#it took almost an entire year of daily work to gene her .

[deepglownautilus]

I love blossom so much why does blossom have to be the worlds most emotionally painful gene to get

#for context one of my favorite G1s I’ve done of all time has blossom #and I was at foraging level … 8 at that point. or something. long story short I spend MONTHS of daily foraging #it took almost an entire year of daily work to gene her . #flight rising #fr #fr blossom

[anayaahwrites]

KOT Ficlet #5 (Momoya Natsu/ Yoshinaga Atsumu)

When the lights start flashing like a photo booth (And the stars exploding, we'll be fireproof.)

Warning: Themes of underage drinking and implied sexual content.

Natsu roughly based on this art by @sasukeslove

A small AU on MomoYoshi's first meeting:

...

Natsu is six when he learns about Angels.

He’s perched on mama’s lap, carrying a new storybook with tiny hands and slowly pronouncing all the words. Her proud smile encourages him to read the larger words too, the ones he’d avoid out of embarrassment—something about a pro-fe-cky and a pro-mice that He exists up there somewhere, over the pillowy clouds watching down on them.

Mama tucks him in that night and tells Natsu to close his eyes and pray because Angels only come to good boys.

He’s ten when it all sounds like bullshit to him.

Over the years, Mom’s rosy smile had withered into a fatigued sigh, a cry for help to the God that never answers no matter how much they pray. Dad was more a guest than a resident. He came around once in a while to eat lunch—with a taut smile plastered eerily over his smooth features—and swiftly vanish to not return in that week .

They’ve stopped waiting for him and Natsu stops asking questions.

He’s thirteen when he meets Sei, a child around his age, except so much more charming and calm and composed for someone that carried half the same set of genes Natsu had. He learns of his father’s betrayal and is honestly shocked at his own lack of surprise. Still, he questions his God and why why why would He let mom’s heart shatter like that?

Sei is quick to laugh and tell him that God doesn’t exist and mom is just a victim to their monster of a father.

So he goes home that day to his outraged mother, hair coloured like glittery Christmas tinsel and sapphire lenses replacing his usual shade of honey brown. She snaps at the sight, yelling at him till her throat closes up, till nothing but a harsh sob escapes her and he lets her. They both had to cope somehow.

By the fall of his fourteenth year, he gets pierced four times and stops talking to his mother almost completely.

To hell with dad. To hell with God.

Natsu is fifteen, and he doesn’t care about anything anymore.

He’s fifteen and quickly realising from his daily job as a guitarist in the club that girls aren't attractive no matter how much they flock around him. He still humours them sometimes, a touch here, a kiss there since the pay is good enough for him to add some extra service on his part.

Mom plies herself with work as often as possible, to douse her misery in the decayed scent of piled papers and clunking keyboards. She leaves Natsu to deal with everything else on his own like the obedient son he is, letting him go like dad left her.

Natsu is alright, though. He’s done this far longer than she knows.

He stops reaching out to her, stops talking to someone up in the skies, settling instead to live a tranquil life in the shadows, under the dependable shade of music. He hates people. He hates the world.

Natsu is basking in the warmth of another uneventful day in the club, when in walks a boy out of fucking nowhere and his entire world tips on its axis.

The boy takes shaky, wary steps as if he were balancing on a trapeze. Dark black bangs like thick black rain spill over the side of his face, half covering wide brown eyes. Splotches of pink and porcelain white stick out where his sweater ends and skin begins. He’s small and delicate and beautiful, Natsu’s heart skips a beat. Or two. Or maybe three.

And why should he lie? Natsu has seen beautiful, quite a few varieties of it too. But this…this was different. This was unreal.

The boy looks around nervously before he catches something and there’s a spark in those hazel eyes, sharp and electric, a smile tugging at his lips.

Natsu follows his gaze. On the stage lies his own guitar—a pre-performance habit for people to know he was next. He took great pride because this itself garnered more clusters than anyone in the entire house.

Natsu smiles. So he was a fan.

He downs the customary shot of vodka, waving at the people before hopping on stage and wrapping the sling around his neck. He scours the audience for a familiar face and it doesn’t take a lot, to spot a splatter of ink black in the crowd, batting eager eyelids at him. The smaller boy realises the attention on him and glances behind to confirm his suspicion.

By the time he swings around, eyes blown wide in a stare, Natsu plays the first chord.

In an instant, his expression shifts to a mix of awe and interest, a silent worship and a loud cheer compiled in one small, thin body. He claps more than anyone else in the room, beaming like a floodlight by the time Natsu finishes.

It was nothing strange. He played among cheers every day but none felt as satisfying with this voice hooting and clearly standing out from his regular gang of squealing girls. He throws his head back laughing back stage when no one is there to see.

By the time Natsu gets out on the floor again, a little more thrilled for the night and dressed in something less flashy, he’s gone. He screws his lips in displeasure and asks his friend to make him something stronger than the usual.

This happens more nights than not, and it was frustrating him.

The moment Angel boy—as he’s dubbed him, steps in through the door, Natsu traces his every move and quickly registers a pattern. He only comes around on days the club was the busiest—specifically during Natsu’s performance, talks to no one and leaves before he has the chance to even ask a name.

Not that Natsu was interested in him or anything. He was just curious, is all—why this boy looked like a starved pet every time he saw him on stage and if he really smelled like soft winter blankets and warm fireplaces, all angelic and pure.

Okay, so maybe he was a little interested.

Months pass like that.

The mid-November chill comes with its blistering snowstorms and the club is jam packed—winters were some of their busiest months—and Natsu’s up to perform. Instead of preparing, he watches the door resolutely from the bar, tapping impatiently at the table.

As routine, it barely opens a crack, and he sees a sliver of ebony snaking it’s way through the crowd. The boy stands on his tippy-toes which don’t give him much of a view, so he does these tiny jumps—that are so adorable, for a second Natsu forgets his own name—and scowls when he notices no guitar on stage.

He checks the time, the stage and then scans the crowd. The anticipation throbs through Natsu as he follows his eyes cross the room in slow motion, dragging dragging until they eventually land on him. Everything stills—the thundering music, the singing and all he can hear is the low thump of veins against his skin.

It’s over in a flash.

“That your Angel boy?” The bartender gestures at the figure turning tail and running, drying the pad on his prized work station. He skillfully pours two coloured liquids into an oddly shaped glass and passes it over the counter to him.

Natsu hums, swirling the absinthe stained drink in hand, eyeing the smaller boy gasp as a couple slams against the door, clearly piss drunk with her suspended over his thighs and gyrating her hips into the man.

“Hey, chief.”

“Hm?”

“You think I can get off early tonight?”

The man raises an eyebrow. “Like when?”

“Like now.” Natsu answers, never letting his gaze falter from the head full of black hair slowly receding through the crowd, horrified.

The man guffaws, lifting a glass of water—since he can’t drink on duty—and clinking it with Natsu’s.

“Must be fuckin’ Christmas if you’re taking interest in anyone, so I’ll let this one pass. Don’t scare him off now. He already looks like a trembling lamb.”

Natsu knocks back the contents, swallowing the liquid till it numbs his entire mouth and smirks.

“I’ll try.”

So he follows the boy. Hands are immediately all over him from faces he recognises in passing—a girl he once kissed, someone that made him cake, but he pushes them off.

His boy of interest forces the hood of his shirt up all the way, and glances behind him once before increasing his pace. Maybe the lights are really getting to him and maybe Natsu is a little tipsy when he reaches out to grab his hand.

The boy flips around to lock eyes frantically, as if a ghost had seized him.

“Hey.” Natsu musters his sweetest smile.

“Hi..” The boy replies.

And oh, his voice. It’s sugary sweet and so so soft like—like actual rolls of smooth and silky cotton had woven them. He blushes fiercely under Natsu’s relentless gaze and stares where their hands were connected in a tight grip as if it burned holes through him.

Natsu frowns. “Don’t run.”

The boy’s gaze shoots up, and he’s pulling away.

“I-I’m sorry I really h-have to go—”

“It’s my birthday.” Goddamn, he must be really wasted to admit that. Now that he thinks about it, what did he just drink?

Twentieth November, the day he was born and incidentally also the day he found his father’s tongue down another woman’s throat, holding a child over his shoulder.

“Oh,” The boy stops, pursing his lips and letting the hood go all the way down before flashing easily one of the most ethereal smiles Natsu has ever seen.

“Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” he replies awkwardly. “It’s not going really well.”

“No?”

Natsu nods. “It’s nothing different.”

“You want it to be special?”

The buzz in his nerves practically screamed a yes to that—he wanted something to remember, to bury the horrible memories he associated with this day, for the days he wished he was never born in the first place. He wanted to fit it all in this one boy in one night, this angel he didn’t even know, to free him from himself.

Natsu tightens his grip. “Dance with me?”

Oh boy, the alcohol was talking.

Angel boy looks at Natsu with wide doe eyes, peers back at their hands and gulps. Natsu frowns and releases his hold. He was drunk, probably a little more than he’d admit to, but he didn’t want to pressurize anyone—not when this boy already looked so out of his element, a beige hoodie and skinny jeans in a club full of scantily clad folk.

But he reverses the roles, grabbing Natsu by the fingers so delicately, he releases a soft hum of satisfaction. He rubs fingers between his own, feeling the brush of calloused fingertips on them. It reminds him of mom’s soft chest rising and falling when she slept beside him because he was her ‘perfect little angel’ and made him feel safe.

He misses it. Misses being safe. Misses being loved.

“Okay,” the boy mumbles, peering from under his natural hood of hair with a light smile. “Okay. Let’s dance.”

Natsu doesn’t really know what he’s doing anymore. The lights blink and they’re suddenly in stop motion. It tricks his brain into thinking of them as pictures trapped some place in his brain forever. So he stares and stares and captures the blush spreading like wildfire across the boy’s face, a smile widening in tandem with the soft beats.

They’re two faces among a thousand on a random winter night. The music isn’t his type nor is his attire anything to be proud of. But this boy. Holy heavens, if he isn’t the prettiest thing ever then the stars should be ashamed because damn, he’d beat them even on a bad day.

His hair sways—a steady swing of left right left right and a pleasant smile sits snug on his features like that’s where they belonged, that’s where they had always belonged and Natsu closes his eyes when their hands meet again.

This is perfect.

It’s when the music stills that they transition to a slower lull of movement, and the blaze of liquor in his blood emboldens him into yanking the boy a little closer. He lets him fall with a small plop on his chest and laughs when he rubs his nose, scowling.

“Why do you never wait back?” He asks, exhaling at the warmth the boy’s presence brings. Natsu puts his hand around his waist and he swears, it was like he wasn’t human, like someone had sculpted him out of clay, moulded to near perfection. And maybe he’s treading into dangerous waters, but his mouth had a mind of its own and there’s nothing he could do to stop it.

“I always look for you after I’m done but you’re never here.”

Pair of hazelnut eyes sheepishly peer at him.

“I’m sorry. I’m just.… not good at socializing.”

“So you say,” Natsu laughs, “But you’re doing better than me.”

“No way!”

“Yes way.”

“You have to be kidding me you’re so cool—and and so beautiful I really cannot—since the beginning I haven’t been able to take my eyes off—”

He squeaks when he's dragged closer by the small of his back. Their eyes meet. Natsu sees flashes of every happy moment of his life mirrored in them; His first recital, mom’s naturally loud laugh, the first time he played the guitar. They reach into Natsu’s soul and drag out his joy like the reel of a kite.

“I thought you were an angel,” he chuckles so close, he feels the boy shiver against his cheek. “I still do. Everyone here calls you Angel boy. Score a drink from them with that name sometime. I’m sure they’ll oblige you.”

“Angel? I—” He breathes a giggle, twisting silver strands with his fingers. “If there’s any angel here, it’s you.”

But this is fake, he wants to say. It’s fake, artificial, made of desperation because he never wants to look into the mirror and see his father’s face staring back at him. He won’t be him. He won’t.

“Atsumu,” he says. “My name is Atsumu.”

“Atsumu.” Natsu repeats in his head till it rolls naturally over his tongue. Like Atsu meaning heat and summer and everything bright and cheery.

Natsu purposefully lingers near his ear, to breathe his name in the air, smiling, content.

“ ‘Tsumu. It’s cute,” he hums. “You’re cute.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Definitely.” He chuckles.

Atsumu whispers, low and uneasy. “C-can I ask you something?”

“Mhmm.” At this point, his voice gave him a greater high than the drink he had downed fifteen minutes ago. Or was it an hour? He couldn’t really tell and decided very quickly he didn’t care, anyway.

“Why don’t you.. come to school?”

Natsu’s eyes open a crack to glimpse at the boy who trembles softly under him, as if he were admitting to a crime.

“I—” he continues in alarm, “I swear I’m not a stalker I just—Oh my god please don’t misunderstand me—”

“Calm down.” Natsu shushes, smiling apologetically at the few people around him that had been torn out of their aggressive make-out session as if they weren’t the ones that needed a room. God, if he sees another dick hanging out, he’ll have to bust out the chainsaw in the basement and go wild.

“So,” he leads them to a quieter corner with very few people and lesser eyes their way. “School,” he waves a hand dismissively, “It’s boring. Lots of people. Annoying questions. You know the drill.”

“Right,” he gulps. “Right so, I’m uhh—in your class I don’t think you noticed and I’m from an instrument club and someone asked us a question. Something about erotic sounds—wait that sounds bad—not erotic erotic but.…Ah, I’m bad at explaining.”

Natsu doesn’t keep back the dreamy giggle that leaves him, swaying lightly to the music. He’s exactly as he imagined—hell, even his name was spot on—all warm and giggly and fluttery.

“I’m still listening,” Natsu smiles. “Go on.”

Atsumu scrunches his nose and continues. “So one of my club seniors—he comes of a little rough but he’s really nice—went to one of my other seniors house who I think he really likes, and her mother told him it’s—I’m sorry am I too confusing?”

“I think I can manage.”

“Okay, so basically, her mother says it’s the pause in between his words and actions. The space that is just…there. And so I was writing about it—because I write everything—and Oka-kun saw my book.”

Natsu scowls. “Oka is annoying like that.”

The boy giggles this time. “Funny. He said you’d say that.”

“It’d be nice if he attempted to change it, then.”

“And so he told me you play music, where you work and that maybe you could do something good for once—I didn’t say that he did—So…” He moves his hand vaguely around them. “Here I am.”

Natsu hums against his head, bringing him to a slower pace as the song changes.

“I’ll have to thank him for that.”

“You’re not..angry?” He says through furrowed brows. “Oka-kun said you would be if you found out.”

He’s certain if Oka showed up here uninvited, Natsu would promptly kick him out. Because Oka is annoying. Atsumu however….

“So? Did you get your answer?” He asks instead.

The smaller boy makes a face, pulling all his features in to make his button nose stand out more than it already does and pout.

Natsu laughs. He’s been doing a lot of that today. Laughing.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Don’t get me wrong! Your performances are splendid and I really can’t get enough of them but the answer…I still haven’t reached a conclusion.”

Natsu plays with the fingers in his hand, shuffling to let them sink into the gap between his. Atsumu stares and responds by shyly tucking his fingers in.

“Want me to help you?” He whispers, tapping the side of Atsumu’s waist with his other hand.

“Can you?” He whispers back.

Can he? Yes. Should he? Probably not.

But what use is logic anyway, when a boy the embodiment of a sunny summer day amid a bitter winter stood enclosed in his arms?

Yeah. To hell with logic.

Natsu sways his hips, raking his free hand through Atsumu’s hair. He releases a pleased sigh when the tiny fingers between his tighten as if it were the only thing anchoring him to reality, which was good. Natsu felt the same, like his sanity was slowly slipping through open fingers.

“Spaces…exist everywhere. In words, in voices, in time…” He draws their joined hands to his mouth, dragging wet lips over porcelain skin. Atsumu shudders, breathing in sharp, shallow exhales.

“These hands..there’s a space in between them too if you look carefully. We’re so close,” fingers tighten around his shirt. “But still never close enough.

He runs a palm down the boy’s face that angles and angles till plush, red lips are within kissing distance. They part and blow warm clouds of air that taste mint and chocolate in his mouth. Natsu smiles. “Space is where there is distance. Space is where there is intimacy. Space is where there is friction. And this exciting gap that keeps us wanting to be closer till not even an atom could squeeze in—” he leans in closer, “—is erotic.”

He backs away while he has the physical capacity to do so, before the alcohol overrides every decision in his head and they end up a tangled mess of limbs in some random hotel room, but Atsumu having none of it.

He pulls Natsu to himself, clutching the pleats of his shirt and tugging him down to his lips. Teeth knock loudly against each other and Natsu hisses lightly, parting to lick the tingle in the tip of his incisor away.

“S-sorry!” Atsumu covers his embarrassment behind shaky hands. Natsu wraps thin fingers under his chin, reeling him in slow and steady and closes the distance. It’s soft, like a snowflake on a tree, virgin snow settling on frozen water and ironically, melts him. It boils and freezes, ignites his soul into a firework of bursting flames. He’s touching, feeling, pulling until every inhale feels like fire in his lungs.

“Closer,” Atsumu murmurs, throwing nimble hands over his shoulder and locking their lips together like puzzle pieces on a gameboard. “Make the space go away.”

It’s chaotic, and it’s magical. Like every star in the galaxy twinkled around them tonight, like every blossoming flower settled wherever Atsumu touched him. He’s drunk on vodka, drunk on happiness, drunk on love.

Closer. Natsu pushes a knee in between his thighs. His mouth hangs open in a silent moan, eyes slowly rolling into the back of his head.

Closer. The hands in his air pull him in for another searing kiss, pressing for entry, to delve deeper, deeper into themselves. Atsumu nibbles lightly on his lip and Natsu lets him bruise him for tonight. To wreck him, destroy him.

Closer.

They settle for a slower casual rhythm when they part to breathe. He keeps them moving on the floor, smiling against a pair of swollen lips.

“School suddenly sounds much more interesting.” He says.

Atsumu squints incredulously. “We can’t do this at school.”

“No?”

“No!”

Natsu shrugs, pecking the tip of the boy’s nose. “Shame.”

“Then you’ll come?” Atsumu bumps his forehead against Natsu’s. “I’ll really see you tomorrow?”

“If you can walk home straight after tonight, then sure.”

Atsumu gasps and slaps him across the back, blushing as they leave the club, hand in hand, away into the wintery night.

Natsu turns sixteen—a little drunk, a lot happy—but he’s sixteen and he can pinpoint this as the day he falls in love even years later.

And every other birthday is insignificant but so much better, spent at home, in the arms of the boy that saved him in just one night, all those years ago.

Mom only ever asks where he’s going and who he’s moving in with while he packs his bags to leave. She frowns when he answers with the widest smile on his face, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“An Angel.”

Ignore the sloppy writing haha. I'm writing this while travelling back home after a god awful six hour exam.

It felt too plotless to post on my ao3 kdkcd—

If you look at the colouring of Natsu I based it on (go give @sasukeslove all the real love), I imagine the art as the morning after when Oka's annoying Natsu and Atsumu walks in through the door (≧▽≦)

#kono oto tomare! #kotedit #kot #ao3 #dailykot #fanfic #kono oto #ficlet #momoyoshi #momoya natsu #atsumu yoshinaga #Spotify

[shooter-nobunagun]

Quarantine UST 7

//About to reach the climax (hah)...Apologies for the delay (gasp) but I took some time off and then when I came back work piled up so...this chapter took longer. Also, it went very differently than what I’d originally planned, so...I’m not sure if I’m 100% satisfied with the direction, but when the muses want something, there’s not much I can do about that. I think it turned out all right, I hope it feels natural and not too...’perfect fantasy’ scenario.

Warning, some mature content this chapter (masturbation) but not super explicit.

She stared at the text on her screen, debating if she really wanted to send the message, or simply relegate it to her ‘unsent drafts’; where it would join the hundreds of other ramblings that never made it to Asao.

[Sio]: I’m screwed; I seriously think I’ve got more than just a ‘crush’ on Adam...like, I literally spend all my time obsessing over whether or not he LIKE likes me ??? and even if he does, what if we get in trouble? >__<||||

“Ugh...mendoukusai...why do I always make things more complicated than they need to be...” Sighing, the sniper looked mournfully at the message, wondering if it was a good idea to spill the beans. Even though Asao was her best friend and had been a godsend this entire time, somehow just declaring it—even in text form—seemed to cement it somehow, instead of remaining this nebulous fantasy that she could always dismiss if things got too tricky.

For sure though, as the third week passed through, Sio noticed a definite change in Adam’s attitude towards her. He rarely made sarcastic or snide remarks anymore, and even his quips about her inexperience felt more like gentle teasing instead. No, there was something there, for sure...the real question now was whether it was a cozy, platonic friendship, or the stirrings of something deeper and more passionate. Shaking her head, she took one last look at the message, then hit ‘send’ before she could change her mind. She half-hoped Asao wouldn’t see it until the next day; if she responded now, Sio wasn’t sure she could sleep without another all-night rant session.

In the meantime, if she needed a way to wind down and get sleepy... Sio glanced at the phone one more time, before turning off the lights and pulling the covers up. With a practiced hand she casually slipped off her panties, preferring to touch herself directly. If she was feeling particularly horny and wanted to spend a little extra time stretching it out, then she kept them on, teasing herself through the fabric until she couldn’t stand it anymore and then plunged her fingers straight into her core. This time though, it was more a nightly habit than anything else; a little ‘me time’ and a good way to relax before bed.

She sighed as her fingers slipped through her curls, reaching that warm, secret spot. It usually took a bit of friction to coax her sensitive little pearl out from its hiding place, but that could definitely be helped along by just thinking about a certain tall, white-haired e-gene holder. “Mmn...A-Adam...I bet, your hands would feel pretty good, t, touching me down there...” Just the other day he’d put his hand over hers while helping her lift correctly, and the difference in size, along with those calloused, but gentle fingers, did not go unnoticed. Her own slim digits rubbed the outer hood, Sio shivering as she felt her folds getting moist from the stimulation.

‘Seriously, I don’t know how much longer I can keep it a secret...’ There was only about another week left on their quarantine, and Sio was simultaneously excited and depressed about it. On one hand, she couldn’t wait to return to some semblance of normalcy, but on the other, what if they went back to acting as if this time never happened? Boring as it was (save for a minor skirmish that did occur, and where Adam actually admitted her aim had vastly improved), a part of her was genuinely sad that there might never be another time where they would all be like this: acting like close friends and maybe even a family.

But most of all, what if these feelings she was developing for Adam never went anywhere? Or what if they faded, after things went back to normal? The twinge in her heart hit harder than expected, and her arousal dropped a little, to Sio’s frustration. ‘Ugh, just stop overthinking things, Sio...now’s not the time for it, anyway.’

She focused on her fingers instead, on the physical sensations this time rather than her mental fantasies. It was surprising how quickly she’d become familiar with her own body, and where it felt good for her. Her breasts, for instance, weren’t as sensitive, but it was still nice to massage them gently, and when she got really horny her nipples were nice to tweak with. Given that she was masturbating on a near-daily basis (and sometimes more than once a day), it was easy to experiment with different areas and techniques. After a while, she’d even worked up the courage to stick a finger inside, which wasn’t nearly as difficult or even painful, unlike most of the gossip she heard. It just felt a little weird, except the few times her fingers managed to brush a particular spot—though it hadn’t happened very often. Mostly she just like rubbing her clit, and it usually only took her a couple minutes to reach a satisfying climax.

“Nng...” Sio bit her lips; for some reason it seemed like she wasn’t really in the mood today. It was taking her longer than usual to reach an orgasm, and despite her fingers it felt like she was stuck at the plateau phase. ‘Maybe I should just call it quits and go to sleep...but argh, I’m already more than halfway there...’ She couldn’t decide which was worse: working towards a half-hearted orgasm, or trying to sleep while still tense and aroused. Taking a break she laid on the cool sheets, running a hand up and down her thigh, enjoying how smooth and soft the skin felt. 

Funny how she couldn’t really remember when or what cause her feelings for Adam to change. Since the beginning, they’d always had this weird, almost love/hate thing going on, possibly since their first encounter in Taiwan. Sio knew she respected his skills on the battlefield, though his manners towards her could’ve used a lot of work. Even then, even back when he was all sorts of abrasive and prickly at her, she still couldn’t outright hate him. Be annoyed and upset, sure, but there was always a part of her that wished she could know him better, to find out what kind of a person he really was.

‘Adam...’ Just thinking about him, whether it was his physique or his interactions with her, filled her heart with a sense of longing. What kind of person was he like before DOGOO? Who were his friends? Was his ‘tsundere’ attitude just a facade to protect his true self? She wished she could just work up the courage and confess her feelings, consequences be damned, but she knew it’d probably never happen in a million years. But oh, how strong those feelings were, sometimes...to know him beyond his e-gene and touch his true soul... Slowly, her finger gently prodded her insides, Sio imagining what it would be like if he held her tight in those strong arms; whispering sweet nothings into her ear while brushing her hair soothingly, telling her how much he cared about her and admired her, how cute she was...

“Hnn...! Oh!” To her surprise her body started jerking, Sio so caught up in her romantic fantasies that she didn’t notice her orgasm until it literally shook her out of her reverie. “Hah, hah...A-Adam...I wish, I wish we were real...” Suddenly reality came back, and the sniper remembered where she was: in her own room in a borrowed house, in the middle of a foreign city, waiting out a quarantine with her teammates in the hopes that they wouldn’t get infected and die. Panting, she pulled her sticky fingers out, wiping them down before putting her panties back on again. Now that the euphoria was fading, she felt an almost crushing sense of defeat. 

