts. Well. "Fight." It's still mostly posturing, which is more fun if anybody asks you!

> EMEREL

You shift your grip on your halberd and turn it, trying to use it for something resembling its proper purpose as you attempt to catch his staff with it. If you can disarm him, the better. There's a loud cheer from somewhere to your left as the weapons clash together and you admit you love the sound, even if this is a bad time to comment on that. "Comfy and also boring. No wonder someone had to fix you up for this. It's not like you can take care of yourself~"

> HADEAN

Well, looks like he can use his halberd some. He probably thinks he's clever catching you, but you put your strength in to it as you clash, trying to lock your weapons together as a plan forms. You let him talk, it gives you enough time to hopefully hold your ground and let your energy gather, teeth bared as your shirt rips. RIP one of your three shirts. But you've got another arm now! Does an energy tentacle count as an arm? You think it does when it's armed with a knife. It's just like using any other limb for you, a little will springing it around you to lash at his middle while you hopefully keep his weapon engaged with your own. Thank god for buying the staff with a lead core in it, it's probably the only thing keeping your staff in one piece.

> EMEREL

Well, your plan to disarm him isn't working. If anything, he's trying his best to make sure you can't move either. What's he planning? Your immediate instinct is to disengage and step back and when you hear the sound of ripping cloth, you feel like that was the right choice. Your weapon, however, is locked hard in his and you're going to have to make a gambit to tip things in your favor here. You hold your breath and hold still until whatever the hell he just made actually punches you staight in the stomach. You cough, holding tighter to the chapped leather on your handle as you use those locked weapons to your advantage. Hopefully he won't be expecting you to counter so quickly after being basically sucker punched. Which means he hopefully won't be expecting you to immediately swing yourself around via your trapped weapons and sweep your legs under his to knock him down.

> HADEAN

Oh fuck, did you just straight up shank the fuck out of him. Oh yeah, that's the sort of flesh ressiting and then submitting to a razor edge that signals that your knife went riight in. He was supposed to dodge! What kind of troll stays locked in with a guy and just takes a gut shot!? The same kind of idiot who just sweeps a guy when he's still got a knife in him you fucking guess. You instinctively use the tentacle coming out of your back to try and catch yourself somewhat, to not leave yourself completely defenseless. The staff is gone, but you've still got psionics, and- oh yeah, your tentacle was still knife-ing him. You really hope your trying to catch yourself didn't slice him open even more. You focus on keeping your head and arms protected if he comes in for an attack while you're still trying to regain your footing, purposefully leaving your armor-protected legs and chest there for him to try and stab at. Unlike him, you don't just take a gut shot like it's no big deal.

> EMEREL

You cough again, louder as blood pours over your lips and your chest burns and throbs. That fucking hurts. That hurts like hell, why did you do that? You hear what sounds like a distressed goat screaming somewhere and you think that might be Pheres. This is a weird time to want to laugh and you're going to stop chuckling now. You think you'll be just fine, though. You've been dealt a literally fatal blow and this isn't nearly as bad as you remember. Holy shit, you were not expecting those powers of his. At all. What are you supposed to do about them? You'll figure out something, damn it. You refuse to lose without a hell of a fight. At least it looks cool for the crowd, as they're getting louder. You stumble back, finally getting that damn tentacle out of your chest and that hurts even worse now that it's out. Okay, this is hurting as much as you remember now. "Fucking hell-" You mutter. "That's impressive." Your voice cracks and you promptly step on that stupid shitty braid of his, aiming the butt of your halberd at whatever gap in his guard you can reach, fully intent on butting his his eyes out if you can. He's lucky you're using the blunt end, honestly. Of course, this would be easier if you weren't busy watching the tentacles for more shenanigans.

> HADEAN

Oh man you fucked up. How bad did you fuck him up. He's bleeding from the mouth, so... You're gonna err on pretty fucking bad. But hey! He's still talking. Is that good? You're counting that as good. Otherwise you're going to feel really bad at that screaming from Pheres. Okay, he's stepping on your braid. Less pity now. Especially when he's aiming for your face, fuck that. You raise your arms to block it and yeah, that hurts like a son of a bitch. You're used to pain, you can do this. Just gotta ride that adrenaline high and hope that nothing is fractured. ...Something is probably fractured. You whiz the tentacle at him again, just trying to force him to give you enough distance to get up. You're slashing at his legs, because step number one is trying to convince the guy who just took a gut shot that he needs to fucking move holy hell.

> EMEREL

This time, you actually move. A second stab from that thing might legitimately kill you and you quite like being alive, unlike your sadsack of a brother. You spit a bit of blood at his face as you move your legs away from the tentacle before they end up shredded, quite content to see your blood dripping all the hell over him. Hot. The bitch can have something to remember you by for a while if he insists on not showering often anyway. Wait a second, how much juice does he have? You date two psionics, you know they get fried after a while. You grin rather darkly at that, realizing you know exactly what your plan is. "Hey, Hadean! Is that the best you've got?" You call out through your blood-choked breaths. "I'm still standing and I'm still winning that sweet prize!" It's a taunt, plain and simple. You put your foot in position, waiting for the second that he takes his arms down to kick sand from the arena at his face. "Why don't you get back up already and make my night a little more fun?"

> HADEAN

Good news: He moved. Bad news: He fucking blood bukkake'd your face. Good god, he better not be diseased. If you catch something from his shitty jade blood you'll be pissed. You've got some distance, but he's still there, waiting. And taunting you. "I just had part of me inside you and then you blood bukkake all over my face and don't call that fun? God Emerel, at least buy a guy dinner first." You don't rise to his bait, not when you're already on the ground like this and he's looming so close. But your tentacle has him edgy and you can take the moment to draw some energy up your poor injured arms to shield them from the next hits, forming a shield as well to hold in front of you as you stand.

