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#i just am seeing some folks being annoyed by it and it's like well
ibijau · 3 days ago
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i was tagged by @jin-shrekyao
why did you choose your url?: 
It’s the french name of potoos, which are the best birds ever; on a account of being extremely goofy looking AND absolutely undetectable in the wild because they are masters of camouflage. 
any side-blogs? If you have them, name them and why you have them:
got a bunch ahah orz @bjdbullshit for my doll stuff. @queerfairytales for a series of comics about. queer fairy tales? I did three, then had to abandon them because I had neither time nor motivation. Had one for my rats. Had one for my art, but I don’t really use it anymore ( @jaudraws if you want to see mostly old Hobbit art)
how long have you been on tumblr?: 
Fuck if I know. but I was already tumblr ancient when the hobbit films came out in 2012 so I’d say... at least 2011? 2010? I remember fucking tumblarity or whatever it was called when blogs had a fucking RANK ok? that ancient.
do you have a queue tag?: 
nope
why did you start your blog in the first place?
Some folks I followed on deviantart mentioned this cool new platform, and I like them so I made a blog, and my first tumblr was born.
Strictly speaking THIS current tumblr came to be due to a major depressive episode during which I deleted my old blog :)
why did you choose your icon/pfp?: 
Because I’m a nerd and I have based my entire identity this past year around two fictional assholes who barely exchange three words in canon, and none of them particularly kind words either :)
why did you choose your header?:
I need to change it actually. But initially, I was super big into wn/wwx/lwj when I entered the fandom. Except they were hard to write, and even harder to draw so that didn’t last lol
what’s your post with the most notes?: 
I think it’s probably one of those comics I did based on innacurate mdzs quotes? Yeah, that sounds right.
how many people do you follow?: 
157 but I need to get that down. Somehow. I’d like to get it back down to 151, for non-nerdy reasons.
have you ever made a shitpost?:
Does the rickrolling fic series count?
how often do you use tumblr?:
Since coming back last year, way too often. I’ve deleted it from my phone though, not that it matters much at the moment lol
did you have a fight/argument with a blog once? who won?: 
Hm... not in a while, and not with a blog. Just used to get some bitchy anons back in my Hobbit days, but everyone who treated the dwarves as, GASP, actual complex people instead of one dimensional assholes would get those, and if anything I got off pretty light compared to what some others dealt with.
how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this post’?: 
Bad. But I still don’t always reblog. I’m... trying to keep a policy of keeping american politics to a minimum? It’s not always easy since it’s everywhere, but eh. I’m not american. The race struggle, and queer struggle, and disability struggle in my part of the world are often similar, but never quite the same.
do you like tag games?: 
Yes and no. It’s fun to answer! But then I have to tag people, and it gets me massively anxious because I don’t know if I’m close enough to people to tag them, or if I’ll annoy them, or if they’ll think I’m presomptuous for tagging them, or... well, you get the picture. I like being tagged, but I don’t always carry on because of that.
do you like ask games?: 
Yeah! It’s fun!
which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous? 
@robininthelabyrinth for sure lol. Or, well, as close as it gets in this corner of tumblr! not sure who else, but as mentioned above I just really don’t follow a lot of people in the first place.
do you have a crush on a mutual? 
welp, @veraverorum is mighty cute and sweet and nice and I like them a lot. *sigh*, will senpai ever notice me?
my phone bg and lockscreen:
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(an ediit made by @wangxianficrecs )
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some art that I commissioned from @lucenorthstar
Listen, I am COMMITTED to this whole Xisang thing, ok?
last song i listened to: 
Complicated by Avril Lavigne (I will accept no judgement. It’s part of my Xisang playlist and no I don’t take constructive criticism. Teen Slut is the best playlist ever. If you’re wondering, yes, Never gonna let you down is also on it)
Tagging:
@veraverorum @newyearknwwme​  @livingmeatloaf​ @trensu​
plus anyone feeling like it I guess?
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claytonbpxo476 · 6 days ago
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7 Little Changes That’ll Make a Big Difference With Your קידום אתרים אורגני
Extra column inches are actually written about how to remember to the search engines and persuade them to bestow favour on your internet site than Virtually any other World-wide-web-related topic. But in terms of I realize no-a person has Earlier attempted to be aware of their gender: do they behave much more just like a gentleman, or more like a woman? Realize their gender can definitely assistance us to achieve an even better insight into the best way to attract them.
MSN is rather very clear: MSN is a man. All the things about MSN is simple: do the correct thing and you'll be recognized. Stick to the advice on the experts and you'll absolutely rank very on MSN assuming that your competition are less diligent Within this regard than you. Superior content, appropriate titles, key word-linked metatags, tons of good quality inbound back links, assorted keyword anchor-textual content, a superb smattering of deep links along with a #one position is going to be your reward. I have gained #1 positions on MSN for moderately competitive keywords inside a 7 days of trying. Anything you see is That which you get with MSN: He's a person.
Is Yahoo a person or a lady? I discover it really hard to come to a decision. Possibly This is a serial transsexual, or maybe just androgynous. From time to time Yahoo is as uncomplicated as a person: do the right point, spend your dues and join the club, no complications. This comes about to me on some of my keywords: I've followed The principles and attained my reward. On others, seemingly no additional aggressive, and exactly where I am equally as very well-optimized, Otherwise improved, I'm nowhere. For these phrases, she's a lady, proof against my blandishments.
Then again, Google is surely all lady, with womanly wiles and deeply imbued with womanly thriller. If you'd like to penetrate deep into Google you must understand the art of seduction. Is there nearly anything in the world more annoying than attempting to improve your web site to rank highly for the competitive key phrase on Google. Sometimes I do think not. She is sort of a lady that is always just outside of reach. She will not likely expose her secrets for even the biggest bunch of flowers. I realize that I've the top articles in my group, more good quality inbound links, deeper back links, extra varied anchor text, more content and a lot more of all the things that is alleged to generate positioning than any of my competition. By far. Not an individual one among my 5000 odd backlinks is right reciprocated, and I've a minimum of ten inbound back links For each and every outbound a person. I haven't paid for your textual content connection advert, or joined a website link farm. An honest proportion of my inbound links are voluntary recognition of the worth of my web-site by third functions. Is that this more than enough? Effectively, yes and no. I do have the best positions on all the major search engines, calculated on regular on all of the key phrases that I goal. But whereas my positions are undisputedly dominant in MSN, They are really only excellent in Google. I'm only 2nd or third on my target phrases. I do incredibly very well, but I dont blow absent the Levels of competition like I do around the Other folks. Google has regarded my worthy of, considerably, but she has not opened herself to me fully.
Like a woman, she has her favourites: sites which appealed to her long ago, but whose luster has extensive considering that dimmed while in the eyes in the rational observer, can nonetheless be favoured using a top situation. She can also be fickle. I are already trying to Create place for one key word for a number of years now. (Its a fairly aggressive class about 36 million web pages feature this word.) When I started out my attempts I had been at about 25 (by advantage of the one word being A part of all another keywords and phrases-phrases that I contend on). I've steadily built anchor textual content backlinks with this particular one term into directories, into מומחה לקידום אתרים posts, into listings on other sites. Lots of these links are on web pages with excellent PR. A lot better than 80% of these back links are nicely inserted into the middle of very well-written text.
The outcome: just about every few weeks I locate I have moved around a decent posture: say tenth, often even 6th or 7th. Then, the next day, and even one hour later on, I drop back to 14th and even 18th. She likes me, she flirts with me at times, she tolerates my business and often I even regulate to amuse her. But just when I believe I could assume a kiss in return as my lips solution, she turns her cheek away And that i am banished to the outer circle of courtiers. But her enchantment is these that I am drawn yet again into aiming to fully grasp her mysteries. But I feel that if I at any time allow it to be, and my lips touch hers, and he or she longs for me as I very long for her, I will never make sure what it absolutely was that I did to merit these types of bliss.
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callmemrsbakugou · 27 days ago
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You
Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Kirishima Eijiro x Reader
Warning: idk, cursing and angst I guess hehe
A/N: not proofread, so typos and grammar errors ahead. Havent written anything in a while so i figured id put one out as warm up? 🙈 Heather by Conan Gray inspired so here’s one for my KiriBaku loving babies 🥂
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Kirishima bursts out laughing and Bakugo’s ears get hot. “What the fuck, shitty hair!” he hisses, “Shut the hell up, its 2 in the fucking morning.” Kirishima covers his face when Bakugo throws a pillow at him.
Kirishima covers his mouth, laughter still lingering. He then rolls on his stomach, placing his chin on his palm as he looks up at Katsuki. “Sorry, I was just going to say how it’s unfair that it looks so much better on you. I am telling you, man, red should have been your hero color.”
Katsuki scowls, glancing down at the sweater he had on. The reason why he’s up this late. The idiot wont stop bugging him about coming over to see the prototype for his very first Red Riot merch. To be fair, it looks pretty fucking good, explains the excitement practically reverberating from Kirishima who shakes his head once, a warm smile spreading on those lips, his sharp pearly whites peaking a bit.
“The shade really matches your eyes.” he then says and Bakugo hides the blood rising on his cheeks at the compliment by pulling up the collar to cover his face. “Whatever. Your pr did a good job, I guess. The quality’s good. The design is neat.” He shrugs, voice muffled. “Now move, I’m tired as fuck.” He grumbles as he joins him on floor, lying on the futon beside him. Kirishima scoots, still grinning and awfully suprised he’s got nothing unpleasant to say. Still he asks, “You really think so?” his actions reminding Katsuki of an excited puppy.
“Yes,” He mumbles as he tries to get comfortable. “The cloth is fucking nice too, not that cheap shit Deku has on his merch.” Bakugo smiles a little to himself. Kirishima rolls his eyes at the immaturity his friend still has despite having graduated from both high school and harassing poor little Midoriya. But Kirishima guesses, that’s just Katsuki. He says all these snide comments but goes out of his way to buy Midoriya’s and all the rest of their old classmates’ merchandise with his hard earned money just to support them.
“Your groupies are gonna love this shit.” Bakugo says under his breath, slowly drifting as his body relaxes. Kirishima smiles at this as he lays on his back, “Nah, that one’s for me. The one I’ll be wearing for our tours and casual appearances, yknow? Fat Gum says my hero costume can be a bit inappropriate for some events we need to attend. The ones being released for official merch are coming later this week.”
Bakugo nods in agreement and rolled to his side, trying to find a comfortable position in Kirishima’s worn futon. He idly wonders why he tolerates this when he can go back to his apartment and his soft bed. But then again, being able to spend time with Kirishima like this is always the best part of his week.
There are a handful of things that Katsuki holds close to him. The less they are, the less shit he has to worry about. The rest can fuck right off. But this, his friendship with Kirishima was unexpected to him.
Kirishima is a pretty fucking great friend. But of course, Bakugo would never say that to his face. Eijiro is different from the ones he met in the past. He didn’t stick with him because he thinks he’s cool or has a powerful quirk. Didn't tolerate him if his inner jerk comes out to to play. His friendship warms his usually brash personality and his unbelievably good heart and strong morals keep his ridiculous ways of handling things at bay.
Kirishima was his buffer.
Kept him grounded and affected his life way more than Bakugo would like to admit.
Because of Kirishima, Bakugo learned acceptance of others, allowed him to look at other people beyond their weaknesses. He knew he wouldn't have grown as much as he did if it weren't for him and the other idiots. Speaking of.. Bakugo looks over his shoulder and cocks a brow at the red head.
“Why didn’t the other extras come over?” He asks and Kirishima flushes. “Well, um, Mina and Sero already saw the draft. They helped me with the design and Denki is out of town. And, uh,” Kirishima sits up, scratching his head, “I really wanted you to see it first.”
Bakugo grins at this. Honestly, same goes for him. If some news comes up or project, it was Kirishima he usually calls first. Their circle of friends had become closer over the past years even after training and now, debuting as pros. But his relationship with Kirishima had grown past the buddies phase.
If Bakugo would be brutally honest with himself, Kirishima is probably the most important person in his life right now next to his folks. Being with Kirishima gave him a sense of peace. Being with Kirishima made him feel content-
Bakugo blinks in realization at where his thoughts were heading and his heart races.
But then, Kirishima’s phone buzzes and lights up. Bakugo watches him practically stumble over to reach for the damn thing. He sees how his eyes lit up, how the corners of his lips curl up to one of those soft smiles he usually reserves.
Bakugo knew instantly something’s new.
He didn’t dare ask. Bakugo sorta didn’t want to know..
And he doesn’t know why, but his chest feels funny. Bakugo’s brows slowly meets down in the middle as he swallows hard.
After typing his response, Kirishima laughs through his nose. Face practically splitting in half with that stupid grin stretching his red lips. When his gaze met Katsuki’s, it was like Kirishima forgot he was there in the first place.
“Sorry.” Kirishima quips, knowing how Bakugo hates it when he spaces out. “Its just,” he laughs heartily again, seeming excited. “Remember Y/n?”
Bakugo stills. Blinking up at Kirishima and finding himself sitting up too. “What about her?” He didn't mean to sound annoyed, but he did.
“We bumped into each other a month ago and reconnected,” Kirishima smiles sheepishly, his eyes glinting the way they hadn’t for a long time. “We’ve been having lunch together and hanging out but I.. well, I want to ask her out.” Kirishima scratches his neck and winces, “But, uh, what do you think?”
What does he think?
Is it so selfish that Bakugo thinks he’s about to lose his best friend?
His fucking person?
Bakugo felt his heart sinking to his stomach. That was it, the funny feeling in his chest. It's his heart aching with envy. That those soft warm smiles were no longer just for him.
The moment he goes out with you, he would lose Kirishima. He just knows it. Hell, he’s sure of it.
Because it's you here they’re talking about.
You, whom Bakugo remembered everything Kirishima would ever want in a person. Someone inherently good, someone sweet and funny, someone clever, someone so beautiful inside and out..
Someone even he knows deep in his bones could deserve Eijiro.
Bakugo’s throat ran dry. All these realizations dawning to him all at once. Then he sees Kirishima’s smile fade and he realizes he was still waiting for his response. So Bakugo plasters a half-hearted smile and averted his gaze.
“What does it matter what I think, idiot? If she makes you that damn happy then fucking go for it.” He says, laying back on the futon, facing away from Kirishima. He holds his breath as he waits for the red head to respond. And Bakugo can tell he is smiling again as he speaks.
“Yeah, man. She’s just- I don’t know. Y/n just makes me happy! I’ve never felt like this before.” He chuckles as he lays beside Bakugo, arms tucked behind his head as his gaze dance thoughtfully across the ceiling. “I could be having the worst day and then I see her or talk to her and, just like that, I’m fine!” He muses. “The other day, I helped her move into her apartment and it was exhausting and we had to eat on the floor and stuff but I had so much fun! I just want to see her every damn day.” Kirishima laughs again and then sighs. “I feel like I could be with Y/n and do absolutely nothing at all and still feel.. content. You know, what I mean?”
Bakugo’s jaw clenches so tight it felt like his teeth would break. The air he struggles to breathe in suddenly feels like it just can’t reach his lungs, making his chest burn.
But he nods, feeling Kirishima’s gaze on the back of his head, saying, “Yeah.. I think I know what you mean.”
Bakugo then lets his eyes fall close to keep the prickling tears from escaping as he silently hopes that Kirishima would never feel the way he’s feeling right now.
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chdarling · 27 days ago
Hi there! Please forgive what I am sure will be a largely incoherent ramble, but I wanted to tell you how much reading TLE has meant to me. I've never gotten into FanFiction before despite a few attempts - I'm the kind of person who has trouble with canon divergence or writing styles that don't seem to fit quite right. I somehow stumbled onto TLE and it felt like I was a kid again, reading a new Harry Potter book for the first time under the covers with a flashlight and too excited to (1/6)
too excited to put it down. Although of course I'm an adult and my job insisted I show up, but reading a bit each day was something I looked forward to like nothing I can remember since I was little, and I was worried that my love for reading and the experience it gave me had disappeared somehow. Thank you for giving me that feeling I missed so much back! Your writing is wonderful, clear, well-paced, and vivid and all the characters are just how I've always imagined them. (2/6)
And on a more personal note, the way you wrote Remus' character and the events of his life felt like a sort of representation of myself and parts of my own life, which have to date been incredibly hard to find and relate to in any sort of media. I know you've mentioned incorporating bits of yourself into his character, so I hope you won't mind terribly if I see a different (although perhaps similar in some ways) experience there. I've always understood him as a disabled character, (3/6)
as a disabled character, despite how problematic the original HIV/AIDS reference was and continues to be. As someone who has a painful, stigmatized disability, the way you wrote him was so relatable it felt like seeing myself as I was a few years ago on the page, dealing with stigma and internalized ableism while just trying to get through school/life. As unpleasant as those pieces of disability are, I love how you handled them with all the due weight and didn't sweep them under the rug (4/6)
didn't sweep them under the rug as "but-they-were-nice-to-him-so-everything's-rainbows-now" or some other annoying way disability gets handled in lit all the time. There was no hint of inspiration porn, but also no pity party or infantilization of disabled folks, and that's so rare and necessary. And having had the experience letting others get close and having that trust betrayed/weaponized, Remus' reaction to that felt so real and believable. (5/6)
Even the way you wrote the lead up/fallout of transformations and the transformations themselves was like a fictionalized version of what I experience and have never had the words to explain to others the sensation. I don't know how to explain it better and wish I had your gift with words, but I just loved your characterization of him to pieces. Thank you for the gift of representation, even if it was not the representation you had in mind! (6/6)
—————
Oh, anon. I’m going to struggle to respond to this as eloquently as it deserves — partly because of my end-of-workday-zombie-brain and partly because I’m overwhelmed by your kindness — but I’ll do my best.
First of all let me just emoji dump my feelings: 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
ok now that that’s out of the way: thank you, thank you for your kind words and this incredible message. It means more than I can even begin to express that my interpretation of Remus resonated with you. Remus as a disabled character makes so much sense to me. I have personally found his character to be such a gift in terms of expressing my own struggles and I am just really touched and honored that it was meaningful to you and your experiences as well. Thank you so much for taking the time to write to me and share this. It really does mean so much.
Sending so much love to you, dear anon, and I hope that you are treating yourself with all the kindness, gentleness and love we all want to give dear Remus.* 😉 Hugs. ❤️❤️❤️❤️
*unrelated fun fact: sometimes when I’m being really mean to myself, I think, “would you say that to MOONY?” and it actually works and I trick myself into treating myself with compassion. Yay for fictional characters who so embody our experiences that we can use them as avatars for self-care! lol ok brain, whatever works. 😂
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marziwritesfic · 28 days ago
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Beyond the Beast - Three: Seen
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x mutant!Reader
Warnings: angst, mentions of abuse and trauma, sui thoughts, self-harm, swearing, age gap.