‘Hah, who am I kidding; there’s no way I can ever tell him...I just can’t! Not to mention, what if he...really doesn’t feel the same way? I don’t wanna make him feel awkward, not when we’ve finally established some kind of friendship...’ Yet the thought of taking this secret to the grave made her heart feel even heavier, and despite being physically exhausted, Sio sensed the beginnings of insomnia—and groaned.

Suddenly her phone lit up. She must’ve forgotten to silence it—but the sniper immediately snatched it up, scanned Asao’s reply, and hit ‘call’ without even bothering to text first.

“Moshi moshi? Sio-chan? Is everything alright?”

“Asao-san! I’m sorry for calling you so suddenly, but...I really need to talk to you!” Sio half-wailed into the phone, trying to keep her voice down.

“Oh my, of course Sio-chan. But calm down first, what’s going on? Aren’t you supposed to be asleep now?”

“Well, I was...but I just can’t fall asleep.” She heaved a sigh. “It’s about...Adam. And well, you probably already saw my text, but...” her friend hummed in understanding on the other end, “and well, you know! I just don’t know...what to do about this!”

“I see...” Her friend replied seriously, Sio so worked up she was on the verge of tears at this point. “How do you know it’s forbidden? Do you know for sure that fraternization among DOGOO members is illegal?”

“W-Well, no...I mean, I don’t know for sure...if it is, then I haven’t heard of it,” Sio admitted, “b-but even then, like, what if...what if he, doesn’t like me back...!”

“Okay, let’s take this one at a time,” said Asao gently, trying to get Sio to calm down. “Let’s not worry about whether or not it’s against the rules or whatever— I’m pretty sure even if it is, it wouldn’t stop your feelings.” Sio grunted in response. “As for whether or not Adam feels the same...I mean, what do you think? What’s your instinct tell you? I’m not there, so I can’t say anything aside from what I’ve heard from you—but it doesn’t seem like it’s completely impossible, right?”

“I...well, I mean...” Her instincts, huh? More than once the others had pointed out how Sio sometimes just seemed to know things, yet be unable to explain how she knew afterwards—except that it just came to her, like an instinctive pull. “I...feel like he’s aware that there’s something more than just, friendly camaraderie between us...I-I mean for sure, I’ve noticed he’s changed how he acts towards me and speaks to me...s, so, that’s a positive sign, I guess...”

“Mm hmm, that’s good.” Asao encouraged from the other end. “So he’s definitely not avoiding you or anything.”

Sio shook her head. “No, if anything we’ve actually been spending a lot of time together, lately...heh, who would’ve guessed,” she gave a small laugh. “But, I guess it’s just...I just can’t be sure, right? Who knows if he likes me like, that, or what if it turns out he’s just a really nice guy, underneath all that Jack the Ripper e-gene crap?”

“...Well, that wouldn’t be so bad, would it? At least you know he’s a decent guy then,” offered Asao, but that didn’t seem to console the sniper much, if at all.

“I know, but that’s not what I want!” She lamented, even though she knew how lame it sounded. “I know I know, at least he is a good person, and for sure, I am really glad that he’s not the asshole I thought he was. Trust me, if all we did end up becoming was just good friends, then I guess I’ll accept it, but...” Sio sighed heavily, scrunching up on the sheets.

“...I really like him. Like, I...want to be with him, for real,” she whispered, surprised at the sudden wave of emotions it triggered in her. “I-I mean, maybe it’s too early to say this, but...i-is this, what it means to...fall in love?”

“Ah...Sio-chan...” Even Asao seemed to be at a loss for words, Sio clutching the pillow to her chest as she tried to get rid of this heavy ache. “...If you have such strong feelings for him, then, I think there’s really only one thing to do.”

“What?”

“You should tell him,” was Asao’s response, Sio having frozen at the blunt suggestion. “I’m serious, Sio-chan. I know you, and the longer you keep holding it in, the worse you’ll feel.”

“B-But, but...what if he—argh—doesn’t...like me back?!” The poor girl nearly sobbed into the phone, still caught up in her emotions. “I just don’t know if I could handle that kind of rejection...”

“Now Sio-chan, you’re stronger than that,” her friend’s voice took on a stern tone. “Even if he rejects you, so what? Life goes on; trust me, if that happens it won’t be the end of the world. You’ll encounter a lot more challenges later on, after this. You can’t let this one thing dictate the rest of your life.”

Sio sniffed and wiped her tears, knowing Asao was right. “...I, I know... You’re right, Asao-san...I-I mean, I’m already half-resigned to just remaining friends anyway, so...” She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. “...You’re right. The worst part about this is just not knowing the truth. If he really isn’t interested in me, then fine; at least I can say I tried, and hopefully we’ll still be friends.”

“Sasuga, Shio-chan. I know you can do it.” Sio smiled at her friend’s encouragement. “Now you should be getting some rest. Tomorrow’ll look a lot better through fresh eyes.”

“Hai...oyasumi, Asao-san.”

“Oyasumi nasai, Shio-chan.” --------- “Mornin’ Ogura. You sleep alright?” Adam greeted the girl as she came down the stairs, a huge yawn tearing from her mouth. 

“Hnn...ohayou, Adam-san...” She rubbed her eyes, Asao’s words from last night still turning themselves over in her mind. Tell him... hah, as if she could just blurt it out. If only she could plan it out beforehand, but no; experience told her that whenever it involved her and Adam, nothing ever went according to plan.

“Sunny-side up eggs alright with you?” The sniper nodded in thanks, before wandering over to the cupboards to fix herself some tea. “...Everything alright?”

“H-Huh? Wh, what do you mean...” She nearly dropped the cup, but caught it just in time. “I’m just, tired...stayed up too late talking to Asao-san again...” Adam’s perception was incredibly sharp; she’d have to watch herself to make sure she didn’t give anything away.

“...I see. How’s she doing, by the way?”

“Eh. Same as usual...from the sound of it, Japan’s doing okay, except they’re not in school right now so she says it’s kind of boring staying inside all day.” Before she knew it, she had somehow automatically made two cups of tea, even though Adam usually drank coffee in the morning. “Oh, ah...I forgot, you usually drink coffee, don’t you, Adam-san?”

He glanced over at the mugs just as the eggs finished and he slid them onto a plate, alongside the bacon, toast, and other trimmings. “Sure, but I don’t mind tea, either. Remember, I’m British,” he winked at her, “and we take tea very seriously.”

Sio found herself blushing at that playful wink, and before she knew it her lips curled into a small smile. Every time he did one of those little quirks towards her, she felt herself growing warm. As they ate their breakfast in a now-comfortable silence, she thought back to what she’d told Asao last night. About how she was resigned to just remaining friends, and accepting it, if he didn’t feel the same...

‘...But is that really true? Could I really be satisfied with just staying friends?’ That was what she’d claimed, but thinking on it now, and especially with the two of them like this already... Biting her fork, Sio was beginning to think she wouldn’t be able to settle for anything less than going all in. If she was rejected, then fine--that would be something out of her control, but to not even try...

“Say. You got any plans today?” She looked up with a start at Adam’s question. Why would he be asking her this now... Pretending everything was fine (when it was definitely not), she gave a casual shrug.

“Not really. I-I mean, aside from the usual stuff...was probably just gonna try and finish my FF7 file, since we’ve only got like, a week left...”

He nodded. “Yeh; seems like time was slow and fast all at the same time, didn’t it?”

“Heh, yeah it did; oh man, I remember when we first got here, and I was complaining about how I was gonna survive a month with everyone...but, now that we’re almost at the end, I’m actually gonna miss it...” She gave a melancholy smile, stirring the leftover bits of eggs.

“Well, I was thinking of just going for a drive along the shoreline. Maybe get out and walk along the beach...” For a few seconds there was only the sound of forks scraping the plates, as Sio’s heart started to pound in nervous anticipation, while Adam turned away so she couldn’t see his blush.

“...Is it, just...you?”

“...Well, that depends; you wanna come with?”

Their eyes met for a second, and Sio was sure she was probably redder than a tomato—but the strange thing was, Adam was also oddly pink, with an expression she’d never seen before. Later on, she would realize it was a sign that he’d been just as nervous as her, but in the heat of the moment, all she could think of was how to not make a fool of herself.

“U-Uh, I—I um, I...I’d like that,” she heard herself saying, though the voice seemed to come from somewhere outside her body. “If it’s...okay...”

“Of course; it’s definitely more than ‘okay’.” He got up to clear their plates, Sio grateful he couldn’t see her smile. 

‘He’s actually taking me somewhere...just the two of us...! Wait, is this like a...date?!’ Her excitement was suddenly replaced with a bolt of fear, as Sio’s mind finally realized the possible implications of this. ‘Oh no, what do I do...! Maybe I should change—but into what? It’s not like I packed anything nice since all we’d be doing was lounging, not going out—’

Luckily she was saved from indecision by Adam announcing that he’d already written a note for the other two, and it would be easier if they left now before they woke up. They packed some water and of course, the usual masks and hand sanitizer; then Adam was easing them out of the driveway and onto the hilly streets, Sio finally sitting shotgun for once.

The car was awkwardly silent, Sio wrestling internally with wanting to start a conversation but not knowing what to talk about. In the end, she simply turned on the radio, and the two listened to whatever the latest hits were as the car wound its way out to the coast. At least the breeze was nice, Sio enjoying the fresh air while she subtly watched Adam shifting the gears; somehow, just watching his fluid actions, and trying to understand how everything worked, was quite interesting.

“Huh...so you have to shift in order...” she muttered to herself, unaware of actually speaking it out loud.

“Eh? You interested in drivin’, squirt?”

‘Ah! I did it again...speaking my thoughts...!’ The sniper tried not to panic, instead pointedly looking out the window.

“N, No, it’s just...I’m curious as to how you, uh, drive. Y’know, with the gears and all.”

Adam shrugged, navigating with one hand as they drove along the highway. “Mm, you learn it with practice, like everything else. Why, you want a driving lesson before this is all over?” He teased, shooting the girl a small grin. “Personally I’d recommend starting with an automatic, if you’ve never driven before...”

“No no, it’s fine; I highly doubt I’d need to right now, anyway...” Sio commented dryly. “...By the way, is it true? What Jess-san said...”

“About what?”

“That, you...also owned a motorcycle.”

So. She remembered. “...Yeh, it’s true. I do have a bike; it’s not here right now, though DOGOO has offered to ship it to one of their bases...” The sniper’s maroons grew wide at this piece of news, and inwardly Adam cursed at not having the foresight to having it shipped over. ‘Perhaps we could’ve gone for a ride on that instead...’

“Whoa...that’s so cool...” Sio mumbled, cheeks flushing. “Man, you’re like, perfect...you can do so many things, like—how do you even know all this stuff? And be good at them?”

To her surprise Adam started laughing. “Oh ho, perfect now, am I? That is definitely not the case...and if I really were perfect, then how come I still have trouble with speaking my mind or not being an arse?” He eyed her with a glance and the sniper’s cheeks turned pink, to his pleasure. “Besides, I’m pretty sure that was not your impression of me when we first met.”

“W, Well, still...I just feel so...I dunno, useless next to you—and everyone else, for that matter, sometimes...”

Adam didn’t respond, instead pulling the car into a space as they finally made it to their destination. Sio wasn’t sure if he was exasperated at her whining, or something else.

“C’mon Ogura, let’s go for a walk, yeh? Think that’ll clear your head a bit.”

“Ah...” She put her mask and silently followed him, right along the waves crashing against the rocks. The day had been cloudy for a change, and Sio shivered slightly, even with a jacket. It seemed San Francisco’s weather changed as often as her moods; sunny one day, and chilly with fog the next, sometimes in the same day. 

“Brr...it sure is cold here,” she rubbed her arms, the wind piercing through her thin sweater. “Isn’t it supposed to almost be summer?”

“Hmm, reminds me a lot of home, actually. Well, granted it’s not nearly as cool, but, the overcast fog...” Before she could say anything else, Adam was shedding his jacket and gently laying it across her shoulders. “Here, this better?”

“Ah, uh...th-thanks...” There wasn’t much she could say, without revealing her true feelings—instead Sio simply nodded, hugging herself as she slipped her arms through, the fabric still warm from his heat. ‘Mmm...of course it smells like him...it’s comforting, somehow...’

“Don’t worry about me, squirt,” Adam answered before she could even ask. “The cold doesn’t bother me much; in fact, I find it rather refreshing.”

“O-Oh...w, well, if you say so...” She didn’t even need a mirror to know her cheeks were pink at this point—in fact her entire head felt like it was on fire as they walked in silence along the trail, despite the sea breeze. In an effort to distract herself, Sio took in the sights: the grey-tinged clouds, waves that broke along the rocks, and the occasional seagull brave enough to dive into the water. The air smelled briny and cold, similar to Tokyo Bay—but again different. It was mesmerizing to stare out at the waves, how they grew, then crashed, receded and then it started all over again. A few joggers and bikers were out, but it seemed most folks chose to stay indoors when the weather turned.

They hiked to an outlook with a few benches, Sio taking a water break as Adam leaned over the railing, taking in the view himself. She desperately wanted to break the silence, but at the same time, she didn’t know what to say. Even if Adam had other reasons for asking her to come with, somehow, it felt wrong to force the question.

“You doin’ alright, Ogura?” Adam turned around, nodding at her newly-acquired jacket. “Let me know if you’d rather head back. Wouldn’t want you t’ get sick.”

“I’m okay, thanks to you...” She hugged herself again, as if to remind herself this was real. “U-Um, A-Adam...” he turned around slightly, and Sio felt her heart rate speed up, but she couldn’t stop now. “Th, this place...um, s-so...why did you ask me to...come with you...”

“...Hn. That is a good question.” He wasn’t looking at her directly, but she knew he was paying close attention. “I can’t say I really know why, myself...just, I thought you might like some fresh air, for a change.” He shrugged casually, and Sio felt her heart drop a bit, even though a part of her was also relieved.

“And, well...truthfully it’s because, I guess I’ve come to enjoy spending time with you, is all.”

The sniper froze again, at that comment. ‘No way...it can’t be, is he really serious...is he, really saying what I think he is...!’ She wasn’t even sure what to respond, how to respond—to anybody else perhaps, it would’ve been plain as day that Adam was admitting he liked her, and yet, her insecurities wouldn’t let her believe it.

“A-Ah, y-yeah...um, I, I do...like being out of the house, once in a while...” She was stuttering and trembling, all limbs going numb because there was just no way this could be real, it couldn’t be what she’d really wanted, all along...

“Well, that’s...good to know.” He was coming over now, hands tucked inside his pockets as he sat down next to her. “By the way, I apologise for being blunt, but...I hope I’m not botherin’ you, dragging you out like this. It’s just...well, you often seem so glum about your inexperience and such, I...wanted to see if I could take your mind off that. Y’know, you’re doing quite well, for a rookie. ”

“Eh? N, no, not at all...” Sio wasn’t quite sure what to make of his words; of how he wanted to try and cheer her up, and to know she wasn’t doing as poorly as she constantly thought... “I’m, glad to hear that...b-but, if I’m doing so well, then how come you’re still teasing me about messing stuff up? And don’t even get me started on before...you used to yell at me all the time, or complain about this or that...”

To her surprise he began to laugh slightly, Sio feeling her cheeks burning in a mix of indignation and embarrassment. “Heh, you aren’t wrong; I admit communication isn’t exactly one of my better skills...and here you were saying how I was perfect,” he turned towards her at last, a small smile on his face. “But spending time with you, like this...has changed my mind.”

“Um...” Her voice quivered before she knew it, Adam quirking a brow at her sudden nervousness. “U-Um, I, y, you...” There was no way she could weasel out of this one, now. They were literally sitting next to each other, Adam had all but confirmed that he liked her and didn’t think she was a mere ‘half-baked squirt’; so why was she still trying to deny it?

“Y, You...probably shouldn’t say things like that,” she uttered quietly, picking at the sleeves of her borrowed jacket. “You don’t have to baby me, you know...I can handle the truth...”

Now it was Adam’s turn to look astonished. “...Beg pardon? You think I’m just buttering you up for something?” There was slight cough, as if he couldn’t quite grasp her logic. “I meant what I said, Ogura. I wasn’t joking around or talking shit just to make you feel better,” she winced slightly at his words. “If there is one thing I wish you would improve, it’s your confidence. And I’ll admit, I haven’t been conducive to that, especially in the beginning...but surely you don’t have that low of an opinion of yourself? After all you’ve accomplished in such a short time?”

“B, But, I...it can’t...” The sniper shook her head, frustrated because she knew Adam was right. Even before DOGOO, speaking up for herself and having self-confidence was always hard for her. Even if it caused her loneliness, it was easier than stepping out of her comfort zone, dealing with those awkward looks and moments where people never seemed to know what to do with her. “I...how, how can someone like you see that in me?”

“...What exactly do you mean by that?” His gaze was piercing, but not cruel. “What do you mean, ‘someone like me’?”

“Y-You, you’re...you’re the leader of the Second Platoon, you can do pretty much anything you want—cooking, cleaning, killing EIOs without breaking a sweat, driving, riding a bike, video games, keeping us on track...” She was rambling now, she knew, but Sio couldn’t stop. “How can I...possibly be good enough?”

“‘Good enough?’ For what? To be a part of this platoon?” She didn’t need to see his face to know Adam was upset. “That’s certainly not the case—you really think you’d still be here if you weren’t good enough—”

“—I know that! That’s...not what I’m talking about...” How was it that someone who was so smart could also be so dense? Did she really have to spell it out for him...!

“Then what are you talking about?” Adam sighed, starting to become irritated with her half-answers and nonsensical words. “Can you not just say it straight, Ogura, for once?

“—How can a hanninmae like me possibly be good enough for you?!” She burst out at last, not even thinking about anything else other than what she had to say, at the moment. She felt the man next to her instantly stiffen at her words, the sniper herself too emotional to look. 

There was a seemingly endless stretch of silence after that, Sio squirming with embarrassment but knew she couldn’t turn away, not after all those words. It seemed like forever before the man next to her moved, Sio staying frozen in her spot.

“...Y’know, you really are something else, Ogura Sio.” She didn’t dare look at him in the face, not yet. “It’s funny that you say that...feeling that you’re not good enough for me...when I’ve...been wonderin’ the same about myself.”

“Eh...?” In one moment she forgot she was supposed to be avoiding his eyes and turned around, only to be met with a strangely bashful and...nervous Adam? “What, you...about me?”

Huh? Huuuh? The sniper’s mind flew into a frenzy, suddenly overwhelmed by the revelations—namely that Adam actually ‘like’ liked her, and he was insecure about himself? “A-Ano...wha, but you, I...”

“Need me to spell it out for you, squirt? Alright then, I’ll just say it straight: I like you, Ogura; a lot. And it’s not just friendship. You’re no fool, you know what I’m talking about. But I don’t want to force you into something if you don’t feel the same way. Least of all if you’re uncomfortable with the fact that we’ll be continuing to work together after all this.”

He was right. Technically, as members of DOGOO they still had a duty to work together, professionally. Rules aside, she knew that if they committed to a relationship with each other, it could potentially make things very messy. And yet...

“...I, I...don’t care about that. I-I mean, yes, I know it’s probably not the smartest or most logical idea, but...” She finally glanced up, trying not to let her tears fall. “I can’t change my feelings...heh, I think even if there were some kind of rule in place...it wouldn’t change my heart. ‘Cause I, I...really like you, Adam...a lot...”

“...Well, let’s be real, since when were either of us good about following the rules, anyway?” With that one statement, the tension seemed to crack, and Sio couldn’t help but burst into giggles, Adam following suit as the two just laughed.

“You’re pretty when you smile, you know that?” 

“Ah—I, uh, mmm...” She blushed as Adam wiped her tears with a tissue. “Y, You should smile more, too...you’re much less scary when you do...”

Adam quirked a white eyebrow.  “Oh? You found me to be intimidating? Well, I guess that’s another thing I’ll have to work on, huh?” 

“We should both work on it. How to smile better.” The sniper screwed her mouth into a smile-grimace, which only caused the white-haired holder to laugh harder. “H-Hey, I’m trying...!” But she couldn’t help but laugh, too.

It felt like forever since they’d come here for their original purpose of hiking, but as Sio checked her watch, in reality it’d only been about half an hour. And yet everything before that point was now completely different; her feelings, perspective, and most of all what she and Adam were to each other, now...

“U-Uh...Adam-san...? Does, does this mean...well, what are we, now? Does this mean we’re...going out? Like dating?” Her face still flushed as she stumbled over those words, unused to saying them out loud.

He smiled at her, before gently taking her hand for the first time, Sio squeaking in surprise as his fingers closed around hers. “Sure, I suppose...I mean, I don’t really know much myself...but if that’s what you want, then I’m fine with it. Which means...guess I’ll be your boyfriend, from now on. Or lover, partner...” Those fingers brushed against her palm and she shivered; at last she could feel him in an intimate manner, but when it actually happened suddenly she felt very shy, even though it was nothing close to what she fantasized about.

“Mmm...I, I want that. Th-then, I’m...your girl...friend, now,” she nodded to reassure herself, squeezing his hand tightly in return. “Though, I’m not sure I want to tell everybody about it, yet...you know, like Newton and Gandhi...I, I’m sure eventually I’ll be okay, but just, for now...”

Adam nodded, rubbing her shoulder in a reassuring manner. “Same; frankly, it’s none of their business, and knowing what gossips those two are...” He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure it’s bound to come up, sooner or later...but for now, let’s just have this be our little secret, yeh?”

Sio couldn’t help but smile as they walked back to the car. “Hai! Oh, and uh, one last thing...” Adam gave a quizzical look as they got in. “U-Um, it’s okay to call me...’Sio’ now. Just ‘Sio’.” 

Something warm bloomed inside her chest as she said that, more so when Adam’s cheeks turned pink (he was so cute when he blushed), before he nodded. “Of course...Sio. But that means, from now on...I’m just ‘Adam’, too.”

“Okay...Adam.”

#documentation #//oh no #//it took me 3 weeks #//actually i went on holiday #//and then i had a bunch of work #//also this turned out NOTHING like i originally planned #//oh

[littlegalerion]

Trechire

A short bio of sorts, edited from curiousscientistkae, because it was an awesome idea! Go check out their original post! 

Note: Sorry for any typos. Also, beware of fanfiction trash.   1)      Age? >In ESO she’s about a hundred and fifty some years old. >By Oblivion time, things get tricky because of time travel fuckery. Technically she’s over 2,000 some years old, but in reality she hasn’t aged past two hundred yet. >She’s still alive by Skyrim, well “alive” as one can be when forever trapped in the Shivering Isles, so I guess by then she’s ageless? 2)      Gender? >Female 3)      Romantic/Sexual Orientation? >Heterosexual, even if dunmer women seem to be incredibly attracted to her. 4)      Height? >She takes right after Papa Vanus with his height, then has her mother’s thickness, making her a, in her own words, “palamino clysdale”    5)      Race? >Altmer Werewolf

6)      What do they look like? (i.e, hair color, eye color, etc). >Golden skin with honey brown hair. >Got Vanus’ baby blue eyes. 7)      Any disabilities? >She has quite a bit of anxiety problems, needing to take lavender infused potions once a day in order to not explode. >Also has trouble eating in public, prefering to dine alone. Even as a werewolf, when hunting. 8)      Is there a meaning to their name? >Her name is a combo of her parents’ names. “Trechtus” + “Caafire” = “Trechire” 9)      What makes them, them? >She had a nasty habit for a while in being a hermit. Her guildmates had to drag her out to socialize, and when her anxiety spurred on minor seizures, that only got worse. This is when she sought Hircine, as she “was tired of feeling like prey to her own mind”. Being a Hound of Hircine pushes her to retain a sharp wit, and sound mind, constantly battling the bloodlust of the beast. It’s what motivated her to get out, forced her to confront her weaknesses and learn to cope with them. Saving Vivec, saving the Clockwork City, and then saving Summerset was not her simply being a brave hero. It’s expected of her, seeking “worthy prey”. She doesn’t like to settle for anything easy anymore, like a simple hunt of a unicorn or some other great beast. To her, knowledge and adventure are the greatest “hunts”, cutting down any “prey” that may get in her way, even if it may be a daedric prince or two.

10)   What do they want to be when they grow up/what do they want to do with their lives? >When she was younger, all she wanted was a husband that loved her, children, and to live a happy, humble life together with her family. She still wanted a husband and children after the many events of ESO, but no longer saw it as an “easy” outcome, but some sort of prize she had to earn and obtain. >Ironically, she did, but that husband became Sheogorath, and now she has three demi-prince children. And all this AFTER losing her first lover in Coldharbor, but carrying their child. >Still, she IS at peace in the Isles as Sheo’s wife...so kinda nailed it? Family 11)   Do they have parents? What are they like and how do they act with their child(ren)? >Vanus Galerion and Caafire Saelinwatch >Caafire was always very protective and at times smothering of Trechire, having anxiety problems of her own and worrying over her daughter to no end. >Vanus was always very gentle and encouraging to his daughter, always soft and quiet when instructing her and being mindful of her limits. He was always a completely different mer at home among the privacy of his family than when in public, the boasting “Great Mage”.