> EMEREL

"Yeah, give me something I haven't tried before and we'll see about fun. Bitch, I'll make you dinner." You shoot back, weapon at the ready. You need to keep this plan going. But that means getting close again and not taking stupid shots that involve you getting stabbed. Your plan worked, but now you just look dumb. Oh well. You'll recover. You like yourself enough for everyone else anyway. As soon as he stands up, you're running forward fast to kick the sand up at him. It's not much, but it's some degree of a distraction. And sand blows, so you're not worried about his shield saving him from it. As you charge in, you keep a close eye on the tentacle. And that whole damn light show he's putting on right now. You can't afford to get hit by that thing again, or anything else he might have on him. You make like you're going to make a right step and slash at him, only to stop at the last second and slide left and swing your axe at his shoulder. It's time to see just how goo of a shield he can make.

> HADEAN

"Oh, you blood bukkake everyone? You perv." Fucking sand. You were raised in it and this is how it repays you. Dirty trick though, you should have been hurling sand at him! If you weren't busy. Stabbing him. Yeahh..... Oops? At least it's a momentary distraction, because you have a axe coming at you. You get your shield up but not enough- thank god for the armor you constructed under your shirt that takes most of the blow. But you can still feel blood welling up, not enough to stop you from getting by unscathed. Shoulder wounds are so nasty- did he slice your tattoo? Fuck, you'll need to get it redone. The pains are adding up, but you press an attack with the tentacle at the same time you go for a shield bash, pulling your mangled shoulder away. It's pretty deep, but you've had worse. You switch hands that the shield is in and let the tentacle swing to your injured side to take over, hoping you've got enough time between attacks to form another one.

> EMEREL

"What can I say? A man has needs. And mine include blood bukkake-ing everyone." Your chest is squishing with the blood and you deeply regret that gambit. It played out so much better in your head. That was a bad time to mess up that badly, but whatever. It is what it is, you guess. On the bright side, you think it's starting to heal itself already. Thank goodness for speedy healing. At the very least, you can make Hadean bleed to make yourself feel better. When you see blood bubbling up around where you hit him, you decide to go for a second opening while you have the chance before that tentacle gets you, jerking hard on his braid which is dangling in your arm's reach and aiming the blunt end of the staff at whatever unprotected point you can reach.

> HADEAN

Boy, you're starting to hurt. Your arm is definitely protesting all this moving around you're making it do, and your body is already pulling energy away from your constructs to worry about the damage done. Stupid shitty psionics, not realizing you need to win the battle before you worry about repairs. Your hair is getting a lot of yanking today, you don't like it. You pull the shield in against his staff hit but the injuries make it flimsy- instead of absorbing the hit it shatters and you still get a nasty hit that will no doubt leave a mark. You don't like this, you're starting to get angry- your shield is gone so you just reach out to grab the arm wielding the halberd with one hand while you blindly let your tentacle form a projectile, flinging it at Emerel's face. Well, it's the right color for a brick at least?

> EMEREL

His defenses are weakening. You can see it. He's moving more slowly and even his powers are having trouble keeping up. You're winning. You just need a few more good hits and you can finally knock his ass right out of the ring. You raise your knee, getting ready to kick him out of the circle the two of you are inching closer to, when you suddenly wraps his hand around your halberd arm. You twist your body and move your arm to break it out of his hand past the thumb. You're already pulling back to kick at his chest while you're at it. What you didn't expect, however, was the light coming at your face. You immediately duck, but it's too late; there's a searing pain in your face and the pain is shooting through your eye and all the way into your neck. You let out a shout and swing your halberd blindly at Hadean, your pan frantically trying to figure out what the hell even just happened. "What the fuck are you doing?!" You snap at him, finally going through with that kick to the chest you were trying for in the first place.

> HADEAN

Haaaa, sweet sweet face contact. Followed by nearly getting gored by him flailing his halberd, but you dodge that by the skin of your teeth, riding high on his shout. Well, until he fucking kicks you. Oww. You nearly buckle, your poor torso is really not doing alright, but he sounds so pissed. "Just improving your face a little bit Em! Fans might find a facial scar charming! And you'll get to look in the mirror and remember this fight for the rest of your life." Was that too much? Fuck it, who cares? You got to hit him in the face.

"Uggh, you-" Oh, now you're mad. You're shaking mad. You've been hit in the face before during these fights, but it's specifically when Hadean does it that you're pissed off. This was supposed to be a no kill fight and that's the second blow that could have legitimately killed you, even if the first one was your own damn fault. undefinedImproving your face a little bit, Em. He says that that's it. That's just it. You grip your weapon so hard that the leather is digging into your palms. You hiss as him, loud and sharp and more animall than troll. Your fangs are bared and you're lunging at him, one hand aiming for his throat, the other raising your weapon (which, miraculously, is still set to the blunt end) to hopefully stick in his skull

> HADEAN

Oh. Ohhh he didn't like that, did he? That's a nasty noise coming out of him, and a nasty look, and- fuck, he's gonna try to kill you. You knew that look just fine, makes your pumper skip a beat before the survival instinct kicks in. He's got a hand on your throat and it's enough, he's going to try and kill you? He's dead. If only you knew how dead he really was. It's just a light glow, outlining his hand around your throat as your psionics open up and swallow his lifeforce in. It's always such a heady feeling- you imagine this is what being high might be like, might be trying to capture this euphora. To be able to hold the stuff that lets a troll breathe, let them love and grow and be- and to take it away. To make it so you breathe. But the euphoria fades about the same time as your body jerks, eyes and horn jerking from rust to jade. Something's wrong. Why do you feel cold? What is this? What did he do? You can't identify the anti-life, the death trying to spread through you- not while your pan is screaming that you're dying. You crumple in to the sand and you can't move, your body is spasming but you aren't controlling it. It feels like there's acid in your veins, but instead of burning it's freezing. You might be making noises, you don't know. All you know is that it hurts. In other words, you're fucked.

