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kpopfanfictrash · 9 months

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Elemental (Teaser)

(NEW) Posting Date: September 28th, 11:00 AM (CST)

Genre: Second Chance / Magic!AU / Modern Fantasy

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Length: One Shot

Synopsis: Fear has never been a foreign concept to you. Your entire life has been shaped by knowing you’re different, and fear of the stigma which might follow discovery. Although fire, earth, air and water Elementals have been public for decades, the fear-mongering around your kind hasn’t changed. Something you have intimate knowledge of, having experienced it firsthand. Since then, you’ve done your best to hide your water powers. This is for your own safety, as your mom likes to say.

Safety flies out the window though, when you fall in love. Jeon Jungkook isn’t just any love, either, he’s the love. The one person making you feel as though your darkest corners deserve to be seen. Unable to control your magic around him, you find yourself faced with a horrible fact: you need to break up.

A plan which proves difficult when Jungkook simply refuses to go. And just maybe, you find the constraints you place on yourself don’t make sense anymore.

Author’s Note: Loosely inspired by the Seven MV. Songs to listen to: Dark Skies, A R I Z O N A; Fallingwater, Maggie Rogers; Cold Water, Justin Bieber; Hold Back the River, James Bay; Through Me (The Flood), Hozier

Estimated WC: 23K

Rating: 18+

Preview: 1,015

[ A/N: this is not the start of the story! There is a scene before this, but the teaser is starting here. ]

“Tell me again.” Seokjin sits at the table, spooning yogurt and berries into his mouth. “Why did you have to end things with your boyfriend?”

Cracking open an eye, you glare from where you sit, slumped beside him. “You know why, Seokjin,” you grumble, lifting your head. “Not all of us can be air Elementals in perfect control of their magic.”

“You could be,” he counters, pointing his spoon. “If you put in like, five seconds of training and embraced your water powers instead of running away any time something bad happens.”

“I am not running.”

“No.” He lifts a brow. “You’re cowering, which is far less attractive.”

“I’m not cowering, either.” Scowling, you lower your head to rest on your arm. “I’m wallowing. Big difference.”

Scoffing, Seokjin’s spoon scrapes the bowl. Pushing back his chair, he heads towards the sink and turns on the faucet. The water itches a spot deep in your chest, almost taunting.

“I can’t be too hard on you, though,” Seokjin says as he cleans. “You did get fired and dumped in one day – that’s pretty rough.”

“Does it count as being dumped if I did the dumping?”

“I’ll allow it.” He opens the dishwasher. “But only because really, you didn’t want to break up with Jungkook. You’ve just convinced yourself the world is better without you – something I highly disagree with, by the way, but can’t fault you for feeling. It’s too sad.”

“Thanks,” you mumble and close your eyes.

Two days have passed since your decision to end your relationship, and it hasn’t gone great, to put things lightly. On Monday, you barely left your room as rain poured from the sky. When you did manage to turn on the TV, the weatherperson on Channel 9 predicted local flooding.

Seokjin came home from his business trip that night, took one look at your face and helped to stop the storm. You sagged in relief, falling into a fitful round of sleep that only lasted three hours.

Seokjin is one of the few Elementals you know who embrace their power. Both his parents are air Elementals, and he recently took over their magical consulting business. It pays well, leading Seokjin to own a gorgeous three-bedroom apartment in the middle of the city. He got bored last winter, decided to post for a roommate and well, here you are. One of the few people in the city who don’t care if their roommate is an Elemental, so long as your rent is controlled.

Not that you’re in it for the discount. You truly don’t care, being an Elemental yourself. Seokjin’s laissez-faire attitude towards magic can be unnerving at times, though. You’ve lived your entire life under the assumption your existence is dangerous. All you need to do is Google for examples and here Seokjin is, living his life, seemingly none the worse for the wear.

He discovered your magic a month into being your roommate. Coming home early from a trip, he opened the door and stared, slack-jawed, while the dishes washed themselves in the sink. You looked up and swore, accidentally sending two dishes over the side.

Seokjin stared at the broken shards, then looked up. “You owe me new plates,” he called, heading into his room. After a minute, he poked his head out. “Hey – you think if we combined my wind and your water, we could create a waterspout but on land?”

“That’s… that’s a tornado, Seokjin.”

“Right.” He disappeared. “Well, something to think about!”

Months later, Seokjin still doesn’t understand why you don’t use your magic but respects the decision enough to leave it alone. At least, until things like this happen and he’s once more at a loss.

“Listen.” Seokjin turns, shutting the dishwasher with his hip.

“Oh, no.” You grip your coffee. “What now?”

He holds both hands in the air. “Nothing, nothing. Far be it from me to comment on your mistakes. I’m sorry – did I say mistakes? I meant learned life experience. Through mistakes.”

You grimace. “What there a question in all that rambling?”

“No question.” Seokjin gestures at the kitchen. “Just letting you know you can stay here, rent-free, until you figure things out. You know I’m only taking your money because you insisted. I really, really don’t need it. This place is already paid for.”

“Only because you frightened the seller so badly, they cut the price in half.”

“Hey.” Seokjin’s grin takes on a dark quality. “If they were willing to let their ingrained fear of Elementals influence their selling point, that’s on them. Not me.”

Fighting a smile, you lean back in your chair. “Fair enough. But seriously, thank you,” you add, smile fading. “This will give me time to come up with a plan.”

Nodding again, Seokjin leans on his counter. Tracing the rim of his coffee, he glances down the hall, towards his third bedroom. “You know…”

“No,” you respond, automatic.