12)   Do they have siblings? How do they interact with them? If not, do they wish they had siblings? >Nope. Trechire is an only child, as Caafire is very sensative to magic, and the pregnacy almost killed her, thanks to Vanus’ genes kicking in. Seriously, Caafire couldn’t touch any metal for the last month and a half or she had a horrible chance of getting zapped to the bone. 13)   Extended family? Do they see them often? >Vanus’ family is obviously not in the picture. >Caafire’s family were nobles, and did not approve of Caafire’s marriage to Vanus, a former serf, and so none of them are in touch with the three. 14)   Do they like where they live? (Is it a safe place?) >They had a few small homes located throughout Tamriel, as Vanus often had to travel, of course, for the Guild. So they frequently were moving around, but none of them complained much about that. It also helped to make it harder for the Worm Cult to keep tabs on them, as of course they were always prime targets. 15)   Where do they live? Are they wealthy? Poor? Middle-Class? > For all their lives, the Galerion family was middle class. They did well enough to survive, travel, and eat. 16)   Do they have a lot of expectations/pressure on them from family to do great? >Vanus never personally put pressure on his daughter. If anything he tried to deflect it from her, especially when her anxiety took a turn for the worse. However, this did not stop from others looking to her with expectations. When the Mage’s Guild really took off, suddenly Trechire was surrounded but mages who were curious why she wasn’t much further along in her skill, or just questioning her various schooling perks in general. Many had it set in the mindset of the entire guild that she would one day take her father’s place as the Guildmaster, which she had no desire to.  17)   Do they have pets? >They had quite a few cats along the years in the various little homes, but Trechire was given a Moss Netch Calf when she finally moved out, a Champion of Vivec, and had her own pent house on Vvardenfell. She loved that little thing to pieces. 18)   Who do they look up to the most/are the closest to in their family? >Trechire always looked up to both her parents. Caafire came from a very strict and stressful family, Caafire herself having horrible anxiety problems that could have easily taken her over the edge if she hadn’t met Vanus. Trechire looks to both her parents as examples that horrible things will always happen to good people, but that doesn’t mean the good people can’t fight and work their way back to solid ground. There’s always a chance. 19)   This there anything special about their family? >Besides Vanus being the Great Mage? 20)   Do they wish they lived in a different family/household? >Never. Her blood family, her packmates under Hircine… Trechire loved them all, even if neither of the two groups could EVER know about each other. Friends 21)   Best Friend(s)? >Trechire became incredibly good friends with Aithilo Raamando, a dunmer wizard who lived in both Valenwood and Vvvardenfell. She also grew close to a fellow Altmer named Raveoov, spending a lot of time together fighting side-by-side during the Planemeld. Both followed a daedric prince, and Trechire felt enormous relief at being around others like her, as she constantly kept her alliance to Hircine a secret, even from her folks. >Vivec himself, as the two often had lunch together after the events in ESO. I can not begin to explain how emotionally wounded Trechire was when she was plummeted through time itself, and among the numerous startling and straining things she had lost to time, Vivec, who she thought was immune to slipping away, had just vanished. 22)   Who was their first friend? >Her first friend was another altmer girl who sadly became too busy in her role among Summerset’s daily buzz, and the two drifted apart. 23)   What is their friend group like? >Mer. Mostly mer. She has no problem with any of the other races, and was always confused why she didn’t have more human or beast folk friends. She always chatted with people in the guild, and then with the guards around Vivec’s palace, but none of them were ever close friends. 24)   Do they have a love/hate relationship with any of them? >Later on Trechire and Raveoov became rather rocky for reasons I’ll explain further down this bio post. 25)   Do they consider any of their friends to be like siblings? >Aithilo is very much like a brother, and he treats her like a little sister. He was the one who rescued her when she was catapulted through time, after all. 26 & 27)   Have they ever hurt a friend or lost one? Do they have a crush on any of their friends? >This is where things got rocky with Raveoov. There was a time when Trechire felt something towards him, but it was a minor crush and her feelings didn’t develop any further towards him.  Raveoov, however, very much was in love with her, and so took it very harshly when she didn’t feel the same way. They tried to remain friends, but so many things happens between the countless centuries and two eras that both agree it’s for the best they don’t communicate much anymore. By Skyrim, they no longer are at each other’s throats, but they just don’t keep in touch at all. It’s for the best.

28)   Do they share classes with good friends? >Trechire was taught personally by her father, and then by skilled Wardens in Valenwood, but sadly none of her closer friends shared these teachers. 29)   Whom do they go to the most when they need a shoulder to cry on? >Aithilo, more than anyone, sometimes more than her parents. 30)   What would this person do without their friends in their lives? >Perhaps the crazed, bloodthirsty beast people expect when someone offers their service to Hircine? (Skipped the School Part as it does not Fit Quite well with Elder Scrolls) Other

41)   Are they dating anyone? Do they want to date? Are the married? Divorced? >Trechire fell in love with the Last Ayleid King, during her time in Coldharbor during the Planemeld. (for my playthrough it was like 3 months because I DIDN’T WANT EVERYONE TO DIE, OKAY? SO I DRAG THAT SHIT OUT FOR AS LONG AS POSSIBLE, SUMMERSET LAST FOR TWO MONTHS BEFORE I ACTUALLY FINISHED IT). As we all know, King Dynar didn’t survive the final battle, but Trechire was left with their son blossoming inside her. This led to becoming a prime target for the Worm Cult, who literally stole and manipulated an Elder Scroll JUST to transport Galerion’s daughter through time near the end of her pregnancy, she and the newborn to be the perfect “welcome back now and forever” present for Mannimarco, his first blood sacrifices to mark a new “era”. >Obviously Aithilo rescued her, and for a year Trechire was recovering and coming to terms with all she had lost, Aithilo helping in raising the baby and providing for mother and child. After a year (events of Oblivion’s main quest really kick in) Trechire became aquinted with the Altmer Vampire Eliindil, who was actually from the second era himself, but, ya know, he’s undead and all. The two grew close as they fought against Dagon’s invasion of Tamriel, and by the end of the mess, the two had fallen in love and married. >Not too long later, Ellindil aided Sheogorath in stopping the Greymarch, thus becoming the new Daedric Prince of Madness. Before the transformation completely took him over, he gave Trechire a chance to leave him, taking all their gold, possessions, whatever she needed. Trechire refused to lose another love, and remained with him, thus becoming the wife of Sheogorath. 42)   What is their favorite hobby? Do they keep it a secret?

>Even as Sheogorath’s wife, Trechire is still a werewolf at heart. She tears up the isles every full moon her husband blesses upon his realm, running wild. The only thing she keeps a secret is that she horribly misses Hircine’s many challenges and hunts. 43)   If they could have one thing in life, what would it be? >A special candy that, when her three demi-prince children eat it, it gives them common sense and makes them CHILL. 48)   What do they do when they get angry, stressed, or upset? >Either she heads off into the more dreadful parts of Dementia and transforms, venting into the wilderness in a wild fury of claws or she drinks it away with extremely sweetened tea she’s put ice cubes into. 49)   Would they consider themselves as a good person, bad person, or morally grey? >Morally grey, as she has murdered in the past to obtain what she wanted, innocents being involved. Sure, it was Vile’s servant, but that doesn’t mean the Wood Elf Umbra DESERVED death. 50)   Does this OC have any part of you in them? (I.e, personality traits, similar background, etc) >Oh yes, in a way she is my sona, as Eliindil is very much the sona of my fiance. >We both have anxiety problems, emeotophobic, and very much feel like giant horses that awkwardly trample around in society. Things I Personally added to This >SHE NEVER MEANT TO BECOME ENEMIES WITH CLAVICUS VILE >It just happened, due to the events of ESO, and then further along the rode in Oblivion when she killed the bosmer and toom Umbra, not even knowing the sword belonged to Vile, and was EXTREMELY important to him. However, she kept the sword as a sort of leverage against the Prince. With a son now to protect, as this is when Sunnabela was still barely a year old, Trechire decided it was for the best Vile was kept in a weakened state, with the threat of Umbra coming to fuck him over constantly keeping him at bay. She couldn’t afford the little dance they had always done back in her younger days. BEING THE WIFE OF SHEOGORATH IS NOT EASY >You aren’t spoiled by him, you aren’t given a soft life, and it isn’t all giggling and obsessing over cheeses. Sheogorath has appearance of a child-like mind, but is half brilliant, half insane. He does not like displaying weakness, as none of the princes do, and anything “ordinary” is revolting to him. He does love his wife (love is the biggest madness life can offer, no?) but is only seen in public among the eyes to endlessly be teasing, frustrating, or scaring her to no end. In private, he can still be a handful, but also gives in to personal indulgences of having a lover, and Trechire will wholeheartedly tell you the marriage is worth it just for the moments. >Raising her son Sunnabela and three demi-princes is a terribly stressful task, especially with Sheo as the baby daddy. Trechire always had to be on top of everything the children were doing, and by the third she began to tamper with all food served to herself and Sheo so as to stunt fertility. She knew the other princes would grow aggravated if one prince obtained too many spawns, and while two of their children never leave the isles, one travels the roads of Tamriel with his half brother, and Trechire fears deeply for his safety. Sheo himself doesn’t seem to care, but enjoyed the risk and thrill. He probably knew Trechire was, at first, taking potions to stunt her own fertility, hence HE was the once who got knocked up, twice, towards the end, making Trechire spend a few years fretfully finding the right, and sneakiest, way to keep either of them from having more children. > Kirr do Shaan, the eldest, is the most level headed, and while Trechire worries dearly for him and Sunny who live among mortals, she has confidence in him that he retains more common sense than his younger siblings. Tardiri and Falon take quite a bit after Sheo, having been born directly from him, and proved constant balls of chaotic energy growing up. Trechire was ever present in raising them, but, in and out, so was Sheo, and obviously his parenting could be...unsettling in what he considered “family bonding”. Trechire never had a break, caring for the kids, making sure none ever drew attention from the other princes, and none caused complete havoc among their father’s followers. >This all being said, Sheo was never an abusive husband nor father. He never physically harmed them, nor mentally abused them. He was insane and chaotic, but his family understood his own language of expressing love, even if it was complete lunacy. None of his children, nor wife, were ever banished, but always had a home in his Isles, even if they were at each other’s throats. Lastly, Sheo himself never threw them in harm’s way UNLESS he was fairly confident they would be fine. He finds amusement in these things, and constantly tells Trechire it’s the “push” their children sometimes need. Lastly, my good friend on here, @foxyhearts , has a lovely little bosmer thief that Trechire ad Eliindil automatically adopted as her smol daughter. She is ever present and ever loved. 

ART BY THE AMAZING @zombbean Twas a gift commission from the smol bosmer thief, and you should totally go commission said artist! 

#trechire #elder scrolls #oc #oc bio #this was honestly a dirty pleasure to write #seriously look up the blog I mentioned at the top #this brief oc bio is awesome #quite a lot of this is pushing the lines of lore friendly #oh well #its how I enjoy the video game #not sorry

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

My Eyes - Part 15

Pairing: Bucky; Steve x Fem/Reader

Word Count: 4,751

Story Description: Steve is a good man, America’s golden boy, a hero. He’s Captain America for christ’s sake! So it’s normal to want what he has… right? Bucky knows he doesn’t deserve her. He doesn’t even deserve the second chance at life he’s been given. But Bucky can never let him know. Steve can never find out that his friend is in love with his best girl.

Story takes place post “CA: CW” and all tension has been resolved.

Previously On....

Bucky shot up in bed when he heard her.

Poor Y/N. She’d started getting morning sickness almost daily. And apparently the baby thought morning was before the sun even rose.

Bucky quickly walked to the bathroom and kneeled at Y/N’s side. He moved her hair away from her face and his metal arm slide under her tank top, rubbing circles on her back. Her body lost a bit of tension from the cold metal brought.

“I’m sorry for waking you up. I was trying to be quiet.” Y/N moaned as she rest her forehead on the cold seat of the toilet.

“Stop apologizing.” Bucky shushed.

“It wasn’t like this last time. I got morning sickness maybe two or three times when I was pregnant with Jimmy.”

As if he was summoned by the mentioning of his name, Jimmy appeared in the doorway. He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Is everything okay?” His hearing was another thing that improved when he hit puberty. And his mother puking in the middle of the night was a stressful thing to overhear.

“I got it, Jimmy. You can go back to sleep.” Bucky reassured him.

The teenager looked down at his mom for a moment. He’d never seen her vulnerable. It bothered him just as much as Bucky that he couldn’t help. Y/N had always been his hero. It hurt to ever see her in pain or distress. After slowly nodding his head, Jimmy went back to his bedroom.

Y/N took a few deep breaths and then lifted herself off the cold tile of the bathroom.  She washed her mouth out with water and then gurgled some mouthwash. “I hate feeling pathetic.” She finally admitted.

“Y/N, nothing about this is pathetic.” Bucky stated.

She eyed at him through the mirror. “Then why do you look at me like that every time this happens?”

“I just hate feeling so helpless. If I could take your morning sickness away, I would.” He declared. “But it is infuriating that you somehow look beautiful even after you were just puking your guts out.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Ah, there’s that Bucky Barnes charm.” She turned around to face him. “You are so full of shit, did you know that?”

Bucky chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “I love you.”

“Ugh, I love you too. Even when you are annoyingly charming.” Y/N groaned. Though the vomiting was over for the day, she still felt terrible.

Bucky pulled back to look at her. “Get back into bed. I’ll get you something for your stomach, okay?”

She nodded and did as he said, a rarity in their house.

A few minutes later, Bucky returned to their bedroom with saltine crackers, a glass of water, and a popsicle. He smiled at her eyes lighting up when she spotted the cold treat.

Y/N instantly took the popsicle from him and he placed the water and crackers on the nightstand next to her. He slid back into bed. They sat up against the headboard. Y/N happily ate the popsicle as Bucky wrapped his metal arm around her and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Bucky?” Y/N asked softly between slurps.  

“Yeah, doll?”

“Can I just apologize now for all the terrible things I might say to you through this pregnancy? I promise I won’t mean all of them. Well…unless I say I really mean it.”

Bucky chuckled.

“I’m being serious.” Y/N leaned away from him so he could read her expression. But it was hard to take her seriously as she ate a popsicle like a little child.

“Doll, you don’t have to apologize for anything.” He finally answered seriously.

Y/N scoffed. “When did you become such a doormat?”

“When the woman I loved decided to love me back and then got pregnant with our child.” There was no joking. His words were sincere.

“There you go again, being infuriatingly perfect.” Y/N sighed, but there wasn’t genuine distaste in her statement.

Bucky ignored her comment. “Feeling better?” He could already tell the tension in her shoulders subsided already. She nodded and tossed the wrapper and wooden stick of her popsicle in the small trash by the nightstand.

Y/N lay on her side and looked up at Bucky expectantly. He matched her position so they were both on their sides, looking into each other’s eyes.

“I hope they have your eyes.” She whispered softly.

Bucky just shook his head with a mischievous smirk.

“What?” She asked.

“I just… I want them to they look just like you.” Bucky said tenderly.  

No matter how many compliments he gave her, Y/N never stopped blushing. Steve was never good with his words. He always showed her how much he loved her. That was his love language. So Bucky’s declarations and compliments still caught her by surprise and flattery always followed.

Y/N sighed. “Well, if I learned one thing from having Jimmy…it’s that super-soldier serums bully my genes and give my kids none of me. So you should probably expect a carbon copy of yourself to come out of this body, Buck.”

His eyes widened. “You think it’s a boy?”

Y/N shrugged and looked away, as if she could figure it out if she thought hard enough. “I don’t know.” Then her eyes flickered back up to his. “What do you want? I know it’s some unwritten rule to say that it doesn’t matter. It’s always a lie. But I want to know.”

“Well, I hate to disappoint you… But it really doesn’t matter.” Bucky smiled at her obvious disappointment. “Get some rest, doll. You haven’t been sleeping enough.”

---

Bucky was in the process of making dinner when his cellphone started ringing.

Jimmy’s name flashed across the screen.

“What’s up, bud?” He answered.

“Bucky, where’s mom right now?” Jimmy was breathing heavily like he had just run a marathon.

His entire body tensed and he stopped what he was doing. “She’s taking a nap right now. Jimmy, what’s going on?”

“Don’t freak out. But someone figured it out.” Jimmy huffed.

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “Figured what out?”

“Figured out who I really am.” Jimmy clarified. “You have to keep mom away from the TV and the Internet. It’s all over the news, Bucky. I don’t what the fuck happened. There were photographers and reporters waiting for me outside of school. It’s insane!”

“Are you okay? Where are you right now?” Bucky was ready to sprint in the car and go get him.

“I’m with Luke right now. I’m fine. I promise.” Jimmy hurriedly added. Talking to Bucky had already calmed him down. “Just please don’t let mom find out yet. She’ll freak out and the baby…”

“Don’t worry about it. Just get home, okay?” Bucky instructed gently.

As soon as he hung up, Bucky opened the web browser on his phone. Jimmy was right: the world had discovered his true identity. There were multiple headlines on every big news site.

CAPTAIN AMERICA’S UNKNOWN SON

IS JIMMY Y/L/N THE NEXT CAPTAIN AMERICA?

CAPTAIN AMERICA LEFT AN HEIR TO AMERICA

HOW THE AVENGERS KEPT STEVE ROGER’S SON A SECRET FOR 16 YEARS

But then Bucky started seeing headlines that only focused on Y/N.

HOW STEVE ROGER’S MISTRESS STAYED QUIET

Y/F/N Y/L/N: CAPTAIN AMERICA’S BABY MAMA

They got more offensive as he read on. Bucky all but slammed his phone on the kitchen counter. Somehow the reporters conveniently left Bucky’s name out of every single headline and article.

His cellphone started ringing again.

“I’ve already seen it, Romanoff.” Bucky answered.

“Are Y/N and Jimmy okay?” Natasha sighed.

“She doesn’t know yet. She’s sleeping. But Jimmy’s on his way home. Nat, there were reporters and photographers waiting for him after school.” Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “How did this happen?”

“It was a employee at the compound.” Nat confessed. “Tony and I already tracked down the leak as soon as the first story broke. It was a security guard. Apparently he didn’t read his NDA clearly because he sold Jimmy and Y/N out for a sad amount of money. Tony is already working with lawyers.”

“We were so careful.” Bucky sighed. This was the last thing Y/N needed. She was already sick, sleep deprived, and stressed from the pregnancy. Now she would be worried about the safety of her firstborn.

“Listen, Barnes. Why don’t you and Y/N go to Tony’s lake house? Take Jimmy out of school. Go on a family vacation. In a few months, Y/N will be too pregnant to leave the house.” Nat suggested lightly.

Bucky inhaled. “I’ll talk to her about it.” Then he heard the front door open. In walked Jimmy and Luke. “Let me talk to everyone. Tell Tony thank you.”

“There are journalists stationed at the end of the driveway.” Luke informed him as they walked into the kitchen.

Bucky gripped the boy’s shoulder. “Thanks for getting him home safely, Luke.” He gave him a grateful look. “You’re staying for dinner, right?”

He nodded shyly. Things at home weren’t very good for Luke. His parents were rather conservative and didn’t accept his sexuality. There were constant verbal altercations. Luke spent more time at Jimmy’s house than his own. The guest room practically belonged to him.

Jimmy went up to Bucky. “I’m sorry, Bucky. Mom…she-she tried so hard to keep it a secret. I feel like it’s my fault.” His eyes were so sad. Bucky had to blink to make his mind shake how the teenager looked exactly like Steve in that moment.

“Hey, it’s not your fault. Nat already called. It was a security guard from the compound.” Bucky reassured him.

But Jimmy wouldn’t let the guilt go that easily. “I shouldn’t have gone there so much. It was only a matter of time before someone sold us out. I should’ve been smarter.”

“What’s going on?” Y/N’s voice made all three men’s heads snap in her direction. She looked concerned as she caught how low Jimmy’s head dipped in disappointment.

Without saying anything, Jimmy walked over and wrapped his mom in a hug. She looked tiny in comparison to her giant son. Though she welcomed the gesture, it only made her realize that something bigger was going on.

Y/N pulled back. “Honey, what’s wrong? Did something happen at school?”

Jimmy looked back at Luke and Bucky, not knowing how to break the news to his mother.

“Okay. Enough. What the fuck is going on?” Y/N snapped as she took in all their expressions.

Bucky saw his cue. “Y/N, let’s go to the greenhouse, okay?”

No matter how big and mature Jimmy appeared… he was still just a kid. It shouldn’t be his responsibility to give the news to her. None of this was his fault.

Y/N invaded everyone’s emotions in frustration. She nodded at Bucky’s suggestion after realizing that everyone’s concern was towards her.

“Bucky, you’re driving me crazy. Please just tell me what’s happened.” Y/N blurted out when they were finally alone in the greenhouse.

He grabbed her hands, his thumbs tracing patterns on her skin. “The most important thing is to remain calm. We don’t want you to stress…especially with the baby.” Bucky warned.

Y/N swallowed harshly. “Okay.” Then she found a chair and slowly sat down.

Bucky kept ahold of her hands but now kneeled in front of her.

“Someone at the compound leaked Jimmy’s identity, Y/N.” Bucky said every word slowly, as if he’d be able to stop the sentence when he saw the panic flash across her features.

Y/N remained calm. “It’s all over the news, isn’t it?” Her whisper was shaky.

Bucky watched it for a moment before gently nodding.

“Give me your phone.” She instructed.

“No, Y/N. You don’t need to see any of it.” Bucky warned.

But she broke their handholding and aggressively opened her palm. “Give me your god damn phone, James.”

Bucky knew better than to argue with his pregnant girlfriend. If she didn’t see the headlines now, she’d seek them out later. He’d rather he be there for her when she read them.

He sighed as he grabbed the cellphone out of his back pocket.

Y/N’s eyes scanned article after article. Some she didn’t even bother reading after seeing their click bait headlines. Her jaw clenched and Bucky knew she was trying to contain her emotions.

Bucky didn’t know how long he kneeled there as she read everything.

Eventually, Y/N silently handed him his phone back, stood up, and walked back to the house. She didn’t say a word to him.

Bucky looked down at his phone to see the headline that made her realize she had enough.

Y/F/N Y/L/N: THE GIRL CAPTAIN AMERICA WAS TOO ASHAMED TO SHOW THE WORLD

Bucky looked down at the author and made a mental note to punch his teeth out if he ever met him. How could people write such terrible things? How had no one taken a step back and realized why all of this had been kept a secret in the first place?

Steve would be utterly panicked if he were alive. This was the thing he tried to protect Y/N from throughout their entire relationship: public scrutiny, misinformed opinions, and unfair judgment.

Bucky was supposed to protect her from all of this and he had failed.

He managed to catch up to Y/N, walking a few steps behind her as she reentered the house.

Jimmy and Luke had taken over making dinner. Then Y/N saw that they had made her a cup of tea. Jimmy had also put on one of her favorite albums. It made her want to cry. Sometimes she’d look at her son and it would just make her want to cry how much he was like Steve: sweet, innocent, and always worried about the people he loved.  

Y/N interrupted the two boys’ cooking by giving her son another giant hug.

“I love you.” She muttered into his shoulder

“I love you too, mom.” Jimmy said with a shy smile. Then he looked over her shoulder and made eye contact with Bucky. Jimmy noticed how sad and disappointed he seemed. It was the first time Y/N had gone to Jimmy instead of Bucky when she was upset.

Y/N sat through dinner without saying much. Jimmy and Luke took it upon themselves to act like nothing had happened. Maybe if they all proved to her that their lives weren’t going to be affected she wouldn’t be so worried.

Luke had already known Steve Rogers was the dad of his best friend. Jimmy told his closest friends about his true parentage. He even told them about his enhanced abilities. Peter Parker once told him that it was sometimes better not to keep all of your secrets to yourself; that sometimes it ended up hurting the people you loved more when you didn’t tell them the dangerous things.

Y/N muttered something about being tired and excused herself from the table, disappearing to her bedroom.

Jimmy looked at Bucky. “Is she going to be okay?”

Bucky sighed. “Yeah, Jimmy. She’s just worried about you.”

He nodded, but seemed unconvinced. “I got the dishes. Maybe you should go talk to her.”

Bucky agreed and then glanced at Luke. “You spending the night, kid?”

Luke nodded.

“Good. I’ll see you boys in the morning. Thanks for cleaning up, Jimmy.” He gave him a pat on the back and then made his way to the bedroom.

Y/N was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling with her arm draped over her forehead. Her tank top was tight enough that Bucky could just barely see a bump in her stomach. The sight would’ve brought him a thrill if Y/N weren’t so upset.

Y/N had a harsh frown on her mouth.

Bucky didn’t say anything as he acted like he was going about his usual nightly routine. He toed off his boots and changed out of his clothes, standing in only shorts and no t-shirt.

He slipped into bed and watched her for a moment. She hadn’t moved a muscle since he walked in or even acknowledged him.

“Doll,” Bucky whispered. “Come here.” He extended his metal arm to guide her into his embrace. Without even looking at him, she slid into his arms and buried her face into his chest.

Almost instantly, Y/N started crying. “Ugh…these stupid fucking hormones. I can’t stop crying about anything.” She managed to say between sobs.

Y/N really wasn’t starting off this pregnancy well. Her morning sickness was awful, she couldn’t sleep, her hormones made it impossible for her to control her emotions. It was even harder for her to manage her empath abilities recently.