> EMEREL

You really don't know what you're doing. Somewhere in the back of your head, Pheres' worries about your temper flash and you get a cold feeling as you realize just how well he actually had you pegged there. You're about to let go of Hadean's throat and punch him or something instead when he starts fucking glowing. Oh no. Shit. Instead of the sharp, piercing pain that you were expecting, however, you get a hollow, light feeling. Your head feels light and fuzzy and all at once every muscle in your body feels like it's made of lead. You shake and tremble, clutching vaguely at your chest as you literally lose your ability to breathe. Hadean is seizing up like he's having an attack and all you can think is that something has gone very, very wrong. He's screaming. Are you screaming? You think you're screaming. You collapse to the side of him, shaking hard and gasping for air before you finally feel too heavy to struggle anymore. You feel warm blood on your face and then nothing else as your eyes close and the sweet embrace of...something...takes you over.

> GLIESE

You were running toward Hadean even before he fell. Before _both_ of them fell. These _stupid fucking morons._ You hate both of them! You’re going to skin them and use their hides for _leather!_ You don’t know what just happened, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize it’s bad. Hadean’s rust. He’s in more danger. You feel a stab of guilt - but Emerel has Pheres, he has caste on his side, and something really bad just happened to your lowblood friend. You pick him up, struggling under his lanky form, but you put him over your shoulder regardless with blueblood strength and start marching off, looking for a mediculler, looking for somewhere you can keep him so that nobody tries to _cull his stupid ass._ He deserves it. Fucking idiot. But you drag him to the mediculler’s hut anyway, and the yellowblood doctor there immediately starts working on him. You get up, worrying, worrying, guarding the door in case anyone gets a bright idea. You’d attack almost anyone right now if they tried anything - Hadean’s _yours._ He’s stupid, he’s reckless, but he’s _your_ friend and damned if you’re going to let him die from some stupid fucking fight.

> PRISMA

The fight seems to be turned on its head within seconds, and with that you're standing up and looking over the ring with confusion. What the hell was going on? You'd known this was foolish, and turning quickly into a furious blood bath, but at the sight of Hadean seizing you feel like you should act -- before that, though, a blue blood is darting out towards them You reach out briefly, brows furrowed, and then you're physically hit by something. It causes you to suck in sharply, covering your mouth and causing your heart to contract in -- fear? You aren't sure. It's not something you're familiar with. It blooms quickly from your chest, turning into a horrific split of lightning through your head that blurs your vision and sends shocks through your map of the area. Everything is alive, and then suddenly it isn't, and when you are able to fight through the feeling, you push through to follow after the blue blood snatching Hadean. Was it Hadean? Where did the other... Emerel...? Why couldn't you feel what they were... It didn't matter. Someone should have broken them up -- you, actually, should have broken them up. Inhibitor be damned. It's strange feeling... anger? Why were you able to feel this suddenly? You arrive at the hut, clutching at your eye as if that would stop the pain behind it. There wasn't really anything you could do but wait. You aren't foolish enough to try to get in the middle of this -- and you aren't foolish enough to see what touching Hadean would do to you -- or him.

> BUDINO

You watch the fight in pure shock and horror, your mouth hanging slightly open as you watch Em let out that unnatural hiss. You feel the chill race down your spine when you realize that the fang bearing and screaming that he's doing, that leap, that choke attempt...they're all things that you've done before, when you were a different person. Is this really some type of genetic lineage bullshit? Regardless, you're on your feet and racing at top speed to Emerel when you see him convulse and fall to the ground. What did Hadean do to him? Whatever it was, it clearly hurt him too. Whatever. That's not what you're worried about. You kneel next to your 'brother,' trying hard and failing to shake him away. "Emerel, get up. Come on." When that fails, you at least pull your apron out of your inventory to wrap around his chest. You could at least try to help with the bleeding.

> HADEAN

You're in too much pain to really register that you're moving- but you do notice that you're being carried by someone just spilling over with energy. You can judge it as blue- gliese, some frazzled corner of your thinkpan provides. But you're on cloth, you can feel the energy but it's trapped away from you. You're put down, the energy retreating to be replaced by a candlestick, burning down to nothingness much quicker. Again, a barrier. You want to scream as you realize they're trying to heal you. You didn't have energy, they were going to be working on a corpse soon! But then, there's a hand against your shoulder, wonderful skin. You can't help it, you need it- you slip some of her life away before your thinkpan provides gliese again and you force yourself away. It's enough, you think. The pain is ebbing back, you don't feel like you're being frozen alive. Your psi sputters back to rust as you raise a hand to feebly wave at the mediculler. "Getchur pawsof me." Well, you tried.

> GLIESE

You snort at him. Dumbass. But your ears raise and your eyes tinge orange as someone else arrives at the entrance and you lift your hand off your friend’s shoulder, ready to defend yourself and him, but it’s just Prisma. “You said you were his friend, so I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt and not stick you with my scythe.” You say curtly. “Don’t make me change my mind.” You watch him carefully as the medic does their work, ears slightly lower but still wary to any sound, any rustle of movement. Before your fleet training you might have been tempted to take an occasional anxious glance at Hadean, but if the military’s good at anything it’s taught you discipline. You’re focused like a good soldier.