Seokjin pouts. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“You were going to suggest I use this time to work on my art.”

He shrugs. “Okay, maybe you did know. But seriously, why not?”

“Because, Seokjin.” Wearily, you exhale. “Every time I try and paint, I just feel this… block. I can’t explain it. Watercolors used to be the one place I could freely express my magic but lately… everything feels wrong. Nothing works like it should.”

Seokjin looks thoughtful. “How long has this been happening?”

“I don’t know, a few months?”

He sips his coffee. “Around the time you started dating Jungkook.”

Blinking, you realize he’s right. That’s almost exactly when you began dating Jungkook. The block started soon after, right when you suppressed other parts of yourself. Those early days hurt too much to think about though, and so you block them out.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you declare. “Right now, what I need is to find a job. And earn money. Preferably, in that order.”

Seokjin’s lips twitch. “Let me know if the order reverses. I know a guy.”

[ TO BE CONTINUED ]

#WOOHOO #BTS CONTINUES TO MAKE ME A FOOL #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook au #bts fic #bts au #Elemental

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mochie85 · 5 months

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Hello cutie

Im looking forward to Christmas and (in case you’re celebrating) I wanted to ask what’s your favorite Christmas holiday trope to read/write?? 🕯️❤️ and what’a your go-to trope of all the classics we know??

Hello my darling Nonny!!! 😘

I do celebrate Christmas, thank you for asking.

I don't know if it's still a thing, but the running trope the past couple of years was getting engaged to a prince in a foreign country for Christmas and not knowing he was a prince, until the end of the movie. And throughout the whole thing, the prince ends up falling in love with your writing/baking/(insert profession here)/overall awesomeness and his current snooty girlfriend (who is only in the relationship for the money or title) hates you because he genuinely gives you heart eyes. Then something happens and you get hurt and the prince is the only one who can save you and you fall deeper and madly in love, but you do not want his help because you want to make it on your own as a writer/baker/(insert profession here)/awesome person. but at the end of the movie, the snooty girlfriend reveals her plan and she gets booted and the prince reveals it's been him the whole time and you two fall in love and then spend Christmas skiing on his private mountain.

🤣🤣🤣

I did write a Christmas fic last year for @fictive-sl0th Secret Santa event called Mischief and Miracles which is influenced by "The Gift of the Maggi."

And anyone who knows me- knows my favorite trope is an Auction trope. 🫰

Also, may I recommend Netflix's Dash and Lily for your holiday viewing pleasure. It has everything! Secret books, romance, mystery, Cinderella-esque vibes.

Does anyone else have a favorite Christmas/Holiday trope?

Tagging people who know/need to see my insanity and how my brain works: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @sailorholly @holdmytesseract @liminalpebble @muddyorbs @joyful-enchantress @coldnique @loopsisloops @ladyofthestayingpower @lokiandbuckysdoll @gigglingtiggerv2 @goldencherriess @give-me-a-moose @sarahscribbles @theaudacitytowrite @navybrat817 @mischief2sarawr @michelleleewise @goldencherriess @wheredafandomat @ijuststareatstuffhereok89

#answering ask #christmas drabble #this sounds like every other hallmark movie

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april-is · 1 year

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April 1, 2023: Reasons to Live Through the Apocalypse, Nikita Gill

Reasons to Live Through the Apocalypse Nikita Gill Sunrises. People you have still to meet and laugh with. Songs about love, peace, anger, and revolution. Walks in the woods. The smile you exchange with a stranger when you experience beauty accidentally together. Butterflies. Seeing your grandpar- ents again. the moon in all her forms, whether half or full. Dogs. Birthdays and half-birthdays. That feeling of floating in love. Watching birds eat from bird feeders. The waves of happiness that follow the end of sadness. Brown eyes. Watching a boat cross an empty sea. Sunsets. Dipping your feet in the river. Balconies. Cake. The wind in your face when you roll the car window down an open highway. Falling asleep to the sound of a steady heartbeat. Warm cups of tea on cold days. Hugs. Night skies. Art museums. Books filled with everything you do not yet know. Long conversations. Long-lost friends. Poetry.

‘bout that time, eh, chaps?! Happy National Poetry Month once again.

As a reminder, you’ve signed up to receive a poem every day in April. Anyone can do the same right here. Or follow along on Twitter, Tumblr, or RSS. Hooray, poetry.

Many(!!) years of Aprils predate this one. You can browse the archives by jumping to the poem sent on today’s date in:

2022: New Year, Kate Baer 2021: Instructions on Not Giving Up, Ada Limón 2020: Motto, Bertolt Brecht 2019: Separation, W.S. Merwin 2018: Good Bones, Maggie Smith 2017: Better Days, A.F. Moritz 2016: Jenny Kiss’d Me, Leigh Hunt 2015: The Night House, Billy Collins 2014: Tim Riggins Speaks of Waterfalls, Nico Alvarado 2013: Nan Hardwicke Turns Into a Hare, Wendy Pratt 2012: A Short History of the Apple, Dorianne Laux 2011: New York Poem, Terrance Hayes 2010: On Wanting to Tell [ ] about a Girl Eating Fish Eyes, Mary Szybist 2009: A Little Tooth, Thomas Lux 2008: The Sciences Sing a Lullabye, Albert Goldbarth 2007: Elegy of Fortinbras, Zbigniew Herbert 2006: When Leather is a Whip, by Martin Espada 2005: Parents, William Meredith

(Insider secret: you can usually find my top tier favs by looking at what was sent on April 1 and April 30.)