Summary: You were a monster. That’s what you saw when you looked into the mirror: a shadow of who you had been before.  But beyond the blood, the scars, the glare, and the anger, you were a sad story. One of a kind, carrying a burden never known by other. Or so you though until you met him, Bucky Barnes. Suddenly, you weren’t alone anymore.
Note: This chapter was so good to write. And I mean it. Strong emotions, angst, oh my. I definitely got carried away, but luckily y'all are the best and don't seem to mind it xD Thank you so much Ellie @lokiscollar for beta reading this, ily
Please don't forget to like, reblog and/or leave a comment! It's really important and I love discussing the story!
WC: 4.1k
Masterlist || Two || Three || Four
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Tony walked into the meeting room looking quite annoyed. Better yet, he was straight up pissed. He rarely visited the compound, saving it for special occasions - or critical situations that required his presence and attention. It was the latter.
On top of that, Stark had a mild headache that began that very morning, and he hoped the reason for it would be gone before he left the room. He walked up to the edge of the long table in the middle of the room. Taking a good look at both men present before him, Tony sighed dramatically, taking off his shades.
“I was having a lovely breakfast with my family this morning when I was interrupted by a phone call.” He broke the silence, taking a good look at each of them. “Do you know what Happy said, in the other end of the line?” He asked rhetorically, letting the question linger as the other men looked at each other, knowing exactly what was to come.
Bucky was not in the mood to be scolded by Tony Stark, especially because of something that Sam was so sure that wouldn’t get them in trouble. Sam, on the other hand, had all the composure he needed to go through this conversation.
Tony continued. “He said we have custody of an unknown mutant that also happens to be a person of interest to the government.” He spoke slowly, pausing at every word as if explaining something to a toddler. “It was really funny for a moment, ‘cause I thought it was a joke or just an excuse he was using to get in touch with me, you know.”
He faked a smile, gesturing with his hands to see if they got the joke. “But when Happy didn’t laugh with me, well… It was disappointing, to say the least.” Since no one dared to say a thing yet, he snapped, raising his voice and counting the next questions with his fingers. “So, when did that happen, why did that happen, and why the fuck is the wanted mutant still under the same roof as we are right now? Any of you care to share?”
Bucky glanced over at Sam, who was just waiting for Tony to be done so he could plead their case. He stood up and spoke on an eye-level with Stark. “Four months ago, we got some leads on a new case. The lead pointed that mutant to be responsible for several murders of politicians, brokers, and other important folks in Philadelphia. They had a face, but no name to link with the arson, bloodshed, and overall chaos that ensued.” He was calm and collected, knowing it could be too much information at once.
“The girl had never been caught, and the local authorities didn’t even have a clue that she was the one behind those scandals. Her crimes were never looked into for longer than a week before the investigations were shut down. Our lead also said she had been seen in New York earlier this year, so we took the opportunity to check on her. And we managed to get her, that’s why she’s here.”
“It didn’t seem that big of a deal until recently.” Bucky intervened briefly, trying to explain why they hadn’t mentioned it before. In all honesty, it didn’t seem worthy of Tony Stark’s concerns, especially in his retirement. “Until Sam suspected she wasn’t just going rogue, back then.”
“I still don’t understand the why. Care to elaborate on why should we be the ones to take care of this matter? We don’t want complications with the government anymore, do we?” Tony touched his temple, wishing the headache would just go away. “Do we?” He repeated himself, waiting for an answer this time.
“Of course we don’t.” Sam stepped closer to Stark. “That’s why we’ve been trying to get information from her. And after almost a month here, she finally opened up. To Bucky.” Sam pointed a finger to his friend, who tightened his jaw and looked away trying to hide his discomfort.
The reason why she had done it, why she had spoken and opened up to him was because he did the same. Sam was right, Bucky got it. He understood her. And through every little bit that he showed her, she could understand him too.
“Is she his girlfriend now? Congrats. Now, can we hand her over? Or are you two still playing date with the lethal mutant?” Tony just wanted it to be over and to get back home to his family.
“Tony, she’s important. We can’t give her up.” Sam gestured with a hand for the other man to wait and listen to what he had to say, earning an impatient huff in response. “And I’ll tell you why. Think about Morgan.”
“Don’t you dare.” Tony clenched his jaw, taking a menacing step towards Sam. Bringing his kid into the conversation was a dangerous approach, and the other man knew it.
“Stark, just… Listen.” Sam asked, not even flinching. “Think of your daughter. How would you feel if someone took her... And did to her what was done to Bucky?”
“Impossible. I wouldn’t let that happen.” He said quickly, shaking his head, as if the possibility of the contrary couldn’t exist, not even hypothetically.
“But what if she didn’t have Iron Man to protect her? What if you weren’t there for her, and someone took her and changed her? What if, God forbid, they made your daughter into a weapon?” Sam tried to remain calm, but the intensity of his words captured all of them in that room. “Tell me, Stark. Wouldn’t she still be your daughter? Wouldn’t you try to save her?”
With a sigh, Tony looked away and rolled his eyes. “Hypothetically, if this happened, yes. Of course, I would save her.”
“Well, this girl didn’t have someone like you to protect her, in the first place. And she had to save herself. And what began as a hunt for the one with blood in their hands became a hunt for the one who controlled her. How are you going to sleep tonight knowing there’s a lunatic creating monsters out of girls and using them in their twisted power games?”
Tony thought about it for a moment, obviously still annoyed by the situation and by the answer he was about to give. “So you’re not giving her up. Got it. What am I supposed to say to them now?” He put back his shades, waiting for the final answer.
“Tell them we are going to catch the bastard. Then we’ll hand him over because he’s the real culprit of it all.” Sam said decisively, sounding way more confident than Bucky anticipated.
“I’ll make sure to tell them the paperwork will be all done by you two as well.” Tony said as he headed towards the door. “She is your responsibility. And don’t forget to get it all on paper.”
~x~x~x~
You let out a sigh and leaned your head against the glass behind you. Almost every day Bucky came to talk to you, and little by little, you would share your story with him. It wasn't your first option, but you figured it would be the most helpful one for your case.
“What changed your mind?” He asked you one day. “You spent weeks without ever saying anything to Sam. You did you decide to talk to me?”
“I wanna be free. Earning your trust seemed to be a good start towards that end.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but the words sounded too polished for you. And Bucky caught that little detail.
“Yeah, but why me and not Sam? He came to you first, he offered help first. I just came here and told my story.” He was sitting on the floor outside your cell, the usual holographic lighting over him.
“I don’t know.” You lied but didn’t look away from his gaze. “Maybe I’m more comfortable with the misfits.”
“I’m not a... “ He tilted his head, giving up on defending himself, when you scoffed and smirked, thinking you had gotten to him. “I guess it takes one to know one.” Bucky quirked an eyebrow and you shrugged, silently agreeing with him.
Sam had shown you just how desperately he wanted to believe that you were innocent, you just had to give him enough reasons. Bucky had promised to get you out of that cell, as long as you two kept talking. It sounded like a good deal, better than being forgotten and shipped away.
“Today is your lucky day, (Y/N).” Bucky’s voice startled you, breaking you from the stream of memories that flowed through you. You got up and faced him, noticing how smug his expression was. You mimicked an annoyed huff.
“Let me guess. I’ll get an extra portion of meat for today’s lunch?” You tilted your head slightly, trying not to show any signs that you were pleased to see him. “'cause if it’s not that, don’t even bother.”
He chuckled, putting both hands on his hips and licking his lips before saying the words that immediately improved your mood. “That’s a bummer. I thought you’d be happy to get out of this box.”
You straightened your posture, eyes widening and pupils dilating into dark orbs. “You can’t be serious.”
“But I am. Very serious.” He said, not quite smiling, but still excited for you. “But I need something from you. I know this is difficult, but I need you to trust me.”
You gulped, knowing damn well there was a price you had to pay to be free again. Last time, you paid with blood and tears. “What’s the catch?”
“We need your story on the record. All those things you told me, we need you to say it again. Officially, this time. That’s how you stop being the villain, you’re gonna tell them your story.” This time, it was a bigger toll - words and the truth.
You pondered for a moment under his gaze but didn’t take too long to give in. You hoped the progress you two had made wasn’t in vain.
“Fine. I can do it.” You sighed, nodding once at him. He nodded back, relieved that you chose not to fight this. At that point, he knew how hard it could be for you to let yourself be known, in any possible way. It was a lot to ask for and it didn’t happen easily with him.
For every bit you shared, he did the same. He opened himself to you, and you mirrored it. You told him your secrets, words that never escaped your lips before, and he listened carefully. When he did the same, it made you feel different than ever before. Seen, known, understood.
For once, you didn’t feel like one of a kind anymore. Of course, he had gone through different things, but they sounded so familiar to you. And after all the wars he had to fight through, there he was standing, free, alive. You aimed for that. Maybe, someday, you could look at yourself in the mirror and see the same.
Yeah, right. Un-fucking-likely. You pushed those thoughts aside and came back down to reality. “So, what now?”
“You should probably take a shower.” Bucky said, walking away without another word. Before you could protest, there was a click and one of the walls moved, sliding to the side and revealing a dim-lit corridor. And there he was, in flesh and vibranium. Not a hologram through the glass. A real person.
You must’ve had some fort of funny expression on your face because he chuckled for no apparent reason while looking directly at you. “Won’t you come out?” Bucky asked, offering a hand to you. You took a deep breath, not even looking back before rushing out of the cell. You didn’t take his hand but thanked him internally with a quick look into his eyes as you passed by where he stood.
A month ago, you would have taken the opportunity to escape, maybe attack him if you felt stupid enough for that. But after all that he had shared with you, he didn’t feel like a real threat anymore. Bucky had tried to make it clear that he was by your side, and you believed most of it.
For some reason, Sam and Bucky were trying to protect you. You found it rather suspicious, to say the least, but you decided they were your best chance at getting out of there. So far, your assumptions had been proven truthful. You weren't locked up anymore.
“You’re letting me out… Just like that?” You looked around, seeing other cells similar to yours along the corridor. “I could escape. There’s nothing to stop me.”
His eyes never left you, but he didn’t seem worried. “Yeah, you could. I could stop you. Or that collar around your neck.” The stupid collar. You didn’t know what was the purpose of it until now, but it only made sense it was there to control you. “Either way, I hope you don’t run away from me.” He tried to make you see that he was being honest - he had been honest with you since day one.
You tried to memorize the path that Bucky led you through, peeking discreetly at every nook and cranny of the building. “What is this place?” You questioned, still considering your reckless and not exactly discarded plan of setting off.
Run away. It was a powerful instinct. Your bare feet tingled at the thought. You loved running, and after over a month of being deprived of it, you couldn’t wait to do it again. You wanted to do sprints, waste all the energy that used to power your body. You curled your toes against the cold floor, fighting the instincts that screamed inside you.
“This is the Avenger compound.” He answered, but didn’t say more. Of course, it meant nothing to you. You could still be in New York or in the middle of Arkansas for all you knew.
When Bucky finally stopped and you did the same, you had been walking for almost ten minutes. That was a different area than where your cell was, far from it too. No surprise, captives must be kept away.
The hallway looked like you were in a hotel. Identical closed doors that held numbers - codes, actually - identifying them. Bucky stood before one of them, taking a card out of his pocket. The key to the room, as you assumed. “That’s a spare room that I… borrowed. It’s for you.” Something in his voice made you doubt that he had really borrowed it.
Anyway, as he unlocked and opened the door and you peeked inside, finding a more than a decent suite, you decided not to argue. “I got your clothes and the boots, they’re inside. I’ll be waiting here while you get… Presentable.” He scrunched up his nose and you rolled your eyes, brushing past him and getting inside the room.
“I know I stink. Special nose, blah blah blah.” That was the last thing you said before shutting the door on his face.
As soon as you found yourself alone, you had to try your best not to crumble. The room was nothing short of spectacular - and not only when compared to your cell. You had been in fancy hotels all over the world when you were younger, and this is exactly what it felt like. Sleek design, impersonal, and a mix between functional and luxurious.
You ran your fingertips over the bedsheets, felt drawn to them, but walked away looking for the bathroom. The glass door swung to both sides - which you thought was stupid - and revealed the minimalist bathroom. A toilet, a sink, a bathtub, and a shower. Under the sink, a cabinet with towels and other toiletries. It was the Avengers Palace, you thought.
Quickly stripping from your clothes, completely ignoring the mirror over the sink - you were frankly tired and annoyed from looking at your damn reflection - you stepped into the bath and turned on the shower. The collar on your neck felt heavy again as if you just remembered it had been there all this time. You had gotten used to it, but you still wanted to get rid of that piece of metal as soon as possible.
As the warm water hit your head, running down your arms, torso, and legs, you finally gave in. A single sob echoed through the bathroom, muffled by the water sounds. Your chest ached as you fell to your knees, grabbing your head with both hands and pulling at your hair. You wanted to scream your pain out, but no sounds came out of your mouth. You weren’t planning on showing any weaknesses, especially now. But it was the first time you were certain you were alone, not being watched, and your mask faltered.
The rush of emotions that ran over you wasn’t washed away by the water, but you didn’t expect them to ease on you. You needed to set your story straight. No loose ends, no flaws. You needed to please your judges. You found yourself playing the part of the perfect pet again, and you loathed yourself for it. Maybe it should be better to just end it all and stop fighting. Maybe that was the last chance you had to do it before something worse happened.
Again, you thought about the possibility that Sam and Bucky lied to you, and they took every bit of information you had before they handed you to the government, at last. You couldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t let yourself fall into greedy hands again. You...
“Is everything alright in there?” You heard two knocks on the glass door followed by Bucky’s voice. He was inside the room, just on the other side of the door.
You took your wrist away from your mouth, watching in shock as the blood started to rise and drip from it, realizing what you were doing. The teeth mark just deep enough to make the small indentations bleed. Bucky had stopped you from biting harder just from calling for you. The water washed over the crimson from your skin, and you heard him calling your name again.
“I-” Your shredded voice almost gave away the pain that stung you, so you did your best to conceal it. “I’m fine! What the fuck, I thought you said you’d wait outside!” You snarled, sounding way angrier than anything else.
He mumbled something, perhaps some sort of apology, but you were too caught up with your wound to care about him. You pressed it with the other hand, taking a deep breath and getting up again. No more weakness, no more tripping. You were determined, once again, to do whatever it took to free yourself from these new shackles.
You finished your shower, stepped out of the bath, and dried yourself with a towel. Looking down at your wrist, it bled insistently, but not intensely. It was still an open wound, and it was sensitive. You ripped a strap from the towel and wrapped it around your left wrist and hand, making the best makeshift bandage you could.
You peaked through the door to look for Bucky around the room, but he was nowhere to be found. He had probably gone back outside. When you grabbed your hoodie and jacket, you buried your face in the fabric, inhaling deeply and taking in your scent. You needed to feel like yourself again.
Only then you noticed the clean clothes beside yours, but they were grey and reminded you of prison uniforms, so you ignored them after that. Once you were completely dressed again, you took a deep breath and walked outside the room. The loneliness had been appreciated while it lasted.
“Took you long enough.” Bucky said as soon as he saw you again. He had been leaning against the wall that faced the door to the room, watching it. Guarding it.
“You didn’t have to check up on me, Barnes. I can take a shower on my own.” You sneered bitterly. He eyed you up and down as if checking something, and you clenched your left hand into a fist. You wouldn’t want him asking about the improvised bandages that just happened to appear on your wrist.
~x~x~x~
“It’s just you and me, don’t worry. We’re going to record it and they’ll check it. If you say everything now, we won’t have to do it again. Okay?” Bucky instructed, cautiously.
Sam had pulled more than a few strings to make it happen in the most friendly way possible, all things considered. Now, it was up to you how it would turn out. Would they throw you back into that cell when you were done? You certainly hoped not. And if they tried, you wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Bucky opened the door and guided you inside this new room. It looked like a conference room, with several chairs around a long table and a screen on a wall. Pretty cliche, you thought. He asked you to take a seat, and you hesitated, but he insisted and sat right across from you.
When he pulled out a small device from his pocket, you guessed it should be the recorder. He aimed the small camera in your direction, and nodded, asking you to begin the testimony. That was it. You had to open yourself up one more time, for the sake of surviving. It felt pretty contradictory to you, but there you were.
“My name is (Y/N). I don’t go by this name anymore, but whatever.” Your throat felt dry, and you licked your lips before continuing. “I used to work for a famous guy in Philadelphia. He’s rich and ambitious and has friends in high places, but a lot of enemies as well. That’s why he needed me.” You cleaned your throat, looking at Bucky for a second.
He was serious, listening to your confession, even though you had told him all that before. It wasn’t any easier saying it again. “He used me to do his dirty work, the shit that would ruin his reputation if it ever hit the fan. From getting rid of a snitch to burning warehouses to the ground, he used me for it. And…” You looked down at your lap, where your fingers grabbed the bruised wrist painfully.
“And I only did it because he was the one who made me like this. When I was sixteen, he took me and made me his subject.” Your lips trembled, but you gritted your teeth and gulped hard. No weaknesses. “He had this crazy idea about enhancing the human DNA. He wanted to play God. And he tried everything that was within his reach. He was determined to either change me or to kill me trying. After three years of failed attempts, he finally succeeded on the first.”
At that point, your words echoed through your ears but you couldn’t even focus on them anymore. You looked back at Bucky, who offered a hand on the table. Mindlessly, you took it, both of you reaching out to each other. He knew exactly how you felt.
“He put feline DNA in me. It induced me to morph, and I was reborn as an unholy creature. A hybrid. His beast. It affected my senses, increased my perception, strength, speed, and endurance. He made me a predator. After another year, shaping me into his feral weapon, he finally let me out of the cage. But I had to work for him, be useful. Make him proud.” You felt Bucky’s grip, strong on your hand. He was trying to keep you there with him.
A bitter taste crept up your mouth from the back of your throat. That’s what your memories tasted like. Bitterness and the metallic taste of blood. “It took me two years to realize I was strong enough to break from his chains. So I escaped. I ran away. And I ran, and I ran, and I ran. And he hunted me. But he didn’t catch me.”
The room was a blur but you blinked away the persistent tears. You breathed heavily, unsure of what you felt for spilling it all out at once. “Are you satisfied? Is this enough?” You pulled away from Bucky, getting up in a rush and knocking down the chair behind you.
Bucky put away the recorder and looked at you, worry in his eyes. It was there, clear as the day. “I’m sorry you had to say it all again. But it’s over now.”