> PRISMA

You manage a heavy sigh, unconvering your eye briefly as you lean against one of the poles before you glower somewhat at Gliese. You're too frazzled by Hadean's twisting emotions to do much more in retaliation, though. In your state, it wasn't like you could take her. He wasn't dying, was he? You just met him... It's an empty feeling, though, replaced by a torrent of frustration, terror, breathlessness, help? Lock, trap, blue, trap, trapt, trapped, blue -- You inhale sharply and shut your eyes tightly. And suddenly it's gone. You hold your abdomen and look worryingly over to the rust on the table. You just met him... You can't even be frustrated. You just stare for a few moments until he moves, lacking the ability to feel proper joy or relief so much as the hollowness leaving you briefly. "Hadean?"

> SIPARA

Red-faced, annoyed, you'd helped Pheres move Emerel from the sandy field to the stands as Gliese - _Gliese_, of all fucking people - hauls Hadean off. "He'll be _fine,_ he's _jade_," you tell him and the jade alike, your flaps all the way back. "Pheres, Maidel - you can spark 'em to the cart, but for fuck's sake, don't _lift him_. Wrap the torso, stick one of those bloodsacks on him, don't _jar the wound_ --" It takes longer than you'd like to actually wrest yourself free! It's a guilt thing, mostly. Pheres is furious and shaking and dry-eyed in that way that means he's contemplating murdering something, and you ought to pap him down - but he _dumped you_, and you're more concerned about Hadean's life right now than Pheres's emotional _fit._ At least Prisma's there to keep Gliese from doing anything stupid. "Pri!" you yelp as soon as you're at the hut of the mediculler, shoving your way through the door. "Is Hads okay? Like, what the fuck happened out there?"

> HADEAN

God, this is so not your night. Everyone's showing up now, are they there to gawk? They're going to have questions that you... Really don't want to answer. But hard to avoid it now, isn't it? Hard to focus on them when you hurt so much. Especially your damn shoulder. And your arm. Breaks suck. Stupid shambling corpse jade bastards suck. As nice as it would be to just sleep, you don't know if you can. You still need an actual meal sometime soon- Gliese was enough to balance out the spiral that that undead energy had sent you down, but you still feel like you're running on fumes. The glow of your horn is probably a sad sight, sputtering flames as you try swatting at the mediculler again. "Need to go." You try to rise, and it doesn't- go well. Your body sends up a chorus of pain that lays you flat for a moment, choking on a curse. Getting the shit beaten out of you is never nice, being so fucking drained is just the cherry on top. But you're stubborn and you try again, baring your teeth at the mediculler. Hey, at the very least you might diffuse any hot tempers from flaring up in the tent.

> PRISMA

You look immediately to Sipara when her burning presence bursts through the tent. Shaking your head, you can't even process what to tell her. "Hadean had some sort of reaction. I don't know, but I felt it. It may have been psionic, there is no telling," you attempt, at least, to offer something up. "But he was very hurt. And very scared. I didn't feel anything from Emerel, though. Nothing at all." It's stated like a report, as if you're coolly relaying a dispatch to an officer. As the laid out red blood begins to fight against the doctor, you take a step closer with a wary eye on Gliese. Clearly he didn't have enough energy for something - it didn't take a genius to figure that out if his horn was sustained psionically. It certainly couldn't be physical. "Go where, Hadean?"

>SIPARA

ou like Pri, you decide. Unlike everyone else, he just rattles off information without even needing you to threaten him with it. It's for the best, because as soon as Hadean tries to sit up and chokes, you kind of want to kill something. "Thanks, dude. And what the actual fuck," you complain instead, stalking closer. Gliese might shank you for getting this close, but whatever, you don't care. "You can't even get up, dude. Where the hell would you be going? Is he feverish?" Being rude to the mediculler never helps. That doesn't stop you from trying to lay a hand on his skin, though, just to check.

> HADEAN

Right, Prisma was an empath or whatever. He's feeling your shit. You might have felt bad for that- you probably will, later- but right now you're just focused on getting your sorry ass up. Easier said than done when you're getting a bunch of well-intentioned jerks butting in. You'd feel touched, but. They're interfering in stuff they didn't know about and didn't have to understand. "I just need to go." Man, even talking hurts. You just had to find someone, get them alone. You wouldn't be picky right now, even a maroon would do. Speaking of maroons, Sipara is coming closer. She touches you and there's the urge to drain, but no. She's a friend. ...But the parasites are another story. They're a shitty meal, really. Like trying to gorge yourself on fortune cookies. But it's the best you have at the moment without losing a friend, isn't it? You can't stop yourself from making a low sound as you take the energy, a mouthful of water when you're blistering in the fucking desert. Hopefully Sip can get the bastard off before it goes for her blood.

> PRISMA

"Of course," you reply, just before Sipara launches into her spiel. Lord... "That doesn't make sense, Hadean. Your body can't sustain movement right now..." you say quietly, remaining at a distance with the other three tending to him. "You have to stay. If you go the injuries could tear again..." You're at a loss for words and action, instead looking with worry between Sipara and Hadean. You can't feel anything else from him, so he must be fine...? No, that's not right either. And what was with the noise... "What is it you need to leave for, so badly?"