Thanks for being here, friends.

#prose poem #lists #singing about the dark times #nikita gill #apocalypse #feast on your life

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ereardon · 7 months

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oh my god oh my god oh my god!! i didn't see your post about anniversary requests until now and i'm literally begging, pleading with a cherry on top -

will you please write anything about my absolute loves maggie and bradley? i miss them so much!! how are they doing? please tell me they spent some time after everything just holding each other ugh

(can you tell it's one of my comfort fics that i go back to read when i want just the right amount of heart wrenching angst mixed in with fluff? i've re-read it so many times i've lost count!)

Alex!!! I love that you love Maggie and Bradley so much and omg that they are one of your comfort couples has me giggling! This is a self plug but I only have one other full-length Bradley series that's Bradley x Reader that you may like if you haven't read it! Lots of angst as well.

Not sure if this is exactly what you were looking for, but I went back and was re-reading and thought this would be a good place to add in the narrative of what we saw with Bradley and Maggie! In terms of how they're doing now – they are great!! They get married in a very small ceremony and have their son pretty quickly after. Bradley insists that after long nursing shifts, Maggie comes home and he gives her a foot rub, even if he's worked a 12-hour day, too. She loves that he smells like jet fuel and she gets really into sourdough bread and he adores how she always tries to make little treats out of the discard that never turn out well but she never stops making them. They only have one son, Nick. They use the rest of Maggie's trust to buy a small house in Colorado where they go skiing in the winter and drink hot chocolate by the fire and when Nick goes away to UVA Bradley has to convince Maggie not to call him three times a day and to only send one care package a month instead of five. To me, these two are perfect and I miss them so much!

This takes place around chapter 3 after Maggie gets wasted at the Hard Deck and Bradley brings her home, sleeps on the couch and makes sure she's OK in the morning.

“What?” you asked him.

He shook his head, looking you up and down. Your hair was starting to dry. You had no makeup on, a ratty old blue robe and a pair of slippers. But the way he was looking at you felt like you were wearing an evening gown and full glam. It sent a shiver down your spine.

“Seriously, Bradley, what is it?” you asked, self conscious under his gaze.

Bradley gave you a small, sad smile. “Just realizing everything I lost, back then.” He paused. “Everything I could have had for the last eight years.”

You turned back to the coffee pot, hiding your face. His words made tears prick at the back of your eyes. You wanted the ground to open into a massive sinkhole and swallow you whole so you never had to face the devastating truth that maybe, just maybe, Bradley Bradshaw had been the one all along. And the two of you had just ruined it the way only two kids who are in love can.

"Mags, I–"

"Phoenix is pretty," you interrupted, reaching for the mugs on the second row of shelves. You stood on your tiptoes the best you could in your slippers but it's not enough. Damn shelves.

A shadow appeared behind you and you felt the heat of Bradley's body as he crept up, one long, muscular arm reaching for the mugs, gripping them easily. He set one, then another, down on the counter space in front of you, but he didn't retreat. You had both hands on the counter, grounding yourself, as Bradley hovered behind you.

So close it felt like he was pressed against you, but it was the air tightening in every direction.

You closed your eyes. And for a moment you were twenty-one again. And he was just a boy you loved more than anything. And he was falling through your fingers, ready to flee at any moment.

You opened your eyes. "She's pretty," you repeated.

"She's not you."

The words clung in the air. You swiveled around, Bradley hovering only inches from you, his head tilted down so his chocolate eyes could peer into your depths. "Bradley," you murmured.

"Nobody has ever come close, Mags," he whispered. "Not a single girl in the last decade has ever challenged me or cared for me the way you did. And I fucked it all up."

"Yeah, you did." Pain flashed across his face. To your disbelief and Bradley's, you reached out a hand, running your fingers down his cheek. He felt so different and yet when he looked at you, it felt the same as it had ten years before. He had a way of looking at you like you were the only person left on Earth. Like the walls simply melted away and it was just you and him and the slow rise of your chests and the air swirling around your bodies and everything else was almost a distant memory.

"Have I said I'm sorry?"

"It's not enough," you replied. His face went pale. "Besides, we're just friends, Bradley. Sometimes your friend makes you upset. But you get over it. Time heals and all that shit, right?"

"Right," he said solemnly, backing away as the coffee pot hissed. You lifted it, pouring into the two mugs and holding one out to him.

"Cream?" you asked.

He tipped his head to the side. "Don't you remember, baby? We always took our coffee the same way."

You added a splash into his mug and then one into your own before opening the fridge and depositing the carton back inside. "I know. I hate that I know you like the back of my hand. I tried to forget you, Bradley. But forgetting is like trying to remember something you never knew. Next to impossible."

"I never wanted to forget you, Mags," he said, blowing on his cup of coffee. "Somehow I always knew we'd find our way back to each other."

#bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #anniversary celebration

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kodiacast · 1 month

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Timing: Current Location: Outside Maggie's apartment Feat: @woveninstardust & @kodiacast & Beezus Warnings: None! Summary: A firefighter helps a cat in a tree!

She was in a tree… A freaking tree. And it was all Beezus’s fault.

Usually, the cat was content to exist indoors. The fuzzball was, as Maggie affectionately referred to him, the laziest cat in the entire world. There was a faded dent on the arm of the couch where Beezus loafed about for hours at a time like a king holding court. The only thing that ever tempted him to leave the comfort of his throne were squirrels. And on that afternoon where the January snow had started to melt away under February skies, the squirrels were out in full force.