Sometimes she would accidentally make Bucky share her emotions. He’d be making breakfast and suddenly feel like he was about to cry. Though Y/N hadn’t clarified his suspicions, Bucky knew that this pregnancy was far worse than her first. He couldn’t help but feel like he was responsible.

“Y/N,” Bucky spoke into her hair. His tenor was so clear and serious. “I’m never going to let anything happen to you or Jimmy.”

She knew this. Not only did he declare this frequently in his words, but his actions as well. Bucky was more discreet about his protectiveness than Steve had been. But Y/N still caught it every day.

“I know, Bucky.” Y/N sighed after her crying had finally subsided. She pulled away slightly so she could look at him as she spoke. But Bucky didn’t let her go far. His metal hand sketched circles on her back underneath her tank top. The coolness of his artificial limb seemed to be one of the few things that helped Y/N through her pregnancy.

“They can say whatever they want about me. I don’t care. I chose this life when I fell in love with Steve. But Jimmy never chose this. He can’t help that his father was Captain America. I tried so hard to give him a normal life. And all it took was one fucking person to ruin his chances.”

Bucky sighed. “Y/N, let’s be honest. Normal was never really an option for Jimmy. His mother is enhanced and he got the same super-soldier serum as Steve. But it doesn’t matter. You know why? Because Jimmy doesn’t really care about being normal. He has his friends. He has us. Hell, every Avenger considers him their family.”

Y/N knew he was right. It was never Jimmy’s obsession to be normal; it was hers.

“What do you say we get out here for a bit? You, Me, and Jimmy take a quinjet up to Stark’s lake house.” He suggested lightheartedly.

Y/N sighed. “Buck, we can’t just run away from this.”

“We’re not running. It’s just some time for us to figure everything out. And you deserve a vacation. These first couple months haven’t been easy on you or the baby.” Bucky pointed out.

“You’re using your sergeant voice.” Y/N accused him through a narrow gaze.

“I’m trying to take care of our family.”

“And I love you for it. But let’s just get some sleep for now, okay? We’ll ask Jimmy about the lake house tomorrow.”

---

“You two should go without me.” Jimmy said.

“Absolutely not. We’re not leaving you alone!” Y/N sputtered.

“It won’t be much of a vacation for your mom if she’s worried about you the whole time.” Bucky added.

“I’ll stay at the compound. I’ll be safe there and I’ll even have someone escort me to and from school every day.” Jimmy proposed.

Y/N opened her mouth to decline immediately, so he continued.

“Look, the last thing I should do is leave school. Everyone’s already talking non-stop about me. Running away from it will only make things worse. I’m sick of hiding who I am.” Jimmy finally confessed.

Y/N and Bucky shared a look. Bucky shrugged his shoulders. Despite voicing his opinions on matters like these, Y/N always had the final word.

She sighed in frustration. “Fine. But someone from the team is escorting you to school. I don’t trust those security guards anymore. I don’t care if it’s Sam, Pepper, Happy, Natasha… whoever! It has to be one of your aunts or uncles. You’re going straight to school and back!”

“You worry too much about me, mom.” Jimmy said with a smirk.

“I think I worry the precise amount.” She retorted sassily. “Go pack your things. We’ll all go to the compound together and Bucky will fly out from there.”

---

Y/N looked at the compound below as Bucky lifted the jet off the ground.

“He’ll be fine, doll. The team is going to look after him.” Bucky said.

“I didn’t even say anything!” Y/N defended herself.

“Yeah but I can feel your stress. You’re empath abilities are slipping more and more.”

“It’s just with you. Jimmy never feels it.” Then she looked at him with an adoring smile. “Must be because you love me so much.”

Bucky smiled back. “Must be.”

It was a few hours later that Bucky landed the quinjet on the water. He suddenly got a flashback of the last time they were here together. Y/N got sick because she was pregnant with Jimmy.

Y/N watched his eyes glaze over from the memory.

“Everything okay?” She asked softly.

“Yeah, just thinking about the last time we were here.”

Y/N blinked. She hadn’t even thought about it. For her, she only had bad memories here. Too busy being worried about Steve risking his life for her, she’d found out she was pregnant just days before. It wasn’t until now that she had repressed their little trip here.

Bucky watched her get lost in thought and then grabbed their bags. “You don’t remember it much, do you?” He tried to hide the sadness with a small smile.

Y/N shook her head. “I-I didn’t have the best time here.” She admitted.

“We had very different feelings about that weekend.” Then he hit the button that lowered the quinjet’s platform.

Y/N’s forehead creased. “What do you mean?”

Bucky scanned his hand to get into the home. When he set the bags down and he turned to face her again. “That weekend… it basically confirmed my feelings for you. I used to try and convince myself that maybe I wasn’t really in love with you, but just in love with the idea of you. But of course you had to prove me wrong.”

Suddenly Y/N remembered flashes: Bucky making her food, carrying her to bed when she fell asleep on the couch, dancing with her as she tried to educate him on the music she missed. Once again she was stunned how oblivious she was to Bucky’s affections.

“You never told me that.” She muttered quietly.

“Sometimes I don’t want to taint your memories of Steve with my pathetic time of unrequited love, doll.” He smirked but his eyes were dejected.

Y/N suddenly rushed forward and crashed her lips to Bucky’s. He sensed her urging and caught her hips when she jumped slightly and wrapped her legs around his waist. Y/N really hadn’t been kidding when she said pregnancy made her libido skyrocket. She jumped Bucky at least once a day.

Not that he was complaining. But hiding it from Jimmy was starting to become a struggle.

Y/N sent a surge of desire to his body with her powers, telling him she wanted to move this to the bedroom.

Bucky broke their kiss. “Not so fast. You need to eat something first.”

She whined in protest.

He set her down and gave her a pointed look. “Y/N, I’m serious. You haven’t been eating enough.”

But she ignored his seriousness and smirked at him mischievously. “You know I could always make you want me, right?”

Bucky glared at her playfully. “Wanting you is not the problem, doll. It never has been and it never will be.”

Y/N exhaled. Of course she wouldn’t manipulate Bucky like that. She was kidding. Now she was just exasperated about him once again babying her and being overprotective.

“Oh, don’t do that face.” Bucky moaned and felt a pang of guilt for being responsible for it. “I promise, we’ll eat dinner and then I’m all yours.”

She remained disappointed and moved to sit at the kitchen counter.

Bucky kissed her cheek. “Plus, we have the whole house to ourselves so we don’t have to stress about being quiet for once.” He whispered huskily in her ear.

Y/N finally let out a giggle.

Bucky moved around the kitchen, grabbing ingredients. He never knew what Tony delivered to the house, but Bucky was a talented enough chef that he could throw something together with a quick inventory.

He opened a drawer and handed Y/N the tablet. “Here. Put some music on.” He requested, trying to give her something to do. “Also, remember to text Jimmy that we got here safe.”

---

Bucky was gasping heavily as Y/N moved to her own side of the bed. A light sweat covered their skin.

“This isn’t going to be a relaxing week, is it?” He sighed, still trying to catch his breath.

“Are you complaining?” Y/N chuckled, wrapped the thin sheet over her body to find some sort of decency. “I thought that serum of yours gave you crazy stamina or something.” She teased.

In his defense, they’d already had sex three times that night. Being pregnant was one thing. But it was hard keeping her hands off Bucky in general. One glance at him and she couldn’t help herself.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yeah…Well, I don’t think Hydra considered The Winter Soldier having to satisfy a wife when they recreated that serum.”

Y/N’s eyes darkened as soon as he said ‘wife’.

“I’m sorry. It just slipped out. I don’t know why I said that.” He immediately stuttered. It was rare to see James Buchanan Barnes fumbling over his words.

She scoffed in annoyance. “Can we please get through this week without you proposing?” Then she was getting out of bed to put on some actual clothes and splash some cold water over her face.

Bucky didn’t bother looking away from her unclothed body move about the room, picking up various pieces of clothing.

When she returned to bed in boy-shorts and one of his t-shirts, she found him lost in thought.

“Bucky?”

He snapped out of it. “Hmm?”

“Why is it so important to you? I’ve explained why I don’t want to get married, but you’ve never actually told me why you care so much about it.”

“Come here.” He requested, sitting up against the headboard but wanting her in his arms. She complied without hesitation.

“Promise you won’t get mad?” He asked her quietly.

She nodded.

“I know marriage is becoming outdated. I get that times are different than when I grew up.” Bucky sighed. “But it has nothing to do with tradition… or my inability to adapt to modern times. To be honest, it has to do with the devil on my shoulder that tells me you’ll always be Steve’s girl.”

He felt Y/N’s body tense at the statement. This was clearly not what she expected.

“Steve never got to marry you. And I know you don’t think he would have ever proposed, but I have a hard time agreeing. I just thought, if I could do the one thing he didn’t beat me to, you’d really be mine.”

“Bucky…” Y/N’s whisper shook. “After all this time, after all we’ve been through and everything you’ve done for our family… you still refuse to allow yourself happiness.”

Then she turned and grasped his face gently. “I’m yours. I’ve been yours for over a decade. I’m never going anywhere. A piece of paper isn’t going to add anything more to it, because you already have me.”

Bucky didn’t think he could ever fall in love with Y/N more. But then she said things like that and he fell even deeper.

“Can I still annoy you with my proposals?” He asked softly.

“Not this week. But yes.” Y/N snickered. “To be honest, they make me smile. Why get proposed to once when you can get them sporadically for the rest of your life?”

Bucky scowled teasingly at her. “You’re evil, did you know that?”

“Well you’re about to have a baby with me. So what does that say about you?” She countered.

“Hmm…” He pretended to be deep in thought. “I guess it means that I lose all judgment when I see a beautiful dame like you.”

“Oh, good answer, Prince Charming.” Y/N rewarded him with a quick kiss.

------

Part 16

I always love hearing feedback. It makes me happy. 

#marvel fic #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #dad!bucky #dad!bucky barnes #dad bucky #bucky fluff #my eyes part 15 #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #steve rogers #marvel reader insert

[theliterateape]

Is the Cancel Culture Racist or a Response to Bigotry?

by Don Hall

Morgan Wallen is a country singer who was recently caught on camera using the word that cannot be uttered by a white person, let alone a white guy who sings country music. 

On one side, he was canceled. Suspended record deals, dropped from radio stations, streaming services taking down his music, and an automatic disqualification from this year’s Academy of Country Music awards. On the other side, Wallen’s latest album Dangerous became the the longest running number one album for a male artist since 2016, largely out of protest for his being canceled.

Aside from the fact that I wouldn’t likely buy his album in the first place as my musical tastes were frozen in the 1980’s, I can’t say that I disagree with the canceling. In this day and age, uttering the n-word while white is always with intent. It isn’t an accidental utterance. The intent most assumed is that dude is a fucking racist and leave it at that. Those who then purchase his music in record numbers must also be racists. Five years from now, if someone notices a copy of Dangerous on your record or CD stack, you’re going to have to issue an apology for owning the work of a racist.

In our current cultural civil war the lines are clearly drawn but the motivations for being one side or the other are less clear, less evident. Like the term ‘fake news’ the GOP loves to take that issue taken with their practice (originally utilized to describe Trump’s routine bag of horseshit trotted out daily) and turn it around on the rest of us (it was quickly re-branded as the enemy of Trump). ‘Cancel culture’ has undergone the same transformation.

There is a problem—in accountability, in due process, in general fairness—with the practice of mobs not merely boycotting individuals for what is deemed egregious behavior and language but harassing people into joining the boycott on moral grounds. These problems are not quite the same as what is meant by ‘cancel culture’ when uttered by Ted Cruz.

The new esoteric social media thing is called Clubhouse. Essentially an audio Zoom call for hundreds of people to have ‘rooms’ designed for conversations about agreed upon topics, one must be invited to join and then either listen in or join the discussion. You can even hit the “Leave Quietly” button if all you’re doing is listening in. You can ‘raise your hand’ to let the moderator know you want to pipe up as well.

As much as I despise social media, Himmel sent me an invite, so I joined just to see what this might be.

A few weeks ago, Michael Tracey started a room entitled “Is Clubhouse Obsessed with Wokeism?” He hosted the conversation as moderator with a few other moderators until around two hours in he allowed a woman whose handle was “Brooklyn” (IRL Amanda ‘Brooklyn’ Toussaint) to co-moderate. She immediately exiled him and took over the room.

Toussaint is the founder of PROVX, or Progressive Reform Overrides Violence. Her agenda was simple: take over the conversation because she felt it was white people talking around the issue. She made comments early on that the term "woke" should not be used by white people because it is inherently black vernacular and began "stacking" a list of people allowed to speak in the room. The ensuing discussion took an additional three hours.

A few selected quotes after listening to almost the entire thing:

“I just turned off the hand raising. White people put your fucking hands down…”

“As a queer black polyamorous woman I have been checked by trans people because of my internalized transphobia. Violence is not just physical. Your whiteness is violence.”

“By having rooms like this you commit violence to black bodies, violence on marginalized bodies.”

“Why would ya’ll let white people on any stage to talk about anything…?”

“My n****s, you don’t gotta be kind. Let these white motherfuckers choke on it.”

“It’s black history month. Fuck you. Fuck you. Pay me to listen to us, internalize our truth. On Venmo. Right now.”

“White people don’t think of themselves as being white. That’s supremacy.”

“Science was built on transphobia and anti-blackness.”

“How can you say that something is not racist when people are literally telling you it is?”

“I do want white people to reject whiteness. I want them to be anti-white.”

“I value the lives of animals over the lives of white people.”

If you switch out “white” for “black” it is obvious how completely bigoted this nonsense is. “I value the lives of animals over the lives of black people.” WTF? “I just turned off the hand raising. Black people put your fucking hands down…” If it looks like bigotry and smells like bigotry, it’s bigotry. I don’t blame them for being bigots but it’s still bigotry, no matter how you justify it.

Now, the likelihood that most Americans in the rural parts of the country give two shits for Clubhouse, it is not realistic to assume they hear this sort of hateful rhetoric on the regular. They do, however, read The Atlantic. They do read Newsweek. Many of them have some sort of social media and certainly most are in tune with the Trumpish perspective, the FOX News take, on social justice.

You wanna know what social justice looks like to them?

No. This is not what the preponderance of social justice seeks to accomplish yet it is what some might suggest it should. For the exact same reason one would shy away from a white nationalist promoting faux identitarianism, books on black racism, or the cancelling of the beloved writings of, say, August Wilson, we should openly refute this nonsense as well.

Most (as in the vast majority) of the country’s population recognize that anti-black racism is and has been a major issue we need to address. Most (as in the vast majority) are decidedly not bigots. The loudest of both the extreme right and left, however, are really fucking loud and incredibly bigoted.

We know what white supremicist rhetoric and iconography looks like and we should. We should also recognize the same dogma in different skin.

During the summer of unrest last year, as campus activists were tearing down statues of Confederate generals, I saw Ken Burns on some channel talking about the collegiate cleansing.

His perspective was that, of course, in the pursuit of justice there will be over correction. How else to explain the damning of Abraham Lincoln with Robert E. Lee? Over correction is an expected result when attempting a huge fix societally. So is a backlash in response.

Perhaps I simply cannot damn 75 million Americans as racist dipshits for voting for Trump over Biden. Perhaps I believe there are a lot of issues at play and race is only one of many. Hard to say but I do not believe that bigotry—which is present in every human in every country in every century—is the moral evil those seeking power using it as a bludgeon against the Others want us to believe.

I don’t buy Wallen’s music because I’m not a country fan. I don’t buy anything by Ted Nugent anymore despite my love of “Cat Scratch Fever” because he’s a rightwing loon. Road Dahl was a Nazi-sympathizer but I still watch Gene Wilder as Willis Wonka every time I see that it’s on somewhere and I love me some Thomas Jefferson while still recognizing he owned slaves.

Some in America are lashing back from the extreme rhetoric of activists like ‘Brooklyn’ Toussaint. This is an expected result. 

The more history I read, the more I am hit in the jaw with a simple fact: there is nothing new about this. In 1918 there were anti-maskers and protests about government babysitting us. In the fifties, people who were even adjacent to Communists in almost any form were “held accountable” and lost careers over it. And for the entirety of time, there have been asshats who use race to divide us into camps, pitted against each other like teams in a campground battle, like high school jocks versus nerds versus that one badass kid who made a bong in shop class.

We tend to buy this hook every time. Why? Because, like the center of a Tootsie Pop, it only takes the owl three licks to get to our judgmental, self-interested, terrified centers. It is the very core of the Republican (and now Progressive) strategy of population management: tap into that completely normal if not wholly insulated fear of one another and milk the bovine teats of rage spawned from the recipe of terror and impotence.

Perhaps it is due to my ascendence in the (problematic) 1980’s—pre-smartphone, pre-internet, pre-social media, pre-surveillance state—that allows me to fully decide to listen to the race grifters on both sides of the rabid canines of ideology and take no moral offense. Perhaps it is my very GenXness that chooses to engage but on my solid color-blind, MLK inspired path.

Or maybe, like the cancelling of a country music guy, the coup over a social media discussion, or the attack upon Dr. Seuss, I realize that these issues only really matter to people with plenty of food and places to sleep. As in academia, the drama is so high because the stakes are so low.

#cancel culture

[myselfinserts]

I still remember the day I met you…

Odette was frustrated. She’d had to drop three clients in a single month because they kept cancelling mere seconds before their appointments were meant to start. She was struggling with getting a new version of the Atelier’s multi-tool to work properly in time for the testing phase. 

And now, she had a three week long job starting that day at ten, and because of her summer temp, she had no idea what the real name of the client was. The only reason she had accepted this client in the first place was because Harper said Kasumi needed a favor for a friend. And for whatever reason, they'd neglected to put a reasonable name on the lists.

Were it not for the fact that Harper chased off an attempted thief just a week ago, she’d have sent them back to Ena without a second thought. 

“Alberi,” she said firmly. “You will tell me who it is that I’m seeing today right now.”

Harper shrugged, taking a swig of their coffee. “It’s on the memo, boss. I already gave it to you.”

“'Battler Jewels' is not a name! It's a pseudonym based on a video game character and fancy rocks!"

"Say it three times fast before the 10 o'clock shows up, Allard. You're smarter than this."

Odette rolled her eyes, letting out a long groan. "You think saying 'Battler Jewels, Battler Jewels, Battler Jewels' is going to do anything-" She paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "I hate you so fucking much. A shitty pop culture reference on top of pop culture references? How juvenile. I should defenestrate you right now for this bullshit."

"Oh, you're feisty," Harper teased. "I like that in a goddess."

"Just who is this Beetlejuice imposter you're having me work with? Because I'm about ready to cancel their appointment."

They set down their drink with a sigh, leaning back in their desk chair with their hands behind their head. "I can't legally tell you, because this is supposed to be hush hush, but I can give you a hint. I almost put the fake name as 'Even Hansen'."

Odette felt her stomach drop. But not unpleasantly so. Just hearing the character name invoked the image of unruly, dark black hair and a red beanie. Lovely eyes bordering between amethysts and tanzanite. The star struck smile on that stupid face whenever she would walk into a room. She could almost hear the singing voice now.

"I'm going to make Kasumi pay me double for this," was all she said.

Harper burst into laughter. "Send the bill to Eira! She'll gladly pay triple!"

Odette ignored that comment and went to her work station to prepare. She only had half an hour left until the client walked in. 

This was strictly professional. 

Right away, Odette knew this wouldn’t be an easy job. 

Granted, it was far easier than her usual fair these days. She wouldn’t be doing anything extreme like redesign an entire hero ensemble or prepare new coding for whatever computer system needed it. But it wasn’t going to be easy on her quirk. She could tell just by watching as the client walked in dragging a garment rack filled with clothes and a small carry on bag behind him. He was clearly uncomfortable in that black cable knit sweater. And the way he moved in those pants screamed agony. He looked nice, save for the iconic red beanie, but in no way was he happy in those garments. 

“Hello Gladstone,” Odette greeted as pleasantly as possible. “It’s been a while.”

“Like, far too long, Clem,” Harper added, putting a long drone on the ‘far’.

“It sure has. Thank you so much for squeezing me in.” Clement smiled as best he could. “I brought a spare set of clothes to change into, but I came in this to, uh...hehe...” 

“You’re clearly uncomfortable.” Without waiting a second, Odette had Harper take the clothing to the back and took Clement to the fitting room. He insisted on keeping the carry on. “So you’re what exactly was so hush hush that it required a fake name?”

Clement blushed slightly. “Ah, that. It’s not technically a legal thing yet, but it kind of is?” He chuckled nervously. “I asked Kasumi that if she managed to get me an appointment with you, she put a fake name down so I could surprise you. And also keep my cover.”

“Cover?”

“See, no one is supposed to know I’m here until the official production starts.”

Ah. It’s an actual job that brings him to Paris. How quaint. “Am I allowed to ask what kind?”

He smiled. “A TV show. I’ve got a role as part of the main cast. We’re only booked for one season at the moment.”

She nodded in understanding. “And I’m guessing that these garments you’re wearing and brought with are your character’s typical attire?”

“Yes, and I hate it,” Clement whined. “The person in charge of costume design refuses to tell us what’s in the fabrics, but whatever it is, I’m the only one allergic to it. We don’t have time to fire them and find another designer and I’m at risk of being replaced if I don’t get this fixed.”

Odette narrowed her eyes. “There’s at least half a dozen labor laws being violated here.” Her gaze slowly turned soft. “Take off the sweater and let’s see the damage. I’m guessing you have Mither’s healing water with you?”

“Never go anywhere without it.” Slowly, Clement set his hat aside, and carefully removed the sweater. 

It took all her restraint not to gasp at the red blisters and rashes forming all over his back, shoulders, arms. The way his chest moved tightly as though it were hard to breathe. Odette carefully examined the damage, slipping on a pair of gloves so she could get a better look safely. “What the fuck did those bastards do to you?”

“I don’t know, but I’m already putting together a case to take to court, since they refused to fix this when I asked. They threatened to fire me until I said I’d fix it myself.” His smile had completely vanished now, replaced with absolute dejection. “Kasumi and Ena said they’d take care of getting me an appointment and finding a lawyer. I just need to make sure I keep this job until we’re ready to submit the case.”

Everything was starting to make a little more sense now. Odette’s job was to find out what the materials were made of and make sure Clement didn’t lose his job. 

This wasn’t just a favor. This was another one of Ena’s little schemes. 

“I suppose I could help provide a bit of leverage,” Odette said. “There’s a shower just past the breakroom for employees. Let’s get you out of these horrid things and washed up. Then I’ll take your measurements. You’ll be coming in daily so we can make sure the replica wardrobe fits and is comfortable.” She wrinkled her nose. “I just hope I don’t have to touch these things too much.”

“You and me both,” Clem agreed. “If these are miserable on me, I hate to think what it’ll feel like for you. No one deserves this torture.”

“Abolutely agreed.” She took him by the arm and dragged him to the showers, leaving him alone to get cleaned up and to prepare for the measuring. 

Harper was just coming in to refill their coffee when they saw her come out of the showers. “Not gonna stay and watch him?” they teased. “He grew up nice, didn’t ‘e?

“Shut the fuck up, Alberi,” Odette hissed. She absolutely refused to agree with them, no matter how true the statement may or may not be.

She had a job to do.

When Clem came back for the fitting, he was dressed in a very nice navy blue suit that felt like heaven under her hands. Odette wanted to keep it so that she’d have something nice on hand to touch in order to reset between the hell fabrics. But she kept herself under control and kept to her work, measuring out every seam and stretch in preparation for the task at hand. 

Clem smiled softly, watching her work through the reflection in the mirror. “I still remember the day I met you… On the roof of U.A.”

“Your cat was startled by me until you assured him I was a much better cuddle companion than yourself.” She smirked. “How is that cat doing?”

“Mr. Pickles is fantastic. Thanks for asking.” He hummed softly. “He’s currently at my apartment. Probably napping.”

“You have an apartment?”

“Yeah, production’s going to last a year. Figured it was cheaper than renting out a hotel room and eating out every night.”

“Smart move.” She relaxed a little. She wasn’t sure why she’d been so tense. Probably the stress. She’d have to go to bed early to make sure it didn’t affect her work further. “It’ll certainly make it easier to have Harper stalk you.”

“Oh god,” he laughed. “I wouldn’t mind though. It’s nice to see you both again.” His face flushed pink. “It’s really good to see you. I...missed you.”

Odette stopped for just a second. She hadn’t been expecting that. “I...suppose I also might have missed having you around. It was nice having someone worship the ground I walk on.”

His laughter grew, and Odette swore she heard him snort. “Glad to see your confidence matches your height now. You used to be shorter than me. You’re what now, 6′ 2″?”

“6′ 3″,” she corrected. “Renegade was none too happy about it at first, but then burst into the whole ‘our little babies are growing up’ charade. Papa was quite annoyed, though I feel he agreed with the sentiment in concept.” Odette smiled playfully. “What about you, petit idiot?”

“5′ 11″. Stopped growing a year into college.”

“A pity. You missed out on the Gladstone Giant Gene.”

“I guess I did.” His face grew bright red. “But...I don’t mind. I’d rather look up at the stars than tower over them, you know?”

Odette scoffed, her smile never disappearing. He wasn’t being subtle. But he wasn’t overstepping any boundaries either. No, this felt like their initial conversations. Simple banter and playful chit chat, with a little added boost to her ego thrown in for good measure. It was simple. It was comfortable. It felt natural. 