~x~x~x~
Beyond the beast taglist: @flightsandfantasy @thosesteelblueeyes @hollarious @xhollycowx @godesslaura
The taglist for this series is open~
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the-oceanic-courts · 29 days ago
Text
Mer May Day 15
What Is Dead May Never Have Died In The First Place
@the-roanoke-society
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"You wouldn't happen to be waiting for the ferry, would you my dear?"
Ondine looked up at the man standing next to her. She hadn't meant to take up the whole bench, but she also had not expected there to be people out wanting to sit on benches at four in the morning.
"No, I-"
"Ah, I see." He cut her off. He was quite cheerful for someone up so early. "Do you mind if I sit and wait?"
"...not at all." She replied, making room on the bench for him. She also left a whole person space between them once he sat down.
"If you're not waiting for the morning ferry, then are you perhaps waiting to meet with the Ladies of the Lakes?"
Ondine tensed, shooting him a wary glance. He looked amused by it.
"I'll take that as a yes." He continued. "You must be from Roanoke. The Oceanic Council wouldn't bother with a Freshwater area. Their own depths are all that matter to them."
"Are you waiting to meet with the Ladies of the Lakes then?" She asked.
"I am...I've been causing disturbances again." He admitted. "There was an incident with a child losing their toy in the lake, so I opened the lake for them. Oh, I may have also launched fish at some littering tourists. But no one could have possibly known that was me...and I put the fish right back in the lake afterwards. I'm sure they're fine."
"I am very confused right now." 
"Ah, I haven't introduced myself." He paused. The man looked her over, but his eyes kept coming back to hers. "I insist, you go first. I'd like to know how much trouble I might be in, or if you can keep what I've just told you a secret."
"Agent Ondine." She offered. When he raised an eyebrow,  she reluctantly added. "Angela Whelan."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Whelan." He said. "I am Pharusian."
"..were you named after the-"
"Oh no, I'm him." Pharusian responded. "Former King of Atlantis, youngest born son of Thalassa."
Ondine frowned.
 She suddenly felt extremely unsure of herself. The man beside her looked nothing like the king of the old tales.
“I'm not what you imagined? That's understandable.” He spoke, giving her a goofy grin. “I am much shorter than people expect me to be.”
Ondine opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again. She didn't know what to say. When Ronan had told her the stories, she had imagined someone a lot more built, not a pipe cleaner in a suit.
“Nothing to say dear, Angela, was it? I know, it's hard to believe I was once King of the Unending Ocean. But continents shift, subjects rebel, and now here I am, enjoying all the drama you landsfolk have to offer.”
“But you died!” She blurted out. “The founders of the regions rebelled and you died, and Atlantis became a historic city.”
“Yes, well, I faked my death." He told her. "They wanted to rule themselves, so I let them.” 
“They started a war that lasted for centuries.”
“Yes, I noticed that.” He stated, waving off her words. “Enough about me, tell me about you. You must have been with the council agency at some point to have this level of knowledge on the matter. And then you must have left to join Roanoke, correct? Something happened to you, and now you serve the land?”
Ondine frowned again, something was definitely off about him.
 “How long have you been on land?” She asked abruptly.
“Ah, so you noticed that?” He was pleasantly surprised by her. “The only correct answer to that is, too long. If I were to return to the sea....well the aftermath of my transformation would be devastating. Not to mention I would most likely die.”
“And everything bound to you would fall into turmoil.” She added.
“Oh yes, exactly so. In fact, the whole of the oceans could be destroyed.”
Angela paled.
"That was over dramatic." He admitted. "Maybe an earthquake and a few tsunamis at the most. The oceans would be fine."
Angela sighed and couldn't help but look annoyed. 
"Oooh. I see it." He laughed. "Ceto! She gave me that look on more than one occasion. She must be your ancestor. "
Pharusian shifted, leaning back against the bench. His eyes left her to look out at the lake. "Other than that, and the eyes, you almost have no resemblance. Human genes are oddly dominant, and you my dear are more human than anything. You belong in the oceans even less than I."
"That doesn't make sense, you are-"
"I am dead and gone." He shook his head. "My return would kill millions of people and likely cause another oceanic war."
"You could unite them." Angela argued quietly. She felt foolish for even saying it.
"The Child of the Prophecy can do that. Or The Goddess will do that when she returns. The humans will drown or die, and the fae will return to the depths they have forgotten....I suppose I should ask if you believe in The Goddess and the creation of the three folk."
"I don't buy it..."
"It's not being sold, dear Angela." He scolded. "The death, fate, and future of my grandmother is not a myth. Things may have been lost in translation, but it is not a myth."
"Sorry...I didn't  mean it like that."
"I know, dear." He sighed softly. The sound of footsteps make him look the other way. A woman dressed all in green was approaching them. "It looks like a Vassal has come to escort us."
"Probably best not to keep them waiting." Ondine said, standing.
"One thing to learn about merfolk, if you haven't already," Pharusian spoke. "Don't keep them waiting. They won't wait for you...also, be more afraid of the women than the men. That is a good one to learn."
"Any more advice, oh wise one?" Angela asked.
"Don't mock an ancient king?" He offered.
"If I ever meet one, I'll remember that."
He smiled at her. "Well said, Miss Angela Whelan."
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super-unpredictable98 · 29 days ago
Text
Perfect Harmony (Three Summers AU)
Summer 2: Day 2
Warning: Strong language, mild sexual content
(Perfect Harmony Masterlist)
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I woke up to Roland's voice, but it wasn't right next to my ear, sending shivers down my spine as I get to feel his minty breath against my skin. It was through the radio, he was being interviewed about the whole dog sample thing.
With a heavy sigh, I dragged myself out of bed to get ready for the day. I was kinda hoping I would get my boyfriend (yeah, now that I got used to the word, I can't stop saying it) all to myself until his gig in the evening, but seems like that wouldn't be the case.
I was quite proud that he'll get to play on the main stage, but part of me liked that he was an underdog. Sort of like when you're very into a band and suddenly they start getting popular.
Of course you're glad that these people you admire are getting the attention they deserve, they are amazing after all, but at the same time you also just wanted to keep that little secret to yourself.
"But it's great t'be back here at the Westival," his voice made me smile at the stupid radio. "I'm really lookin' forward to seein' Umid. The traditional folk group from Afghanistan...  It's great t'see the Westival pushin' boundaries as opposed to takin' the usual easy, populist options."
"Oh, you big smartass you," I giggled. "With your freaky intelligence and your politicized ideals, and your perfectly shaped tongue, and your beautifully sculpted cheekbones..."
"I also love the way that the Westival makes really good folk music so exciting and accessible, but at the same time can welcome people who enjoy all types of music. My lovely girlfriend, Venus Barnett, for example, is all about rock n' roll, but she still finds her place here. In fact, she will be playin' with me tonight."
"WHAT?" I shouted. "When were you gonna tell me that, you little shit?"
"It's really great to know everyone can enjoy the Westival," Queenie said cheerfully. "What will you two be playing for us?"
"Well, we usually just go with the flow, whatever we're feelin', but you can expect some very nice folk-rock fusion. She's an exceptional drummer and singer, I think the crowd will be blown away."
"Venus!" My mom came in bursting through the door without even knocking. "I'm so happy for you! Why didn't you say anything?"
"Cause I didn't know!" I looked at her in terror.
"He didn't tell you?"
"No! I need to find him..."
"Vee, it might be good for you, sweetie," she tried to calm me down as I got dressed. "You haven't been on stage in over a year. You might be a little rusty, but you're a star, everyone knows that!"
"I wanna go on stage, of course I do, but Roland could've told me! I could've used some time to prepare... Oh, I'm so pissed!"
As I ran outside towards the chapel, Ruby stopped me halfway with a huge smile on her face.
"Congratulations on playing tonight!"
"Thanks, just found out about it."
"What?"
"I'll explain later, now I need to find that little shit," I gave her a pat on the shoulder before running off.
Roland was just coming out of his interview as I arrived, he flashed me a childish grin and hugged me tightly.
"There she is!" he exclaimed. "The sleepin' beauty."
"Are you out of your mind?" I dragged him to a corner. "When were you gonna  let me know I'm performing tonight?"
"I thought it would be a nice surprise. Y'didn't like it?"
"Well, you took me by surprise alright... I haven't performed for an audience since before I arrived here last year."
"Really? You haven't performed at all?"
"No, I left the band as soon as I came back. The only ones watching me perform were the garden gnomes in my garage."
"Don't worry, no problem," he took my hand as we headed to the hut. "You're gonna be great, I'm sure."
"I hope so, but I wish you would've told me... Imagine waking up to your boyfriend on the radio talking about a gig you didn't know you had."
"Point made, I'm sorry," he kissed the top of my head. "Next time I'll tell you in advance. Are you hungry?"
All throughout the day people have been stopping us, asking for pictures, autographs, and such. I didn't understand why... Yeah, he made a sample, a pretty good one, but still!
Roland was over the moon, giving every person that approached us all his attention. He was sweet, he would happily listen to them and answer their questions. It was cute to watch, but at the same time, I missed having his undivided attention.
"You're that theremin guy aren't you?" two girls about my age walked up to us as we were getting a drink.
"That's me," Roland turned around to face them.
"Oh my God, your music is like... Super cool," the shorter one with strawberry blonde hair said.
"Thank you, it's really nice t'hear, I really appreciate it," he nodded politely at them.
"Can we take a selfie with you?" the taller one with dreadlocks asked, phone already in hand.
"Sure, let's do it... Here, d'you want me to hold the phone? My arms are longer."
I got up and moved out of their way, exactly like I've been doing all day. Of course Roland was smiling that beautiful smile of his and being charming without even realizing... I'm not a jealous person, I'm really not! But it's hard to see barely dressed girls throwing themselves at your boyfriend.
"Spit it out," he nudged my arm as they left and I went back to my seat. "I know y'want to."
"Want to what?" I took another sip of my margarita.
"I saw your face, it's alright. You're a bit bothered by the crowd."
"You can't imagine how proud I am of you and your work, but it would be nice to have a conversation without having to stop every five minutes to talk to your fans..."
"What d'you say we go back to your room and just hide for a little while until it's time for our gig?"
"Sounds great."
"Alright then," he took my hand. "For the next few hours, I'm all yours."
"That sounds amazing..."
"Y'know, at least y'get to tell everyone you liked Roland O'Byrne before it was cool."
——————————————————
"I think you're forgetting the biggest folk-rock classic of all time." I was looking at Roland's list of songs as I was doing my make-up. "American Pie."
"I guess you're right," he wrote it down and put the notebook aside. "Now we have more important matters to discuss."
"Finally," I jumped on his lap and started unbuckling his belt.
"As great as this feels, I was thinkin' of somethin' else..."
"What?" I pouted and folded my arms.
"I'll ask you the same thing I did last year," Roland held my hands. "What  happens tomorrow when we leave?"
"Oh... What do you want to happen?"
"I don't know, but I know what I don't want t'happen. I don't wanna be away from  you."
"So you're suggesting I stay? With you?"
"It would be nice, don't you think? Plus you could audition for the Academie..."
"Don't you think it's a little rushed for us to live together right now?"
"Yeah, it sure is and it's probably gonna be a little weird for a few months, but it's either that or staying apart, which sounds pretty shitty t'me."
"Me too..." I whined. "It's just a huge commitment."
"Somethin' you're terrified of, I know. I'm not gonna force you to stay, but I've never been so sure of anythin' in my life. I love you, Vee."
"I love you too," I pulled back to look at him. "Can I think about it?"
"Sure, take your time."
I couldn't stop thinking about it, his words never left my head. Even as we walked to the auditorium all I could think of was that the rest of my life was about to be decided tomorrow, there was postponing it.
"And now, our very own Westival success story," the host announced. "Please welcome Roland O'Byrne and Venus Barnett!"
We went on right after Umid, which to me was terrifying. Their performance was one of the most beautiful and heartbreaking things I've ever seen in my life, that was a slap across the face. Seeing the way immigrants get treated was literally sickening and I felt a little bad going on stage right after them, but we take what we can get.
Hearing the crowd clap was really nice, I missed it a lot. It felt really good to be back, next to the guy I love (who, by the way, gave out the most wonderful speech about the political side of the Westival. I'll never get tired of hearing him speak about his passions).
People were a bit weirded out by our music at first, I could tell, it was probably not what they were expecting in a folk festival, but by the end of our performance, everyone was into it.
When Roland ripped off his leather jacket and grabbed the guitar, his curls stuck to his face from sweating under the spotlights... That was probably the sexiest I've ever seen him. I couldn't wait until we were back at our room so he could show me what else those nimble fingers can do.
"Why are you lookin' at me like that?" he asked as we packed our stuff.
"Like what?"
"With those hungry eyes."
"Cause maybe I'm hungry... For you," I ran my hands over his chest.
"Oh? Alright, why don't I take this to the hut and we meet back here in ten minutes? We can get a drink and then head back to the room."
"Sounds perfect," I gave him a quick kiss before he left with the guitar and the drum set.
Since I had ten minutes to kill, I decided to look for our biggest fans... Mom and Ruby ran to give me a hug.
"Venus! That was amazing!" Ruby exclaimed.
"You were so beautiful up there," mom kissed the top of my head. "You did great."
"Where's Roland?" Ruby asked in that tone friends use in middle school when saying the name of your crush.
"He's taking the instruments back to the hut, he'll be back soon so we can have a drink. Where's Jafar?" I replied in the same annoying tone.
"With his parents. There's nothing between us."
"Mmhm.. I'll pretend that I believe you. How about you, mom? Have you met  some Australian hunk for yourself?"
"Oh, Venus, I'm so done with men," she shook her head. "They always disappoint."
"Wow, that makes me feel hopeful for the future..."
We talked for five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes. Roland was still nowhere to be seen, I knew it was unlikely anything bad happened to him. We were in a secluded campsite, the crime rate was pretty much near zero, so I started to worry.
"You said ten minutes, Vee?" Ruby looked around when she noticed the discomfort in my face.
"Yeah, that's what he said."
"Come on, let's look for him," mom held my hand.
——————————————————
"I think I hear his voice," I scanned the entire camp, looking at each tent and trailer around.
"Wait, he's over there!" Ruby pointed.
Roland was sitting in front of the two girls from earlier. The three of them were playing acoustic guitars and he was singing a song I never heard before.
It was pretty obvious both girls were smitten, and who wouldn't be? A semi-famous handsome man, who didn't look at all like the nerd I met last year, playing guitar for them under the stars and singing with that soft, sexy voice drenched in his charming Irish lilt...
"That was so cool," one of the girls said, resting her chin on her guitar.
"Yeah, you're such a dope dude..." the other agreed.
"You girls are really great, really talented, but you need to ask yourselves... Is it  your vocation? Is it the only thing you want?"
"Oh my God," I felt like this was a nightmare. Nothing really bad was happening, but the situation was romantic, to say the least, and even if it wasn't, I was waiting for him for nearly half an hour when he promised to come back.
"Do you think he forgot?" Ruby asked.
"Venus, maybe you should talk to him..." Mom stroked my back. "See what's  going on?"
"What is there to discuss? I'm seeing it, you're seeing it," I shrugged bitterly. "He left me waiting at the auditorium to play with two other girls."
When Roland lifted his head and his eyes met mine, his smile disappeared. He immediately handed the guitar to one of the girls and probably found an excuse to leave.
"Venus!" he shouted, running in my direction. "Venus, I can explain!"
"Oh, that's never something good to say," mom grimaced.
Without thinking, I just ran away. I wasn't gonna let him see me cry, I wasn't gonna let him know how much I care. I kept running around the site and he chased me down, trying to get my attention:
"Vee, please, listen! Come here!"
When I got to my room, I locked the door and sat on the floor with my back against it. I know it's a cliche: the girl whose parents' marriage fails miserably doesn't believe in love after losing her father.
Well maybe there was a fucking reason for that after all, cause right then, it sucked to be in love! It was just giving someone the power to break your heart. I know it's not like he was kissing them or even flirting with them, but serenading other girls is not exactly a good look.
"Venus, please open the door," his voice pierced through the thick wood.
"No! Leave me alone, Roland! Go finish your serenade."
"That was not what that was, darlin', please just let me explain. I'm so sorry for losin' track of time, I really am! Maddison and Indiana just asked..."
"No, I'm sorry for interrupting your jamming session with Maddi and Indi! They  were all over you, don't tell me you didn't notice!"
"I'm not exactly used to the attention, especially from girls. I never assume someone is flirtin' with me, I'm sorry."
"You're not dumb, Roland."
"No, I just... I messed up, if you let me in I promise I'll tell you everythin' that happened. Please let me make it up t'you. I love you, even if they were all over me it's not like I'd care, you're my girlfriend, I waited for you for an entire year."
Feeling slightly less angry, I opened the door. Roland tried to hold me, but I put both hands on his shoulders to stop him.
"What happened?" I asked firmly as I sat on the bed.
"I took our stuff to the hut, I was goin' back when the girls came by to congratulate me. They asked if I knew how to open tune a guitar and I said yes, so they asked me if I could show them. I thought I had time, so I did, I was playin' the guitar to test it. It really didn't mean anythin'... I'm so sorry I left you behind."
"Deep inside I know you didn't mean to hurt me, but it was hard for me to see that... You singing to them, being all charming and captivating."
"I swear on anythin' you want that I didn't even think about flirtin' with any of them, I was just trying to be nice, y'know I love to teach people, that's what I do best. I truly didn't realize I was gone so long, please let me make it right. I love you so much, Vee, I would never purposefully ruin what I spent so long tryin' t'build, literally everyone in this campsite knows I have a girlfriend, I talked about you on the radio. You know me, I mean, you haven't known me for that long, but y'get it, I'm not like that! I'm just stupid... Me, the 30-year-old theremin weirdo."
"I forgive you, but I'm still upset."
"Totally understandable," Roland waved his hands. "Is there anythin' I can do t'make you feel better?"
"You could serenade me instead," I laid on my side with my back turned to him.
"And what'd you want me t'sing for you?" he snuggled against me brushing my hair with his fingers.
"Sing the way you feel."
He stopped to think for a second before he started:
"I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do My gift is my song, and this one's for you And you can tell everybody This is your song It may be quite simple, but now that it's done I hope you don't mind I hope you don't mind That I put down in the words How wonderful life is while you're in the world"
I couldn't help but smile, that was probably one of my favorite songs of all time. I knew it wasn't really my song, but just for that moment, I could pretend it was. Part of me still wanted to be sad, what he did was fucked up, but it was true that he never gave me any reason to not trust him.
"I feel a little bit better," I admitted, turning around to face him.
"Sorry I ruined our night. I hope you don't completely rule out movin' in with me because of it."
"No, I didn't rule it out."
"Good, cause I really wanna be with you, every second that I can."