She’d been trying to gather her art supplies and sneak past the cat to go downtown and draw, but for such a lazy boy, Beezus moved like a speeding bullet. Before she could get in his path, the Maine Coon was darting out the door and scrambling up the oak tree in the front yard. Maggie followed suit, dropping pens and notebooks on the grass to gawk up at the bough of the tree. Beezus had lost sight of his prey, and was sat on a branch yowling at the top

It hadn’t been so high, she’d thought. There was a branch that she could pull herself up into and start climbing her way up. But there was a secret rule that no one had told the young woman as she tried to get to her cat: don’t look down.

Now it was Maggie who was clinging to a tree branch, eyes staring at the drop that awaited her should she let go. “Uhhhh…. Help?”

Lost in thought. Most of the time the saying was a figurative one. For Otis, more often than not, it became all too literal. Navigating on the ranch wasn’t hard. If he had been out with the horses amongst the cattle long past the dinner bell, the smell of dinner cooking at the homestead would always bring him home. Probably what brought him to the ranch in the first place. After a long day of work, nothing satisfied quite as much as the promise of a big supper.

Unfortunately, in Wicked’s Rest, all dinners had to be made by Otis, or written by him. All roads in town didn’t always lead back home. Sometimes they lead to a different neighborhood and a dangling body from an old tree. The bear’s gaze stirred from the concrete in front of his feet up and up until he was face to face with shoes. And a… girl? And also a cat. One looking decidedly more stressed than the other.

The branch groaned, gravity pulled. Otis held his arms out, the stranger fell.

A groaning branch was never a good sign. Why had she chased Beezus up the tree? Cats tended to land on their feet, right? Humans didn’t. If humans fell, they fell clumsily. She would fall clumsily. When she’d started climbing up, Maggie hadn’t thought she’d gone so high. But now with an impending fall, the ground seemed miles away.

Gravity was her enemy. Despite her best efforts, her arms grew heavier and heavier. Slipping, slipping… falling. A shriek rang out as the branch finally escaped her grasp. Maggie’s eyes were scrunched tight, bracing for the painful impact that was surely coming for her. But rather than hitting frozen grass and dirt, the girl felt something- someone?- catch her. It was a moment before one eye peeked open.

A man had caught her. A stranger. Had he been standing there waiting for her to fall? Who walked down the street and just caught weird people up trees. “Uhhh….” Her brain was trying desperately to kick into gear. Unfortunately, when one fell from a tree, it seemed the first thought was more ‘oh fuck, I’m falling’- and it didn’t go away very quickly.

“I was testing gravity.” Brilliant… dumbass.

Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that Otis was still in uniform. Walking to and from work was easier than trying to break out the truck, what with the parking situation around the station and all. Besides. The man liked his walks. Liked a chance to breathe in the fresh mountain air. To collect his thoughts. Some of his best stories came from those walks. Anything and everything could be inspiration. And while his uniform was a little uncomfy for the exercise, it afforded him a bit more credibility than a regular joe on the street who happened to catch a falling scientist.

It made sense, in his mind, that she would say she was testing gravity. Things were strange in Wicked’s Rest. There was a massive mountain of deep black obsidian looking stone that appeared out of nowhere (if the stories were to be believed.) There were some odd runs the station had taken Otis on, and a few too many things that couldn’t quite be explained away by his very vivid overactive imagination. Maybe gravity did work differently here. He didn’t know.

So he simply nodded, and gently let the girl down. “...Still workin’ then?” Otis questioned while looking up at the open boughs and branches. Hadn’t that guy Fig Newton discovered gravity in a tree? Though… that one had apples. This could have been an apple tree, he supposed. It was winter. Wasn’t like he was much of an arborist, the only trees he knew much about were the peach trees back at his mamas’ ranch. And they looked a lot different. Hell, all the trees up north looked different. It was one of the very first things he noticed. One of the first to give him culture shock.

There was still movement in the tree though. Hidden behind bare branches. He squinted, straining to see… right. The cat. He almost forgot. “That yer…” What did scientists have? Interns? Study-buddies? Shoot. “–Coworker?”

It was fortunate that the man- a firefighter, she noted from the crest on his shirt- had happened upon her when he did. If he hadn’t, she would probably be calling WRMed and asking them to send help. At which point a long list of family members and friends would come to yell at her for chasing after a cat into a tree while being patched up.

God, was Maggie relieved that wasn’t the case…

Beezus, the little shit that he was, was sitting on one of the highest branches yowling in frustration that no one had come to lift his fluffy butt down to safety. As the firefighter set her back on her feet, Maggie couldn’t help but scowl up into the boughs of the tree. “Coworker is a nice way of putting it…” Utter doofus fuzzball was probably more accurate.

“Gravity is still working the way it’s supposed to. Which is really shitty for him because he went up and now needs to come down…” She emphasized the last few words, hoping it would summon the cat back down. Instead, he just let out another pitiful meow.

The branches would be a problem. That high up they were more likely to bend and snap than someone who'd just walked out of legally blonde. Otis put his newly empty hands to his hips as he stared. The lonesome meows bellowed out and filled the air with a mournful song. Fortunately, he'd grown up on a ranch. Knew more than his share of barn cats. Knew full well how much they liked to sing, and how it usually actually meant they were doing okay. A little scared, sure, but cats didn't tend to tell people when they were hurt. So that was a blessing too.