>SIPARA

You're not expecting him to touch your arm. You're definitely not expecting the flash of colours that means your prosthetics levels are plummeting - - but this time, at least, you've got the sense to snap off a _disconnect_ before the fangs dig into retaliation. The worm goes limp as the fangs pull out, sliding down your arm in the process, and you hasten it by half-yanking the rest off. It's already stiffening into a defensive curl when you drop it on his lap. "Don't be so fucking petty," you snap. "If you don't wanna be touched, you can just _say! _

> HADEAN

Oh my god, you're dying and she's whining like you're killing her worms to spite her. You groan and try to force yourself up, slightly more successful this time- you sit up, even if you wobble. Your head is spinning, but you swallow against the dizziness. There's a worm in your lap and you grab it to see if there's anything left in it for you before you weakly shove it off. "Need energy." You squint at the floor, trying to judge if you can stand. How are you expecting to get past all four of them? You weren't planning, you just know you need to. Damn them for caring.

> PRISMA

You flinch somewhat at the sharp reprimand, curling your hands at your side. What did he do to her... arm? You don't understand in the slightest, watching in some horror as she pries this grotesque something off of her arm. In another life, you might be somewhat nauseated. This time, you move to try to help Hadean steady themselves, "You should stand against someone, or the table. You could black out," You said hurriedly, "What sort of energy?" You look to Sipara, as if she might be able to produce an answer for all of you. Psionic energy? But... that was an extension of will. He said his was... no, he denied it was metabolic. So what was it? The puzzle is irritating.

>SIPARA

His horn is a little brighter, is the first thing you notice. That's a relief; the way he isn't even bothering to bite back at your snap deflated you, quick as anything. Maybe he's feeling better? No. He's swaying just from sitting up. And Prisma's looking at you. And there's a dead worm on the ground, same as your last one. (When did he zap that one? When you said you wanted to fight him...?) "Tyrian tits, dude." You hate taking the prosthetic off of your bad arm, not least of all because it hooks in tighter: there's those pinprick flashes of pain as it disconnects from your nerves, but at least it's made to come off easier. And if you roll your shoulder after it's free, it looks like it's just asleep, not dead. At least, it better. You toss the freed prosthetic one handed at Prisma, trying not to frown too hard. You're settling a theory, that's all. "They've got psi, " you deadpan. "Let's see if he wants to cull that one, too.

> GLIESE

You decide to sit down and curl up into a ball as Prisma and Sipara talk. A sudden apathy washes over you. You’ve done everything you can. You can only wait. Though you do frown as Hadean…what did he do? Sipara’s bug is just…dead. At least the mediculler doesn’t seem at all perturbed by Hadean’s insistence and keeps working, sanitizing, bandaging, and packing, cleaning him up. “He’s not feverish.” says the yellowblood quietly. “No warmer than a maroon should be.” “If you need psi - “ You finally say, hoarse. “ - take mine. My bloodline’s stupid strong, it won’t do anything.” Even if it did, you wouldn’t care. Hadean’s life is worth more than some lousy mind control.

> HADEAN

Well, Prisma makes a good brace to just sort of lean yourself against. You tell yourself you'll just give yourself a minute. Then you'll stand. That sounds good. "I'll black you out, hush." Yeah. Keep acting tough, even when you're feeling weak as a half-squashed grub. You frown at Sipara when you notice she's doing something, then her arm is off. Huh. Neat. She tosses it to Prisma worm and all, and you might grab at it a little eagerly. Fuck the eyes watching you, you'd deal with it somehow... Later. For now you just focus on that little burst of energy you get from the worm, leaving it to have its death throes in Prisma's arms as you close your eyes. At least it's enough to give your horn a faint little constant glow, you're not just coughing up sparks for the moment. But you know it'll come, you have a lot of damage to repair. And oh, they're talking. "I don't eat psi." God, look at her just offering up her powers to you. That's the only thing that gets her that fancy desk job later in life, isn't it? Jeez... "Uh. Thanks for the offer." Hey, you can try to be polite. Even when you're three-quarters dead.

> PRISMA

"I will see it coming. I do not recommend that, friend." You resituate how to support Hadean when Sipara tosses the... creature... to you. The last thing you wanted was to hold this in your bare hand, but you don't actually have any complaints-- at least until Hadean's touch causes it to seize and crumple. You drop it to the floor, staring down at it numbly before your attention is pulled towards Gliese's offer. If it's not psi... but it can be sustained by food... You purse your lips, eyeing Hadean beside you in silence and waiting for Sipara's authority. Until then, though, you are determined to either keep a grip on Hadean or keep them in arms length.

>SIPARA He doesn't eat psi, but he's murdering all of your worms. And he fucked up Emerel fairly bad. And, yeah, now there's a glow worth noting in his horns again, and... You blow out your cheeks, trying not to look as alarmed as you're starting to feel. It's Hadean, he's _fine_, and besides, you're totally going down murder hive lane for no good goddamn reason. You've never heard of psionics working like that. They expel, they don't _siphon._ "Sit the fuck down, Hads," you say, curt. This is his deal. You don't need to shout it to everyone in the room, especially when one's blue. "You don't need to _hold_ him, Pri chill already. You need energy, Hads, we'll get you some." "How raw do you want it? "There. You're the queen of subtlety.

> GLIESE

If he doesn’t eat psi, what the fuck is his deal? Oh. Energy. Weird. But whatever. And now Sipara’s offering, and you roll your eyes a little but don’t comment. At least she’s helping. …wait. Was that why - did he try to pull that on Emerel, and - ? Your eyes narrow, but now’s not the time. Though if he did, why did it fail on the jade? Emerel’s as energetic as anyone. You feel a stab of guilt for abandoning him, but he has Pheres and that greenblood to fuss over him, plus caste on his side. He’ll be okay. You’ll visit him later. “Yeah, Hadean. Name it. We’ll get it.” You say, wry.