When did I start missing these little jabs?

“All done,” she said finally, writing down the last of the measurements. “I think that’s all for today. I’ll be working on the first few garments for the rest of the afternoon. Come in tomorrow and I should have at least one outfit prepared.” 

Clement nodded, slipping his beanie into his carry on. “Thanks Odette. I really appreciate this.”

“Not at all. Anything for an old friend.”

“Yeah. Right. Of course. Uh...” Nervously, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a piece of paper with his name, address, and contact info on it. “I know that you probably will get it from Harper already but...if you need to contact me...or if you ever just wanna stop by and say hi-”

Odette snatched the paper immediately. “As if I’d pass up another chance to kick your ass at poker.”

Clement’s eyes lit up. “Yeah. Yeah, sounds great. And I can make us dinner. If, uh, if you like.”

She nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Great! Great. I’ll, uh...I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Ten sharp.”

“I’ll be here early. And I can pick you up something on the way if you want?”

“I have plenty, but thank you for the offer.” Without another word, she lead him to the front, checked him out, and sent him on his way. 

Harper peeked up from behind her computer, wiggling their eyebrows. “So? How’d it go~?”

Odette rolled her eyes. “He’s still an idiot.”

“But...?”

“...But I suppose he’s still my idiot as well.” She headed toward the back room. “Now get back to work. Ena’s got a job for us.”

“Perfect!” Harper cheered. 

Odette just sighed and went back to work. 

Never a quiet day at the Atelier. 

#myselfinserts #mybnhaocs #friends ocs #the au of class #days of future class #had the feels in this chilies tonight #and wanted to imagine some sweet sweet reunions #Anonymous

[zoebechtle-blog]

Unlikely Chapter 10

I took Basil’s words to heart and thought intensely about how dating Niall would affect my life. I spent an evening searching online for girls he and his bandmates had dated - the reactions were daunting at best. Their lives were definitely thought to be public property, and everyone seemed to have an opinion. The women they were involved with were harassed and torn apart for every single move they made.  Rumors ranged from the absurd to downright cruel. It was suggested that a pregnancy was faked, that members were being closeted, and various girls had used members to further their own agendas for fame. It was frightening to say the least. And if I had an ounce of common sense and self-preservation, I would have sprinted off in the other direction (instead of one direction - snort). But I didn’t. I had to learn my lessons the hard way.

I stayed at Niall’s house a few more times over the next few weeks, and he at mine. He loved when I cooked for him courtesy of the recipe book Grandma B had made me when I moved away to school (he did inform me that his trainer, however, would hate me). I caught myself stocking up on Stella and his favorite snack, hummus and carrots. He replaced his regular sized bottles of bumble & bumble shampoo and conditioner with the economy sized ones, and I found a new flat iron and my favorite face wash on the counter in his bathroom. He’d even gone as far as stashing an emergency Cadbury bar in the house at all times, having survived the aftermath of me having a chocolate craving with nothing handy. We laid in bed at night telling each other stories, giggling or sometimes crying. Mornings after we spent the night together I'd wake up to him cuddled around me. He had no problem showing affection, if anything, he was handsy as hell. When he went out of town for a week and a half at the Masters and then a vacation, I genuinely missed him. So much. And that scared me more than anything.   

One night shortly after he’d returned from The Masters, he showed up at my door with a delivery guy and two flat screen TVs. The shocked look on my face only lasted a second, then immediately turned into a glare.  “Can I help you, Horan?”  I spread my arms across the door frame, blocking his entrance.  He and his lackey weren’t coming in unless I got a goddamn explanation.

“It’s a gift, Z!” he pleaded. I narrowed my eyes in response.  He pouted his plump little lips at me and shot me the most pathetic puppy dog eyes I’d ever seen.  I grabbed the collar of his light cotton henley and yanked him through the door.  “You - inside. You two wait here.”  Niall shot me a look and I rolled my eyes, huffing out a “please” to the stunned delivery men in my hallway.

Niall toed at the carpet inside my door, sheepishly glancing up at me as I paced in front of him.  “What the hell Niall?  A). I don’t want you spending money on me, and B). shouldn’t a gift be something I want and/or I would use? I don’t need a tv, let alone two of them! I don’t even have cable or anything to watch on the TV!” I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation. “You're being fucking ridiculous!”

“Yeah, about that…” He tried to look innocent and gave me a smile.

I froze and stared at him, slack-jawed and pissed.  “Seriously? You got cable for my flat?! I don’t watch TV! Netflix is all I need.”  

Niall reached out and took my hands in his mitt-sized palms and softly stroked across my knuckles.  “I can’t watch golf or footie on Netflix, petal.” Petal. I was quickly learning this was his nickname to pacify me. And it usually worked because honestly, how cute is that?

“You’re kidding me. So you want to come over here just to watch sports?”

He gave me a smarmy grin, “Gotta have something to watch while you’re sucking me off.”

I literally growled at him and pushed his shoulders while he laughed. “C’mon, I was waiting here for an hour the other night when ya got stuck behind that accident coming home. And I get bored when you take a shower.”

I crossed my arms with a pout, “You could always JOIN me in the shower.”

His shit eating grin lit up his face and his pure blue eyes glowed, “Sure, after I check the scores.”  He pressed a kiss to my cheek while I was frozen in place still pouting at his antics.  He flung the front door open and waved to the delivery men to come in.  “This way gentleman!  The lady will be keeping the TVs!”

The next Tuesday night I was surprised to hear the TV playing when I went to unlock my door. Niall hadn’t told me he was coming over. And yes, he had a key - it was just easier.

“Honey, I’m hooooome.” Rory McIlroy was being interviewed on the screen (Christ, I knew golfers by name now), so I knew he couldn’t be far away. He stuck his head out of the kitchen, and I jogged over to him, throwing my arms around his neck. When I leaned in for a kiss, I noticed his face was red and his hair looked like he’d been yanking it out by the roots. Also, he looked like he was going to throw up.

“Are you okay? Are you sick?” I backed away slowly. Being sick was not on my agenda for this week, and I really didn’t want to take care of someone with the man flu. I could only imagine how whiny Niall would be.

“No. Just gotta talk to ya about something.” The thumbnail went into his mouth, and I felt my stomach drop. He hadn’t seemed this wrecked about something since he told me about the girl in LA. Oh Christ. He’d been in the States and the Bahamas a few weeks ago. Had he done something stupid? I looked around for the nearest blunt object in case I needed to hit him.

“The Daily Mail has pics they’re going to publish tomorrow…” My stomach dropped instantly.

“Pics of WHOM, NIALL?!” My voice edged up up a notch, and was very loud. My hands had turned into little blocks of ice, and I could feel my cheeks on fire. Now I was going to be the one to throw up. All of my physical anxiety symptoms in less than ten seconds. A new record.

He rubbed his hand over his face and pulled roughly at his hair.  “Us. At quiz night last week. You sitting on my lap when Paul was cleaning up the spilled pint, a couple of us kiss-” I instantly relaxed my shoulders and let out a breath.  Niall registered my reaction and it dawned on him why I was so worked up.  “Jesus Christ, Zoe, did you think I was going to tell you they were pics of me and another girl?!”

I slid down and sat on the floor of my kitchen because my legs felt like jello. They were pics of us, doing normal couple stuff. That I could handle. Niall squatted in front of me, picking up my chin.

“Did ya really think I was going to tell you they were pics of me with someone else? Z, no baby. I told you that.” The hurt expression on his face almost broke my heart. I couldn’t lie to him, so I shrugged.

“I don’t know. I just walked in and you were freaking out, and said pictures, and, I don’t know. I’m sorry. I just spazzed. The last time I saw you like this you told me about the girl in LA. I don’t remember anyone taking pictures of us.” Tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to spill down my cheeks at any moment.  I hated the broken look on his face. I leaned up to stroke his cheek. “You shouldn’t bend like that, it’s bad for your knee.

“Yeah, usually you don’t know they’re being taken,” he moved into a sitting position across from me so our legs were touching. “I’d like to bitch slap the person that invented a fucking camera on a phone.” I let him pull me closer into a comforting hug.

Then I heard my toilet flush and I jumped a foot. “What the fuck?”

“Oh, Christ. Yeah. Bas is here. We need to figure out what’s going on. Kimmy is on her way, too.” Alright, Basil just shit in my bathroom, which hadn’t been cleaned since last year, and Niall’s manager whom I’ve never met was on her way to my house. Ace.

By the time Kimmy (who was bloody adorable) arrived, Bas, Niall, and I were all two drinks into the night. Niall had called to order us Thai, but my stomach was in no shape to eat. “Got ya some coconut soup - think that’ll stay down?” He whispered in my ear, obviously having heard me wretch in the bathroom. I laid my head on his shoulder, and he played with my hair, chatting with Bas about golf, and gnawing on his hand. I knew it was going to be a clusterfuck, but honestly, seeing him tear himself apart was worse. I grabbed his hand out of his mouth and kissed it.

Once the food arrived, everyone tucked in but me. These people obviously weren’t blessed with the nervous stomach gene.

“Okay, so what do we do? There’s no way to stop them, is there?” I started off.

“Short of an injunction, no.” Kim looked at me over her noodles. “And injunctions are saved for big shit, like the time the Daily Star alluded to Niall having a crack problem.”

“It was meth, not crack,” he corrected.

I raised an eyebrow at her, and turned to the boy on my left. “Junkie.”

“This kind of thing is probably best if we don’t respond. We’ve made it a point to not comment on Niall’s personal relationships in the past. It worked when Greg caused a fuss, and with all the Selena rumors.” I nodded at Kim, and Niall squeezed my hand.

Bas leaned forward. “Zoe, it’s going to be like I told you before. The stuff being said about you won’t be nice. And your entire life is going to be on Twitter within an hour. You’d probably do best to stay offline the next few days. And take a few vacation days from work.” I could feel Niall tense next to me.

“No, I can’t do that.” All eyes turned to me. “I mean, yeah, I’ll stay offline. But I can’t take random days off with no notice. It’ll leave everyone in a lurch. My kids don’t handle change well. Me not being there will fuck everything up.”

“I understand, but I don’t thi-”

“Bas, she said no.” Niall’s voice was harsh. “See if we can get someone to drive her to and from.”

“Not necessary. I don’t need a damn driver.”

“Z, we’ve been through this, babe. Let me do this.” Niall looked annoyed and tired, and almost pleading. I nodded. I can play nice.

Basil tried again, “I’d feel better if you stayed at the house at least the next couple of nights. It minimizes your exposure.”

“Okay. But only if he,” pointing to Niall, “agrees to make me breakfast.” No one really laughed at my obvious attempt of a joke. Lame.

“About your social media, then.”

“I deleted Facebook and Twitter after we talked.” Niall looked at me with wide eyes. Obviously he hadn’t noticed my missing tweets. “Instagram is only people I know personally. And I removed anything that could be considered risque. I’ve only used SnapChat a handful of times. There’s LinkedIn, but that’s basic shit.” I’d spent one evening last week trying to clean up my digital footprint. I’m sure I did a horrible job, but at least basic info seekers were taken care of.

Basil nodded at me. Dare I say he looked a little appreciative? “You might want to let your family know this is coming. They very likely will get calls. And your close friends.”

“Okay.” Now to wait for my life to explode.

I said goodbye to Kimmy, and went into my room to pack for a few days at Casa del Horan. As I was trying to decide what shoes to take, I sent a group text to my crew. Niall laid across the bed, watching.

“FYI, pics of N and I are being published trmw.”

“If ppl come calling, please only use your best insults.”

“(Also, fuck me. Everyone is freaking out and I don’t know what to do.)”

Hannah offered to fight anyone that messed with me. Carly had her back. The most helpful advice, as always, was from Paul. “You’re going to become internet hated!”

     I laid down next to Ni, tucking my face into his neck. “Is this really going to be that big of a shit show? Fans seem to like you a lot and you've never had a lot of drama.”

     “Been checking up on me, yeah? No, not much drama. We don't have a lot to base off of-I've only publicly dated a few girls.”

I tried to explain to my mom what was going on. She knew I had a boyfriend and that he was a singer, but she had no idea who he was or his popular culture standing. Her knowledge of music ended in 1984. She’d spoken to him on the phone once when he answered for me as I tried to unlock the door, and couldn’t understand anything he said because of his accent. She could not grasp that it was a big deal that pictures of him with me would cause an uproar. Finally, I gave up and just asked her not to speak to anyone about me, and to tell my dad and brother the same. They were definitely the liabilities.

Bas drove us back to Niall’s where I ended up watching Anchorman for the eighth time with Willie and Deo while catching up on some paperwork (that had been my plan for the evening until picturegate blew up). The boys were obviously aware of what was going on-Deo had bought me Ben and Jerry’s and Willie produced a bottle of wine. Niall wandered in and out of the room on the phone, pulling his hair and raising his voice. His normally animated face was in a scowl so deep that I feared it would be permanent. However the more I got used to the idea of the pictures, the less I found myself caring. If this was going to be real, then eventually we were going to be spotted. It wasn’t my style to live my life in the shadows, and I loved Niall (a fact I still hadn’t actually worked up the ovaries to tell him). People were going to have something to say - I knew that the second I looked up Louis’ girlfriend. But my skin was fairly thick. I’d spent 20 years hating myself, and the past few trying to reverse all those negative emotions. It would take a lot more than nasty people on the internet to drag me back down. Also, I basically had majored in avoidance of real life issues.

I ended up falling asleep alone in Niall’s gigantic bed. I’d gone in for some quiet after the movie and conked out. When I woke up around midnight to use the bathroom, I could hear him talking to his cousins in the living room. I padded down the hallway to try and convince Niall to come to bed, but stopped just as I was about to step into the living room. He sounded wrecked and absolutely unlike himself. Their voices were low enough that I knew instantly they were having an important conversation.  So, like any self-respecting anxiety-prone adult, I eavesdropped.

“There’s no going back after this, ya know?  It’s never gonna be the same.  She things she’s prepared, but…”  He let out a groan and I could hear his body flop back against the couch cushions.  Willie took a deep breath and tried to reassure him.  I knew Willie had my back, but my heart still warmed as he spoke.  “Niall, you’ve gotta trust her a little, son.  Zoe’s tough as nails when she needs to be.  Give her some credit yeah?  She forgave your dumb ass for runnin’ off to the coast and getting your dick wet, I think she can handle some jealous teen girls on the internet.”  I choked down a laugh, making a mental note that I owed Willie a pint or three. Niall let out a deep sigh and I strained closer to hear him clearly.

“Mate, I’m serious.  What the fuck am I gonna do if she runs? I love her, Will. Been in love with her since the night she wore my hat.”

I covered my mouth. We barely knew one another then. Well, he knew way more about me than I did about him. My heart shattered as I realized he didn’t get how strongly I felt about him. Talking about my feelings wasn’t exactly my strong suit, but I clearly I needed to get my head out of my ass and quick. I retreated silently back to his room and crawled under the covers, my mind reeling from the emotional toll of the evening. When Niall finally came to bed, I curled up next to him, silently trying to relay my emotions through my fingertips and onto his skin.  I traced the dark stubble across his jaw, pressing gently into the dimple in his chin.  He squeezed my hip, pulling my body towards him while I continued trailing my hands down his neck and arm.  Drawing in a shaky breath I whispered softly, “It’s going to be ok Ni. We’re going to be ok.”  I felt his body sink into the mattress with relief and without another word he rolled me onto my back and pressed himself along the length of my body. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and we held each other, sharing soft touches and gentle kisses. Propping himself up on his elbows he rested his forehead against mine. “I need ya, Z.” I pressed my lips to his instantly, murmuring a “yes” into his mouth.

We made love slowly, purposefully. I could see in his eyes that there were a million and one things he wanted to tell me, but couldn’t. He was trying to confess his feelings to me the only way he knew how. As his thrusts became less precise I could feel myself getting closer to the edge of my release. When I finally came, I called out his name, but it might as well have been a declaration of love the way my heart nearly burst with emotion. As I watched him come undone above me, his face illuminated by the moonlight peeking through the blinds, I knew he was it. He was my forever.

The emotion was still heavy in his room as we recovered from our tryst so I took the opportunity to bring us back to normal by acting like a complete jackass.

“Ni?”

“Yeah, babe.” I was lying on his chest with a leg thrown over his thighs, nuzzling his chest.

“Promise me something?” He tensed a bit, and kissed my forehead.

“Anything.”

“Will you always look at me like I’m the prettiest girl at the party? Sort of like it’s 2014 and I’m Harry Styles?”

There was a beat of complete silence before he looked over at me and rolled his eyes.  “Jesus.  Fucking.  Christ.”  He scoffed and pushed my pillow over my face as I dissolved into giggles. “I’m going to block YouTube on your phone, ya nutter.”

True to my promise to Bas, I did not get online Wednesday or Thursday other than work email. Of course, people found their way into my official inbox, and I had to talk to our IT department about setting up blocks. The subject lines alone were almost amusing in their vitriol, “Fat Cunt Leave Niall Alone!” “Skank” and my personal favorite, “Niall Wouldn’t Suck Your Dick”. Someone needed an anatomy lesson. There were a few photographers outside of the clinic, and Phil, a security guard assigned to Zoe detail (I asked for a cool nickname like the Secret Service use and he shook his head at me) took me out of the backdoor. It could have been better, but it could have sucked more.

I insisted on going to quiz night. This was my routine and my life, and by God, no one was going to stop me. Niall and Bas probably wanted to murder me, but for the most part I’d gone along with their wishes, so they could stand to cut me some slack. I tried hard to ignore all the new faces at the pub, having a feeling they were there just for me. Niall was already there, chatting with Paul and Deo when I arrived. He looked relieved, and I gave him a huge smile. Might as well give the people what they’re asking for, I thought, as I kissed him hello. And gave him an ass grab.

“Thirsty, hmmm?” He murmured in my ear. PDA wasn’t usually my thing, but there’s always an exception to the rule.

“A little,” I conceded. “Waking up next to you in the morning starts my day off on a very different foot than I’m accustomed to.” He smiled against my cheek. I turned to head to the bathroom confident in my feminine charms. Then I ran into the front of Basil, who was carrying three pints to the table. Well, make that two pints since one was dripping down the front of my shirt. Son of a bitch. Niall’s laugh echoed through the bar.

When I returned to the table, several rounds with the hand dryer later, Niall was shoving his phone back into his pocket, and had a smirk on his face that I didn’t trust.

“So help me, you’d best not be ready to make fun of the fact that I reek of yeast and hops.”

“Not at all, petal. Not at all.” That fucking smile. He was up to something. It was one of the first genuine smiles I’d seen from him in two days, though, so I’d let it be. Then I noticed that Paul looked terrified. And Hannah was shaking her head. Curious, I quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Don’t look at me. I just walked in, I had nothing to do with it.”

“With what?” I whipped my head to Niall and Paul, and caught Deo trying to hold in a laugh. “What did you do?”

“Please don’t hit me, Z,” Paul begged. Well that pretty much cemented the fact that I was going to want to.

“What.did.you.do.? Paul Anthony Byers, you’d best come clean right now! And remember,” I gestured to a laughing Bas, “I have security now!” I was terrified. And Niall was giggling next to me.

“I didn’t know he didn’t know!” Paul was pleading.

“C’mon, Z. Don’t be so CUMBERsome,” Deo spit out.

“Baby, do you want eggs BENEDICT in the morning?” Niall was officially slapping his knee he was laughing so hard.

I turned to Paul with bugged eyes. “Oh my fucking God, YOU TOLD HIM?” My voice was just shy of screeching.

“He was commenting on how well you were taking his fans wanting to burn you in effigy! I just said it was because you had some firsthand experience with fangirl problems!” Paul tried to hide behind Han, who scooted away. I buried my scorching face on the table.

“So, Cumberbatch, huh?” Niall was cracking up in my ear.

“Shut up. He’s an exemplary actor.”

“So much so that you drove out to Cardiff to watch them film?” Niall had his face propped up on his hand and he was smirking at me wickedly.  It took every ounce of willpower I had not to slap that stupidly gorgeous smirk off his stupidly beautiful face.

Paul took my hesitation as an invitation to humiliate me further.  “On more than one occasion! And waited outside the stage door after a performance of Hamlet.” Paul was ever so helpful. I pointed my finger at him. I think he was confident about that fact that I hadn’t jumped over the table yet. And ever the ham, he realized that Niall was enjoying it, so he added, “The week he announced his engagement she was going to delete her Twitter. He clutched at his heart, and screwed up his face in an unbelievable shitty impression of me.  ‘Paulie, it just hurts too much!’”

There it was. My fangirl shame. I was a Cumberbitch. And my boyfriend, whose face had launched a thousand ships, found it hysterical.

“So I relate to your fans. Sue me,” I sniffed, crossing my arms across my chest.  I looked like a petulant toddler.  With boobs.

“Aw, petal, don’t be like that,” he wrapped his arms around me. “Just tell me you’re not into slash, okay?”

I would not confirm or deny. (Sherlock + Watson = 4eva)

[hollowistheworld]

Strings

When Ace’s red string had first become visible Dadan had caught him with her fabric scissors, trying to get it off his wrist. She’d made a few attempts to explain that the string wasn’t real, that nothing could cut it, that nothing and no one besides Ace and his soulmate could even touch it, before giving up and wresting the scissors away.

“Why would you want to cut it anyway?” she had asked once they’d both calmed down a little. “It’s to lead you to your soulmate, Ace. Who doesn’t want that?”

Ace had glowered at her, and she’d thrown her hands up and walked away to have a cigarette on the porch.

Ace’s parents had been soulmates, and now they were dead. If they hadn’t had that stupid red string tying them together they likely would never have met, Ace wouldn’t exist, and they’d both still be alive. A lot of people seemed to think the world would be better off that way - maybe not with Roger in it, but certainly without Ace - and Ace didn’t have a counterargument.

And he didn’t want to meet whoever was on the other end of the string and discover that they were of a mind with those cops, schoolmates, and criminals who thought Roger should have kept himself out of the gene pool and done everybody a favor.

He had, gradually, learned to stop seeing the string. It still looped around his left wrist and then trailed off somewhere out of sight, but he could ignore it most of the time. It had a horrid tendency to draw attention to itself on Ace’s bad days, reminding him that there was someone on the other end of it, probably excitedly waiting to meet him and almost certainly doomed to be bitterly disappointed.

Worst of all was the way no one else seemed to understand it. Dadan, Sabo, and Luffy all accepted that Ace hated the string around his wrist and didn’t want to talk about it, but they didn’t get it. Sabo was interested in his, though thankfully not obsessed. Luffy had to be regularly talked out of going hunting for his, following the thread for who knew how long with no concern for things like food and shelter or the fact that he was nine.

They grew up, they traded in their small town for a city and a shitty apartment. Sabo met Koala, completely by accident, not even realizing he could see her string - the other half of his - until he was halfway through buying a stack of textbooks from her. Luffy tracked his down to a hospital and a frazzled and young E.R. doctor who appeared so startled by the encounter that it seemed like he hadn’t even realized he had a soulmate.

And Ace continued to ignore his, hoping that his soulmate was doing the same.

“You just ignore it?” Thatch repeated, aghast.

Ace didn’t know what he’d been thinking, talking about this with Thatch, the Most Romantic Man in the World. “Yeah. I’d get rid of it if I could, but it’s been established that that isn’t really an option.”

Thatch shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“I’ve seen you and your boyfriend. I’ll keep missing it.”

Thatch scowled at him and petulantly reached across the table to pull Ace’s coffee away from him. Ace made a noise of protest. “You are as bad as my brother.”

“Because I don’t want to meet my soulmate or because I think you and Izo need to chill?” He took his coffee back, grabbing it a little too quickly and making some of the drink splash out onto the table.

“Both. You and Marco would get along great; you’re both hard-headed cynics.”

“Well, I’m glad someone else is. I need another sane person.”

Thatch gave him a considering look. “I can introduce you if you want. He’s coming by today anyway; he left his watch at our dad’s place and he’ll apparently just die if he doesn’t get it back.”

“So he likes to be on time for work more than you do?”

“Are you kidding? He’s a grad student, I’m not sure if he even still believes in time. I think he just likes it for the aesthetic.”

Ace didn’t think Thatch had any right to be saying the word aesthetic in that tone; he was wearing an ascot and had his hair in a pompadour.

Thatch’s phone went off. “Ah, great timing. He’s out front. Do you want to meet your fellow stick in the mud or not?”

“Sure. We’ll team up to counteract your boundless optimism.” It wasn’t as though he had anything else to do, unless the alarm went off. Fire stations were far from the most exciting places in the world when there was no fire and hadn’t been for some time.

Thatch’s brother had a square face, blond hair in an undercut, and bags under his eyes, as any good graduate student should.

Thatch held up Marco’s watch but didn’t hand it over. “Marco, this is Ace. He’s a romance cynic too.”

“Everyone’s a cynic compared to you,” Marco pointed out, making a grab for his watch. Thatch was taller and held it out of reach with a grin.

Marco looked at Ace with an exasperated expression. “I’m sorry you have to put up with him on a daily basis.”

“Oh, he’s not that bad,” Ace said, smiling a little. That was very similar to what Sabo had said to Thatch the first time they met, and to what he had said to Koala. It was a necessary part of being a sibling. “I just made the mistake of letting him bring up his boyfriend.”

Marco groaned theatrically. “Just wait. He makes me be the test audience for his love poems.”