"There's a bottle of whiskey in my suitcase, maybe we can still have our drink."
"Will we follow with the second part of our schedule?" Roland pulled me close,  grabbing my thigh timidly. "If you're still interested in that..."
"That depends," I ran my finger idly through his curls. "If you can romance me."
He cocked an eyebrow as his hand traveled down to my ass, he slowly closed the distance between us, kissing me softly enough to leave me wanting more.
"Is that good enough for ya?"
"Yes, daddy..."
"I KNEW IT!" Roland snorted with laughter.
"Not a word! Shut up and kiss me before I kick your ass."
Tag List: @elliethesuperfruitlover @firstpersonnarrator @nightingale-rose @ghouls-buddy​ 
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alifletcher2012 · a month ago
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On and Off Again, Part 4
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A/N: Hi! First, I wanted to say, I love all your comments and read and reread every single one. I'm not always in the headspace to give adequate replies, but please, please know from the bottom of my heart, that I am so grateful for your support and each and every comment gets a fangirl squeal from yours truly! I know its been a hot minute, but thanks for sticking with me here. April is a busy month for me at work so I wasn't able to update at all last month. And then I got sick and so did my kids. And then I just got super in my head about everything I had written and rewrote this like 85 times. So be gentle with me. Also. The taglist is a hot mess due whatever Tumblr is doing with the new text editor. And my kyboard is dying so I'm sure there some mistakes in this So once again, be gentle with me, I trying to figure it out.
Read on AO3// Fic Masterlist // Masterlist
-
Aelin glanced at the clock as she typed furiously. 11:43. Shit. Her 2:00 deadline was looming. Why had she put off the edits on this article?
“Sanctions have done little to temper the nihilism that abound among the masses, proving that the common folk may profess to be knowledgeable in the intricate workings of economic systems, but in fact are perpetually under informed.”
Right. Because Cairn was a pretentious dick and reading his articles, let alone editing, made her want to stab her eyes out. Communication with him was even worse. He took every correction as a personal attack, an insult to his almighty intelligence. In his last email he had raged at her for adding Oxford commas into his work, explaining to her all the reasons it was pedantic or whatever. Never mind that she was required by the office standard that they be used.
Aelin continued to skim the article and add corrections and notes as needed. She glanced at the clock again. 12:03. Damn. She was going to have to work through lunch to get this done. Her stomach grumbled in protest.
She worried her lip with her teeth, weighing her options. Working through lunch should get the edit done in time, but at the cost of being hangry and lethargic by the end of the day. The last time she had worked through lunch she had gotten into a shouting match with Rowan that had ended with them both in the HR office. Deciding that was not an experience she was willing to repeat, she clicked on the chat and shot off a message to Aedion.
Aelin: Hey, you know how you’re my favorite cousin?
Always one to put off working, his response came just seconds later.
Aedion: Don’t lie. We both know Elide is your favorite.
Aelin: Ok fair, but in my defense, it’s Elide.
Aedion: haha. Anyway. I think you were attempting to flatter me into doing you a favor?
Aelin: Right. You know how Carin is an asshole?
Aedion: You put off his edits again, didn’t you? And now faced with the unimaginable trial of having to work through lunch, you come to me, your dear cousin, in hopes I will save you from starvation.
Aelin: Its scary how well you know me.
Aedion: NO
Aelin: AEEEEEDDDDIOOOOONN.
Aedion: Absolutely not.
Aelin: PLEEASE.
Aedion: 100% no.
Aelin: But I’m dying.
Aedion: NO A. You are the reason there was an office wide ban on having food at our desks. Rowan has finally eased up. I am not about to lose my rights to my chocolate stash AGAIN.
Aelin: I promise. I swear. I will not spill anything.
Aedion: I am not going to be involved with you being the cause of an early demise of yet another computer. Accomplices go to jail to Aelin!
Aelin: I’ll order your favorite Chinese. I’ll get extras for your lunch. You just have to pick it up and bring it to me so I can work and eat at the same time.
Aedion: NO
Aelin: Extra spring rolls
Aedion:... I’m listening
Aelin: And crab wontons
Aedion:...fine. But you’re paying. And if I hear one whiff of complaint from IT about rice stuck in keyboards, I was NOT involved.
Aelin: Deal.
Aelin: Also, I’m gonna need caffeine. Grab me the largest iced coffee you can?
Aedion: how about it just get you a coffee iv, cut out the middle man and all that
Aelin: they have those?
Aedion:🙄
Fifteen minutes later, Aelin was happily munching on her lunch, and feeling less likely to murder Carin as she once again made a note that adding u into harbor and other 'or' words to sound more British and therefore more credible was one, against company type standards, and two, dishonest as he was as far from British as a person could get.
Forcing Aedion to grab her lunch turned out to be the correct decision. Aelin’s head felt clearer and she was able to focus better. And she only wanted to murder Cairn every other word instead of every word.
With five minutes to spare, Aelin was able to finish her copy edits and then send them off to be reviewed. Signing in relief, she reached for her still mostly full and definitely warm by now drink she had hidden behind her monitor, just on the off chance Rowan walked by and caught her with food at her desk. Not that she was scared of him or anything. Definitely not.
Right as she took a long victory swig of her drink, Rowan rounded the corner to her little cubicle.
“Galathynius, I need to switch out your-“
Aelin jumped a mile at the sound of his voice, spewing iced coffee and dropping her cup. Sticky, sweet liquid went everywhere, down her shirt, pooling in her lap, across her monitor, running in rivulets through her keyboard, waterfalling from her desk to the floor...everywhere. Her skin began to feel disgustingly clammy as the coffee seeped through her clothes and it took everything in her to not grimace at the uncomfortable situation.
Aelin turned to Rowan, plastering a fake grin on her face. “What can I do for you Rowan? You said something about switching something?” Because maybe, just maybe, if she played it cool enough, Rowan would not murder her for the absolute shitshow that had just happened and had most definitely cause irreparable damage to her monitor.
Except when she looked at him, he wasn’t glaring at her with his very special murder eyes he reserved just for her. No, it was almost as if he hadn’t noticed her computer was messier (and likely stickier) than the faces of most toddlers after sweets. Instead, he was looking at her slack jawed and blushing. Well. Not at her specifically. More like, at her vaguely chest region.
Aelin looked down and felt her heart stop.
Because her now coffee soaked blouse had turned essentially transparent, showing off her probably needs to be thrown away but is far too comfortable and damn it’s just hard to find a good bra so I’m going to wear this one again bra…
(Gods, why hadn’t she worn one of her cute ones today?
Aelin decided not to address the fact that she was worrying over Rowan Whitethorn not seeing her in a cute bra.)
But none of that really mattered, because right now, at that very moment, the taciturn, reticent, irascible and (mostly) unflappable Rowan Whitethorn was staring at Aelin’s chest and blushing.
She cleared her throat loudly, startling Rowan, who flushed an even deeper, more delightful shade of crimson that Aelin would treasure for all time.
“Really, Rowan? Really?” she asked, laughing, because what really could she do but laugh in this situation.
Rowan glared at her, obviously struggling to gain some semblance of control over the situation, but failing as he turned so red Aelin felt he was beginning to resemble a tomato in a white wig.
“Well, I was going to switch out your mouse for a wireless one, but, I can’t even handle this, and you and the keyboard, and the monitor, and oh Gods, what did you do to the monitor, Aelin-”
Before Aelin could so much as blink, an incredibly flustered Rowan, who seemed to be having a conniption at the sight of the destruction her drink had wrought to her workspace, was turning and dashing out of her cubicle, as if he could, quite literally, not get out of there fast enough. Of course, in his haste, he ran right into one of their coworkers, scattering papers everywhere. Aelin couldn’t help but laugh out loud at his antics, as he awkwardly picked up everything and ran even faster away from her cubicle. Aelin wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or offended if the sight of her coffee sodden breasts was enough to have the almighty Rowan Whitethorn running for the hills. Though, really, she was sure it was the destruction of yet another computer that really did him in. way, she decided to count it as a win in her ongoing battle to annoy her least favorite IT person.
After cleaning up her disaster of a workspace as best she could, Aelin clocked out early as a reward, leaving behind the now ruined monitor and keyboard. (And also because if she had to stay in her sticky clothes for the rest of the day someone would be dead.) So what if she was definitely going to have to grovel to Rowan at some point for a new monitor and keyboard, cause she was fairly positive there was no rescuing them at this point, that was tomorrow Aelin’s problem.
The next day, however, she was not prepared for the fallout of her actions. The day had started off well enough, she was still laughing to herself over the whole ordeal, a slight spring in her step from thinking about how embarrassed Rowan had been. In fact, Aelin was attempting to think up ways she could embarrass him further, when she rounded the corner to her cubicle. And the sight before her was enough to immediately stifle her good mood.
Half the floor was gathered around her desk, holding back giggles, and when Aelin saw why, she couldn’t exactly blame them. Her computer, monitor, all of it was gone. And in its place, was a child’s toy laptop and with a sparkly sippy cup sitting next to it. She shooed everyone away and then ripped the note taped to the front of it and very nearly just threw it in the trash, but she decided to read what the smarmy bastard had written on the note first
Here’s your temporary laptop while I figure out how to unstick your keyboard, yet again. Also, here’s an maturity level appropriate cup for you to use so we don’t have the same problem come up again since you refuse to acknowledge your no food at your desk ban
Ok, maybe she shouldn't have laughed at him. Or ruined another monitor.
-
“It’s not THAT funny!” Aelin whined, feeling a bit like a broken record. But all her friends were once again laughing their asses off as Aedion regaled Lys, Elide, and well, honestly half the bar, with the story of Rowan’s rather ingenious revenge. Not that Aelin would ever admit it was an ingenious revenge, especially since even the ever scowling, dark-haired bartender was doubled up in laughter.
“What did you do Aelin?” Lys asked.
Aelin smirked into her cup. Her reaction had been a stroke of genius, in her own very humble opinion. “Well obviously, I couldn’t let him know he bugged me. So I walked around all day with the cup and computer like nothing had changed. I even took it to meetings.I think it pissed our boss off so much he had to bring me a new computer by lunch. Granted it's terrible, but whatever.”
“Did you give him back the cup?” Elide asked.
“Nah,” Aelin laughed. “It even has unicorns on it. Plus, if its the only way I can have coffee at my desk, I’ll suffer through it.”
“Wait,” Aedion turned to her, “I thought we could have food at our desks again? I’m sorry, I’m not switching to a sippy cup too.”
Aelin glared at her drink. “About that...only I’m still banned due to the great rice catastrophe of four Tuesdays ago. And well yesterday of course too. Apparently, he sent me an email about it.”
Aedion burst into laughter again. “Oh Aelin, you really gotta start reading that poor boy's emails.”
"Not gonna happen," Aelin grinned wickedly. “It makes him far too grouchy when I don’t. Now...I need your help coming up with payback.”
-
Perma tag list: (as always, message me if you do/don’t want to be tagged, etc etc. bolded don’t work) @shyvioletcat @westofmoon @tangledraysofsunshine @nalgenewhore @mythicaitt@highqueenofelfhame @sassyhobbits @schmlip-scribble @your-high-lady @sleeping-and-books @allthebooksunderthemoon @rowaelinforeverworld @ttakeitbacknoww @over300books @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @tswaney17 @thehuntersmoon-haven @anyaskywalker23 @hizqueen4life @superspiritfestival @i-love-all-books @acourtofbookworms @mynewdreamwasyou @maastrash @claralady @ireallyshouldsleeprn @lysandra-ghost-leopard @bamchickawowow @a-court-of-please-send-help @danibutterr @miserablesmusings @rowaelinismyotp @thegreyj @castielspelvis @jlinez @whimsicallyreading @post-it-notes33 @sassys-world @swankii-art-teacher @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @fromthelibraryofemilyj
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redpandaramblings · a month ago
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Like Caramel For Chocolate- An Omega Bakugou x Alpha f!Reader fic. Part 4
Part 1 Here
Content Warning: Negative headspace, omegaverse, self deprecation, depressive thoughts, pushy parental figures, ambiguous omegaverse reproduction, unhealthy relationships, relationship that could be easily fixed if idiots would use their words and communicate, Shinso/Denki side relationship, Bakugou is a dumbass but so is y/n
Where we left off-
Denki dusted himself off and stood. “Deal. Engaged.” Denki stuck his hand out, and you shook it.
You both turned and started making your way back to the teahouse, taking your time and going the long way to be sure to avoid and of the other patrons. This was fine. A good plan. Nothing could go wrong as long as no one found out.
Your parents and the Yokomadas were thrilled. Neither had expected the omiai to go so well. They chattered back and forth to each other about what a good match it would be and how since both your jobs were pretty transferable you could easily move where you wished. You and Denki remained mostly quiet, exchanging looks and half smiles. You understood each other’s feelings in this. There was frustration, and sorrow, and a strange relief. Hours later, when you headed to the exit, you walked hand in hand.
You gave Denki’s hand a squeeze.
“I guess call you later?”
Denki nodded. “Yeah. When we get back home. Figure stuff out more. I think your folks said something about a ring fitting?”
You groaned. “The family engagement ring. It’s a gaudy thing, but it’s tradition. We’ll have to get it sized for you; but then you can stick it in a drawer and forget about it when we’re not meeting up with the folks.”
Denki bumped your shoulder with his. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re ashamed of me!” he said in a mock offended tone.
“Of you? Never. Of that ring? Always. Seriously, wait til you see the thing.”
He laughed, and you smiled. Giving each other’s hands a squeeze, you parted ways.
~~~~~~~
It was too late that night to catch a train back home. So though it wasn’t ideal, you agreed to stay in your old room at your parent’s house. It felt strange as you settled down on your bed for the evening. The familiar personal touches were gone, the room having been turned into a guest room long ago. But some things were the same. The place in the floor that always creaked, the scratch on the back of the door from a time you had been roughhousing with friends. You snorted softly. If that wasn’t your entire life right now. Strange and uncomfortable, yet familiar. Speaking of…
You pulled out your phone and checked the time. It wasn’t too late yet. You had promised to call when you could. You quickly had Katsuki’s number pulled up and were pressing call before you could talk yourself out of it. He answered on the second ring.
“Y/N. Is everything alright? Are you okay?”
You felt a tug in your heart at the worry in his voice.
“I’m fine, Katsu. Everything’s fine. Things weren’t as serious here as I was led to believe.”
He sighed heavily, as you could tell the tension was leaving him.
“Good. Good. I know your family can be a lot.”
You huffed softly. “Yeah. They can. Are you alright though? I’m sorry I had to leave. I asked Kirishima to look in on you. I know this happened at the worst time.”
“Yeah, shitty hair has been hanging around. Raccoon eyes and tape face are here too, though Pikachu couldn’t make it.” You could hear a chorus of greetings through the phone. “Been a while since we had a pack night, so it kinda worked out. Watching movies and shit.”
You were surprised it didn’t pain you much to hear that the others were allowed near him during his heat. Maybe it was good you were doing this, if this is what letting go felt like.
“Glad you’re okay, then.” You murmured. “I should be home sometime tomorrow morning. Want me to come over when I’m back?”
“Do what you want. Anyway, I gotta go or these fuckers will eat all the snacks.”
“Okay. Bye Katsu.”
“Yeah, whatever, bye.”
~~~~~~~~
Bakugou hung up and pressed his forehead to his phone, his cheeks flushed.
“You could have kept talking to them, you know.” Mina called.
“Yeah, man. We know you miss her and were worried. It would have been fine.” Sero added.
“Shut up!” Bakugou growled, his blush deepening.
“Dude, come on.” Kiri said from where he was fiddling with the remote. “It’s just us here. You’re a big tough hero, but none of us will give you grief for missing your alpha, especially during your heat.”
Bakugou sighed, hanging his head and scratching at his scent glands. “I know. I know it’s just…” He gestured at himself and the large thrown together nest in the middle of the living room floor that the rest of the squad were currently sprawled in. “You know how I get about all this omega shit.”
“We know,” the rest of them groaned.
“But man,” Kirishima spoke up, “it’s just us here. Not some shitty tabloid reporter looking for some weakness to poke at. Being an omega and wanting your alpha doesn’t make you any less manly. Bro, you can kick any of our asses, and we all know it.”
“I know.” Bakugou muttered.
“Besides.” Sero added. “I’m sure y/n would have liked to hear you miss her.”
Bakugou hunched his shoulders, glaring at the floor.
“Bakubro,” Kirishima said gently, “you know y/n loves you. How long have you been together? It’s okay to be an omega around her. You know she’s always accepted you as you are.”
“God knows no one else would have the patience for you.” Mina chimed in with a shit eating grin. Katsuki threw a pillow at her head before sighing, slumping into the nest.
“I know. It’s just I’m shit at talking about this stuff. Like, she should know, you know?”
“Y/n doesn’t push, though. And she doesn’t have a mind reading quirk. You have to talk to her sometimes, man. I know she worries about being too alpha,” Sero said.
Bakugou sighed, pushing his hands through his hair. “Yeah. I know. We need to talk when she gets home. Tell her I love her and… And I want her to move in.”
The squad perked up, staring at him and grinning “Dude, seriously? That’s so awesome!” Kirishima cheered.
“About fucking time.” Mina added.
“You should probably put a bite on that too.” Sero added. “That’s some prime alpha real estate you’ve been letting walk around unclaimed.”
Bakugou growled and glared while Mina elbowed Sero. “Not cool, Hanta!”
“Am I lying though?” Sero said with a lazy grin.
“She’s my alpha,” Bakugou grumbled, pulling a blanket around himself for comfort. The thought of someone else, some other omega trying to claim you had him seeing red. You being gone for his heat was really starting to put things into perspective for him. He could hardly stand knowing you weren’t just a few short flights of stairs away. Hell, he wanted you here, in his nest, where your scents could mix and blend beautifully like they always did when the two of you were together. Yes, his omega side still annoyed him. But if he was an unusual omega, then you were an unusual alpha. The two of you had always fit together. He couldn’t imagine life without you there anymore. For sure when you got home, he was going to make sure you moved in. And… Yes.
He was finally ready to talk about maybe taking it further.
And there is Part 4! Sorry for the long wait, I was down sick for longer than I would have liked. As always, thank you so much for your continued patience. If anyone has any questions regarding the fic or how this particular omegaverse operates, please feel free to shoot me an ask. Also, please note that @snuggleyourredpandas is my main account, so it you see a message reply from them, that’s me!