> HADEAN

Sip's smart, you have to give her that. But then of course she is, growing her worms and doing all that lab shit. You've given her enough information now for her to make a calculated guess. You're not sure what you expected of her when she started putting the dots together, but... This wasn't it. You just stare at her, wondering if this is a trick. Or if you're more fucked than you thought you were. Do trolls hallucinate when they die? Maybe. You settle on the bench, licking your lips as you try to figure out what the fuck you do. But there's not much choice now, is there? They all know enough. "Fuck. Fucking. Raw as it gets. Colder the better." You turn your head to stare down the mediculler, because they're an unknown in all of this. Would they blab? Maybe it was best to take care of them.

> ULLANe

Your only response to the redblood glaring at you - Hadean, you’ve gathered, from everyone saying his name so much - is to raise one eyebrow. “Your powers are none of my business.” You say, shrugging. “Culling me is ill-advised. I can leave you all deathly ill with my psi before you do, so why bother.” The blueblood makes a frustrated noise. Too bad. “I’d like to test that - “ she says, going for her scythe, but before she can she chokes, her own esophageal cells multiplying and blocking her air intake before you cut them off again. “Don’t.” You say. “I shan’t tell. As far as I’m concerned - “ You say, looking around. “ - this was a normal treatment, and nothing unusual happened. I left you to go check on the jade.” Saying so, you pack up your gear and leave to do just that. Whatever they get up to now is none of your business.

>SIPARA

The mediculler flounces with a flick of her fingers that sets Gliese to choking. It is manners alone that keeps you from grinning until you're out of the tent, and then you're fairly cackling as you walk away. You hate walking without your prosthetic. Your bad arm jangles next to you like a weight you can't feel, startling you every time it brushes your thigh, but luckily Pheres's cart isn't that far. The stall is still attached to the front, even, for all that the doors have all been shut and the curtains on the van proper drawn shut. And there's Lal, right where you left him. Well. Not quite. "What, he wouldn't let you in?" you ask, sympathetic. "Soz. Hey, wanna help me steal a goat?"

> LALEDY

In your defense, you did try to get into the cart - but no amount of pizza peace offerings are going to calm Pheres down from the mood he's in. Understandably: you're pretty sure his matesprit is dead. That doesn't stop you from being anxiously restless as you strain to hear inside the cart and wait for someone to show up before a fairgoer decides your loitering is getting suspicious. Thankfully, Sipara comes loping over to your rescue. No worse for wear despite what you're sure was a tense situation, though with a little less volume on one side. "Depends," you declare, shoving yourself off the side of the cart, "That, uh, Pheres, on accounta the attitude and, y'know-" You gesture at your own horns- "Or the one that up and ate your frond?"

> SIPARA

"Neither! We are stealing, like, a totally unrelated hoofbeast that's innocent of all crimes. Shit's gonna be wicked." He doesn't look chill. He looks, actually, pretty much the _opposite_, and you catch yourself looking at the van like you can peer inside. "So. Uh." God, you shouldn't ask. "Is he, y'know -" _Croaked it_ isn't a good term, not when Pheres might hear it. "How's he doing?" you say instead, twisting your mouth to the side.

> LALEDY

"Well," you concede, hoping Sipara doesn't ask. "So long's I ain't gonna get short, mad, and fluffy on my tail. Cos, uh-" She asks. Damn it. So much for getting away from the death and angst card immediately. You lean back against it, shoving your hands into your hoodie pockets. "- I ain't a medical professional," you say carefully, awkward and a good bit quieter. "But, uh - green dude ain't, like. Aspiratin' or nothin'."

>SIPARA

Laledy looks like it's _his_ clademate that just croaked it. You should feel worse, you think. But it's not you know Emerel! And it's not like Pheres's even known him for _long_. Still, he's still going to be frothing, so you puff out your cheeks, and with great reluctance, rap hard on the door. You barley get to a second knock before a window cracks open, and Pheres's voice drifts out. "He's fine," Pheres snaps. His voice's gone all _throaty_, in a way that makes your ears pin back at the sound of it. "And you're not allowed in, so just - _fuck off._" A moment later, the window snaps shut. "Well," you say, turning around. Your cheeks are warm. _Goddamnit._ ".. uh. Shit. Um. Thanks.. for staying? Y'know. During that."

> LALEDY

Pheres sounds like he's either been crying or is about to, and that's just about more emotional vulnerability than you can tolerate from a guy that you're barely friends with. Sipara doesn't sound much less comfortable when she turns her back, and you're relieved at the chance to jog a few steps to catch up with her. You duck around until you're on the side of her good arm, pressing your fingers to her elbow so she can lead you to wherever you're going to... catch a goat, apparently. You shrug awkwardly. "Ain't no big. Gotta make sure a guy ain't gonna go nothin' - y'know, right?" Well, that's certainly a sentence that made sense. "He'll be fine. Pher, I mean. Ain't so sure 'bout his boo, but..." There's not really a 'but' that follows, and you're not entirely sure how to even have this conversation. The one boon to being stuck outside listening to make sure Pheres didn't, like, hurt himself or snuff Emerel was that you didn't have to talk to anybody about the potentially dead guy in the van. "Why're we gettin' a bleatbeast?" you blurt.