“Well, I can’t give Izo a poem with typos, can I?” Thatch, bored now that Marco wasn’t paying attention to him, pressed the watch into Marco’s hand. “I wouldn’t ask Ace though. He can’t spell worth a damn.”

“Thank God for small favors,” Ace said dryly.

“You have no idea,” Marco told him, fastening the watch over the thin red string around his left wrist. “I know more about Izo’s eyes than I could ever want to know about anyone’s.”

Ace blinked, his brain catching up to his eyes. He could see Marco’s string.

He looked down at his own wrist and, for the first time in years upon years, he let his eyes follow the string.

It stretched out between him and Marco, barely four feet long, nowhere near touching the ground, linking their hands together.

Ace stared. Marco didn’t appear to have noticed yet. If Ace bolted now, maybe he could get away without having to deal with this revelation. Or, Thatch had said that Marco was a cynic too. If he noticed, maybe he and Ace could just laugh it off and choose to do nothing about it, sparing Ace from having to see the look of disappointment or disgust he had been dreading most of his life. The fact that Ace would be a terrible soulmate would not be immediately apparent, so as long as he and Marco didn’t get to know each other too well it wouldn’t be a problem.

Hopefully.

Ace had stopped listening to Marco and Thatch’s conversation, but he noticed when Marco cut off abruptly. He was staring at Ace’s wrist, just as intensely as Ace had been staring at his.

Thatch stopped too, looking at his brother with confusion.

Marco shook his head, tearing his eyes away and putting on an expression that suggested he hadn’t seen anything at all. He didn’t look at Ace, and Ace followed his lead. If Marco wanted to pretend that he hadn’t seen anything, wanted this to be forgotten, Ace was all too happy to play along.

“Thanks for bringing my watch back,” he told Thatch. “I should get to school.”

“I thought you had the morning off?”

“I, uh, I’ve got a paper to finish. I’ll see you later.”

Thatch sighed. “Fine. See you later.” He walked away, glancing back at them once. Ace tried to tell himself to follow, but his feet didn’t seem inclined to move.

The moment Thatch was out of sight Marco spun to direct his full attention at Ace. “He cannot know about this.” He held up his wrist, displaying the string. “He’d never let it go, you know that, right?”

Ace nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“He’s already trying to set us up; this would only make it worse.”

“Oh, no, I definitely - Wait, what?”

Marco nodded. “I could have just gone by our dad’s to get my watch back. I have a key, and he lives closer to me than the station is. He’s been trying to have me meet you for months. He’s gotten it into his head that we’d be a perfect couple and the last thing we need is him thinking the universe agrees with him.”

Ace realized he was fiddling with the string and he forced himself to let go and let his hand fall by his side. “Good thing he didn’t notice then, huh? He… he said you don’t really believe in soulmates?”

Marco shrugged, but Ace didn’t miss the way he was watching Ace, gauging his reaction. “It’s not so much that I don’t believe - it’s hard to watch Thatch and Izo and think it’s entirely bullshit - but I think… it’s kind of overrated. Taken for granted, you know? Having a string tying our wrists together is no guarantee that you and I are going to run off and live happily ever after. My biological parents were soulmates. Didn’t end well for them.” He eyed Ace for a moment, then continued, “And you’re a skeptic too, aren’t you?”

Ace nodded. He didn’t elaborate. The complicated tangle of thoughts he had about soulmates seemed like pretty heavy conversation to have during a first meeting, in front of the fire station, and he doubted he could really put it all into words anyway.

“So, we’ll…” Marco trailed off. He was looking at the string that hung between them, trying to pretend that he wasn’t. “We’ll just…”

“Pretend this never happened?” Ace was already working on doing just that.

“The soulmate part, sure. If you want to. But do you…” Marco was looking at Ace now, and Ace wasn’t sure how to interpret his expression. “Well, Thatch would probably back off if we did try going out.”

Ace stared at him. “What?”

Marco was smiling, sheepishly, and he was turning red, running his fingers through his short hair. “I mean, one dinner wouldn’t be the end of the world, right?”

“I thought you didn’t believe in this thing.”

“Oh, this has nothing to do with this stupid string. You’re just… Well, Thatch knows me pretty well, and he thinks we’d be a good couple. I’d never admit it to him, but I trust his judgment. Enough to give it a shot, anyway. And you’re… Trust me, I’d be asking you out even without this string.”

Ace’s face was hot, and Marco looked amused enough to suggest that it had gone red to match.

“Here, I’ll give you my number,” Marco said. “You can just… send me a text, if you decide you want to.”

Ace allowed Marco to enter his number into Ace’s phone, feeling somewhat in shock. He had a tendency to reject invitations for legitimate dates as a knee-jerk reaction for much the same reason he had never wanted to meet his soulmate. But Marco had caught him sufficiently off guard to make him forget how to speak.

Marco got back in his car and drove away and Ace stumbled inside, staring at his phone.

He sat down at the table where he and Thatch had been drinking coffee earlier. Thatch was in the kitchen, out of sight but Ace could hear him humming to himself.

Ace stared at his phone.

If you liked, please consider buying me a coffee. 

#portgas d. ace #marco the phoenix #MarcoAce #one piece #op fanfic #one piece fanfiction #my writing #ace will probably take him up on the date eventually but only after like four days of staring at his phone and thinking about it #thatch is going to lose his shit when he finds out

[loveandturmoil87]

Bang bang alley ~ Part one, series two

A/N ~ Hello all, I decided to release the second series a little early. It picks up a few months after series one.

Theme ~ Mafia/Gangster AU

Pairing ~ Choi Seunghyun x Reader

Rating ~ Angst/fluff/slightly action and horror

Warnings ~ Violence and murder

Series one

Series two ~ | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

“You won't do it, I know you too well” he said as he looked forward.

“You have no idea what I'm capable of” you sneered at him, your top lip quivering as you spoke.

“You're not a killer, it's not in your genes” Dong-won said letting go of your arm.

His words of claiming to know you caused a fire of rage to build inside you and burn through your entire body, you hadn't felt so much anger and hate for someone in such a long time, you wanted him to feel the pain that he had inflicted on you.

“That's what you think” you said as you narrowed your eyes at him, before you knew what you were doing you pulled the trigger.

You didn't blink as you watched as his head snap violently to the side with the shot, his body immediately went limp and fell, as soon as his body hit the ground you snapped out of the hate filled state and remembered what was laying behind you. You rushed back to Seung hyun, an over whelming feeling of dread washed over your body as your eyes landed upon the blood red snow that surrounded his lifeless body.

“Get up” you screamed with tears running down your face as you tried to shake him awake. “Please don't leave me”

You woke up with a jolt making you sit up in bed, sweat dripped down your body and you clutched at your chest as you tried to calm both your breathing and your thumping heart. You looked back at the bed to see Seung hyun sound asleep, the scar on his back from the events that unfolded months ago was clearly visible, staring back at you as if it knew what you had just dreamt and was mocking you.

You ran your hands over your face as you got out of bed and headed to the kitchen to make a coffee, there was no point in trying to go back to sleep, you tried unsuccessfully a million times after having that nightmare.

“Can't sleep?” a voice startled you making you spill the coffee you were pouring in the mug.

“Shit” you said under your breath as you grabbed the cloth and began cleaning up the mess.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you” Daesung said sympathetically as he lent against the sink next to you.

“It's ok, I just had a bad dream so I'm a little jumpy” you said off handedly, throwing the cloth in the sink.

“You've been having a lot of those since....” he trailed off.

“What are you doing up?” you asked to change the subject.

“I just got back”

“From where?” you asked as you stirred your coffee.

“_____, you know hyung doesn't like us talking about business with you” he said with a half smile and you nodded. “Anyway, I suppose I should get some sleep, unless you want me to keep you company?”

“No, it's ok” you said before taking a sip.

“Goodnight noona” he called before leaving the room.

You sat in the chair by the window and watched as the sun came up, tingling your skin as it's warmth penetrated it. Ever since what happened with Dong-won and the daily nightmares of the events that unfolded, Seung hyun thought it was best to keep you in the dark about what they were doing and forbid any of them from talking business in front of you. He thought it would help stop the nightmares but lately they seemed to be getting worse, most of the time they wouldn't end the way things actual happened. It was like these vivid dreams had a mind of their own and they preyed on your fears, growing larger as they feed off of the darkest corners of your mind.

“Princess?” Seung hyung called rubbing his eyes as he entered the room.

“I'm here” you answered with a smile.

Seung hyun smiled back and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you as he kissed you on the forehead. You looked down at his chest and ran your finger tips over the scar, it's flesh still pink, even months later.

“Tell me about it” he spoke softly and you shook your head. “Please?”

“You were lying in the snow bleeding....... It was everywhere..... I.... I thought I lost you” you said looking up at him.

“You didn't lose me, I'm right here beside you, where I should be” he said looking in your eyes.

“For a moment I did”

“But I came back, I heard you calling me” he told you, a tear rolled down your cheek at his words and he kissed where it fell.

“I couldn't lose you too” you said lightly rubbing the scar. “Everybody I have ever loved died, except you”

Seung hyun pulled you in and held you against his chest, running his hands through your hair.

“I'm not going anywhere princess”

“But she is....” you both looked up to see Hyorin standing in the doorway with a huge smile on her face. “She promised to finally get out of this place and go shopping with me today”

Seung hyun sighed as he looked back at you, you were looking at him with doe eyes, silently pleading with him to let you go. He had barely let you out of his sight since what happened and even managed to convince you to hire someone new to run the shop for you, he didn't want you to give up your life but to put it on hold for a while out of fear of any repercussion that might manifest from what occurred and the actions they had to take to get the information they needed. It wasn't that bad being stuck there because your best friend was in the same boat, Jiyong also thought it was too dangerous to let Hyorin go out into the world beyond the club walls.

“I don't think it's a good idea, I don't want you going alone and Daesung needs to rest, he's been working all night” he told you as he stood up and walked to the kitchen to make a coffee.

Daesung had been the one assigned to watch over the both of you whenever the rest had to leave due to his almost unnatural ability of a sneak attack.

“Actually I took care of that, Jiyong organised Taeyang to take us” Hyorin said as she sat next to you.

“How did you convince him to let you go?” Seung hyun asked looking over his shoulder.

“I have my ways” she giggled, Seung hyun shook his head as he turned his attention back to his coffee.

You stood up and walked over to Seung hyun, you wrapped your arms around his waist as you placed a light kiss on his back and you heard him sigh.

“Alright, but you have to promise me that you'll be careful and under no circumstances are you to be separated from Taeyang” he said sternly and you gave him a little squeeze.

“I promise”

“What do you think?” Hyorin asked holding up a pair of electric blue platform heels.

“For me or you?” you asked raising an eyebrow.

“For you silly” she said bringing them closer to you.

“I don't think so” you replied shaking your head.

“Come on, you need something to wear when we go to dinner, I won't let you wear those flats again”

“Dinner?” you asked furrowing your brow.

“Didn't Seung hyun tell you? He and Jiyong are taking us to dinner next week”

“He didn't say a thing”

“Oops, well just act surprised when he asks you, Taeyang wont tell” she said looking up at him standing behind you making you look back at him.

“Not a word” he said nonchalantly as he looked out the shop window, you scanned outside to see what he was looking at but there was nothing there.

“See” she said handing you the shoes.

“Hey Taeyang, do you think these are too much?” you asked as you held up the heels and looked back at him, he looked at them and shrugged his shoulders before turning his attention back to the window making you both giggle.

“I guess he's not interested in shopping” Hyorin said with a chuckle.

“I guess not” you replied as looked back out the window yourself, you wondered what it was he was so fixated on.

“Oh what about this one?” Hyorin asked with excitement as she steered you towards a shop window.

You looked in at all the beautifully crafted jewellery in the shop window sparkling back at you when the reflection of something caught your eye, you adjusted your sight and saw a figure of a man watching you from across the road, his form was somewhat familiar. Your eyes widened and fear crashed over your body as you remembered the last time you had seen that figure, it couldn't be him. You span around to see if you were right but the man was gone, your head snapped from side to side as you scanned the street looking for him but he was gone.

“What's wrong?” Hyorin asked grabbing your arm.

“No-nothing, I'm just tired” you answered still scanning the street around you.

“It's time to go, I think you ladies have had enough excitement for one day” Taeyang said as he ushered you both back to the car.

Jiyong was sat in the chair in his office watching over the club when there was a knock at his door.

“Come in” he called not taking his eyes away from the window.

“We're back, the girls are up stairs” Taeyang said closing the door.

“How did it go?”

“There were no problems but there was a man following us, a foreigner like hyungs girl” Taeyang said as he approached Jiyong. “She looked scared when she caught sight of him in a shop window”.

“Did she say who he is?”

“No” he answered and Jiyong nodded his head as he thought about it.

“Did you find anything about her from her home country?”

“Not a thing”

“Then she's clean....”

“No I mean I didn't find a thing, she doesn't exist. The hospital in her home town has no record of her birth”

“Could she have changed her name?”

“I checked for that, there were no children born there that year. But there was a few towns over were the hospital and all it's records burnt down when she was about Ten years old”

“Keep looking, I want to know exactly what she's hiding”

“I've already got some people on it, It's a small town, surely someone will remember her”

“No, I won't let you take her” a woman screaming woke you.

You rubbed your eyes as you sat up in bed, you looked around to see you were in your childhood bedroom.

“You'll do what I tell you to do” you heard a man yell along with a weird thumping noise while the woman screamed and then stopped.

You got up out of bed and walked down the hallway, a door was open a crack and a light shone out. You walked up to it and opened it, the walls were stained with red dots and the dark figure of a man was standing at the foot of the bed looking at something on the floor beside it. You looked down to see a woman's hand protruding from behind the bed, the man was watching, his chest heaving as the hand twitched.

“Mommy?” you called taking a step inside the room, the man's head snapped to the direction of the voice, his eyes widened and a smirk formed on his lips as he looked at you.

“Shhhh, mommy's sleeping” the man said holding his finger up to his blood stained face as he stepped closer to you.

You backed away as you looked down, the same red that adorned the walls was slowly dripping from the end of the hammer that was clasped tightly in his hand.

You woke up panting, your skin was hot but covered in a cold sweat, you were completely saturated with it and so was the bed. You looked over at Seung hyun sound asleep, unaware of your nightmare. You got up and went straight for the bathroom, you closed your eyes to splash cold water over your face, the image of the blood stained man holding the hammer was burnt into your mind. Was it really him? Was this the day your grandparents dreaded? The day he finally found you. You dried your face and took one last look in the mirror before heading out, you almost screamed when you ran into Daesung standing just outside the door.

“Another nightmare?” he asked.

“How did you know?” you joked trying to make it seem like you were unfazed.

“Well the fact that your up at three am is a dead give away, not to mention the fact that your face is white like you've seen a ghost” he replied, little did he know you had, a ghost from your past.

“Did you just get back?” you asked to change the subject.

“Yeah I was about to go to bed when I heard you and I thought I would check on you”

“Sorry” you said looking at the floor.

“It's fine” he replied with a warm smile. “Now that I know you're ok, I'm going to head to bed if you don't mind”

“Sure” you said as he walked past you. “Daesung?” you called making him stop in front of his bedroom door.

“Yeah?” he called back.

“Could you show me some more moves sometime?” you asked picking your nails.

“Any reason?” he asked.

“Well I just thought seeing as Seung hyun is so worried something could happen that maybe I should be prepared” you lied.

“Sure, I'll organise it with hyung tomorrow, goodnight”

#bigbang #bigbang gangster au #bigbang fanfiction #bigbang scenario #bigbang angst #bigbang fluff #choi seunghyun #choi seunghyun mafia au #choi seunghyun gangster au #choi seunghyun fanfiction #choi seunghyun scenario #choi seunghyun angst #bigbang mafia au #choi seunghyun fluff #t.o.p. #t.o.p. mafia au #t.o.p. gangster au #t.o.p. fanfiction #t.o.p. scenario #t.o.p. angst #t.o.p. fluff

[katherine-collins-blog]

VERSION: Ashford River. (I will still be playing the Ashkent Creek Katherine).

NAME/NICKNAMES: Katherine Collins-Woods

SPECIES: Human (Scribe/Warden [not active])

HOMETOWN: Dublin, Ireland but Katherine moved to Ashford River over a decade ago to fill a “temporary” position with the Scribe HQ.

TOWN STANDING/JOB: Katherine has worked as a Scribe in the Ashford River headquarters for thirteen years. The relocation was only meant to be a temporary position but she grew roots in the community and decided to stay after a year into the job. She's also very involved in the community as a whole and highly regarded and well known. Her children all attend school in Ashford River and she attends every PTA meeting, takes part in all of the fundraisers and even chaperones every dance, much to her children’s dismay.

SUPERNATURAL INVOLVEMENT: Outside of her regular Scribe duties, Katherine is very involved in helping newly transformed or recently discovered supernaturals understand who and what they are.

PERSONALITY: AR Katherine is still very much like her AC counterpart. She’s charismatic, self sufficient, professional. She’s a force to be reckoned with, just much more in your face with it in AR. She works hard, throwing herself into her work, and often overdoing it in her family life. She has a fierce need to be the best at what she does after growing up in a very large family--it’s her way of standing out. She makes a point to be the life of every party, often throwing them at her home whenever she has the opportunity for almost any reason. She often manipulates her way into people’s business, whether it's for a sincerely good reason or for personal gain/knowledge to use at a later date. She's generally very friendly and usually does genuinely want to help, even if she doesn’t always go about it the right way.

One big difference is AR Katherine’s openness and acceptance. She’s never felt that rejection or shame from being the only Warden in her family and there’s no hostility there. She doesn’t feel the need to be secretive about who and what she is or does. 

As a Scribe it’s her duty to remain neutral, which would never fly with AC Katherine. 

FAMILY: Katherine still keeps in touch with her family in Ireland almost daily. Katherine is married to Abby Woods, a native of Ashford River, who owns a bakery in town (rival to For Heaven’s Cake). Together they've adopted three children: Toby (6), Mae (13) and Antonio (16). Recently her niece Darcy has also come to live in the Collins-Woods household.

BACKSTORY SUMMARY:

Katherine grew up as the fourth of eight children in a family full of Scribes and it's all she's ever known. The overachiever of her siblings, she became well regarded in the Scribe community as an aspiring up and comer. When she was only twenty-six, she was offered the opportunity to help restructure the Ashford River branch. She jumped at the opportunity, surprised to find herself growing roots in the small town. She met Abby a few months into her stay, very quickly falling for the budding baker. The two began a family after a small civil-union ceremony in 2006, two years after Katherine settled into Ashford River. They were officially married in July 2015.

Over the years, Katherine rose through the ranks within the Scribe Headquarters, balancing her energies between her work and family life. Tragedy fell upon the Collins family in January 2015, however. Her older brother Jack and his wife were both killed in a car accident back in Dublin. Her niece took the deaths of her parents the worst, unsurprisingly. Darcy acted out constantly. After moving in with her grandparents, trouble seemed to stick to Darcy like a bad habit. Unable to handle the poor girl's emotional problems and outbursts, her grandparents sent Darcy to live with Katherine and her family in an effort to bring some stability to the young woman’s life. 

DIFFERENCE HIGHLIGHTS:

Katherine is human. While still a Warden, this gene has amazingly never been activated and has laid dormant her entire life. Unless she has some sort of intense physical altercation or there’s a sudden fae infestation in AR, it’s likely it’ll stay that way. She’s also grown up never questioning her place as a Scribe. While she still feels the need to stand out, she uses her energies to be the very best Scribe, especially the best out of her siblings. So far, she’s succeeded. 

Katherine is extremely anti-violence. She won't even allow her kids to play graphic video games or watch R rated movies.

She has a great relationship with her family back in Ireland. She speaks to at least one sibling or parent a day. After being used to a large family most of her life, she yearns for one herself and constantly surrounds herself with people.

Katherine is extremely outgoing and often inserts herself anyway she can into town events. Everyone, whether they like it or not, knows Katherine Collins-Woods.

#touchofchallenge #ar katherine #//i hope i did this right #feel free to point out any mistakes or discrepancies i may have missed #definitely a WIP #meta

[adventk-blog]

                                             — ARE YOU WHO YOU WANT TO BE,

       introducing JUNG TAEKWOON, a MUTANT, under the moniker of ELGAR — and currently a believer of CO-EXISTENCE. age ( twenty-four ) and gifted with the ability of ELVEN PHYSIOLOGY, they are currently working as TAILOR & HERBALIST.

WE ARE SO MUCH MORE THAN STORIES,

in days of yore, the boy would have been called a ward. a stranger in a home that would never be his. a boy in baggy clothes with eyes as dark as the colour black and the tips of dirty raven hair brushing along a v-shaped jaw. jung taekwoon had been an orphan all his life; at least, that’s what they had told him when strong hands rested heavily on delicate shoulders, urging the boy to move forward. a gentle push in the back led the hesitant boy from the orphanage into a sleek car, his worn shoes barely offering any protection as the holes in the soles had gravel scrape against the boy’s small feet. yet, the child hadn’t complained. jung taekwoon was an obedient boy; complaining was futile as his efforts would never amount to anything. a waste of time and emotion. taekwoon also did not ask questions as he was led into the car that soon drove into parts of the country the boy had never seen before. silence reigned when woodlands of the purest green, gold-coloured corn fields and skies as blue as the ocean were traded for grey skyscrapers as high and far as the eye could see.

a well-respected researcher and scientist smiled upon the boy with glee as his wife welcomed the child into their lavish home, a villa in the nicer parts of incheon. back then taekwoon had not known the reason for the man’s motivation to adopt the boy and, as usual, he had not asked. perhaps if the boy had known that it was the man’s obsession with celtic myth, in particular the existence of fairies and his belief that they were not merely a part of western tales, taekwoon would have offered more of a struggle as he was embraced in the midst of a new family with dark intentions. the patriarch of the family was a wealthy person - financing his own research - and soon-to-be employee at the daybreak foundation, a man who by chance happened upon the smallest orphanage ever to be seen, in a rural part of the country, where he saw a small, lanky boy play outside. the glaring sun had not touched the boy’s complexion, making a sick mind believe in the possibility of the boy having genes of the wee fair folk. and so, after buying petrol for the fancy car which had run out it, and talking to the owner of the orphanage, the man henceforth had in possession what he called a treasure - a changeling boy.

the changeling soon acquired a new name, his previous existence all but wiped from the records. jung taekwoon became yong chulsoo, son of yong minsoo and kim jihye at age six. until his 11th year, the boy was raised between high brick walls and played behind sturdy iron gates. he was taught to talk politely, ask questions and to read and write while forced to indulge in fantastical stories of myth while his so-called father watched over him from a distance - keen eyes never leaving the boy’s sight in search for whatever would betray the boy’s lineage. with each passing week, those eyes became sharper, a desperate glint taking over calculated orbs and a strong body moved forward, hovering over chulsoo during play times. taekwoon - no, he was chulsoo now - learnt to look over his shoulder wherever he went, developed a slight tremor in his hands whenever he wrote ( both of them ) and whenever the boy spoke, a sliver of fear laced within the prim and proper words revealed that he was, in fact, scared. scared of the man with the wicked gleam and open interest in his eyes and afraid of the woman who would smile thinly before averting her gaze, never to aid or come to the boy’s rescue. scared because the nanny the yongs hired disappeared without a trace when taekwoon turned ten years old, and the year that followed showed many repeats of staff disappearing.

and then chulsoo was 11 years old and slowly being integrated into a life within the research facility that was still years away from being established as a home to mutants; at first gently, with occasional visits to daddy’s work place until chulsoo no longer returned to his own bedroom in the villa he feared so much. abducted, the facility became his new home, a place where he was experimented on in the basement. impatience had led yong minsoo to offer his adoptive son to gruesome experiments, off the record of course. as taekwoon’s - was he still chulsoo? - small feet carried him down the cold concrete steps he did not ask questions nor did he struggle. this time, it was not indifference holding the boy back. a small hand with pale fingers clutched at the bannister as he went, further down the stairs and swallowed up by the darkness that lay ahead. chulsoo was given his own room again, though this one did not have a nice wooden bed with soft silken sheets. a dingy chamber and a barely put-together operating room were the only two rooms jung taekwoon aka yong chulsoo would see until weeks after his 18th birthday.

there was darkness in those select few researchers who indulged in illegal experiments, keeping their wrongdoings from those higher up who had gathered together to speak of plans for a foundation in protection of those with abilities that remained unexplained. they subjected the poor boy to experiments which were painful and which endangered chulsoo’s life on a daily basis. chulsoo was no longer seen as human, as a person, but instead a soulless body - a blank canvas to do with as pleased. chulsoo lost track of days, knew pain that transcended simple, mortal pain and became mute - his screams the only evidence that his vocal chords had not endured any damage during the many surgeries performed on the boy. the morbid fantasy and desperation which drove the researchers to perform their heinous tasks allowed for fast results as they refused to give the boy a break, to let him heal past the surface wounds. it was soon found out that, despite chulsoo’s appearance and his family tree ( which held traces of contact with the fair folk ), chulsoo was most likely a regular human. this knowledge did not deter the scientists from reaching their goal, which was ultimately to recreate the species and perfect it - which would be more beneficial than finding and exposing true fairy mutants.