“Been up there long?” He asked, still forgetting to introduce himself. Otis was kind of bad at that. For the most part, both of his jobs were functionally anonymous. One by design, couldn't have anyone knowing who wrote the podcast, the other because there was rarely time to exchange information before shuttling someone from the scene of some tragedy to the hospital. The people who needed rescues weren't usually the most conversational. And that was okay. For his part, Otis kind of liked it that way.

His head swiveled around, looking for something they could use to bring the feline back to ground level. They'd need– ah perfect. A house not too far off had a shed. An open one by the looks of it. Otis turned without a word, started trudging off to grab it. Either someone would be there to ask, or he'd get the ladder back where it belonged before they even noticed. It was for the greater good, right? Well, it was certainly for the good of this woman's cat.

Beezus continued to yowl like the most pitiful creature in the world, and Maggie cringed all the while. She swore the whole neighborhood could probably hear him- hell, maybe the whole of Wicked’s Rest was listening to the incessant wailing of a cat that thought himself braver than he actually was. The girl dragged a hand across her face in embarrassment. “Him? No… uh… I don’t think so, I think it just feels like he’s been up there forever because… ya know.” As if on cue, Beezus let out another long, warbling yowl of disdain for his current situation.

Suddenly, the firefighter was walking away. Not another word. Just walking. Right as she was about to open her mouth to thank him for keeping her from hitting the ground, she watched the guy walk across the street onto the Morris family’s front yard and straight towards the shed. Maggie stared, her bafflement turning to surprise as the man walked right back out of the shed with a ladder. Oh… Were firefighters just allowed to commandeer things they needed? Did they actually climb into trees to rescue ridiculous cats?

It felt like some scene from a tv show: do-gooder firefighter solves problem for inept citizen, specifically written in for some giggles. She was just a throwaway character in the story that was WRFD. Though, if there was a tv show about the Wicked’s Rest Fire Department, they would probably have an awful lot more scenes about ooze abnormality rescues or reindeer infestations or shiny crabs trying to commit arson…

“So the whole ‘firefighter rescuing cat’ thing isn’t a myth?” She asked as the man came walking back across the street.

With the shed owner nowhere around, Otis just bumbled in and out, grabbing what he needed and heading back to the tree where he started to set up very carefully. “Oh.” He paused, thinking back on his training before incorrectly answering the question. “Think it is. A myth… Most firefighters are… too busy.” Another pause, then he started to climb the ladder. “...At least while on shift anyways.” Which he wasn't. Though that was probably pretty apparent. Most firefighters stuck around the station for the most part. Unless they were on a run or getting dinner, or ingredients to make dinner. As one of the newer guys on board, Otis was often sent out as the errand boy. He didn't mind. He liked being useful.

A few rungs up the ladder the man stopped to look back down at the concerned scientist. “What’s his name?” Didn't feel right to pick up a furry fellow without at least knowing what to call him. Downright rude, what with the performance he was putting on. Practically an opera singer, open mic. Otis found himself actually sporting something of a smile as he listened. Talkative cats were adorable, he thought. Even if they caused a bit of trouble. Even if they got themselves stuck up in trees from time to time. Otis liked listening to people who knew how to express themself. He always found it… too hard.

Maybe there was a rule when someone became a firefighter that they had to be super brave. Maggie certainly couldn’t take a ladder up to the top of a tree without thinking. But the stranger clearly could. He didn’t even seem to hesitate when considering the climb up. How had she planned on doing it? She couldn’t even get halfway up- how the hell would she have gotten down with an armful of screaming cat.

“Beezus.” She’d thought he was a girl when she’d adopted him. Named him for one of her favorite books from when she was little. She and Frankie were probably a bit like Ramona and Beezus at times, though now she saw so little of her sister that she couldn’t make the comparison. Frankie was the smart one. Maggie was the artsy one. Frankie didn’t like monsters and Maggie did. It was just the way it was. “Despite the way he sounds, I swear, he’s a sweetie…”

“Beezus.” Otis repeated, committing the name to memory. If it was a reference, it wasn't one he understood. [Lou does though, Lou read the heck out of those books] In his mind, it sounded like something relating to a bee. And with the scientist's glowing testimony of the cat's supposed sweetness, he assumed the moniker was given because of how a purring feline often sounded like they’d swallowed a happy hive. Maybe it was a play on words. Bees and Fuzzy? Or maybe because he was sweet, it was like Bee Jesus? (Truthfully, the bear didn't know much of the gospel or anything like that. Mostly just heard the guy's name being used as a show of shock, or as a thanks for a harrowing rescue.) Not that it mattered too much. Not while Beezus was still terrified and tree bound.

“C’mere Beezus.” Otis cooed soft as his voice would allow. The tree was still softly swaying in the wind, but if there was one thing any firefighter worth his spit knew, it was how to properly anchor a ladder. His feet planted firmly, his arms were just below the yowling animal. The cat was scared, and looking for an exit, but he'd run out of branches a while ago. With a slow methodical patience, Otis brought his hands close, then quickly together. Capturing the capricious kitty in a gentle but sturdy hold. Claws dug into the arm that supported the little guy's undercarriage, but aside from that, he wasn't squirming all too much. Seemed safe enough to make his descent.

Two feet back on the dirt, turned towards Beezus’ buddy and carefully held out the cat. “There y’are.”

The moment the firefighter had climbed up into the tree and scooped Beezus, he stopped yowling altogether. Fussy baby. If she had managed to make it the whole way up the tree, Maggie had no doubt that Beezus would have dug those little murder mittens into her head and yowl the whole way down.