> PHERES

You have no idea what to do. It's a good thing that Budino's being quiet in the corner, because right now, you'd cull him if he said a word. It didn't work. He looks like he's sleeping, with scarcely a dent in his face to show it was ever injured, and he's not sleeping: he's _dead_. The saw is still lying where you left it. If you have to, you'll cut off his head. But.. maybe you'll just wait, first. It can't hurt to wait. "Maidel," you say, and you hate the way your voice rasps. "You should go. _Please._ Thank you, but.. Go."

> MAIDEL

You completely understand. You fixed Emerel - mostly - but it doesn’t seem to have done any good. You don’t understand. His body responded to your healing, but…he’s still… You don’t even want to think about it. You hang your head and don’t say a word, going out at Pheres’s orders, floppy ears sadly drooping even more than usual. But then those ears flip up slightly as you see Sipara and Laledy walking off, and tilt your head as the jade asks why they’re getting a goat. “Why ARE you getting a bleat beast?” You ask curiously. Maybe it’s none of your business, but you need something to do, and - wait, where did Sipara’s prosthetics go? You’ve _never_ seen her without them before. You hurry over to them, concerned. “What’s going on?”

>SIPARA

Maidel looks like someone shot Kabiir in front of him, and then started eating. It is entirely too fucking depressing. "We're getting a bleatbeast to impress he-who-must-not-be-named," you murmur, quiet enough that Pheres won't hear. "C'mon, Maidie-baby, you're getting conscripted to help us out, on accounta the fact, like, I'm _totes_ down an arm." "And how else are we gonna carry it, if you don't come with?"

> LALEDY

You suck in a breath through your teeth and realize - well, shit, you've now got one friend that's culled another friend's quadrant. At least Sipara doesn't seem to have forsaken Hadean - or you think so, anyways. Maidel catches up the few steps to the two of you, and you wave an awkward hello, briefly considering letting go of Sipara's arm before you decide you don't currently give a fuck. "Where we gettin' it?" you ask, "Cos, lemme tellya, it ain't been smellin' near's bad as I'd've figured for a place what's up and got bleatbeasts to spare. And, like, why's Hads want a goat?" You suppose it's better than him not needing a goat, on account of being dead.

> MAIDEL

You blink as Sipara tells you why, and you don’t really understand, but she is your boss, so you shrug and go along with it. Pheres would probably want you to keep an eye on the pair of them anyway, just to be safe. Besides, you kind of like the nickname. “I can take care of it.” You say, confident. You don’t even have to carry it - you can just stick it in a safe plane and retrieve it. That way you don’t have to worry about it getting loose. “Um, one second - “ You take your fair map out of your sylladex, looking it over, and then showing it to Sipara, waving a freckled finger over an area labelled ‘authentic historical food, slaughtered fresh!’. “They’ll probably have one, or something like it.” You walk with them, and even though you’re further away now, you still lower your voice to ask. “Is Hadean okay?”

>SIPARA You give Laledy a long look. "Do you _really_ want to know why he wants a goat? Like, really? Really?" "And - yeah, we'll get it from there. Sounds good." Lal's clinging to your arm, and it's.. actually, weirdly sort of endearing. You need people on your arm more: if it weren't currently being dead-weight, you'd probably loop your others through Maidel's. "Hadean's.. aright. Why wouldn't he be?" "He's not the dumbass that walked into a fucking _knife._"

> LALEDY

You stare at Sipara. "Pal, the way you're goin', there's like a 50% chance you're about to tell me he wants to pail it, and a 50% chance you're gonna say we're summonin' the Demoness, and, gotta say, there's zactly one a'those options I ain't down for." Then she calls Emerel a dumbass for walking into a knife, and you bark an incredulous laugh. "Wait, for cereals? Even I ain't that shit at fightin'! Uh, crap-" You just insulted a dead guy and somebody needs to tape your mouth shut- "Then what'sa matter with 'im? I wan't half-sure he wasn't, like, also dead."

> MAIDEL

Your face knits in worry as Sipara questions Laledy, but you nod as she agrees. Then you’re puzzled again, but from her tone, you figure it’s better not to ask, and you wince at her last comment before trying to withhold slightly horrified laughter at the jadeblood’s remarks. “I don’t think Hadean has the energy for the first one.” You say, bemusedly. “And I think we’d have to offer the Demoness better than just a goat, probably.” You give the jade an alarmed look, but he seems to have realized his mistake - besides, you have no idea how well he knows Emerel. Maybe he hasn’t even met him properly. “He’s probably just recovering, I imagine.” You say, partially to help Sipara out. “Those wounds looked nasty.”

> SIPARA

"Look, what I'm _saying_, Lal, is that we're gonna walk in, drop off a goat, and close our eyes to whatever fucked up shit goes down before we manage to get the fuck out. Why do you have to go 'n make it weird?" A beat. "'sides, why can't he do both? Hadean's, like, _talented_, dude." .. are you supposed to fight Laledy over him insulting Pheres's quad? He's dead. He can't exactly _object_, and Pheres isn't exactly here to _hear_, so... nah. "He's fine! He's just gotta sit, take a breath and then walk it the fuck off." You shrug. "You saw the braid thing, dude, 's just woozy," you drawl, light, and then you nudge Maidel with your shoulder. Thank god she's so tall. "Hey, babe, you leadin' the way? 'cause beeteedubs, I have _no_ fucking idea where this is."

"Uh, right." The braid thing, whatever that was. "Ain't impugnin' Hads's many talents, pal, just wonderin' what choice I made in life that's let to this demonic cult I just joined, and also how you know the Demoness goes in for that kinda ish. Like, pal, if we're gettin' her a bleatbeast, seems kinda shit to get her a used bleatbeast!" You thought that maybe if you talked enough, it would somehow eliminate the awkward, but you forgot that you opening your mouth absolutely never entails a lowering in awkwardness. At least Sipara is half as lost as you are. You snort at her - the blind leading the blind.