thus, the experiments continued. supposed ‘samples’ from fairy blood were used to extract fairy genes and were injected into chulsoo’s own gene pool. the creature genes reacted with chulsoo’s supposed human genes, which acted as catalysts and awoke chulsoo’s dormant, ancient fairy genes which had been previously overlooked as non-creature genes. however, the gene sample had not been fairy. the researchers had been surprisingly negligent with their sampling, urged by their haste and selfish desire to recreate a species that was never meant to be cloned. despite all the knowledge obtained, the human scientists failed to hone any ability to distinguish fae genes from elven genes, taking the latter to be the former when they weren’t. the elven genes swallowed what little traces of fairy were within the boy and started rewriting chulsoo’s entire gene pool to match. no longer was yong chulsoo a human boy with distant fairy heritage but a confused teenager who at times looked human but was a perfect carbon copy of a high elf.

the first thing chulsoo noticed when he awoke an elf was the presence of something which had been absent in his world before. a low humming in his ear, and the soft but steady thrumming of his heartbeat in response to it. almost invisible lines and splatches of colour which connected one object with another, not all inter-related but all linked to the concrete ground below - or whatever lay beyond. the earth, chulsoo’s mind supplemented, and the lines and blurring of colours, the faint buzz of something indistinguishable suddenly made sense. magic. chulsoo could feel magic in the air around him. it was thick with it. and just as that realisation dawned on the young elven princeling, the humming faded, the lines disappeared and the colours settled. chulsoo’s feet were bigger the second time he placed them on the dirty steps, this time ascending back into the world he thought he once knew but would once again become an unknown place to be. from one imprisonment into the next, chulsoo was unsure which cage he preferred - the one where his incarceration was obvious, or this new one, where a false sense of freedom and security would make him believe that he was there of his own free will.

yong chulsoo - no, jung taekwoon - saw the sun again when he was almost 19 years old, but was forced to remain within the facility to commence training. training for what, was not explained but when days turned to weeks and the year 2012 arrived, the objective of the daybreak foundation suddenly seemed as clear as day. in the following two years, the facility was expanded upon, mutants and vigils filling the void within the tall walls. taekwoon watched with now emerald-green eyes as fellow potentials tried to hone their abilities, almost desperately so, training day and night for the glory that may befall them one day. the cloned elf observed as vigils became all the more vigilant and dangerous, wielding weapons that at times had shivers run down the young man’s back while nightmares haunted his mind at night. taekwoon himself took up bow and arrow; perhaps a little stereotypical one might add but not without proper thought. because taekwoon noticed his practically impeccable marksmanship and what better weapon than an elegant elven bow to eliminate hostiles from afar? he had always been a passive presence, preferring instead to watch from the sidelines, to learn from a distance and keep the questions hidden within the secret recesses of his mind. archery was therefore the most perfect approach to potential warrior-ship for someone as reserved ( and resigned ) as jung taekwoon - or yong chulsoo.

his identity was something taekwoon often failed to understand. whether he was yong chulsoo or jung taekwoon, the elf had difficulties distinguishing which reactions were inherently his, or which were influenced by his father, the facility and their staff or even his new elven genes. who he was supposed to be, how he was supposed to act or think; they were mysteries to the young man’s own mind and at times it drove him insane - taekwoon scoring ruthless points during training, receiving praises as well as scoldings. and at times the make-shift elf was subdued, barely batting an eyelid as his life was endangered during sparring practices, or he would simply refuse to move - his bow a still and sad object at his side. along came the day chulsoo discovered an innate sense for healing; the irony of course not lost on the male who had only known destruction in his short life.

as chulsoo honed his near-perfect skills in archery as a long distance fighter, he also became interested in natural remedies. chulsoo spent much of his time researching the elven folk in the facility’s library, which left much to be desired but provided the elf with momentary reprieve from the fast-paced life within the facility and a place for peace and comfort. research then resulted in practice, where chulsoo secretly trained to find out more about his abilities with information retrieved from studying the heritage to his mutated genes. chulsoo discovered applications to his powers which he kept a secret from his guardians and scientists at the facility - from all but one person. she had been surprised to find a male mutant in her workshop classes but yong chulsoo ( jung taekwoon, he whispered to himself ) soon became her favourite student. the elderly woman taught taekwoon the wonders of fabric; how to design, cut and sew. a humble trade, she had called it. magical fingers, she had whispered as she’d admired taekwoon’s handiwork; so befitting of an elf, she added in a curious, mysterious tone with twinkling eyes.

when the foundation fell, jung taekwoon saw his chance to escape. he’d never felt connected to the facility or those within, save for the elderly instructor with the kind eyes and calloused hands. as the place taekwoon refused to call home was bombed, the elf maneuvered gracefully through the rubble, pushing through the masses that were either screaming, fighting or fleeing. sunlight called for him when he saw her and a handful of spiteful mutants as they closed in on the woman whose soft eyes were sharp in fright. for the first time, taekwoon took up arms instinctively - his body moving before he’d commanded it to do so - and watched as a perfectly straight arrow hit bulls eye. blood spurted in waves from a faceless male’s chest as he went down, where he remained unmoving. rage and fear soared through taekwoon’s bloodstream as he rushed forward to the woman’s aid, nocking another arrow that would never hit the next target. the attackers fled, leaving behind a fallen woman and their comrade dead on site.

as the rush of emotions threatened to suffocate taekwoon, his eyes filling with tears, he realised that this time he had reacted as he should have. he wasn’t yong chulsoo but he also wasn’t the jung taekwoon with worn shoes without laces, who had left behind an orphanage bathing in sunlight. the grief he felt was his own as trembling hands pressed against a bloodied abdomen and taekwoon realised the woman’s wounds were fatal. there was nothing he could do for the person who had been a light when all taekwoon could see was darkness and hopelessness. and as glittering tears fell, pointed ears listened to the last words she would speak. “cormamin niuve tenna’ ta elea lle au.” fear slipped from dulling orbs. “namaarie.. elgar” the elderly lady with sunken eyes and straw textured hair croaked when morríghan finally embraced her.

THERE IS FLESH AND BLOOD BEHIND THESE TALES,

( temperance ) ever since he can remember, taekwoon was told that good things don’t always come to good people and that the pleasures in life should be enjoyed in moderation, in humility and grace. he must control himself, his emotions and his urges, to live a full life. add to that the elven mutation taekwoon has endured, and an almost chaste person is created - restraining taekwoon’s naturally passionate personality.

( self-reliance ) from a young age, taekwoon has learnt that he only has himself to rely on; his own strength, abilities and mind. he is resourceful and stands on his own two feet. because he’s learnt that he can only depend on himself, it is sometimes difficult for taekwoon to seek help, to let go and trust his own well-being in the hands of someone else.

( privacy ) taekwoon is a very private person, preferring to keep himself and his affairs as secretive and inconspicuous as possible. he does not open up to people easily, is quite reserved and prefers to spend time in small company rather than large, loud groups. it may take a while for people to gain taekwoon’s trust to the point where he will feel comfortable sharing his most private thoughts.

( silence ) taekwoon is naturally quiet, does not raise his voice often and enjoys silence more than he does talking or loud noises. his quietness can sometimes irk people, especially the loud-mouthed or boastful types or naturally cheerful and talkative people who may not be as comfortable with pauses in conversations. however, to taekwoon, a person in whose company he can enjoy a silent afternoon is someone who he will appreciate endlessly.

( oblivion ) despite taekwoon’s strength of observation, there is much to which he is oblivious. while he can sense dark auras and malevolent intent in others towards others, he rarely notices if anyone has ill-will against him. similarly, matters of the heart are also not easily noticed by taekwoon and it will take him a while to realise if someone holds romantic affections for him.

( fearlessness ) while taekwoon is against foolish bravery, thoughtless actions and tactless words, he himself is something akin to fearless. this is an exceptionally dangerous trait as it sometimes makes him oblivious to danger when it crosses his path ( and makes him sometimes prone to acts of bravery he so often condemns ). whether it’s the detached and slightly haughty personality his elven genes have instilled in him or taekwoon’s natural attitude of following into unknown situations without much further thought remains unknown.

( romance ) he may contradict himself at times or outright deny, but taekwoon is a romantic soul. he believes in love as one does in fairy tales but dislikes that part of him as he believes it also makes him appear naive. it is perhaps a surprise that, after having been wronged so many times and given untrue love, taekwoon still believes in the beauty and existence of unconditional love.

( arrogance ) while not intentional, taekwoon may sometimes appear arrogant and apathetic. his icy features do nothing to soften his countenance, leaving people to think he has quite the stoic, unfeeling disposition. taekwoon’s trust in his own powers, knowledge of his trade and quiet authority may lead people into thinking he’s quite comfortable on his high horse.

( honesty ) taekwoon tries to be and remain honest, choosing to stay silent if he can’t speak the truth. his honesty is sometimes blunt, and may hurt feelings, but to him being frank is more important than sparing one’s sensibilities.

( betrayal ) while seemingly a loyal man, taekwoon’s loyalties may change as he sees fit. his word is generally trustworthy, so long as you don’t expect him to align to your cause blindly. if the outcome of the alliance benefits taekwoon’s own ideals or does no harm to those he loves, he will remain loyal. should he be betrayed, ideals shift or a situation present itself that he must change his mind, he has no qualms betraying those whose word he has given, without remorse.

( patience ) ever since taekwoon was a little boy, he’s been quite patient. half of that patience was learnt, being an orphaned child, unloved and unwanted by biological parents and waiting for a new family to take interest. the hierarchy at the orphanage meant that taekwoon even had to wait to play with his favourite toys because it hadn’t been his turn. it had been difficult at first but as taekwoon grew older, part of the patience he bore started feeling more like a part of him. as difficult as waiting for toys to play had been, just as easy was it to go through the various learning steps at a moderate pace in the yong household or training time at the facility. taekwoon continues to enact patience in his line or work and relationships.

( purity ) there is an innocence to taekwoon that is not easily observed past the cold, calculated exterior. while the man’s genes were tampered with, his heart and intentions are generally pure - to the extent that even a childhood in the most traitorous and hostile environment did not yet taint the innocence which taekwoon carried since he was a boy. however, make no mistake in equating innocent with gullible or naive. taekwoon also has some winsome qualities which surface whenever he feels comfortable with someone.

( beauty ) taekwoon appreciates beauty in life, to the point that it has almost become an obsession. before the experiments, taekwoon never cared much for outward appearances in terms of things or people being pretty, but after the elven genes started to mutate his own, taekwoon has gained an affection for all that is outwardly beautiful too. he gets easily distracted when he sees things or being that he believes are beautiful in one way or another, and feels an ache to possess them.

AND EVEN MONSTERS CAN LEARN TO WEEP.

elven physiology.

taekwoon’s power allows him the same abilities and physical aspects of true elves, such as known in folklore and mythology. he is blessed with an enhanced condition that includes enhanced agility, dexterity, senses, reflexes and intelligence. he also possesses enhanced marksmanship, which increases accuracy on distant targets. as an elf, taekwoon is a figure of enhanced beauty. he possesses a level of grace, physical beauty, sense of style and social poise above that commonly found. elves age slower than humans do, and while taekwoon is not an actual elf, the skin he inhabits ages slower than usual to the extent that taekwoon appears much younger than he actually is ( decelerated aging ). his actual lifespan is that of a normal human. due to the migrating nature of elves, their connection to mother earth and their ability to channel nature, taekwoon can survive and adapt to any natural environment, being able to tolerate a wide range of temperatures and levels of moisture with little or no discomfort. due to this, taekwoon is mostly immune to natural contaminants. just like elves, taekwoon is in sync with the lingering magic in nature. his mutated elven genes allow him to detect magic in his surroundings and access it at will. taekwoon’s main magical powers are healing, potion creation and transmutation.

healing

taekwoon’s magical healing allows him to restore living organisms including humans to optimal health. this is done by touch or prolonged exposure to taekwoon’s presence, as he partially embodies the healing magic he uses and posesses a magical aura.

potion creation

taekwoon can create potions and ointments that can result in magical effects. the concoctions have magical properties that can heal the body, enhance physical abilities or bewitch the person who ingests the potion(s). some potions may come in different forms of liquid, such as jelly, stew, brew or soup, or can be made in solid form, such as pills or powder.

transmutation

this application allows taekwoon to transmute or alter the form or structure of non-human beings and objects into anything else, either completely or partially, permanently or temporarily.

            LIMITATIONS :

there are several limitations to taekwoon’s abilities; some of which he is aware and some that still have to be revealed. due to taekwoon’s generally passive personality and purity of nature, his abilities are closely related to acts of healing. his abilities are therefore greatly defensive rather than offensive. taekwoon’s elven physiology does not come without limitations. while the researchers deemed he boy a perfect clone of what could be called a balance between a high elf and mythic elf, they failed to pay careful attention to how taekwoon’s human genes reacted to the sampled elven ones. a recreation can never be as perfect as the original.

taekwoon has limited control over his elven genes, resulting outward elven features that he can’t hide even in human form ( e.g. lightly pointed ears, a sheen of green over black eyes in certain lighting ). additionally, due to taekwoon’s enhanced senses, he is now left with extremely sensitive ears and may at time experience sensory overload. taekwoon’s enhanced agility, when moving fast in battles that take hours to fight, he will suffer from extreme exhaustion to the point that there is a risk of blackout during battles that take longer than 2 hours. the man’s enhanced intelligence is limited to his areas of expertise and what his elven genes dictate to be of importance ( e.g. battle strategy, healing properties, combining ingredients, chemistry/alchemy and related areas and not, for example, economics or psychology which is of no concern to taekwoon ). his genius intellect may also cause emotional and psychological effects, such as a growing apathy for those considered of lower intelligence, increased arrogance and confidence or even insanity, due to the knowledge taekwoon will inevitably collect over time. taekwoon’s enhanced beauty definitely has the ability to enchant people and exercises considerable social influence, it cannot directly control or subvert a person’s will. furthermore, taekwoon’s elven beauty may attract unwanted attention unless he downplays his appearance.

while taekwoon is immune against many contaminants, this power has a loophole which makes taekwoon extremely vulnerable against certain substances or plants. he is allergic to copper/brass materials and nettle, the letter causing anaphylaxis upon ingestion whereas the former will leave burns on his skin. taekwoon is also susceptible to alcohol and other drugs. ingestion of any kind of hallucinatory drug or alcohol will negate taekwoon’s enhanced senses until the effects wear off. while taekwoon has a near perfect ability to adapt to any environment, he is weak against extreme cold. because elves strive in a blossoming environment, extreme winters dull taekwoon’s magical powers unless he manages to keep himself warm. while sudden cold may be dealt with by taekwoon’s elven genes and rarely has a weakening effect on taekwoon’s powers, prolonged exposure to icy temperatures will weaken him as explained.

taekwoon’s healing power can heal external wounds (cuts, bruises, etc) which also include fractured bones and deeper burns regardless of severity. minor internal bleeding can also be healed, but take a longer time to heal. nerve damage can never be healed by taekwoon. major damage to internal organs cannot be healed by taekwoon nor can mental illnesses. however, prolonged exposure to taekwoon’s presence has been proven to ease worries to a degree and promotes positive thinking and motivation. taekwoon’s healing powers can prevent scarring but only if healing is done within the time span of 12 hours. furthermore, taekwoon can only heal non-fatal wounds, needs bodily contact for natural healing and cannot heal permanent injuries (such as spinal cord injuries, or genetic diseases) or abnormal injuries. taekwoon’s healing abilities may be painful for the patient. excessive healing in a short time span exhausts taekwoon.

potion making allows taekwoon to use his magic more effectively, and his potions generally have magical properties. his healing potions can reattach small lost limbs, such as fingers and toes, can speed up a healing process and cure a number of afflictions, diseases and poisons. taekwoon’s potions can increase courage and (to a degree) enhance one’s natural abilities (e.g. eyesight, hearing, or dexterity) but cannot augment one’s powers. taekwoon can create sleeping potions to improve rest or bottle poison but cannot bring back the dead, grant immortality or reverse the effects of ageing. the potions also cannot change appearance or induce love in the drinker. taekwoon’s potions are therefore generally used for their magical healing properties or defensive tactics. effects of taekwoon’s potions are usually temporary, unless they are specifically made to be permanent (e.g. reattachment of fingers). incorrect brewing makes the potions deadly, and they take many hours to complete depending on the effects the potions are supposed to have (e.g. sleeping potions take 6-8 hours, whereas a reattachment potion can take up to a week to finish). certain potions are specific about the method of ingestion or dosage, and instructions need to be followed carefully for the potions to work. it is never guaranteed that the same formula will work twice. taekwoon’s potions may have a hallucinatory effect or may be addictive to the intended.

taekwoon’s power of transmutation is the least stable magical application to the man’s elven physiology. taekwoon does not yet possess enough knowledge of his own magic to call upon this ability at will. he cannot generate or manipulate his power of transmutation, but is aware of it happening usually in moments of great stress or on the battlefield/ in a dangerous fight. transmutation is a defensive ability, and taekwoon can transmute weapons - or items used as weapons - that are wielded against him, his fellow warriors or those he loves dear in moments of heightened emotional distress. this ability is limited to only items or non-human beings (e.g. dogs, or snakes used in attack) used as weapons, which may explain the unstable nature of this application. additionally, taekwoon can only transmute the weapons into non-destructive items of nature such as flowers, weeds, pebbles, small amounts of water and the like.

THREAT LEVEL TWO.                           00+ BRWN, 09+ RSLNC, 05+ INTLCT, 02+ WLLPWR, 03+ FGHTNG, 05+ SPD

#avt: follow #krp #kpop rp #jung taekwoon #tw: experimentation #tw: death #tw: blood #tw: violence

[aussteroidshop-blog]

bodybuiling steroids australia

Let’s see what can expect athlete-lover, wave sense all the “pros” and “cons” and decided to start taking androgene anabolic steroids. Such a person must be clear that, if he wants enough to grow steadily and to keep the achieved results, it will have to take steroids approximately 35-40 weeks per year. Believe me, the same recommended by Fred Hatfield’s two six-week cycle in the year following the year will produce almost zero results. Please understand me correctly, I’m not campaigning for a permanent taking steroids, I just inform you how things are in practice. Want to check on your experience? I wish you luck. Again, with the rather dubious common sense anabolic steroid abuse in some way may be justified by those athletes who are very close to realizing their genetic potential asteroidea. This means that the proportion of muscle tissue should be at least 50% of the body weight. That is, at least half of your body weight should be muscle. When the application of adequate dosage for the average human sensitivity to steroid therapy range from 0.5 to 1 milligrams administered per kilogram of body weight per day (smaller doses are work only for genetically gifted people, large and unreasonably toxic), you can count on the following effects:

increase physical performance;

the acceleration of growth of muscle mass and strength;

improved glycogen super-compensation;

growth strength;

increase blood volume, improve hydration of muscle tissue;

improvement of appetite, increase of vitality, better mood, a slight increase of aggressiveness, enabling more intensive training;

improving the quality of training, increase of motivation for the training;

assuming adequate nutrition, the reduction of subcutaneous fat while maintaining muscle mass or even increase it some.

IT IS HELPFUL TO OBSERVE THE FOLLOWING PRINCIPLES:

Duration of administration of steroids should be long enough – 9 to 12 weeks

Oral (tablets) drugs should be eliminated or at least reduced to 3-4 weeks in the beginning of the cycle, except for the practically non-toxic to the liver Primobolan, Winstrol, Oxandrolone. This is especially true of taking these steroids, such as oxymetholone, methandienone and methyltestosterone.

Upon reaching a pronounced anabolic effect, it is advisable to reduce the dosage used twice, for example starting with a daily dose of 1 milligrams per kilogram of body weight, to reduce it to 0.5 mg per kg.

When working to increase muscle mass protein dosage should be at least 3-3. 5 grams per kilogram of body weight per day, calorie – 40 kcal per kilogram of body weight per day.

About four weeks before the end of the drugs exclude vysokoyarusnye esters of testosterones.

In spite of the existing guidelines (most often, individuals never took steroids, but who consider themselves experts in this matter), do not try to save after discontinuation of steroids, and previous amount and intensity of training. In addition, it is not possible, such attempts are destructive will affect not only your muscles, but also health.

SIDE EFFECTS

What undesirable side effects can I expect while taking steroids and after its termination?Despite the bloated ancistroides propaganda hysteria, total toxicity androgeno-anabolic steroids, even at doses of 1.5-2.5 times higher above, has not been proved. Expressed toxic effect of steroids on the body manifests itself most often with long-term use of very high doses (3-4 grams per week or more), breach of oral, alkilirovanie in 17-alpha position drugs, such as methandienone, methyltestosterone, oxymetholone, and congenital or acquired intolerance to this group of drugs. However, when taking androgene anabolic steroids may experience unwanted side effects. Side should consider all the effects that occur when taking steroids, in addition to a direct anabolic effects on skeletal muscles. The main ones:

Symptoms of virilization, such as acne (acne), which in some cases is correctable range of events, including the exclusion of simple carbohydrates from the diet, hygienic measures, prophylaxis and treatment, ingestion of drugs like Roaccutane and other retinoids, as well as antistaphylococcal immunoglobulin UV irradiation. Hirsutism is manifested as enhanced growth of hair on body and face, and both men and women. Sometimes pathological the borders reaches the gain (reversible) libido (sexual desire) in both sexes. In women may occur roughness of the voice and irreversible hypertrophy of the clitoris. The use of anabolic steroids by young people who have not reached full biological maturity, leads to accelerated puberty and early closure of the growth zones of tubular bones. Feminization in the form of strengthening of adiposis has and the development of gynecomastia in men develops in the presence of functional insufficiency of the liver and prolonged use of high dosages of various esters of testosterone and other drugs easily affected by the process of aromatization. Therapeutic measures to combat this side effect, especially amid the ongoing of the steroids which consists in carrying out anti-estrogen therapy or taking antiaromatase medications, sometimes with serious complications.

If you are using high or even medium dose anabolic steroids in predisposed persons, as well as with increased consumption of sodium may cause edema and hypertension. If these effects not corrected by reducing sodium intake and taking diuretics herbal, the dosage of the steroids should be reduced or stop taking the drugs.

All 17-alpha-alkylated steroids, which have already been mentioned above, is potentially hepatotoxic, it is only borne by each individual person dosages. All other steroids, though not have in reasonable dosages toxic for the liver, but their anabolic effect on the liver leads to thickening of the walls of liver cells. Backed up by the Council is not very qualified “experts”, taking membraneprotective drugs like Essentiale, Kars and legalone, this effect leads to a significant thickening of the membranes of liver cells, which hinders the secretion of bile in the bile capillaries, disrupted her normal texture, resulting in the development of intrahepatic cholestasis. Clinically it is manifested by heaviness in the right hypochondrium, enlargement of the liver, while a significant expression – loss of appetite, weakness, bitter taste in the mouth, nausea and jaundice. After cessation of treatment, these phenomena often take place over two to three weeks. The only auxiliary hepatotropic therapy when taking androgeno-anabolic steroids can be the use of decoctions and infusions of rose, immortelle, corn ryltsev, in addition the use of one or two bottles degassed alkaline mineral water.

Suppression of endogenous secretion of gonadotropins and androgens, and inhibition of spermatogenesis occurs after 3-5 weeks of androgen in a dosage equivalent to 250 mg of testosterone a week. When the drugs all hormonal regulation mechanisms are restored naturally through 8-15 weeks. Popular now use horioniceski gonadotropin intervenes in the processes of hormonal regulation at a higher level and violates the natural process of restoration of normal hormonal. The use of this drug is highly undesirable, and a great deal of doubt can be justified by those athletes who want to minimize muscle loss during the short 3-5 week break between cycles prima steroids.

Despite the distributed media opinion, androgene anabolic steroids do not have carcinogenic causing cancer, effect. However, androgens stimulate the growth of existing cancer of the prostate and mammary glands. With prolonged use of high doses of testosterone, especially in predisposed individuals may be unmotivated growth of aggressiveness and temper.

Prolonged use of high doses of steroids, especially oxymetholone, leads to a strong inhibition of immune system and weakening the strength of connective tissue structures – tendon unit and internal “skeleton” of muscle tissue. Parallel with this the increase in strength potential of the muscle unit can lead to injuries.

Long-term use of high doses of androgens leads to irreversible loss of hair on the head, especially in predisposed individuals to this, regardless of gender and age.

NON-MEDICAL USE OF STEROIDS

Steroids, usually in the form of testosterone, are partly responsible for the development of the body, especially among adolescents. They have an androgenic effect associated with changes in primary and secondary sexual characteristics, such as voice changes, body hair growth, muscle development, and bone growth. Steroids, getting into the cells, activate certain genes responsible for the creation and use of protein. As a result, the entire protein goes to the development and increase in muscle mass of a person. Since the use of steroids in athletes passes without control and in doses that are ten times higher than permissible, the risk of side effects reaches 70%. People who regularly use steroids are seven times more susceptible to liver cancer, ten times more cardiovascular diseases, five times more reproductive diseases, many times more mental illnesses and psychological disorders than people who do not use steroids.

Tags: bodybuilding steroids, uses of steroids

[ntrending]

The scoop on how mouse poop might get humans to Mars

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/the-scoop-on-how-mouse-poop-might-get-humans-to-mars/

The scoop on how mouse poop might get humans to Mars

When astronauts on the International Space Station need to go number two, they direct their poo through a narrow hole into a carefully sealed toilet. Eventually, their waste bursts into flames when jettisoned into Earth’s atmosphere.

The fate of the feces of 20 mice tagging along on the ISS this year won’t be quite as flashy, but it’s just as dramatic. The rodents, who shot into space on June 29, made a voyage to the station to provide scientists data on the effects of microgravity on their bodies and internal rhythms—part of which will be captured in their poop.