Beezus looked downright pitiful curled up in the man’s arms. By the time the the pair were on the ground, the cat was rumbling like an engine and snuggled into his hero’s arms. He meowed pathetically at her, as if offering a half-hearted apology. Little criminal, causing trouble…

Maggie sighed as she took Beezus into her arms, planting a kiss in between his ears. “Stinky. You are a stinky little guy.” She grumbled before looking back up. “Thank you, again…” Had she never asked his name??? Idiot. “Mr. Firefighter man… whose name I never got- I’m Maggie. But thank you..”

Cats usually felt so small in Otis’ arms, this Beezus was a welcome change, almost felt as big as one of the baby goats back at the ranch. Back on the ground he had half a mind to ask her about it. The idea lined up, the question formed, but all that came out of his mouth was. “Well alright, Miss Maggie, happy to help... I’m…Otis.” Between the long pauses, the bear somehow forgot how to smile properly again. Or perhaps he really never knew. What resulted from his efforts was more of a grimace. Lips drawn into a thin flat line, puffing up his cheeks just so. He nodded and stepped back, assuming that this meant the interaction was done. Wouldn’t have been the first time he assumed wrong, but wouldn’t be the last either.

“Keep–” Something tugged at his shoulder, begging him to turn and engage a bit more. Maybe it was the echo of his moms voice, telling him to get out of his apartment more often, maybe it was the warm spring weather making the sleepy bear feel a lot more sociable. “Keep a good eye on him, y’here? Got a good… cat there.” Another nod, and he felt satisfied. It was an attempt. A step outside his comfort zone. Hopefully he didn’t seem rude. That was the last thing Otis wanted.

It seemed to her that Otis was more at ease with animals than he was people. Maggie couldn’t say she blamed him in the least. People were hard, so fickle, so confusing. Animals, on the other hand… Beezus bonked his head against her shoulder, still rumbling on like a freight train, demanding love and affection after his clearly terrifying ordeal. The girl sighed a little and shook her head as she looked down at the silly cat. He was a handful, but he was indeed a good cat.

“Thanks Otis…” She called out after the man as he started to walk away. The cat in her arms gave a loud meow, as if mimicking his owner. “Beezus says come back any time if you promise to pet him!”

#wickedswriting

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theimpossiblescheme · 1 year

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soldiers, poets, and queens - playlists for ulysses, rosaline, prufrock, and caprizant for @bombawife‘s OC week (album art by @thedragonchilde)

ulysses: 01. setting up the courtroom - joby talbot | 02. bone + tissue - gallant | 03. still - colton ryan and molly gordon | 04. god bless the child - billie holiday | 05. how i am - jason howland | 06. thunder in a blue sky - namo feat. aedan peterson | 07. the nutcracker, op. 71, act I, scene 1: no. 4, arrival of drosselmeyer - pyotr ilyich tchaikovsky | 08. paper forest (birds) - emmy the great | 09. birdhouse in your soul - they might be giants | 10. hello my old heart - the oh hellos | 11. howl - black rebel motorcycle club | 12. when your feet don’t touch the ground - ellie goulding | 13. fragile - poets of the fall | 14. reflets dans l'eau - claude debussy | 15. relay - fiona apple | 16. god only knows - clay hine, drew mcmillan, tim brooks, and tim reynolds | 17. a long way past the past - fleet foxes | 18. lean - oh land feat. vitamin string quartet | 19. any other world - mika [listen]

#Finally playlists for the whole family <3 #cats the musical #cats oc week #OCs #if music be the food of love play on

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rogue-bard · 2 months

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Good Omens fanfic Masterpost

All links lead to Ao3 and can be read even without an account.

Scare me goodnight, my love

22k words

Beelzebub assigns a sleep paralysis job to Crowley. Unfortunately, the victim they have chosen does not sleep, is an angel, and could not be less scared of a demon he's known for 6000 years. Even more unfortunately, the Lord of Hell does not care for excuses. Crowley has five nights to fulfill the assignment... or else. Or: Five times Crowley failed as Aziraphale's sleep paralysis demon and one time he didn't.

Still Not Talking

2k words

On Valentine's day, Aziraphale decides that it's time for him to talk to Crowley about what happened - only to find that, according to the demon, "they're not talking". He tries anyway.

A.Z. Fell & Co: The Yelp Chronicles

22k + words

Maggie opened a Yelp-page for Aziraphale's bookshop. These are the stories that outsiders shared about the store, Aziraphale, Aziraphale's relationships, an eventual falling out, and a subsequent happy-end. Apart from following the plot of Good Omens 1 and 2 and ending that with a happy end, there is also something that you can loosely categorise as a comedic subplot about some internet conspiracy theorists making Aziraphale out to be a cryptid and trying to find out what's real.

Ficlets

Good Night Omens (Just domestic fluff/romance)

Aziraphale is a blanket hogger. Crowley is cold-blooded and needs a blanket. As always with these two, mutually beneficial Arrangements (TM) are come to.

Choices Made Like Stars (Post-s2 angst)

Crowley can’t accept that Aziraphale chose heaven over him. If it was the coffee – if there was something in it – then Aziraphale hasn’t abandoned him. He needs to know the truth, laws of reality be damned.

He is not prepared for the truth of Aziraphale loving him.

Look Up to the Skies and See (Angst with a happy ending)

When the angel finally spoke again, it was to break Crowley’s heart: “I suppose there really isn’t any point in us going stargazing, after all.”

And Crowley swallowed, nodded, accepted.

But if there was no point to it, then why did Aziraphale sound heartbroken as well?

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #ineffable partners

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cassieuncaged · 1 year

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Ship Songs

List 5-10 songs that relate to your OTP

Tagged by @roofgeese and @aceghosts.