> MAIDEL

You make a lot of faces as the two of them talk. You’ve lost count of how many different emotions you’ve been running through. “Oh! Yes, I’m taking us there. It should only be a few more minutes.” You reassure her. You keep switching between the map and the landmarks, anxious to keep the three of you on the right track, and you’re pretty sure it’ll be coming up soon. You laugh a little at Laledy’s comments. “I’m about…ninety percent sure, there will be no heraldic figure of doom summoning.” You say. “Oh! Yup, there it is, uh…hm.” You come up on the place, and you can tell by the smell and sound of it. There’s a very menacing looking yellowblood with a butcher knife, slicing a bloody haunch of meat at a stand, but peering around that you can see stalls from where bleating and mooing is coming. “Hm.” You say again, more quietly, thinking. “I think one of you might want to distract the stall keeper, while I get close enough to grab the bleatbeast…that part’s easy, I just need to make sure I won’t be getting a blade in the neck.”

>SIPARA

"Dude, the fuck is your thing with demon summoning? You got _practice?_" You jeer at him: "-'cause if you do, don't tell Queenie. Pretty sure she's the only spoopy thing allowed in the shop." You lace your fingers through Laledy's, then use that to tug him forward. "We'll distract him," you declare. "C'mon! It'll be just like the musical dude, In Which Seven Young Signmates are In Need of Kismesises (And One Case of Auspisticism). You've seen that, right? Or - shit." You pause, peering at Maidel, your ears pricking forward. "Can you even carry a goat by yourself?"

> LALEDY

"Duh," you tell Sipara, sticking out your tongue, "Ain't you heard? It's, like, emogoth chic, I gotta be true to my identity-!" You were going to keep going, but then Sipara actually grabs your hand, winding her fingers through yours like you're in a romcom, and now you're walking together instead of behind her, hands swinging between the two of you. Well, that's one way to shut you up. You're pretty sure you've gone green up to your ears. The last time you'd held someone's hand, Cateex looked at you like you'd rotated your head 360 degrees. "Well," you manage, though not without missing a beat or three, "If there's precedent - and, shit, pal, who's up and questionin' peeps' talents now? Maybe she can, like, carry two bleatbeasts, even! One for Hads, one for the Demoness."

> MAIDEL

You laugh, letting a few lime green sparks off from your eyes - not too noticeable unless you’re looking closely, but apparent to anyone within a few feet. “I don’t have to.” You say, smiling. “But I _am_ going to vanish with it, so we’ll have to meet up somewhere else. Pheres’s cart?” Aww, Laledy’s blushing. It’s kind of adorable. Are he and Sipara quadrants? Well, none of your business, you suppose. Maybe your bosses just like jades. “I could grab two, but I think one is enough to worry about.” You say dryly. “Unless you really want one as well, Laledy.”

>SIPARA

"'sactly! And -" Wait, Lal's blushing. Why? .. over-exertion, probs. For fuck's sake, why'rne you always surrounded by a bunch of waifs? But you slow down, obliging up until Maidel chirps off that line. "Holy shit, _no_, not Pher's. You -" You pause, completely serious: "- you, Maidie, keep the fuck away from the cart for awhile, 'kay? 'til he says he wants you there. Like, either of us pops back up, he's gonna eat our fucking faces. Let him cool off." "Take it to the mediculler tents! Hads in the fifth one down."

> LALEDY

"So he is effed up!" you accuse, "What's he gone to the mediculler's for? And what's the bleatbeast for?" To be clear: You are totally down for stealing a goat. You're just incredibly fucking confused, have no idea what went down the entire fight and how and why everyone is so injured, and this is, like, the one thing you can probably get a decent answer for so by the Mother Grub, you're going to get it. "And shit, pal," you tack on, midlly disbelieving, "The more the merrier! Just pop on over with one on each shoulder like it's nbd, yeah?"

> MAIDEL

You wince, but of course Sipara’s right. Even if you didn’t go in and just stopped by before taking the goat away with you, Pheres might be mad, and you don’t want to deal with that. “Right.” You say, nodding. “I’ll see you there then.” You snort. “Not really…but it’d take me too long to explain. The point is, I can do it and leave no trace. It’s a psi thing. Anyway. I’ll wait until they’re focused on the pair of you, and then I’ll dart in and get one. It shouldn’t take me more than a few minutes.”

> BUDINO

You've been quietly sitting in your corner of Pheres' cart, not particularly wanting to say anything even if it didn't look like Pheres might eat you if you so much as breathed too loudly. You keep your knees drawn to your chest as you stare down at the floor. This is way too familiar to you and you hate it. This is why you try not to like people. It always ends up like this and you're starting to think your existence is just fatal luck to everyone else. You stand up, slowly padding over to Emerel's body when Pheres isn't looking, staring down at his face. This is distressing, how much he looks like you. Is this what you'll look like whenever something finally finishes you off? Somehow, the thought is...it usually comforts you, but now it just fills you with bubbling terror when you're actually looking your double in the cold, dead face. You keep expecting him to wake up and yell at you to get a new sign, but he won't. You know he won't. You sigh loudly, your shoulders slumping as you rest your arms on the table next to him, letting your forehead fall on them. Fuck. Everything.

#C:MAIDEL #c:budino #c:pheres #c:sipara #c:hadean #c:prisma #c:gliese #c:vatrra #event:cascara fair

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