TAGLIST- yzviea, @not-a-pushover, @thelilypieforever, @kumihayu, @aomi04, @ladybakugouu, @luajosephdun-blog, @hakunamatatayqueen, @my-thoughts-are-weird, @left-alone-yuki, @officialtrashbusiness, @lonelyheart-clubband, @katsuki-cait, @moonwritters26, @animexholic, @kyrah-williams, @emilymikado, @wolvesblaxe360, @ficklemcselfish, @helena-way07, @fandomsaremylifesposts, @baby-bakuhoe, @sukeraa, @lucypevensie11, @idk-sam Just a reminder, if you want tagged make sure you have the ability to be tagged turned on; and I’d have to be informed if your blog name changes! Cheers, Darlings!
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arcane-aspirations · a month ago
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The Frustration of the Experienced or, When Nothing is New* Anymore
I’ve recently picked back up attempting an active practice of daemianism. This form of daemianism is inspired by the animal-formed, corporeal representation of human souls in Phillip Pullman’s His Dark Materials series (best known book is The Golden Compass). I first read the series in 2005 or 2006 or so, and I am very sure I imagined what it would be like to have my soul beside me as an animal then. That’s the sort of person I was then - to imagine and bring forth what I experienced in stories that inspired me to my daily life - and indeed, hope to regain a powerful sense of being again.
I first encountered others who were daemians on the internet a few years later. I didn’t remain an active member, but I found The Daemon Page Forum and was fascinated with this community that developed detailed profiles for what sort of person would have what species as their daemons. It was like personality typing, with varying levels of commitment to an imaginary friend or what I would now recognize as a thoughtform.
Let me come back to that. “What I would now recognize.”
Over the years, although I didn’t post on TDF, I would check back every few months as I remembered daemianism and read over various species’ profiles that interested me. I have always been fairly obsessed with representing myself; I never felt like I had to explore or understand myself though - that felt intrinsic and obvious.
Though I always found it deeply frustrating that often the most common “default” characters and teams were the ones I related to the most, genuinely. I considered myself for a wolf-formed daemian for a very long time. That was also an issue for me being Gryffindor, an Autobot, Thunderclan... My archetype gravitated towards that that was popular, which often was annoying in that many who claimed the popular affiliation with something were frequently the ones just claiming an affiliation with the fandom or the popularity, rather than the soul behind it.
I digress. Mostly. That context of something being popular affecting my relationship with the thing itself isn’t completely irrelevant.
I would say the most important and active time in my beinng a daemian was a rough patch in my life around 2015 into 2016. I was lonely and had became my own worst enemy too, given that a precious friend turned enemy makes for the worst sort. The comfort of my daemon, this entity which was supposed to represent the real, true self, was incredibly valuable. Setting aside the slight reprieve it gave from ‘being alone’ - although of course, it was still unforgettable to me that, my daemon being me and all interactions coming from and only being perceptible by me, I was still alone - the sense that I valued, saw, and still was myself at a time where I had very much lost all of that elsewhere was invaluable for getting through that.
My daemon had a name, mostly, and a gender, mostly, and a few forms that were right, mostly. He didn’t do much but provide imagined cuddles from an animal companion friend - I really remember something  I did regularly where I’d imagine leaning our foreheads together - but I remember feeling at least sometimes happy and content as a result of the whole thing. But he wasn’t quite what people on TDF would’ve called a daemon.
Firstly, as much as I liked the idea of having an animal to identify my persona, my self, by, I didn’t like the idea of “settling” in one form. “Settling” indicated being an adult in Phillip Pullman’s series, which I have always reviled becoming and now being. That is, perhaps, a story for another time. Beyond that, it felt limiting - let’s put a pin in that one, too, though only for later in this post.
Secondly, my daemon occasionally wasn’t an animalic shape. In one vivid memory, I danced in my aunt’s kitchen when I was home alone one evening with my daemon in the form of N Harmonia from Pokemon. Is N Harmonia even someone I think is close in personality to myself, and thereby a fitting depiction of myself? Not at all, although I do think we’d be excellent friends.
Thirdly - here’s the woo warning for folks who’ve missed that my blog is witchy - I started having the sense that my daemon wasn’t “just” this thoughtform expression of my soul. I remember feeling like having this thoughtform that was me projected was sort of this... shell of my own self, that then this entity from very far away - in space, in time, from another life, who knows, it’s complicated, I never even felt comfortable saying whether it was real or not - I felt very connected to because we were of similar soul energy could inhabit. That was very much not related to daemianism. A pin here for later in post, too.
I don’t totally remember why my focus on daemianism waned for a bit after that. Things didn’t really get better for me, but my fixations do tend to move around. It may well just be that I got better enough to start playing video games again, and was checked out from my surroundings where a daemon would be projected to remind me where he was. Or it might have just started bothering me too much that he wasn’t “real” in so far as he couldn’t/didn’t exist outside what I projected.
It bothers me that I have to create and maintain so much of the things that bring value to my life myself. It’s exhausting. And those things don’t feel as real as things that exist independent of me and my influence. There’s power in “I invented that” and there’s a kind of resignation about one’s world in “I had to invent that, because it wasn’t there but I wanted so very much for it to be”.
And while there’s others out there, obviously, doing this whole daemianism thing, was that what I was doing anyway? Clearly I was taking it my own direction... or at least, combining it with other non-daemianism things that made it distinctly not quite exactly daemianism.
So while I’ve off and on projected my daemon back into the space around me - that’s the term for imagining and “seeing in your mind’s eye” your daemon existing in and interacting with your environment around you - since then, I haven’t done nearly as much.
I’m picking it back up recently and finding it rather difficult.
Some of the things I established as fitting and suitable back then, while still suitable and true in some lights, are hidden under a complicated tangle of things that don’t make them untrue but certainly obscure or make the way to the situations and perspectives where that truth is apparent difficult. There are roads I don’t walk anymore, even though those roads and how I’d walk them are still important to me. There are many roads I walk now that ...could? should? be acknowledged now that mean nothing to me but resentment that they’re where I walk. I still feel I am the same person I was; I just feel like I never get the same sorts of opportunities to be myself. 
So the forms’ fittingness to my personality feel a bit tangled in the context of my life I can’t control, where embracing that tangle feels like a near final step of losing myself. The name is roughly the same; I want a name that feels right and conveys something, and anyone who’s ever named anything to convey a meaning probably has experienced that problem.
And I can’t focus on forms suiting myself entirely, because I’m still bothered by knowledge of how a form is perceived popularly - or because of an animal’s popularity. That in and of itself feels like misrepresentation or miscommunication; I’m not able to communicate why I really feel that is right because there’s an assumption it’s what I chose consciously or unconsciously because it was popular; I’m not able to communicate through that sense of the popular thing that I feel incredibly different and disconnected from others; I’m not able to communicate what I’m saying because the most accurate denotative and personal connotative vocabulary I can find to communicate is full of connotations I don’t mean to others.
Let’s not even start with pronouns, alright?
But I think something in particular that’s frustrating is that daemianism is not the only thing on my mind when I think:
1. representation of the self
2. a form to indicate the self on an entity with malleable form
3. thoughtforms
4. animal representations of the self
I neither want to compartmentalize nor combine daemianism & daemons with witchcraft/paganism familiars/fetches, my polymorphic shapeshifter Otherkinity, souls, thoughtforms, and entities I may or may not share some kind of special soul-energy-woo bond with.
I don’t want to separate what has a resonance - except that resonance, frustratingly, sometimes shifts.
I don’t want to combine what could be varied and interesting, because now any community or representation of that thing is no longer what I am doing or can speak about and find any sense of connection through - or worse, what I am now taken to be misrepresenting or ill-informed about.
And this is the frustration of the experienced, visible here but far from exclusive to daemianism, spirit work, et al in my life: what I know I cannot but help connect to what else I know.
Connecting what  I know to what I know alters forever what I do and feel about what I know and what I learn next. I have opinions and feelings about so many things, and everything I encounter is layered upon my opinions and feelings about it all.
And I feel like that connection isolates me from ever being able to appreciate and participate in something new and fresh.
It isolates me from being able to connect to the experiences of someone else who doesn’t have the connections and syncretic perceptions that I do.
I never wish to be someone I’m not, but I frequently wish to be less experienced than I am.
*I don’t think ‘new’ is the word I wanted here, but I couldn’t find it. After the post, I feel fine recording that what I wanted to reflect was not just that something was new and exciting, but also that something was able to be fresh and untainted; able to be its own thing viewed on its own terms without being conflated, connected, or tied to anything else.
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misscorp · a month ago
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By now, we’ve all heard the news that the douchebags at Fox decided not to renew Prodigal Son and that they chose to announce it two episodes ahead of the finale to make the finale the finale. There’s a petition to save the show going around and fans have taken to Twitter to try and pull a miracle.
However, that isn’t going to stop me from criticizing what I feel are obvious flaws in the story. And since I love pissing people off, I am going for broke this time...
*spoilers from here on out for those who haven’t watched the episode*
... by calling out that Brightwell kiss as the most contrived, unnecessary and clear bit of fan service ever.
This will likely get me anon’d, flamed, and roasted on the Brightwell altars but it’s the truth. It was terrible. It expressly showcased exactly what Tom himself has said: that Malcolm isn’t in the right place for anything romantic. Someone who is so in love with someone they suck face at the worst moment and in the worst setting imaginable but then immediately goes back to their main thought?
Ain’t all that much in love.
You also cannot go from a scene last week where Dani essentially admits she’s not sure she sees Bright as a friend to her sucking face with him in a storage locker. It jumps the shark. It shatters the suspension of belief. Especially when you look back at the season as a whole and see how standoffish, sarcastic, and mistrustful she has been towards Malcolm.
Now, I know what some will say: it highlights Malcolm’s impetuousness. Harks back to his one-night stand with Eve. Some will also say it shows Dani has feelings for him.
Still terrible.
Totally a moment that could have been put somewhere else given the tenseness of the situation.
Folks, in short, there is no Brightwell. There’s not even a friendship at this point. They’re basically work friends. That’s it.
And I’m sorry but that doesn’t scream passion to me.
What this scene failed to do and should have done was have an open conversation that resolved some of the issues between them. Especially Dani admitting she blamed Bright and his family for Gil getting hurt and has avoided getting closer to him for that reason. Have we forgotten she essentially destroyed Gilica? I haven’t. That was a crucial moment in the show and it is a huge wedge still (along with, yanno, the terrible idea of Malcolm cutting up a man but I digress).
I know Brightwell folks are desperate for their ship to become canon. It shouldn’t be done at the expense of the story, characters, and the rest of the fandom. We got cheated of a great moment of character building just so you could get a kiss.
And that’s frustrating and annoying as all hell.
People are using Lucifer as their model for getting Prodigal Son saved. Well, here’s one big key difference between Lucifer and Prodigal Son: Deckerstar has been a solid slow burn from the start. Chloe and Lucifer went from combative partners to friends and then lovers. In-between they had conflicts, rad blocks, other relationships.
In short, the couple became real and tangible because they were written as real and tangible (insomuch as one can write a devilish angel). Their relationship grew as THEY grew.
This is simply fan fiction fodder.
Now, I am all for ship as you ship (long as you use tags for those who don’t ship because it is being polite).
When the ship sinks my ship, though?
Then we’re playing Battleship.
And I am a fiend at that game.
This was fan service designed to give the shippers what they wanted, nothing more, nothing less. Again, it came at the expense of the story, characters, and rest of the fandom who would have been fine with the heartfelt conversation the two had and allowed it to build into something more.
@ me, anon me, burn my name in effigy but I stand on my comments.
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inmydreamswestay · a month ago
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Marshall Mathers - Creepy or cute?
In which Marshall finds himself head over heels for a stranger
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"I feel like you are always staring out of the window whenever I bring lunch," I hear my manager and close friend, Paul say as he enters the studio. "What is so special out there?".
"Who is she?," Is all I say as my eyes are practically glued to the curvy, yet fit woman who is making her way down the sidewalk. As always, she has a gym bag thrown over one shoulder and a shake in her other and there is no doubt she is heading towards a nearby gym. I almost feel creepy as my eyes fall on her round ass for a second, but fuck, I cant help it. She looks simply delicious.
"I see her every day walking by the building," I go on as Paul joins me by the huge windows. He hands me my lunch, which my brain vaguely register as a sandwich. I'm too busy staring at the woman that I can't concentrate about food yet even though I'm pretty hungry.
"Well, with a body like that, I dont blame you staring. You see her everyday?," Paul asks as he too stares after her and I cant help but huff in annoyance. I dont like the way he looks at her, but who am I to talk? I have been drooling over her for nearly a month and she doesnt even know it. Man, I'm a creep.
"Yeah," I reply and I sigh quietly as the young woman disappears around the corner. Fuck it, I need to find out where she is heading so that I can be a creep closer to her.
"Find out which gym is close to us," I tell Paul as I sit down on the desk, not even bothering to pick up the papers that fall down on the floor. I take a bite of the sandwich and my stomach growls in satisfaction, finally happy to get something it can digest.
"What?," Paul sends me a confused look.
I only send him an annoyed look, not sure why he looks so lost since it is pretty obvious why I want to know that little detail. A small detail, but a damn important one and I suddenly realize that finding out where she works out is my only goal for today. It's not like I haven't been working hard today. I glance down at the clock on my wrist and my brain quickly registers that I have indeed been in the studio for nearly eight hours. With a small grin, I mentally tell myself that I deserve the rest of the day off.
"We need to find where the nearest gym is," I go on as I turn my attention to the laptop on the desk. Paul joins me, his eyes glued to the screen while I google all the gyms close to the studio and we both nod knowingly as google lets us know that there is one only 100 meters away from us. It's gotta be where she works out.
"Are you telling me that you are going to become a member of that place just so you can stalk her some more?," Paul says amused as he watches me quickly take a screenshot of the name of the gym. I glare at him from the corner of my eye as I quickly start to put away my own laptop and some notes I wrote earlier, "Fuck yeah. I've been watching her go to that damn gym for a month now. It's about time I learn her name."
"Well, good luck. Hopefully, the paparazzi won't follow you," Paul calls after me as I leave the office, brushing his comment off with a flick of my hand.
About ten minutes later, I can't help but chuckle to myself as I stare down at the red bracelet in my hand. I just joined a gym just so that I can get to know a complete stranger. A stranger who has no idea that I am here purely because of her.
Man, I really sound like a stalker.
I try my best to not look like a complete creep as I enter the huge hall and although the place is pretty big and there are some folks here and there, my eyes immediately find her. I stop for a second, just watching her as she does some nice sumo squats with a kettlebell. I can tell it's heavier than it looks since she is doing the movements quite slowly, but then again, I'm definitely not complaining. Man, her body looks good, especially when she lowers her body during each squat.
Without thinking, I walk over to the corner where she is working out. My eyes fall on a machine right next to her and I figure I can do a few sets there and hopefully she will notice me (this might be the first time I wish someone will recognize me as Eminem because then, maybe she will say something), but before I can put my plan to live, I hear my own fucking voice say, "Working out, eh?".
What the actual fuck, Marshall?! Working out?? Really?! Why else would she fucking be here?
God fuck, did I screw up?
The young woman slowly put down the kettlebell only to tilt her head so that she can look at me. It takes everything in me not to say anything stupid as our eyes meet. Since I have always been way high up in a building whenever I have seen her, I have not gotten the chance yet to study her face, but now that we are standing with only three meters distance between us, I know that coming here was not a mistake. She is beautiful, even when she is sweaty and out of breath...geez, those legs, those damn, toned legs of her.
This woman is going to be the death of me.
"Yup, that is usually why people go to the gym," She replies with a small smirk, showing off a beautiful, line of white teeth.
She narrows her eyes for a second as she studies me and I take a deep breath, trying my best to calm my nerves. When did I start to become nervous around women? Then again, I have never approached a woman like her.
"I must say I'm a bit surprised to see you here, Marshall," She says, her voice like a sweet song in my ears as she reaches for her water bottle.
I cant help but chuckle quietly. Without sounding like an arrogant prat, I'm not very surprised that she recognizes me. After all, my face is pretty famous. However, something tells me she simply knows who I am because I'm famous and that's all.
"What makes you say that? Do I not look like a guy who works out?," I ask with an amused look although my ego feels slightly offended. Do I look weak? She looks at me before quickly taking a few sips from the bottle. She then shrugs, smiling, "It's just that I have been going to this gym almost every day for the last five years and trust me, I think I would remember if I saw you here."
"Alright, fine, its my first day here to be honest," I tell her and she makes a silent o with her mouth and all I can think about in that split second is how her lips tastes...or how they would look on a certain part of my body.
I take a deep breath, trying my best to let my dirty thoughts disappear.
"Oh, well, welcome then. This is a pretty good place to go when you want to work out, they have everything you need here. Also, around this time, it is usually not too many in here," She replies kindly before grabbing the kettlebell again and I watch as she starts doing another set of deep squats. I can't help but admire how extremely good her body looks, especially in her current gym outfit.
She suddenly looks at me, a slightly challenging look in her eyes, "So, did you actually come here to work out, or are you just going to watch me do some squats?".
I can't remember the last time I blushed, but holy mother, I'm pretty sure there is the faintest blush on my cheeks as she chuckles quietly. I gulp, my brain trying to find a good answer.
"I..yeah, I just, I mean, you look good. Like, I can tell you work out," I say and I swear to God if I had a gun right now, I would probably have used it on myself.
Get a fucking grip on yourself, man.
"Well, thank you. I do hope it looks like I'm exercising regularly. As I said, I've been going here for the past five years," She smiles and after a few seconds, she stops her set and put away the kettlebell and I watch in pure jealousy as she sprays the ball and quickly cleanses it with a piece of paper and all I can think about is how her hands would feel on my skin.
"You're welcome. May I ask what your name is?," I ask, my eyes glued to her as she turns to face me, her eyes sparkling with amusement, "My my, Marshall, if I hadn't known better, I would have thought you only came here to talk to me".
Well, fuck me.
If only she knew, but I don't think telling her the truth will be a good move. At least, not yet.
"Well, it's not often I see such a beautiful woman, so might as well give it a shot, eh?," I say, shrugging, trying my best to hide how nervous I actually am. Like I'm actually sweating and it doesn't help that I'm wearing a huge hoodie. Thank fuck I chose to use a little perfume today.
She looks at me with a thoughtful expression for a few seconds before smiling, nodding a bit while she grabs a booty band from her bag, "The name is Aralyn and since I already know who you are, mind if I ask you if you prefer being called Marshall or Eminem?".
"You can call me Marshall," I tell her before tasting her name on my tongue for a moment, "Aralyn. That is a nice name, I don't think I have heard it before."
"Me neither, to be honest," Aralyn chuckles warmly, "Which is why I really like my own name, if I may say so. I think my mother said she had seen that name in a book when she was a child, but she can't remember which book it was."
"Well, Aralyn, it's a pleasure to meet you," I go on, not wanting this conversation to end although I can tell she is ready to move on to one of the leg machines further down. She grabs her bag and throws it over one of her shoulders before glancing at me, a challenging look in her eyes again, "So Marshall, want to have some fun?".