Sound familiar? It should. In 2015, NASA did the same thing, but with people. The Rodent Research-7 study is a sibling of the Twins Study, during which astronaut Scott Kelly spent a year on the station while his brother, Mark Kelly, acted as a control back on Earth. Scientists have spent years poring over the data generated by the experiment—among them, the researchers who designed the mouse mission.

This mouse madness has a laundry list of questions to answer. Led by principal investigators Fred Turek and Martha Vitaterna of Northwestern University at Evanston, Illinois, researchers at multiple institutions will examine how microgravity affects (or disrupts) the animals’ gut microbiome, gastrointestinal function, immune function, metabolism, and sleep and circadian rhythms.

“We’re bringing biology to the space program,” says Turek, who has a long history helping NASA confront the physical challenges of spaceflight. Whether seated at his messy desk or wandering the halls of his lab, which is devoted to circadian-rhythm research, Turek almost vibrates with enthusiasm for all things extraterrestrial. He wears a thick denim shirt emblazoned with the NASA logo and waxes poetic about how, once upon a time, he took hamsters up on the “vomit comet”—a colloquial name for the reduced-gravity aircraft used by NASA to test microgravity conditions without leaving Earth’s atmosphere—and advised the agency on whether to send John Glenn back to space at the age of 77 (the spaceman did indeed take one more trip).

But Turek’s daily life is devoted to something pretty down-to-earth: shut-eye. He’s responsible for much of what we know about the body’s biological rhythms, including the discovery of the gene that appears to run mammals’ 24-hour circadian clock. This internal clock keeps mammals synced to the rising and setting of the sun, running systems such as sleep and body temperature, and affecting things like body weight, disease susceptibility, and more.

That led Turek down an unexpected path to poop. It turns out that when a person alters their normal sleep-wake cycle, the community of microorganisms in their gut—their microbiome—changes too. And the more scientists learn about the gut microbiome, the more aspects of human health they believe it affects. Now Turek and Vitaterna devote much of their time to looking at how the microbiome affects the rhythms that run the human body.

“Mice aren’t furry little humans,” Vitaterna says, swatting at a fruit fly—an escapee from one of the lab’s experiments on the tiny insects’ biological clocks. But since rodents share so many genetic and behavioral characteristics with us, she explains, they’re as close as it comes to an experimental analog.

Nor is the experiment identical to the Twins Study. You could call it fraternal.

For all their similarities, the Kelly twins led very different lives on Earth and in space. In contrast, RR-7’s rodents will have much more restricted (and predictable) existences. Here and there, they’ll occupy identical habitats, eat the same delicious mouse chow, and do everything in synchronized environmental conditions. Up in space, the mice live in an enclosed habitat complete with a metal grid that floating rodents can grab onto, and features that make sure mice live separately from their own waste—and that turds don’t make their way into the rest of the station. Back down on Earth, the control rodents live in the exact same enclosure and conditions (except for that whole gravity thing).

Data from the space station is beamed to the George C. Marshall Space Flight Center in Alabama, where it’s stored and archived. Relevant data is also relayed to the Kennedy Space Center in Florida, where technicians program the mouse habitat to match the environmental conditions of the ISS. The Earth mice are on a three-day delay from their space brethren so the team can base their control conditions on exact measurements from the space station. Everything from temperature to humidity to CO2 levels matches the ISS exactly, as do all procedures, from animal handling to feeding to cage changing.

Though all the mice will be subjected to a barrage of tests, the ones conducted in space will require a bit more finesse than earthly experiments. While it’s easy to, say, snag a piece of mouse feces or perform a quick experiment on Earth, it’s not quite as simple to handle a wriggling mouse without gravity’s assistance. Despite the trickier conditions, astronauts will acquire a precious poo pellet from each mouse every two weeks. They’ll measure each creature’s mass and bone density at least twice over the course of the experiment, draw blood, and film their habitat for three 48-hour periods too. Then, at the end of 30 days, they’ll “process” 10 of the mice (a polite euphemism for euthanasia and dissection). The surviving 10 will live on for another two months before making the same sacrifice.

Three months is a long time in mouse years—about 5 percent of an average mouse’s entire life—and the wait will seem nearly endless to the team at Northwestern. Their real work begins once the mice make it back to Earth. Inside their cluttered research lab, technicians will assess the protein levels and hormonal profiles of the deceased mice, and assess the behavior captured on the video recordings. Technicians will also dissolve the feces in saline, extract each pellet’s DNA, and sequence it.

“They’re precious samples,” Chris Olker, a research technologist who will run some of the tests, says of the poo. Olker, quietly cynical in his band T-shirt as he walks through a maze of identical hallways on the way to the lab, snaps into earnestness when he talks about the mice he breeds, dissects, and studies.

There are a million ways to fail, the tech team explains. Every spilled vial or mismeasured chemical could trash years of preparation and negate the careful dance taking place in space as we speak.

There’s already been a challenge to the carefully planned mission. Before liftoff, the team ran into a snafu thanks to a particularly playful mouse. “We did change our minds which cage of 10 to send,” Vitaterna says. She had become “kind of obsessive” about observing every aspect of the mice, from body weight to appearance, and when she noticed that one of the mice jumped out of its cage, she worried that it would cause problems in space. Instead, the team dipped into one of their seemingly endless contingency plans—a side effect of intense planning and coordination with NASA—and decided to send an entirely different cage of 10 mice during the last week before launch. Now, the mice that almost didn’t make the cut are up in space, sleeping and pooping weightlessly, while their more-active siblings act as controls on Earth.

Locked in their droppings is data that will show whether and how the lack of gravity affected the gut microbiome—a carefully balanced group of microbes that, in turn, can affect everything from immunity to body weight to the risk of cancer, mental health issues, and diabetes.

Researchers hope to use that information to probe the links between circadian-rhythm disruption and other bodily systems in mice—and humans. NASA intends to incorporate what it learns into plans to send humans safely to Mars, a journey that will require nine months in transit and an unknown amount of time on a planet with less than half of Earth’s gravity.

It could take years or even decades for the bodies of astronauts like Kelly to reveal the effects of their time in space, so NASA is placing plenty of hope—and trust—in accelerated rodent experiments. RR-7 is just one facet of a bigger program aimed at understanding what microgravity might do to astronauts who spend lots of time aloft.

The program, which made its maiden flight in 2014, is seen as a quicker and more-cost-effective way to profile the risks of extended space travel. So far, mice have yielded data on muscle-tissue loss, neurological changes in space, how bones grow and heal, and blood vessels in the brain and eye.

The sooner NASA knows about the possible pitfalls of months in space, the sooner it can develop ways to offset them—and avoid potentially fatal surprises when astronauts come home from Mars and other far-flung missions in microgravity.

That was the point of the Twins Test too. The public won’t know specifics about the results until later this year, and Vitaterna is coy about those experiments. But ask her about the mouse pellets that could one day help humans get to Mars, and she drops her reserve. “I love that we can get so much from waste material,” she says, grinning. “It’s like getting something for nothing.”

Written By Erin Blakemore

#Science

[dailyaudiobible]

06/29/2018 DAB Transcript

2 Kings 15:1-16:20, Acts 19:13-41, Psalms 147:1-20, Proverbs 18:4-5

Today is the 29th day of June. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian and it is a pleasure and an honor to be here with you today around the global camp fire as we take the next step and move forward on our adventure through the Scriptures this year. So, in the Old Testament we’re moving our way through the book of 2 Kings and we’ll pick up where we left off yesterday. And we’re reading from the God's Word translation this week. 2 Kings, chapters 15 and 16 today.

Commentary:

Alright. So, in the book of 2 Kings, you know, we are working our way rapidly, sometimes just a paragraph on a king, which represents an entire reign. Some of these rains are very short. Some of them are lifetime reigns between Israel and Judah’s Kings. What we’re watching in the north in Israel is a continual deterioration. Like, they’re not trying to follow any lines of succession and keep a society together. It’s like, somebody becomes king and they become a target almost. Somebody comes and tries to find a way to assassinate them and then they take over the throne, which is simply eroding the society. And it will come to complete ruin. In Judah, we do have back-and-forth but the Kings are usually following the traditions of their father and holding as a high example, David's reign, but not all is well with them either. We read of King Ahaz of Judah today, who sacrificed his own child, which according to the Bible, was one of the reasons God displaced the people who were there before the Israelites. So, we can see we’re heading in the wrong direction.

Then, in the book of Acts today, we’re in the city of Ephesus. A riot is breaking out because the gospel that Paul is preaching has potential impact on certain segments of the economy. And that segment in specific has to do with the Temple of Artemis, where pilgrims from all around the region who worship Artemis come to Ephesus on pilgrimage. So, the tourism industry, the trinket industry, the idol industry, this is all being effected and that will stir up a ruckus in Ephesus. So, once again, we see an example of the gospel coming into a region and causing great disruption because spiritual freedom overturns false constructs and disrupts much. It does the same in our own world and in our own lives. Freedom invites us to walk out of bondage. But when bondage is all you've ever known it seems normal. And, so, walking into freedom feels disruptive. We saw this all throughout Jesus ministry. We see this all throughout the book of Acts in the ministries of Peter and Paul and it is the same today.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word. We thank You for the ability to look back, way back, thousands of years, thousands and thousands of years and see that the story continues forward in the heart of people. It’s just like ours. And, so, we invite Your Holy Spirit to come, plant the words of the Scriptures in our lives today. We ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

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Man, tomorrow’s the last day of June. One week from tomorrow, one week from tomorrow is the Daily Audio Bible long walk, a day that we set aside every July 7th and go for a walk. It's that simple. Go somewhere beautiful. Go for a long walk with God in the center of the year looking back at what He's spoken through His word and what He's brought us through to get us to this point and resetting, looking for His counsel and guidance about what the next six months of this year are to look like and to just enjoy fellowship, just having unhurried, uninterrupted time with God somewhere beautiful. So, make plans for that on the seventh. Wherever you go, take a picture or shoot a little video or something. Post that back to the Daily Audio Bible Facebook page, which is facebook.com/dailyaudiobible and then we have this collective long walk happening all over the world and we get to look into the beauty of where we are because we’re all over the world. So, we get to look into the beauty of whatever picture you took. We get to look at that and enjoy your long walk. So, make plans for that on the 7th July.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that it dailyaudiobible.com. There is a link. It's on the homepage. Thank you for your partnership. If you're using the Daily Audio Bible app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or, if you prefer, the mailing address is PO Box 1996. Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And as always, if you have a prayer request or comment, 877-942-4253 is the number to dial.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Good morning DABbers. This is Walta, A Burning Bush That Will Not Be Devoured For The Glory Of Our God And King. I just heard a prayer request from a man of God whose mother is in hospice and his son is in recovery. He has returned home. I think his name is Tom. My brother, I just want you to know that everything we go through, God uses it for His glory. A year ago I was in your situation, in fact, months ago. My son is still in recovery. Unfortunately, my mother’s passed. I’m saying this to let you know that God who has brought me through will bring you through. And the words of encouragement that God gave me regarding my son has been this. I have been given a responsibility to love and care for God’s son. Your son is God’s son and you are just the one that God has trusted to love him through whatever he is battling, whatever he is going through. Do not give up praying for him every single day. And Father God, I pray for Tom’s son right now. And God, I pray that you will release him from whatever bondage the enemy has placed on him. God I pray for all our kids who have been put in bondage by addiction. We command those genes chains to be loosed right now in the name of Jesus. And Father God, we give you the glory. And I pray for strength and energy for Tom and for all of us in this situation. Help him to love his aging parents. Help him to be there and consistently pray for them during their last moments knowing that You will never leave them or forsake them God. You are there with them in their last days and You are there with our kids. And we thank you Jesus that we can do nothing God. You are there and You are taking care of them. We love You Lord. My brother, take courage in Jesus’ name.

Hello DABbers. My name is Denise. I am a first time caller. I’m asking for prayer for marriages in general, myself, my marriage included. It seems as if we are trying to make it just with the daily grind and forget to put our marriages ahead of work. So, I just ask that you would pray for marriages in general. I pray that God would restore and renew each and every marriage and that He would become the foundation. I just thank you…and…

Good morning Daily Audio Bible. This is Cory M. from Jacksonville Florida. I wanted to respond to Alyssa from Texas and her cry concerning overcoming promiscuity and other things where she said that she’s stepping outside of God’s will. Sister, I just want to encourage you to focus on God’s grace. You know, the word tells us that the grace of God teaches us to __ on godliness and __ . And, so focus on that. Don’t focus so much on your behavior. Focus on adoring God. Focus on reading the word. Focus on confessing the word, that, you know, you are a new creature. Focus on those kinds of things. Yes, of course, you know, confess your sin and repent. That’s fine. But don’t…don’t focus on how…you know…the sin…don’t focus there. Put your focus on God’s grace because He’s abundantly able to transform you. You cannot change yourself. Right? You have to have the transforming power of the Holy Spirit. And then secondly, I would like to have you all be praying for me. I will be heading to Uganda July 22nd to minister in __ and I would appreciate your prayers. Thank you so much. I so enjoy this community. I’ve been walking and doing this with you all for about seven years. I don’t call often but I do hear your prayers and I join you in prayer. So, friendship, loyalty, and love in Jesus. Bye-bye.

Good morning brothers and sisters of the Daily Audio Bible family. Today is Wednesday, June 27th and I’m calling to pray for Not Shaken, her son Brian and his two girls. Father God, we lift this family up. You, Father God, know what they need and You Father God fight our battles. I pray that Not Shaken continues to just put everything at your feet Jesus because You have a plan. And Father God, in Psalm 138, it was said that, though I walk in the midst of trouble You will revive me, You will stretch out Your hand against the wrath of my enemy and Your right hand will save me. The Lord will perfect that which concerns me. Your mercy endures forever. Do not forsake the works of your hand. So, Not Shaken, the Lord will perfect that which concerns you. And that which concerns you is your son Brian and your two granddaughters. I just pray Father God…and I don’t know why…I guess it’s just human nature that the people that love us the most also can just hate us the most. He just really hates himself, probably, and just is projecting that on you. I agree, it’s great that you have the girls there so you can give them some sense of normalcy. I don’t know what the answer is but I know who does. As Pelham said, let’s refer you and continue to refer you. I know You are Lord and referring to the one who made you perfectly and the one who made Brian. Father God, You can do all things and we just lift up Brian to You, Your beloved son, who You fearfully and wonderfully made. You reveal Yourself to him, remove the blindness that he has. The devil wants him to stay the way he is but we know that You are greater and You can do all things. We lift up Brian so that You will change His heart. Holy Spirit, just come upon him and reveal Yourself to him so that all the glory may be to you and the girls may see that their father is completely changed be…

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Family Affair

If you live in Southern California and run in car enthusiast circles, you might’ve run across the name Marconi. Dick, the patriarch of the family moved to California in the 1950s to start a family, was extremely successful in the health supplements field, and in his not-quite-retirement gave back to the community, founding the Marconi Automotive Museum & Foundation for Kids in Tustin​, California, in 1997. Along the way he backed his son’s racing activities with John enjoying a large degree of success in Can-Am, Trans-Am, Formula Ford, Formula Atlantic, Formula 5000, Indy lights, and in sports racers — including as a Ferrari factory driver — winning the 348 US Challenge, and second in the 348 World Championship. Several of John’s race cars are on display in the museum.

And while John was racing, in 1988, he married the love of his life, Michelle, and together they raised three exceptional kids, Vincent, Monique, and Colt. Vincent especially, inherited the “car guy” gene from his dad, buying, building, and restoring his first car over a two-year period before he could legally drive, a ’69 Dodge Dart Swinger. Ten years ago, while a high school senior, it landing on a magazine cover.

Once he graduated, instead of taking the road to college, Vincent took a detour and that’s where the story on this Sassy Grass Green ’71  Plymouth Cuda 340 really begins. Mopar fans consider the ’70-’74 E-Bodies as the Holy Grail of Mopar muscle. We know that the rarest ’71 Hemi-powered cars have sold for $3 million or more. But might the best-balanced of the John Herlitz–designed Barracudas actually be those powered by the small-block 340s? While it’s often said “there’s no replacement for displacement,” that’s not always the case when the weight of a big-block 426 or 440 is stacked on top of the front axles. While straight-line is fun it’s also about the handling!

As John Marconi explains, this car was acquired in 2009 about two weeks before Christmas. “Vincent, myself, Julius and Dave Mickelson were buying and selling Mopars and having a good time doing it. David and Julius had done the basics on this car. They asked Vincent to finish up the car because they were swamped. The car was in our shop being worked on. Michelle had come down from the house to ask Vincent a couple of questions and saw this beautiful Sassy Grass Green ’71 340 ’Cuda. Her comment was, ‘Oh my goodness, it’s beautiful.’ Understand Michelle has seen a lot of cars — she’s been around racing most of her life. For her to say something like that, it caught our attention.”

John continues, “Later on that evening she made a couple of comments about it that she thought it was really a nice car. This was around December 9. Vince and I met up the next day and thought it would be really cool to buy it for Michelle. We contacted David and Julius and negotiated a deal to purchase the car. The car stayed at the house with Vincent doing work on it, getting it ready for the big reveal on Christmas Day. When we did a compression check on the motor, it was pretty obvious it had some burnt valves due to unleaded fuel. The car had about 75,000 miles on its matching-numbers motor. So like muscle car guys do, we ordered up a 400hp 360 Mopar roller crate motor. That was the task — trying to get the motor in our shop without Michelle seeing it.”

“The plan was to pull the stock motor and install the new crate motor before Christmas. However, there was a hitch in the giddy-up. We had two cars in restoration at that time and didn’t have the room to do the engine swap. Between the ninth and Christmas Day, Michelle made several trips to the shop to see how Vincent was doing on the car, still thinking that he was working on it for David, and Julius getting it prepared so they can sell it. Christmas morning arrived. Once all the festivities up in the house were done, the family walked Michelle down to the back with her eyes closed for the big reveal. We tied a big red bow around the roof of the car and one around her 400hp crate motor sitting on an engine stand next to the car. When she opened her eyes there were tears, at first we weren’t sure whether it was tears of joy, because we bought her the car or she was going to kill Vince and I for spending the money. Thank goodness it wasn’t the latter. We then became a three ’Cuda family.”

The Marconi’s three E-Bodies include Michelle’s 340 Sassy Grass Green ’71 ’Cuda; the second ’Cuda, often driven to shows by the then 18-year-old Vincent, was a ’73 440 Six-Pack restomod; and John’s “daily driver,” a ’71 Hemi ’Cuda four-speed. John recalls that Christmas morning almost like it was yesterday. “Of course, the first thing she wanted to do is go out for a drive, so we pulled it out of the driveway. She took off for what we thought was going to be an around-the-block excursion. A half-hour later she brought the car back said, ‘This thing is a dog! She wasn’t kidding. It had five burnt valves. Vince and I did what any good Mopar family would do on Christmas Day, we backed it into the garage and started tearing out the engine. Our mission was to install her new crate motor on Christmas Day. Remember, at this time it was 11 a.m. Out came the power tools and out came the tired 340. We got the new motor installed and running just before dark.” (It doesn’t hurt to have a well-equipped home garage with three lifts.)

As the sun was setting on Christmas Day, Michelle took it for a second spin that day. “The motor has a very serious cam in it and backed up by two-chamber Flowmasters — nothing sounds sweeter than a Mopar with proper exhaust. Coming up to the intersection some neighborhood kids spotted her on their bikes; they requested a burnout. That’s exactly what she did as she lit it up across the intersection. Life was perfect around the house. Over the next couple weeks Vincent continued tidying up the engine compartment to make it driveable. Vincent took the car over to Superior Automotive for a couple of hours of intense dyno work. The mission was to build Michelle a fast ​grocery getter that she could have fun with, take to car shows periodically, and yes, go get groceries. One thing about all our cars is while we like going to car shows, we prefer driving our cars. They’re not trailer queens.”

Michelle, who by nature is somewhat shy, did relate that over the years, she’s taken her ‘Cuda to go grocery shopping. “We have a Stater Brothers supermarket close by and on occasion I would take ‘Sassy Fish’ for a grocery run. Not because it was convenient to do so given where it was parked in the driveway, but because I wanted to. And it never failed to attract attention. With its color, it’s not a car for someone who is introverted. This is a bit of a contradiction for me, but I simply love the color.”

John didn’t expect the reaction a few weeks later, when attending their first show. “What people did not anticipate was a beautiful 5-foot 9-inch natural blonde in a ponytail to roll in with a ’71 Sassy Grass Green ’Cuda. I will admit that it drew attention completely away from the two big-block cars in red. It’s amazing to watch her pull into the shows, and the other two ’Cudas literally disappear into the background. That Sassy Grass Green car is a showstopper. Michelle loves frogs, especially red-eyed tree frogs so Vince painted the intake plates on the rally hood in red. Now she’s got a very fast, very angry, red-eyed ’Cuda.”

When the car was first built back in 2009 and 2010, it was built with the stroker crate motor with a larger pulley on the alternator. With a 6,500-rpm redline, and because John and Vince didn’t want to see wife and mom grenade the alternator, Vincent installed a 2,500-stall speed torque converter. Next was a vacuum pump on the brakes. With the lift and overlap of the cam, it didn’t build much vacuum for the brake booster. Vincent rebuilt the entire suspension, installing a 1 1/8-inch front sway bar with a 3/4-inch rear sway bar. To stiffen up the front suspension, a set of 1-inch Hemi torsion bars and heavy-duty shocks were installed along with a rebuilt steering box. There were some small rust holes in the trunk, which were repaired. LED lights upgraded the otherwise stock-looking interior. Michelle wanted to keep the car stock-looking, so the factory Rallye road wheels were retained up front, but in a Marconi-trademark modification, 9-inch wide custom Rallye road wheels were installed in back. These modifications, combined with the modern rubber, give this vintage E-Body handling characteristics similar to a contemporary Dodge Challenger SRT8.

Recently, Michelle, John, and Vincent decided to reinstall the original engine. Rather than Vincent rebuilding it himself, the trio decided to send it out to Mopar motor guru Julius Steuer in Chatsworth, California. The reason? Not enough time, as John is busy with his various businesses and Vincent is turning wrenches under the watchful eye of master mechanic Bill Gojkov at Enzo Motors as a master Ferrari technician.

About the paint. Originally when it left the factory, this 340 ’Cuda rolled off the assembly line finished in Snow White. As far as Vincent knows, it got the Sassy Grass Green paint at some point in the late 1990s. In Vincent’s words, after his careful attention it’s a good driver-quality paintjob. As the photos clearly show, with his attention to detail, it’s much more than that. But it’s not too nice for when his mom takes it for groceries. About being a three E-Body family, here’s what Vincent has to say. “As for owning three E-Bodies, it’s pretty amazing when you take them all out for a drive. It really draws in attention, or if you tell someone you have three ’Cudas they usually don’t believe you. But now we’re down to two. Unfortunately, we’re down to two. I sold my 440 Six-Pack ’73 ’Cuda. But it was fun while it lasted.”

Over time, since our first studio shoot in 2010, the family has branched out, but on two wheels rather than four, taking over the operation of The Cyclist, a bike shop in Costa Mesa. Michelle and Colt are fixtures at the shop. And John has relaunched the line of American Flyer bikes, a leader in the motorized eBike category, building a nationwide network of dealers. And it shouldn’t surprise anyone that John follows in his father’s philanthropic footsteps and his mantra, “learn, earn, and return,” as the shop and American Flyer donates bikes for kids at risk and in need.

But at their core, the Marconis are a dyed-in-the-wool Mopar family like few others. And rather than just restoring and displaying their cars, when they walk down to the garage, they’d much rather take the covers off of one of their ’Cudas and hit the road. Given that we live in California, almost any day is good for that.

ENGINE Type: Chrysler 340ci V-8 Bore x stroke: 4.04 x 3.31 inches Block: Reinforced with thicker bulkheads and higher main bearing caps Rotating assembly: Original Cylinder heads: high-performance single-casting Chrysler J-type heads Compression: 10.5:1 Valves: 2.02-inch intake, 1.60-inch exhaust Crankshaft: Chrysler Crankshaft: Forged steel Cam: Chrysler-forged hydraulic roller, .430-/.445-inch lift, 268/276 degrees Valvetrain: 2.02-inch intake, 1.60 exhaust valves Induction: Original Chrysler 340 four-barrel intake manifold Oiling system: original Fuel system: four-barrel Carter AVS Exhaust: stock exhaust manifolds with dual 2.5-inch Flowmaster mufflers Ignition: original Cooling: original Fuel: premium Output: 275 gross horsepower at 5,000 rpm, 305 lb-ft at 2,800 rpm Engine built by: Julius Steuer

DRIVETRAIN Transmission: TorqueFlite 727 three-speed automatic Converter: 2,500-stall speed torque converter Shifter: original Steering: original power steering Front brakes: original power disc brakes Rear brakes: original power drum brakes Rollbar/chassis: none

WHEELS & TIRES Wheels: 15×7 (front) and 15×9 (rear) Plymouth Rallye wheels Tires: P245/60R15 (front) and P275/60R15 (rear) BFGoodrich radial T/A

INTERIOR Seats: stock Plymouth vinyl bucket seats Instruments: stock Plymouth instruments with LED illumination upgrade Wiring: stock Plymouth OEM harness

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