No pressure tags: @emotionalcadaver, @emilynightshade89, @areyenotfondofmelobster, @poisonedtruth, @confidentandgood, @unholymilf, @voidika @captastra and anyone I might have missed

OTP: Dog Tags and Flower Crowns - Maggie x Elias

I'd Have You Anytime - George Harrison

All I have is yours All you see is mine And I'm glad to hold you in my arms I'd have you anytime

Strange Powers - Magnetic Fields

The Sun falls down like honey The Moon pours down like mercury The stars fall down like money And you come back to me And I can't sleep 'Cause you got strange powers You're in my dreams Strange powers And I can't sleep 'Cause you got strange powers You're in my dreams Strange powers

Our House - Crosby, Stills, and Nash

I'll light the fire, while you place the flowers In the vase that you bought today. Staring at the fire for hours and hours, While I listen to you play your love songs All night long for me, only for me. Come to me now, and rest your head for just five minutes, Everything is done. Such a cozy room, the windows are illuminated By the evening sunshine through them, Fiery gems for you, only for you.

Moonlight Mile - The Rolling Stones

Oh, I'm sleeping under strange, strange skies Just another mad, mad day on the road My dreams is fading down the railway line I'm just about a moonlight mile down the road, yeah, yeah

I'm hiding, sister and I'm dreaming I'm riding down your moonlight mile I'm hiding, baby and I'm dreaming I'm riding down your moonlight mile I'm riding down your moonlight mile

He's My Baby - Noire

He's my baby Ain't it something I'm a mess all for you Walking home, just to hear you say "Hey baby how's your day?"

Don't go changing, I will believe in you Don't know if you'd stay, it's all good if you do

OTP: Dancing in the Flames - Wren x Rick

Chinatown - Bleachers

But a girl like you Could rip me out of my head Black tears on your cheek I want them in my bed I'll take you out of the city Honey, right into the shadow 'Cause I wanna find tomorrow Yeah, I wanna find tomorrow

Self Control - Laura Branigan

Oh, the night is my world City light painted girl In the day nothing matters It's the night time that flatters

In the night, no control Through the wall something's breaking Wearing white as you're walkin' Down the street of my soul

Only You - Yazoo

This is going to take a long time And I wonder what's mine Can't take no more Wonder if you'll understand It's just the touch of your hand Behind a closed door

So Alive - Love and Rockets

I don't know what color your eyes are, baby But your hair is long and brown Your legs are strong, and you're so, so long And you don't come from this town

My head is full of magic, baby And I can't share this with you The feel I'm on a cross again, lately But there's nothing to do with you

I'm on Fire - Bruce Springsteen

Sometimes it's like someone took a knife, baby Edgy and dull and cut a six inch valley Through the middle of my skull

At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet And a freight train running through the middle of my head Only you can cool my desire

OTP: Bullets, Bombs and Baggage - Reggie x John

John Wayne - Lady Gaga

3 a.m., Mustang speedin' Two lovers, headed for a dead end Too fast, hold tight, he laughs Runnin' through the red lights Hollerin' over, rubber spinnin' Big swig, toss another beer can Too lit, tonight, prayin' on the moonlight

Every John is just the same I'm sick of their city games I crave a real wild man I'm strung out on John Wayne

Disorder - Joy Division

What means to you, what means to me And we will meet again I'm watching you, I'm watching Oh I'll take no pity from your friends Who is right? Who can tell? And who gives a damn right now? Until the spirit new sensation takes hold Then you know Until the spirit new sensation takes hold Then you know Until the spirit new sensation takes hold Then you know

I Can Change - LCD Sound System

Oh, this is the time, the very best time So give me a line and take me home Take me over But dashing the hopes, dashing the hopes And smashing the pride The morning's got you on the ropes, oh

Cigarette Daydreams - Cage the Elephant

Did you stand there all alone? Oh, I cannot explain what's goin' down I can see you standin' next to me In and out somewhere else right now You sigh, look away I can see it clear as day Close your eyes, so afraid Hide behind that baby face

Heavenly - Cigarettes After Sex

Needing you now to come into me Feeling it slow, over this dream Touch me with a kiss, feel me on your lips

When you're above feeling it still Tell me it's love, tell me it's real Touch me with a kiss, touch me with a kiss

#ship songs #long post #otp: dog tags and flower crowns #otp: dancing in the flames #otp: bullets bombs and baggage

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exitrowiron · 2 years

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Day 46: North Conway, NH to Portland, ME

68 miles, 2,339ft ascent, 3:57

Despite the fall chill and overcast skies, the riders were anxious to start the day and see their loved ones on the beach. I slept well the night before, though I awoke mid-dream because my legs were cycling under the covers. I’m not making that up.

Much like the Tour de France this last day of the ride was a very casual affair with riders trying to soak in the last few miles and pausing for pictures along the way. After a pizza lunch at mile 60, I gathered the riders and guides so I could make an announcement. Days earlier I had privately suggested to the other riders that we ask Ron, the oldest and slowest rider to lead us the last 8 miles and onto the beach. Ron’s effort and determination on this trip have been nothing short of exceptional; he always departed in the morning 30-45 minutes before the other slower riders and usually arrived long after everyone else. Without complaint he rode 8-10 hour days for weeks. Of course the other riders agreed with my idea and although Ron initially objected, he was touched by the suggestion and accepted our request.