"Fuck yeah," I reply even though I have no idea what she is talking about, but I would be an idiot if I turned down having fun with a woman such as herself.
***
So nearly an hour later, I have learned that having fun for Aralyn meant working the shit out of your body. We are both sitting on the bench outside the gym (thank fuck I can't spot any paparazzi nearby) and even though I work out regularly, I can tell this gorgeous woman works out more than me.
I'm almost bathing in my own sweat, my breath is caught in my throat and I'm trying my best to hide how exhausted I am. She, on the other side, barely looks exhausted. Sure, her face is glistening slightly, but she looks happy and pleased, and it's easy to see how much she loves working out.
"That nearly killed me," I confess while I take a huge sip from my own water bottle. Aralyn laughs and pats my shoulder gently. The sudden touch from her hand causes me to shiver slightly, and it takes everything in me not to start thinking dirty thoughts again.
I know I have had my fair share of women during my career, but when you meet someone such as Aralyn, you know immediately that she is not one of those women. Aralyn is the kind of woman who deserves the whole world.
"You did well. It's been a while since I worked out with someone. I work as a personal trainer here, which I love by the way, but it's not the same as having someone to work out with," She shares with me and I immediately save that information mentally. Whatever I can learn about her, I'm planning on remembering. Hopefully, I will have the chance to hang out with her more.
"Personal trainer? Sounds like you spend a lot of time at the gym," I say and she nods, smiling before taking a quick sip from her bottle, "Indeed I do. If you ever need a trainer, you know where to find me."
I smile knowingly to myself. Will she think I'm a creep if she knew that I have been spying on her for nearly a month?
Yeah, probably.
"So," I begin, after we have been just sitting there in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the hot July weather, "Would you like to maybe eat dinner together or something like that one day?".
I feel her shift next to me and I look at her and I can't help but sweat more when she doesn't say anything. She is just looking at me with a cunning look and I can't help but think how ridiculously hot she looks.
"Are you asking me out on date, Marshall?", She asks kindly and I chuckle quietly, although I'm starting to even sweat more. Why the fuck does she make me so nervous? It's not like I haven't been around beautiful women before, but then again, I cant remember seeing anyone as gorgeous as this woman in front of me is. There is just something about her that I cant point my finger on, but I know, if she lets me, I will do my best to treat her right.
I'll treat her like a fucking Queen.
"Maybe," I reply. I send her a small smirk which causes her to laugh, "Wow, I had not expected that, but that sounds lovely. How about asian food at my place this Friday evening?".
Holy fuck, her place? Man, I'm a lucky dude.
"Are you cooking?", I ask and she nods, smiling, "Of course. I love cooking, especially exotic meals."
"You're like the perfect dream woman, fuck," I say without thinking, "You are fit and gorgeous and you also like to cook food? I'm fucking sold."
Aralyn grins at me and somehow I'm pretty sure she is used to men throwing themselves at her feet. She isn't blushing at all, but only gives me a confident smile, which only makes her even sexier in my opinion. A woman with confidence, now that is everything.
I watch her as she throws her gym bag over one shoulder and I stand up as well. I'm just about to get my phone out of my pocket, ready to ask for her number, but instead, she brushes past me, her perfume lingering in the air for a moment. I send her a confused look as she walks past me and I feel extremely stupid and pathetic when I find myself shouting after her, "Wait, I didn't get your number."
She glances over her shoulder, giving me her sexy smile again, "Don't worry about it, Marshall. We both know you'll find a way to contact me again."
With that, I watch as she disappears around the corner and all I can concentrate about is the smell of her perfume which still lingers slightly in the air.
Grinning to myself, I put my hands in my pockets as I begin to make my way back to the office. Alright, so I didn't get her number, but she is right; I shouldn't worry about it.
After all, I know where she works.
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day-off-inkyoto · a month ago
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Walking Cold Compress (Max Phillips x F!Reader)
Summary: You and Max's baby daughter has a fever, and he has an unconventional idea on how to make her feel better.
Warnings: Sick baby (I have never dealt with a sick baby, but I used to work at a children's hospital, and I consulted Google, but this might still be inaccurate. It's entertainment, folks. Vampires aren't real either.) Mention of pregnancy. Tooth rotting fluff. Extra soft Max P!
Author's Note: More self indulgent fluff from me. I guess that's my thing now! I wrote this last night, but re-read it and edited it today under the influence of painkillers. This is my first time writing for Max P, so be kind.
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When you took the job at the marketing firm, you instantly hated your new boss, Max Phillips. He was arrogant, smarmy, had frat boy energy, and was basically everything you can’t stand in a man. You did not keep the fact that you couldn’t stand him a secret, but this didn’t stop him from flirting with you. He finally annoyed you enough that you agreed to one date, which was against your better judgement. You wanted to have a horrible time, but underneath the perpetual frat boy was actually something more. More dates followed, and before you knew it, you were head over heels for him.
He eventually had to tell you that he was a vampire, and he expected you to be repulsed by such a monster, but you were strangely ok with it. Life moved quickly, and before you knew it, you were moving in together. Max was surprisingly domestic, which shocked the hell out of you. He cooked for you, you both shared the chores, and he didn’t even freak out when you admitted you had baby fever. Of course, since he was technically dead, there was no way he was getting you pregnant. The two of you decided to go with a sperm donor, and you got pregnant surprisingly quick.
Before you knew it, your daughter Stella was born. She was wrapped around Max’s finger the second he laid eyes on her. You were unsure of how he would be as a father, but he surprised you yet again. He handled the late night feedings and changings since he was up all night anyway, which meant you were able to get the rest you needed. He called her his “Stella Bella”, and she was an absolute daddy’s girl. Sure your little family was unconventional, but you were so happy that you wouldn’t have it any other way.
One night when Max was handling night duty as usual, he noticed something was off. Stella was unusually fussy, and Max had noticed her forehead was warm to the touch. He hated to wake you, but he had no idea what to do. “Hey, babe, I really hate to wake you up, but I think something is wrong with Stella” he said as he gently shook you awake. You sat up, rubbed your eyes and noticed the panic on Max’s face, and heard Stella crying. “Oh, baby. What’s wrong?” you asked as you reached your arms out to take your baby from Max. “Feel her forehead, she’s burning up, and she’s been really fussy tonight. I think she might be sick.” You bounced her lightly to try and soothe her, and you put your hand on her tiny forehead. He was right, your poor girl was burning up. You handed her back to Max and got out of bed, “Let’s go take her temperature and then we’ll call the doctor.” He was surprised that you were so calm, because he was freaking out.
You and Max took Stella into your en-suite bathroom, and you got the thermometer out of the medicine cabinet. Max kept holding her as you took her temperature, which she did not appreciate at all. When the thermometer beeped, it read 100.0 even, and your suspicions were confirmed. He kept trying to soothe her as you got your phone to call the on call pediatrician to see if you needed to take her to the hospital or not. You went down a checklist of symptoms with the doctor, and other than the fever, the checklist was negative. The doctor said that since she wasn’t showing any other symptoms, and her fever was 100, there was no need to rush to the ER.They recommended some children’s Tylenol and a cold compress to try and break her fever, and to monitor her fever and any new symptoms that might come up.
You gave her the medicine and got a damp washcloth to put on her forehead. She calmed down a little, but she was still fussing, and the fever was being stubborn. “I have an idea.” Max said as handed the baby to you and he took his t-shirt off. You gave him a perplexed look and asked “What are you doing?” He took Stella back from you and held her to his bare chest. “Well, I am basically a walking cold compress, so maybe this will help her feel better. It worked for you that time you were sick with a fever.” You almost forgot that time you had the flu, and Max held you against his bare chest while you sniffled and coughed, and the coolness of his chest soothed your flushed face.
He started rocking her back and forth and her cries turned into soft sniffles. “Oh, baby girl. I’m so sorry you don’t feel well. But, Daddy’s gonna make it all better.” he cooed to her before kissing the top of her head. He continued rocking her and talking to her, until the sniffles stopped and it looked like she had fallen asleep. It appeared that her fever had finally broken, but you needed the thermometer to confirm it. You took her temperature again, and your heart broke when she whined in protest, seeing as she had just fallen asleep. This time, her temperature was normal, and you and Max were so relieved.
Max headed toward the nursery, and you followed him. He rocked her in his arms for a few more minutes to make sure she fell asleep again. Once he was sure she was asleep, he kissed her forehead and gently laid her down in the crib. The two of you stood there for a moment, just admiring your little love. Max put his arm around you, and you tucked your head into the crook of his neck. He kissed your temple before wrapping his other arm around you and pulling you into his chest. “I can’t thank you enough for this. For giving me a chance, for giving me a daughter, and for giving me this life. I never knew I wanted this until you came along. I love you so much.” He then pulled you in for a passionate, yet chaste kiss, then he took your hand to lead you back to your shared bedroom.
You tucked yourself back into bed, and he crawled in next to you after putting on another t-shirt. He pulled you into his chest and gave you a kiss on the forehead. You hummed in contentment, and leaned down to kiss you again, wrapping his arms tighter around you. You soon found sleep, and he was content to just hold you as you slept.
Tags: @empress-palpat1ne
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yourhealthmattersblog · a month ago
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It comes to be increasingly
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A powerful family members safeguards a nation from supernatural things !!!
At initial I was annoyed by this program to heck. Mind you, not due to the fact that I Had read it. However since every single time I am most likely to look for some freaking upgrades there would be ashigei shoujo komurasan at the extremely first, taunting me and vocal singing "na na you do not read me!". The obvious answer is always to review it yet I was self-willed as well as the name looked like a shounen which I wasn't in the state of mind for.
It went:
Among the honorable family members of England: the butler of Phantomhive: Sebastian Michaels has actually obtained undoubtedly excellent expertise, rules, capability martial arts, with stuff, and so on: but is additionally capable to serve a 12 years of age master. Wearing a grey tailcoat, gracefully making the globes most effective reddish tea, please continued reading to see exactly how such a best butler emulates this sort of master ...".
That seems enjoyable! A genuinely joyous manga!" HAHAHAHA! Yeah RIGHT! This issue ended up being among the blackest, awful, heavy, and also spun mangas I Have ever before read!
I however uncovered enjoyment of the peak degree while my initial principle of the manga was wholly misconceived.
Ciel is an orphan utilizing an eyepatch, a bundle, as well as likewise a bargain together with the evil one Sebastian.
Needless to say, this truly is all rather huge for a twelve-year old (hell, in the time they made the offer, Ciel was 10!) however Ciel never ever appears to fluctuate. He's bright, strong, great, as well as a lot from merciful. At the very least that is what he aims to be. As the narrative breakthroughs, it comes to be increasingly more evident that Ciel is established to conceal all emotion in order to secure himself from the planet. Him solidified and also a lot of the string is obviously concerning him acknowledging his weak points and also facing his very own innocence.
Yet if only its an ideal daughter would you even pamper the worlds strongest where Ciel is an open publication, prepared to read by visitors that are passing away, Sebastian is a secret and closed off. Dim estate and also his limitless smile is menacing and also you additionally can not help yet picture he is just looking after Ciel for his spirit that is scrumptious, tasty. Nevertheless in the anime there are moments that indicate he may actually care for Ciel.
I 'd such as to note at his time this collection ISN'T a shounen ai/yaoi. Since the two primary personalities are a bishi and also a shouta and they've a "special partnership" it's assumed they're taking part in "incorrect activities" (aka they are joining NMBLA). I assume this is terrible. I can not think folks intend to presume that. Must individuals in addition to their foul heads mess up all wholesome reltionships.
Sebastian recognizes him can not damage as well as Ciel understands a spiritual agreement that can not be broken binds Sebastian. Sebastian is the single man given that Sebastien is truly powerful he understands that if anybody attempts to cross him, they are dead and also Ciel can rely on. It is not love, simply a partnership. Now that I am done with that, Iwant to generate note of the narrative. Rather than shoujos this string is broken up into lots of stories and also miniature arcs which normally advise you something recognized concerning these personalities. Consequently do her bidding and also Ciel needs to run off with Sebastian. These stories will often start of with a large amount of amusing, smart statements partnered with new characters to help the storyline.
Quite location in precisely the very same period and also dark. The solitary distinction is I truly appreciate the artwork in ashigei shoujo komurasan. The information is by means of the roofing with tasty sweets, high style, lovely London community, and outstanding fashion too. Besides, I love reading this and extremely suggest to anybody that checked out manga. You may also visit https://bookreadingblog.site123.me/blog/it-really-feel-rough-contrasted
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prefectmoony · a month ago
Prompt 37 (from the first list) and bodyguard au seems interesting
By the way I love your writing please never stopped just finished your recent fic and its one of my favourites.
~Notes: 😭😭😭 baby u can’t be out here recklessly making me sob!!! I am so flustered right now!! Thank you so much for being a beautiful soul 😌😌 ok NEGL the bodyguard thing is not here Becs I’m dumb and couldn’t think of one, but there’s protective sirius💜 I hope you don’t hate this!!! ILU!!!
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Smash Game  |  Send Me A Prompt💜 |  A Reblog Means SO Much!!!!
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Alphard Black was a good man,  a man of his community,   a man of the law. He taught the ins and outs of the constitution  at Columbia, never went an inch over the speed limit, hell, he even  separated his recyclables into their proper piles for the garbage collector, and  all while spending his down time volunteering at some sort of virtuous charity or impactful outreach program for inner city youths—the man basically leaped right out of the screen of some cheesy, after school special, wacky ties and rumpled hair aplenty.
Alphard Black was a virtuous, humble man who abided by the laws set out for him to a painstaking degree—So Sirius sorta thinks it’s hilarious that he’s kind of the exact antithesis of his uncle— the man who brought him up after running away from his bat shit parents and their bat shit values as the top of the one percent.  Just kind of though.
Sirius likes to think he’s still a good guy—albeit in the typical, non second coming of Christ wannabe kind of way.  He gives spare change to homeless folks at Grand Central, doesn’t sneer at raucous kids inside of restaurants or busses… for fuck’s sake  he even smiles at strangers more often than not—— just the typical, What a nice day isn’t it, smile and not, I’m actually a blood thirsty maniac ready to carve out all your organs and wrap your naked, dead body in saran wrap Dexter style, smile…Which is actually a type of smile Sirius has become intimately familiar with considering that unlike his Uncle Alphard, Sirius may have a problem with the whole “Laws are created for the good of the public,” ideology, and rather subscribes to the way of thought that thinks it’s kind of thrilling to see how much you can bend and skirt around the rules till they break, or till he gets caught. Which in turn mostly manifests into Sirius participating in a very high demand business—the sort that’ conducts it’s transactions within the metaphorical underground, and makes it so he spends his days with a group of brilliant  assholes that he considers family, and a discretely wicked boy who he thinks is most probably the love of his god forsaken life.
Mother Mary,  help them all.
~*~
“Padfoot too Moony, are you in, Moony.” 
A moment of static passes before Remus’s voice trickles through the minuscule bluetooth  snuggled in Sirius’s ear, and he can’t help but smirk. “Why are you still trying to make these codenames work—they don’t work, they’re all awful and trash,  and we should just stick with the numbers we were given when Moody first scouted us.”
“Mmm yeah, Moons, talk dirty to me.”
“You’re a fucking idiot,”
“Say trash again.”
“I hate you,” Remus intones. He  sounds all surly and bothered, and Sirius’s fingers curl together to card through the phantom strands  of his hair, knowing full and well how adorably flustered Remus gets whenever they are having one of their little sparring sessions—It’s also the same look he gets whenever he’s incredibly turned on and has no idea how to handle it. Coincidence? Sirius thinks not.
“Ah, Moony, my love, you say that as if my perfect baritone isn’t the highlight of your day. Like you don’t write sonnets and odes about it’s every cadence and lilt in your little diary you think I don’t know about. As if—“
“I’m shutting you off now,” Remus cuts in with his best, I’m trying to pretend  that I am so totally annoyed even if I’m actually really amused by you and all your antics, voice. It’s one that’s basically come second nature to him whenever he speaks to Sirius, ever since they had met three years ago and Sirius had to teach him the trick of the trade after Remus had been invited into the fold, while also trying not to completely accost him with his lips and hands and teeth until the work day was over.
“You would never.” 
“You seriously have an overinflated sense of worth if you’re starting to doubt that I very much would,” Remus goads, but he forgets that Sirius can see every nook and cranny of the swanky penthouse from his perch in the getaway van, thanks to his very beautiful laptop monitor.  And yeah, Sirius can so totally spot that little flicker of a grin tugging on the edges of his pink lips,  where Remus is trying to hide it behind the flute of wine in his grasp—his very strong and capable grasp, one that’s wrapped around the neck of that glass just so tight—Oh, erm, yeah. That’s  a thought Sirius should definitely not be having at their current predicament.
“Righto, beautiful, whatever you say.”
“Was there an actual reason for your little interference, besides you being pissy that you had to take the get away position this time around?” Remus sighs, long suffering before offering a subdued, half grin to a very haughty looking woman passing him, predatory leer on her plump lips. And jeez, Sirius bemoans her poor eardrums if they’re suppose to be carrying diamonds that thick all night long— Poor hag will probably end up needing stitches like his dear mother.
“I missed you is all, lover.”
“Goodbye, Sirius.”
“Oh fine, you total spoil sport. Just an FYI that Marlene’s gotten into the volt’s room, and she’s decoding it as we speak.”
“Oh, good. Should I-“
“Moons, it’s Marls, she’s got her shit handled. You just stand there and be a the good, pretty honeypot that we all know you can be.”
Remus growls somewhere deep in his throat, and it’s bringing a flurry of such beautiful imaginings to the forefront of Sirius’s mind— including last night, with Remus’s lovely, thin wrists tied up and Sirius’s mouth trailing up and down his every patch of skin.
God, was that a good night.
“You’re a pain in my ass.” 
“I know, it’s a point of pride for me that I get to say I tap that. But hey, always game to switch things up if you are?”
“You are the absolute worst person ever.”
“Ooo are we circling back around to speaking filthy things, because I’ve been having this fantasy including you and these lace—“
That’s when Remus actually does shut off the communication device, and starts chatting up some smarmy businessman who can’t stop staring at his protruding collarbones.
Sirius is most certainly not jealous.
Nope, not at all—Not even a little bit.
Sirius is not jealous.
Okay, fine…So he’s a bit bothered, but can anyone blame him? All of that—chorded muscles and sparkling eyes—is reserved for  Sirius, and Sirius alone. It’s taken years of volleying barbs and really intense sexual tension that was all finally resolved after a way too dramatic spat outside some sleazy BDSM club on the wrong side of town where Sirius got himself fucking shot, and Remus couldn’t stop yelling at him for being such a mother fucking, idiotic, thoughtless prick, (Remus’s words not Sirius’s,) for them to finally get to this point. For fuck’s sake, it seemed as if Remus’s anger fueled diatribe would never end, so Sirius just took the dilemma into his own hands and slanted their lips together, bloody and breathless, panting out an “I love you too,” while Remus just patted up and down Sirius’s torso, not knowing where to put his hands, dumbfounded and eager. As if he could hardly believe that it was actually happening, as if he was shocked that Sirius had finally just put them out of their mutual misery and spoke out loud what’s been lingering in their gazes, and tailing the ends of too short exchanges for years at that point—ones always composed of banter and barbs but always to fearful to take the extra step they yearned for.
Yeah, so it wasn’t exactly a cinderella story level of romance, but the point is they’ve fought tooth and nail to finally get to this point in their relationship. Nights made up of spilt hair on warm sheets, and  hungry kisses of farewell, and shirts tumbling together so many times that  they don’t even know which belongs to who anymore—All of them lingering with a sent of both of them, together. Something intimate. Something remarkable. Something far too soft when considering their line of employment—But it works for’m, and that’s all that counts.
Before Sirius could get to lost in getting all starry-eyed over the life they’ve built for themselves, Sirius moves to sweep his hands across the keyboard, A cautious eye still on Remus and his unwanted suitor while dividing the screen so that he can check back on Marlene’s progress, which is quite impressive if he does say so himself.
“And Black Widow pulls through again,” He commends with a low whistle, watching her practically stroll out of the volt, ancient artifact securely settled in the bag swinging off her shoulder, and cocky sneer proudly splayed across her pretty face.
“You know it dweeb.”
“THat’s not my code name,” Sirius points out  with a put upon exhale.
Marlene’s only response is to hike up her manicured brows in counterfeit surprise.  “you sure? I could’ve sworn…”
Sirius legitimately contemplates just driving off and leaving her stranded, signaling to Remus a separate meet up point for just the both of them. But Eventually, he reasons  that might be a bit of an over reaction. So he settles for just growling out a reminder for her  to “Respect the name,” while a glowing Marlene slinks into the passenger seat.
“Your so precious.” Sirius swats her hand away where she’s begun rubbing her knuckles into his scalp. “Call pretty boy and let’s bounce, will you?”
Reluctant, Sirius listens—only and only because he’s about ninety nine point five percent positive that she could probably beat’m to a pulp with one hand tied behind her back and both eyes glued shut.
~*~
The mission was one they’ve been calculating for months, a huge catch with a credibility brought with it that doubles its actual monetary prophet—(And wowza, that price check is all levels of ridiculous.) Moody is beyond  proud, and tells them as much with a crazy large celebration back at their little underground headquarters, (which is actually an entire floor on one of the top levels of a huge ass skyscraper in the meatpacking district that disguises itself as just a financial consultant firm in the light of day.)
It’s made even more wonderful considering how he, Remus and Marlene are basically the guests of honor for their success. So that night  they drink, and dance and just generally get absolutely slobbered…Then subsequently remember nothing the following morning, as tradition always dictates.
Though Sirius does  distinctly remember trading sloppy hand jobs in the bathroom with Remus while the latest Beyonce banger pounds in the space between them.
 It’s a good night.
~*~
Unsurprisingly, the hangover that persists even two days later really makes Sirius question the worth of all that celebrating, and he ponders on whether or not being sober would be so bad.
“Morning, Black!” 
Sirius cringes back at a crowing Dorcas—Looking as wickedly gorgeous and put together as always—Dark eyes clear and methodic, and long curls obviously freshly washed. 
“Sorcerous!” He accuses with as much vehemence as he could muster. “your evil! How are you even so perky! Stop it! Stop! You’re hurting my eyes!”
Dorcas just preens with far too much amusement than what should be warranted—it’s almost as if she’s enjoying his pitiful disposition. “Not all of us got as sloppy as you Saturday night may I remind.”
“Then you’re doing your entire life incorrectly.”
“I just have a modicum of self restraint, unlike you.”
“Lies! Lies and slander! I am so very disciplined! I didn’t even tell you guys about the time Remus gave me a blow job in the middle of a glass elevator when we were shopping for Jamsie and Lily’s engagement gift!”
Dorcas just rolls her eyes heavenwards, painstakingly exasperated. “C’mon, dumb ass, Alice needs you to use those hacking skills of yours to get the money Lestrange still owes us for collecting those tears of the ocean. And her bank account is sealed shut.”
“Ah, no Cas ’s too early! And my head hurts! I can’t.”
“Shouldn’t have been such a drunken mess during the party I reckon,” Dorcas scoffs with an imperious tilt of the head, tugging him along without even an ounce of sympathy.
“Hey! It was a celebration!” Sirius flails, and Dorcas just looks at him with a decidedly unconvinced glower. 
“It’s all in moderation Sirius.”
“Not at a party it isn’t!” He argues back, totally knowing he’s in the right.
“Yeah whatever, you’re just lucky you weren’t sent off to Shanghai with lover boy, which by the way,” Dorcas pivots on her heels  to face Sirius straight on, prodding at the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder.  “Looks like you missed a hickey sweets,” she toots loftily, poking at it again, a flush blooming across Sirius’s cheeks in response.  “Not good work decorum if you ask me.”
“You’re face ’s not good work decorum,” Sirius snarks back mulishly. Dorcas just laughs with glee.
“Do I need to talk to poor, innocent Remus about proper biting placement for you once he gets back?”
“Pff, Remus and innocent don’t belong in the same sentence.”
“Fine, then  I can just give you some tips on how to properly layer foundation? I’m sure it’s a travesty how easily shit shows up with your Wonder Bread complexion.”
“You actually are evil! Aren’t you?”
Sirius could still hear Dorcas’s cackles from down the hall where Alice has set him up for the morning, and he idly thinks to himself how exactly he’s made it so that every woman in his life could destroy him with nothing more than a look.
~*~
Considering that all of their  livelihoods are basically glorified bank robbers, Sirius knows that their jobs don’t really lend themselves to being able to check in on each other whenever they’d please—the only devices they’re allowed for communication are the bluetooth sets  for the team deployed on the task at hand, and a single burner. It can get annoying sometimes, but Sirius and Remus always make it a point to send each other a message from the router phone  whenever they arrive to the mission’s ground of operation—It’s a practice ingrained into them, one  they began long before they ever started dating, one  that they never break, not even if they’re arguing or it’s the middle of the night—It’s important. They’ve both lost to many people in their short lives, and they both know how it feels to be delegated to the worrying mess, wondering what’s happening to their loved one, being consumed by the most awful of possibilities. They do it because they respect each other far too much not to.
So Sirius finds it excruciatingly odd that he doesn’t hear from Remus in over thirty-six hours since he left to the Shanghai hit. 
“Maybe he just forgot, Pads,” James shrugs, always the level headed ringleader. “No Proclivity is absolutely bullet proof—Ah, excuse me for the unplanned pun.” He scratches the back of his head a little sheepishly— the glasses of his wireframes glinting in the light of their shared workspace.
And the thing is, point. James is totally right. Remus just could’ve forgot. It was a long plane ride, he could’ve just been jet legged and a little dazed and it could’ve just slipped his mind  to message Sirius when he landed. That’s totally a possibility. 
But see the thing is, that’s also totally not a possibility—like at all. Remus is like the most diligent person on the face of the planet, which may kind of seem out of character considering how he’s more of the type to follow his heart over protocol when it counts, and his entire livelihood is based off the evasion of the law—But even still, Remus is also the guy who likes a true and tried method. He likes having security in the aspects of his everyday  life he can control. Sirius knows how borderline neurotic Remus can get about certain things, like finishing all of his paper work the night it’s given, or having a stable workout regiment, and a bunch of other minuscule, everyday things that tethers him. But Sirius also knows that the texts Remus sends him blows all of those out of the water. They’re something crucial—something vitally important. If the roles were reversed, if it were Sirius who forgot to send the text, then yeah, Remus would have a perfect history to look back on and just shrug it off as Sirius having been thoughtless, no big deal. Remus would just make a note to give him  an ear full when he gets back. 
But the rolls aren’t reversed.
It’s Remus who didn’t send anything, and Sirius knows it in his heart of hearts that this is not normal, that Remus would never have forgotten. Remus would never have fucking been able to go to sleep without passing Sirius a message of safe arrival. It’s just not him. 
James still looks unsure even after Sirius’s way to verbose and borderline babbling explanation of why he knows something isn’t adding up, so he decides to hit him below the belt.
“If this were Lily you wouldn’t be second guessing this.” 
James jolts back as if Sirius had just smacked him, which Sirius guesses is kind of true, in the metaphoric sense at the very least. But whatever, Sirius’s right, and he knows it. 
IF this was Lily— the beautiful, kind baker that James had met coincidentally on a random Sunday afternoon, someone completely divorced from this world— well, there would  be no room for discussion.
“IF this were Lily you would trust your gut, and we’d already know what went wrong. We’d know that you were right, the she wasn’t safe.” Sirius’s face feels heated, and he knows that his throat is closing up, but he can’t help it god damn it. This is Remus—And even the thought of him being in any way hurt—No, Sirius refuses to think that way. Because he’s not, he can’t be. This is Remus god damn it. He’s brilliant and strong and he can handle himself. He’s what everyone in their group secretly strive to be—He’s not hurt, he can’t be hurt.
James just sits there, gawking at Sirius, for a moment of pure and utter silence. Sirius doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t fold back from the intensity in his best friend’s— his brother’s— gaze. 
“This is Remus god damn it, James”
Something fierce rippling over his face, James nods, finally seeming to understand.
“Let’s tell Moody,  and call a group meeting. We need to figure out what the hell’s going on.” 
Sirius sags with the little relief he’s given, pretends that it doesn’t feel like there’s not a wildfire still spreading over his chest  from the  bone deep fear.
~*~
Two hours later finds their little ragtag group huddled in the largest meeting room they have, and  Sirius hunched over a menacing letter that was hand delivered by one of Lestrange’s ghoulish little minions— Crouch if their intel is correct. 
“Any news is good news, right?” Peter— their mousey little researcher— says in some weak attempt of comfort from where he’s silently been situated in the love seat the furthest away from the lump some, and Sirius replies by snarling viciously at him;  making Peter shutter back, like the spineless weasel Sirius has always assumed him to be.
Sirius is not comforted. Sirius is furious and sick and he hates everything  in sight. And all Sirius could think of is Remus, Remus, Remus.
“What do we do,” James’s voice is strong, convicted in the painful silence of the room—But when Sirius looks up, he could still see the worry etched into his handsome features, and the fear threaded into his stance. 
James is scared, and that might worry Sirius more than anything else could. 
“This is my fault, I sanctioned just stealing the money she owed us and I was the one who thought Remus would be fine on a solo mission—I thought it’d be a simple grab. I didn’t put two and two together—I just didn’t—“ Alice breaks off, looking away from the group, and Frank slings an arm around his wife’s slender shoulders.
“Hey now, ’s not your fault, ’s not no ones,” as if to emphasize his point, Frank gives a downright menacing grimace to everyone in the room, daring them to disagree. “It’s Remus, he’s resilient. And that bitch knows if he’s actually hurt we’ll destroy everything she’s ever built for herself.” 
“Don’t be so sure,” Sirius’s surprised of the jaggedness of his own voice, leveling him with a look of utter fury. “She’s a psychotic, selfish, self indulgent bitch—There’s worse things than just beating him up or locking him in some cellar.” 
From the corner of his eye he sees Alice shutter, is briefly reminded of that stint where she was badly injured after a run in with one of the darker ringleaders in their line of work, Riddle. And then he remembers, unbidden, how that bastard has some sort of fucked up Harley Quinn, Joker esthetic going on with Bellatrix Lestrange— and a sick, twisted part of Sirius that actually does blame Alice for sanctioning those two risky missions so close together, is savagely pleased of the effect that the reminder has on her. But the rest of Sirius is just disgusted by himself and hates himself even more when remembering where Remus is at this very moment, and what he must be going through. There’s no time to be pointing fingers, and Sirius knows it.
“Whatever, no time to think of it now,” Sirius rises, and the way all of their eyes follow his every move (Even Moody who is the actual boss— doesn’t go over his head. 
“What do you think we should do from here?” Dorcas asks in a small voice, clutching onto the letter like a life line—She’s Remus’s best friend, Sirius knows that, knows that she stopped only skirting  along the edges of this unsavory line of work until Remus came along and helped her wiggle out of her shell. And the reminder makes Sirius feel such a burst of aching for Remus all at once that he nearly topples over, just barely catches himself with a hand on the tabletop.
“Peter,” Sirius barks, making the blonde finally straighten. “Check out where Bellatrix is scheduled to appear next.”
“Ah, erm on it, of course.” 
Sirius starts to feel a little better—no not better, balanced. He knows what needs to be done, what will   happen next, knows that it’ll turn out all right. 
It has to turn out all right, because he can’t fathom a world where it doesn’t— a world without Remus isn’t worth even a breath.
~*~
If there’s anything that Sirius knows about supreme bitch face herself, it’s that Bellatrix is  cavalier to a fault. So it really doesn’t surprise him when Peter finds out that she’s holding a little gala for her new play things art exhibit in her own home that night, and Sirius intends on giving his congratulations, whether or not he’s on the guest list. 
~*~
“Hey, can you hear me.” 
Sirius presses an inconspicuous finger onto his eardrum when Dorcas’s voice breaks through, speaking the affirmative. 
“All right, well Moody says that upstairs is most likely where you’ll find’m. Marlene and James will stay down at the party just incase anything goes wrong.” 
“Right,” Sirius nods to himself, trying to put together all the new information that’s swimming in his mind. “Thanks Cas.”
“Stay safe, and bring him home. Don’t fuck this up, Sirius.” Her voice is small and fragile. Sirius could picture the gleam to her big doe eyes. “We need you both safe.”
“Of course."
~*~
As expected, the upstairs is a labyrinth of doors and alcoves that Sirius could barely wrap his mind around, the only constant thought is that it makes sense that Bellatrix would want to keep the money from the job she had them perform for her. The rent for this place definitely can’t be cheap.
Sirius tries at least ten different rooms before he comes across one that’s locked from the inside as well as a deadbolt, and His heart seizes with a choked sort of hope before he starts pounding against it. 
“Remus! Remus! Are you in there!” His voice goes ragged at how loud he’s screaming, but Sirius doesn’t let up. He starts calling  for him even louder if possible. “Remus!” 
“Ah, ah, ah,” Sirius stiffens, his blood running cold before slowly turning around to a very amused looking Bellatrix Lestrange. Predatory sneer swept across her blood red lips, and weight slung to her left hip. The picture of radiance and leisure in her slinky, black dress. She’s having fun toying with Sirius, with all of them. 
“Where the fuck is he,” Sirius spits out tersely—trying to sear wholes right through her disarming face. He thinks with a start  that she’d be pretty in an almost unchanging way—a timeless elegance that kind of mirrors Remus’s. But where beneath Remus’s golden exterior is all passion and goodness and an endless capacity of love, under Bellatrix’s pale white skin and dark eyes and sheets of even darker hair is just ugliness and cruelty and Sirius has never hated anyone more, or so intensely.
“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry that they sent the best of their group to the den,” She swaggers up to him, each step premeditated—a lion closing in on her prey, and her leer right then— self assured and cruel all at once— is like a mirror of his mother’s so thoroughly that it’s painful. “I’d really hate to ruin those movie star good looks you’ve got going on,” she runs the back of her hand down his face slowly, tendrils of her warm breath edging his lips. “And honey, you really are so deliciously gorgeous. But Moody needs to learn that no one double plays me so flippantly. No  respect, that kind of behavior  really can’t be tolerated. You understand that, don’t you  love?”
Right then, Bellatrix moves to  gouge Sirius right in the stomach with a dagger she had hidden in the sleeve of her dress—but Sirius’s quicker. 
He sweeps Bellatrix’s feet right from under her, twisting her arm behind her back and using her own weapon to chop off the doorknob, all in one fluid movement. Though,  he only has a sparing moment to feel boastful before he steps into the room to find Remus—sickly looking with blood matted in his golden locks, before everything turns to a buzzing in  the background—Sirius runs on autopilot, with the only crucial thought being to get Remus out safely. 
“Baby, I’m here, I’ve got you.” Sirius tells him with the words catching in his throat, and feels such a drowning amount of relief when he hears a gargled retort from Remus. “I’d never let anything happen to you, love. I’m so sorry. I’ll never let something like this happen again.” Sirius tells him with all the earnestness in the world, gently collecting him into his arms. “I’ve got you now, I won’t let go.” The promise is  as sure and true as the pump of his heart—Remus, Remus, Remus.
~*~
When they all return to headquarters, everyone circles a still limp and shallowly breathing Remus, while Dorcas figures out the extent of his injuries.
It’s the worst hour of his life Sirius thinks—The not knowing, it hurts like nothing else. And he swears once more, to himself and the moonlight and the stars peeking through the skyline that he’ll never let this happen, never again., doesn’t want Remus ever out of his sight.
~*~
A week later, and everything feels as if it’s back to normal—more or less.
Their bedroom smells like sage—thanks to the candles Lily bought Remus for his last birthday—And Remus’s swaddled into the most comfortable blanket Sirius could find—his twisted ankle elevated, and a fresh bowl of soup on his night stand.
It’d be the picture of absolute bliss… Now if Remus wasn’t scowling so morosely. 
“You seem mad,” Sirius notes, standing over him with a freshly fluffed pillow. Remus looks up at him from under his spider leg lashes, so very unimpressed.
“You’ve never taken care of me  nearly so intently   a day in your life.”  Remus charges.
“Untrue!” Sirius squawks in contrary. 
“When I got food poising from that sushi place last year, you blamed me for eating it wrong.”
“Yeah, well it’s blasphemous to ever blame Kimiko! The woman is a titan!” 
Remus’s mouth quirks up, his eyes twinkling with unadulterated adoration. “You’re an idiot.”
Sirius deflates. “Okay, so I might be kind of majorly mother penning it right now,” Remus cranes a incredulous brow. “Okay, okay so a lot mother penning it. But, Remus— love— you were missing—like legitimately missing. And then i found you and you were…” He trails off, can’t even speak the horrors of that night. 
“Yeah, I was,” Remus links their fingers together, pulling Sirius closer, and opening his mouth so that when Sirius crouches to come face to face, he can kiss him properly.  “But you happen to be a pretty all right boyfriend, you found me—I’m fine. You made sure of that.”