The last 8 miles were a victory parade ending in a rough parking lot full of cheering family and friends. I had perhaps the largest welcoming committee with Beth Koetting, Brady Koetting, Cloe Pippin, Katy Koetting, McCade Freeman and Maggie Koetting. After hugs, kisses and hellos the riders proceeded to the beach to dip front tires in the Atlantic Ocean and to celebrate with a champagne toast.

The evening cocktail and dinner celebration included a fabulous slide show, stories of adventure and hijinks and congratulations. Trek also provided some great gifts commemorating the trip.

The final group breakfast the next morning was a melancholy affair, saying goodbye to riders we’d gotten to know so well but were unlikely to see again.

I appreciate everyone’s support and encouragement and will be sharing a final epilogue post shortly.

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spacecasewriter13 · 1 year

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When the Lights Go On Again by @spacecasewriter13

Story Summary: It is May of 1946, over a year after his fall from the Hydra train and losing his left arm, and James "Bucky" Barnes is struggling to adjust. Working as an analyst at the New York City SSR branch, Bucky tries to put the war and all of its sorted memories behind him. However, try as he might he is plagued by thoughts of Magdalene "Maggie" Ramirez, a Women's Army Corps (WAC) Corporal he met in London and hasn't spoken to since before his fall in January of 1945. Little does he know that Maggie, in her struggle to put the war behind her, has moved to the city and looking for a job with the New York Bell Telephone Company as a switchboard operator. Now, by sheer dumb luck, they are reunited as they both fight come to terms with what they were to one another during the war, and work to figure out how to move forward in a world that was unprepared to deal with the consequences of war in the unsteady peace.

Chapter 22: Take My Hand

Chapter Summary: Bucky has Maggie over for dinner and he makes a few realizations about them both.

Excerpt:

“When the lights go on again, all over the world, and the ships come sailing in all over the world…and rain or snow is all that may fall from the skies above….” Bucky hummed under his breath, his pointer and middle finger scratching at his palm.

And he scratched and scratched and scratched until he scratched a little raw patch, hot and angry but it was the only thing that kept him firmly planted in the present—rooted in the moment. And he was rooted. His mind spinning in circles. Around and around and around it went. His mother was in the hospital, and so he was here, worrying about all the possibilities and the things he couldn’t control.

Looking up he glanced around. He was in a quiet spot just outside the hospital ward doors. Not quite a garden, but a little grassy area with a bench. It was sticky and warm, the humidity in the air was ticking upward, rain clouds brewing overhead, making the very air crackle with energy.

He was bouncing one of his legs. It was one of the reasons Becca had kicked him out. Visitation hours weren’t over for a little bit yet, but Becca had come on shift, swept through the ward on her way to her rotation, and after seeing him in this state had immediately ordered him to go home.

So here he was, sitting out on a hard concrete bench, trying to convince himself to go home. He hadn’t been sitting out here long, just long enough to convince himself that if he left he was going to miss something important. That if he left, he was going to regret it.

Bucky wanted to be here if—should the—when.

No. No he was just tired. His mind was running wild with fear and exhaustion. He had every right to be tired. He’d been here in twelve-hour shifts over the past 72 hours. His mother had been admitted with a high fever and difficulty breathing. Now, they were having a hard time keeping her fever down, and her lungs and the rest of her were already so weak the doctor’s prognosis wasn’t looking good. The next 48 hours were going to be telling, and there was nothing for them to do but wait and pray.

Bucky was good at waiting. He could wait. He knew patience, knew and had learned how to be still even when danger and death loomed close. But that had been when his life was on the line. Now he couldn’t bear the idea of standing still, of waiting, or praying at a time like this. And going home it would only be worse with the empty house, where he would spend the night pacing the hall, waiting for the phone call that he needed to come quick.

But he did need to go home. Needed to grab some groceries and make dinner so that Becca had something to eat, too, when she came off shift. Needed to try to get some rest so that he could think clearly when it came down to making important decisions—vital decisions.

Right now it all felt insurmountable: the bare cupboards, piles of dishes, the laundry, and the hundreds of other household tasks that had been all but abandoned while he and Becca had tried to look after their mother at home. And since the situation had escalated enough to require hospitalization, he hadn’t been doing much other than eating some, napping where he could, and doing his best to ensure Becca did the same.

The fatigue was catching up with him, and his body was complaining loudly. His eyes throbbed, his shoulder ached, and his phantom limb pain shot through his stump and into his shoulder and back.

Bucky didn’t want to leave, not when his mother was so weak, and her life hung in the balance. He certainly couldn’t stay—and in truth he didn’t really want to stay either.

He hated hospitals, the smell, the sound, the very feel of the place. The memories of his long-term stay at Walter Reed made his skin crawl, and he could feel the air of despair that hung over the whole place, sinking its claws into him. But he’d been away for almost three years, and although his mother had never had a medical emergency like this while he was overseas (to his knowledge), he couldn’t and wouldn’t shirk his responsibility to her and his family now.

If pressed, Bucky would admit there were a thousand other places he’d rather be. But in truth there was really only one other place he’d wish to be if he wasn’t at his mother’s bedside.

Flexing his hand, Bucky shoved it into his pocket and pulled out a ratty bit of card stock. Unfolding it carefully, he held it in hand and admired the painting on the front. “Taunton Green Looking North, Taunton, Mass.” The caption read, describing the view of a street corner. Bucky flipped it over and smiled at the message on the back in her steady shorthand.

To Continue Reading Please Visit Ao3

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #captain america #winter soldier #fanfic #1940s mcu #1940s bucky barnes #fic #mcu #new chapter up!

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