“More than all right prick,” Sirius knocks their foreheads together and Remus feigns being in excruciating pain. “I fucking hate you,” he snorts, saddling against Remus’s side, and nuzzling into his neck, taking in the miraculous scent of him— the citrus and cinnamon and sunlight that he’s come to crave at all hours of the day. “I love you sort of a lot, and it was the worst three days of my life, all right. Can you understand that?” 
Remus only hums,  kisses the tips of Sirius’s fingers before lacing them into his own.
“I understand, love, but Sirius, I’m fine. I’m here. You’re amazing, but you don’t need to protect me. Not constantly. This is our lives, and I need you to trust me that I can handle myself for the most part. All right?” 
Sirius makes a displeased sound, lips curled distastefully, and it makes Remus actually giggle like they were school boys again. And Jesus, Remus’s smile is blinding and beautiful and fucking hell, he’s here. He’s back in there room, back in Sirius’s arms.
“God, I missed you.”
Remus crunches upwards, kissing Sirius, and it feels like a promise that he’ll never leave him again. “I love you Sirius.”
Sirius leers, isn’t ready to have the conversation about learning how to let Remus go out without him. So instead he traces his thumb over Remus’s beautifully plump bottom lip, and bends down to whisper into his ear. “So can we talk about the lace then, because I’ve made some purchases and—“
Remus pushes him off their bed, and Sirius feels his laughter punching out of him in response.
~*~
~My Wolfstar FIC Index💜
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dan-crimes · a month ago
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Lmao I was gonna make an angry post about how people simply do not understand how picky eaters work (as well as people thinking they know better than the person with the actual issue in general) and it's just like some of the first results that come up were pissing me off cuz it was just like
"Oh it's because they're too scared to try new things and if they just tried new things they would simply like them and oh ur taste buds can't change unless you eat food you hate"
Like BRUH there are so many things wrong with that bcuz as someone who USE to be like that and now I am so the opposite and try new stuff constantly because I actually want to find new foods that I may like because having such little options on what to eat is actually so annoying and all the picky people that I know say the exact same thing. So I have tried MANY foods and some I've tried eating over and over again because it looked and smelled so good and I wanted to be able to eat it and enjoy it like everyone else without feeling unsatisfied and you know what happen? I had the same feeling towards the food no matter how much I ate it.
AND THIS IS ONLY SPEAKING ON THE TASTE FACTOR OF IT the smell, texture and consistency all play a part in whether something is actually good to eat. Like I enjoy avocados but if I think too hard abt it I will gag it up cuz the texture is SO BAD it's so slimy and gloopy and awful in my mouth.
Btw I can get past the smell of something, I have evolved from that a bit I just try not to smell new stuff and fail but then eat it anyway with a lump in my throat and then usually end up not liking the taste of it lmao.
ANYWAY I just think it's wild that some people think that picky eaters are just like?? Doing it willingly? That they're just being stubborn or childish? That it just doesn't make sense to them that everyone is different and the way something tastes to YOU could very well and most likely tastes very different to someone else... which is why people have preferences towards certain foods that don't fit ur own taste palette. Which is why asking someone their favourite food is so common cuz it's likely something within that food just responds to their taste buds in a different way than it does ur own.
Now I will leave you with a paragraph from an article I read that really spoke to me...
"People who have many papillae and very sensitive nerve endings are the most “picky” eaters because many foods are simply too overwhelming for their taste buds—which send negative signals to their brains upon coming into contact with unfamiliar foods. These folks are also better at identifying very specific flavors in foods (which is why some people can’t enjoy a pizza after removing the unwanted olives or onions from it because they can still clearly taste the leftover residue)."
Now the reason I really felt this is because I have this specific issue with pizza lmao, I enjoy plain ass cheese pizza, my sister likes pepperoni, you can NOT tell me that pepperoni does not have a strong ass flavour that you can 100% still taste even if it barely touched my pizza YOU CANNOT!! Bcuz I can taste that shit from a mile away and it is not my brain playing tricks on me cuz people have tried not telling me and I can taste it right away and I will NOT eat it lmao. My Mom thinks I'm overreacting (even tho she is a picky eater herself) but I can guarantee if you do scientific tests on that pizza you will be able to see the residue left over by the fucking pepperoni.
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travelingbytastebuds · a month ago
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ITALY WHERE: Many places... but mostly birthday cannolis! I've pretty obviously eaten Italian food before. If you haven't eaten Italian food like panna cotta, tiramisu, pesto, penne, spaghetti, ravioli, lasagna, calzones, gnocchi, any number of different pastas or pizza (which I always thought was an American dish but found out recently it actually dates back to literally the neolithic age in what would later become Italy!), you may possible be living under a rock and there is help out there if you ever want to step out into the sunlight and experience what us Earthlings call 'the real world'.
Therefore, this country got crossed off my list right away when I started down this road of tasting the world. But now that I am opening this blog, I should probably write something... but I'm not going to point out every single instance I had Italian food because that would be nuts... so I'll regale you all with one of my favorite memories about Italian food.
It was back in 2011 when I had just moved in to my then-friend's house (he would later become my fiance.. and even later become my ex-fiance, and now we're not talking at all, but good food memories can sometimes exist even with those people who are no longer in our lives). I'm annoyed that he's in so many of these food memories, but I digress..
Anyway, Dan was 100% Italian and (like my 100% Polish mother-- what is it with those folks?) he never let people forget it either. He actually invited me over his house the first time by proposing he make whatever was my favorite Italian food (lasagna!). Such a dangerous slope...
But this actually happened a few months after that when I was living at his house. The day before my birthday, we got into our first fight (the first of a million), so I decided to take off on my birthday before he woke up and ignore all of his txts he sent me, as you do when thoroughly pissed off.
When I got back to the house that night, he said he'd been wondering where I was. "I even went out on your birthday and bought you cannolis."
“Where are they?” I asked, readying to rush off to the refrigerator and get myself some birthday cannolis. They were a favorite treat of mine and something he enjoyed as well because it came from his people’s ethnic food. He was all about Italian things in life, always telling me how they were the true masters of the world and how they had brought us all out of the Stone Age. “Where? Where? Where?”
“I ate them.” He smirked.
My face fell as I reached the refrigerator. “Wha— but my birthday cannolis…” “They’re gone. I gave one to my mother.”
“How many did you buy?”
“Three. There was one for each of us but I had no idea where you went.” “You ate my cannoli!” I mock glared at him. He smirked back at me again as I sat back down on the couch, pretending to fume about the missing birthday cannolis. “But it was my birthday!”
“You were gone.”
“You could have saved me one!”
“Nope. Couldn’t. They were too delicious.” “You owe me a cannoli!” He agreed, but I still didn’t think I was going to be getting my cannolis any time soon. I waited a few days to see if he produced any replacement cannolis for me, but none came. Eventually I hatched my plan and waited for him to go to sleep. On one hundred index cards I wrote ‘You owe me a cannoli!’ and started taping them everywhere in the apartment—on doors, on the walls, hanging from strings on the ceiling. It started to look a bit like a serial killers’ lair.
I lay falling asleep on the futon, proud of my work, when I heard him come out of his bedroom for a midnight snack. He walked straight into one of the hanging index cards in his sleepy shuffle, stepping back while muttering, “What the hell—“ When he flicked on the light, he saw what I had done to his living room and laughed from the shock of it all. “Oh my god, I’m living with a crazy person.” I smiled and fell asleep.
When I woke the next morning, he had my cannolis waiting for me. He laughed about how he woke up the next morning and went straight to the store to buy them for me. He was still laughing about it and telling his friends about what I had done when I woke up around noon. Those were interesting times. I loved pranking him like that back then. And he said the creativity I put into all the crazy things I did was what made him love me all the more. Cannolis became our thing. He got them for me when my mother died and we bought them when we went out to eat if we saw them on the menu, always got the cannoli ice cream at Ralph's Italian Ices on Long Island, and at the EPCOT Food and Wine Festival when we went to Florida. Despite everything else that's happened between us, I’ve never been able to eat a cannoli since without smiling. Speaking of the EPCOT Wine and Food Festival, they have an Italian limoncello that is so incredibly bubbly-- limoncellos being the second most popular liqueur in Italy after Campari.
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And just one last note about Italian food... my self proclaimed holiday that helped me get through the pandemic: the first of every month was declared Pizza Day, where one and all who have lived through the previous month get to order a different version of pizza. It's just Pizza Hut, but some of the different variations have gotten... creative... in the past! And thus we leave Italy, the country that gave us heathens indoor plumbing and civilized society (which my ex never let me forget about, and I'm only sure is half true)...
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nextgensocsgalore · a month ago
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I’m Blue Ch4 The Dreaded Meeting P2
(Nori is the name of edible seaweed for those who don't know.)
It smelt like fish. But what else should she have expected from the local fish market.
It took her a while to get there. And already she was regretting it so, so much. There was too many sounds going on at ounce and too many people pushing against her even while she walked and for the entire time her antenna was pressed firmly against her head. WHY?! Oh why did her granny think this was a good idea?! She felt absolutely awful being made to go out for a second time that day. What was the whole point of going out early so she could get home if she was going to be sent out for a second time?! Oh well. It's not like she could say no to her grandmother if she really wanted to anyways. Right now she was focusing on trying not to get run over or fall over with the onslot of people crowding around her, too many vibrations of everyone walking around to comprehend which way is which from the moment she stepped into the giant crowd of it. It wasn't too hard of a trip to get there, after all she had passed the docks before on her way too and from the beach. It always smelt like fish, saltwater, and tons of different kinds of sun block lotions from all the people going there in the hot sun...or maybe that smell wafted over from the beach? It was always noiser than the beach too. Lots of people talking, venders shouting over the crowd for people to buy their goods, the metal and industrial sounds of the boats bringing in cargo and all the crates of goods being unloaded. She hated this. Couldn't see and barely got around in this place....But she better get this over with and get back out before all of this gives her a massive headache. ......But how the HECK was she supposed to find seaweed cuttings in this place if she couldn't tell which direction she was walking in...Ask someone she guessed? Great. This day just got better and better didn't it?
"AH!!" Someone from behind her pushed her forward and before she could stop herself, her whole face and front upper body collided with someone in front of her. Immediately she struggled to push herself from the other moving body in the dark, and held up her hands. "Im s-sorry! Im so sorry!"
"Hey, it's ok," a female voice answered back, "It was just an accident." There was a small pause as whoever was talking to her eyed her face. "Are you lost?"
"I um-.....Yeah." She deflated. "I'm sorry."
"Hey, it's not a big deal," the voice reassured, "Im here to help out everyone anyways since it's more crowded this year than usual. What are you looking for? Maybe I can help you find it."
Blue perked up a bit at her offer but still held up her hands. "Oh no. I couldn't bother you like that."
"Hey. It's no problem! It's what Im supposed to be doing here anyways, and you look like you could use a hand."
Looks like it huh? Yeah. She guessed she always did. "Oh...I mean, if you're sure-"
"Absolutely!"
"...This may sound strange, but Im looking for seaweed cuttings."
"Seaweed?," the lady asked confused.
Blue smiled nervously with a chuckle. "Oh it's n-not for me. My granny grows plants, she just needs some of these for her tank."
The lady in front of her nodded seeming to understand now and smiled, "Oh, a gardener. I get it now! Sure! I think there's a stand by the docks selling pieces of coral and seaweed to tourists. I think that might be your best bet. I can actually take you there if you want?"
"Wha- Oh nonono! T-There's no need for you to do that for me. If you could just give me directions Im sure I could find it just fine!," she insisted but flinched when another hand gently grabbed her own.
"I insist. To me I think you could really use a hand." She gave a small tug on Blue making her stumble with her first few steps being lead away through the crowd.
"Oh uh- Ok?"
The lady pulled her towards the left and Blue winced at the crowd of people pushing against her as they pushed through the crowd. This just getting better and better didn't it? But now she was being lead through the crowd by a literal stranger who she just literally bumped into and now she was just letting her take her somewhere? God, what was wrong with her right now? They continued to push through the tightly nit crowd and she grimaced at the rubbing of others against her and the firm grip against her wrist pulling her onward and onward, before they turned right again and the two ladies were going up towards where the boats docked, she could tell because the sounds of the boat's horns were blaring louder, and the sounds of metal cargo crates being heaved around was loud enough to make her head hurt as well as the shouting of people and merchant boats. She could here lots of men and women shouting things like: "FRESH FISH!! GET YOUR FRESH LIVE FISH RIGHT HERE FOLKS!!" "CRABS!! LOBSTERS!! OYSTERS!! CLAMS!!! WE SELL THE MOST DELICIOUS CRUSTATIONS!! GAURENTEED BETTER TASTING THAN ANY FIVE STAR RESTURAUNT!!" "SEA SHELLS!! BEAUTIFUL SHELLS AND CORAL IN ALL SHAPES AND SIZES!! PERFECT FOR ANY HOME DECOR!!" "Hey you there! How about some imported fabrics all the way from Canada! Or maybe you're interested in buying some of there American chips! They're all the rage these days!" "Beautiful pearls gathered off the coast from real clams! Wouldn't these make a beautiful necklace for your lady?~" And so on and so forth. Honestly it was all quite annoying and honestly she was surprised she already didn't have a headache right now. If she could see maybe she would've been interested in getting any of these, but honestly she didn't care. What good was all these things to a blind person anyways? All she needed was nori seaweed. Just get the seaweed, and get it back home to her grandmother so she could grow the cuttings. That's all that mattered now. The lady still continued pulling her until she shifted and they stopped in front of a tall building unknowst to Blue, but she was glad when they stopped and the lady released her hand finally.
"To the right here is a grocery store," she turned her head towards the store which people were going in and out of. "They buy and stock up some of the imported good that the fishermen sell here. Im sure if you're looking for any seaweed they wood have it here too."
Blue was currently rubbing where her wrist had been gripped but turned her head towards the constant jingling of a store bell ringing as people walked in and out with bags of food. "Oh. Really?"
The lady hummed a yes. "Sure is. My captain sometimes makes me buy his instant coffee here so I think it's safe to say it's a store."
Blue 'looked' back towards her. "Oh. So you work as a boat skipper."
"Sorta. It's boat work anyways. Will you be alright by yorself, Ma'am?"
"Oh y-yeah. I think I can get back out no problem." Blue gave her a polite smile. "It was very nice of you to help me though. Thank you."
The lady waved a hand. "No need to thank me, Miss. It's all in a day of a hero anyways."
Blue's antenna perked back up in surprise at her. "Oh! Im so sorry. I didn't realise you were one!"
"Nah. It's alright, and technically Im not a hero. A sidekick is the right word for what I do, but it's my job none the less to help out citizens when they need it. I was coming this way anyways to see my Captain about a report, so it wasn't any trouble at all," the lady assured her.
"Alright."...Blue bowed to her. "But thank you anyways. It might've taken me longer to find this if you didn't help me."
"It's all in a day's work, Miss. I have to be on my way now before the Captain wonders where I am."
"Yes." Blue leaned back up," And I should really just get the seaweed and get back home myself. It was nice to meet you."
"You too. Have a nice day, Ma'am."
Blue waved good bye as the lady turned on her heels and left. Leaving her in front of the store alone. Blue sighed and turned her head back towards the store she had lead her too and started forward towards the doorbell jingles. Well, can't say this has been a bad day so far. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
...Or so she thought
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im-a-useless-paperclip · a month ago
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Help! Need insight from professional contractors
Ok, so I’m going to try and keep this short. (News alert: I failed at keeping it short). My husband and I bought a home back in December 2020. It needed work..to keep costs “low” we decided to do this work in phases. Phase 1 consisted of a complete kitchen gut job and makeover complete with closing up windows and creating a new one, creation of a new hallway/doorways, removing walls, new electrical in certain rooms, new floors, rerouting plumbing and fresh new texture and paint in the main living areas.
We got quotes from 4 different contractors and decided on one guy who we just vibed with really well. He seemed honest, had a decent quote (not the lowest but not the highest either), and explained that the work could be done easily within a couple of months, specifically saying end of February/beginning of March.
During the demo phase and initial carpentry phase all was going well. The work seemed very professional. We were happy with it. Then the issues started coming in, and hence why I am here with you fine folks looking for some insight.
The contractor seemed to have lost interest in the project. He stopped being as available as he had been, not responding to calls or texts for a few days, stopped letting us know who or when subcontractors would be coming to do work, threw in a surprise electrical up charge. What I mean by “surprise” is, he told me not to worry about discussing the electrical work we wanted done until the electrician could be there. This was Pre-bid. Then post acceptance of the bid, electrician says “this is more work than I was originally told” (apparently the electrician forgot what was previously discussed and our original bid is fairly generic “electrical work as discussed”) leading to a $6k change order. Annoying, but fine we get it, I guess.
As work continues, we start noticing errors in some of the subcontracted work - electrician forgetting outlets/work that was discussed and accepted with the $6k change order (we’ve had to remind him at least 5 separate times about various things to the point he’s annoyed and feels like he’s doing “free work”), carpenter cutting holes way too big for the can lights we ordered and gave to them prior to them cutting, covering up outlets with drywall/texture/paint requiring them to have to go back and cut holes into the wall to “find them so we can pass inspection”, countertops being installed but not centered with cabinets, cabinet doors and drawers not assembled straight, causing some of them to not open and close properly, doors being too big for the new frames they built, painter being sloppy, and the list goes on..
As things progress with the project we maintain daily communication with the contractor despite him not always responding. Noting on the errors we are noticing, making him aware of potential issues we anticipate, etc. When he does end up coming to the house he is cordial, in agreement with us and reassures us that he is also unhappy with the work and will take care of it and make sure it gets done right. However, when he responds to our texts he frequently complains that he is over-budget with our project and how “we’re getting such a good deal”.
So basically we just want to know how to approach him..how do we get this work done properly the first time and efficiently. We have a baby coming along in a month and he was supposed to be out of here and done back in February. It’s now May and he seems to be dragging his feet with this. There were no delays in ordering materials, inspections, or anything..he has shared with us that he is working on his house too and “his wife is getting on him to get it done”. But that, to me, doesn’t justify his lack of professionalism (or what we view as professionalism) for our project.
We’re at the point of wanting to fire him, but we’ve already paid 90% of the project to him..yet the work is not getting done in what we think is a reasonable timeframe. We don’t expect subcontractors at the house every single day, we understand they have other projects they are working on simultaneously, but when we don’t see anyone for an entire week (sometimes 2 weeks) it becomes frustrating.
So to make a long story longer, as professional contractors, are we being unreasonable with our expectations? Or is this something we should get more assertive about with our contractor? Also, any suggestions on how to proceed would be greatly appreciated.
Thanks in advance!
submitted by /u/Maple_bear [link] [comments] from The Hivemind Improving Homes https://ift.tt/2QU08ps
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