#narrowing this down to 6 was the hardest thing I’ve ever done | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sir-yeehaw-paws · 1 year

Note

can you answer ALL the deep fic questions ? or if that's too much... 1-5, 7, 9 thank you!

Deep Fic Asks

Well sure, hello Anon! I'll do that. I'll negate the ones I've already answered, however. So I'll do all the ones I didn't answer yet.

2. What's a fic that took you to an emotional, dark or hard place?

This ones not so much the fanfic's fault, but I've been fairly open about admitting I had a vast fanfic library of works on my AO3 pre-my psychiatric hospitalization. Before that I had an extensive amount of James Bond and Hannibal fics I'd written that I deleted in a haze shortly before my admission to the hospital. I do regret this a bit now, but I can tell myself at least that should a situation like that ever arise again, I'll be more understanding of the signs and perhaps be able to avoid such an event. This was almost seven years ago, now. I was around 25 at the time.

3. What fic are you emotionally attached to?

I have over 900 bookmarks on AO3, give or take. I think it’s hard to really narrow them all down. As it depends on what I’m currently in the mood for. I think that on some level, I could go back and see which ones I’ve re-read the most (some well in the double digits) and think ‘yeah I think I’m really obsessed with this one’.

4. What fic of your own do you currently re-read for comfort?

None at the moment really, I admit. Sometimes I do re-read just to see how I wrote it, check for any errors to fix again, and make myself laugh.

5. What fic of your own won't you read?

Heh, well I guess see answer to question 2.

6. What's the hardest part of the writing process for you?

PLOT. I am good with dialogue, banter, establishing setting and atmosphere. Hell I think I'm even decently good at chemistry and smut. But big-extensive plots? My brain just collapses. I'm much better at character dynamics than story, if that even makes sense. Which is shame because plot is one of my favourite things to read. Hilarious.

7. How does receiving or not receiving feedback or support impact you?

It depends. Sometimes it can be discouraging to write something and have no traction whatsoever, but even one or two people reading something can keep my motivation going. It depends on how inspired I am at the time. There's always going to be that great serotonin boost when someone enjoys something you've created, and I'm certainly no exception here. I also just really like making people happy. (Which is why I enjoy gift fics and requests so much). I love doing things for people. It's as beneficial to them as it is to me, I think.

8. Does anyone in your personal life know you write fic? If not, would you tell anyone?

Nobody at present does. But if might tell someone if I was comfortable enough with them and they were also a huge nerd.

10. How has writing positively impacted your health or overall mood?

I love to write. I love creating things. Writing brings me a great deal of pleasure, as does people enjoying it. I think it's a big boost to my mood for sure.

11. Has a fic you've written ever caused issues or controversy?

At the moment *no*. Thankfully. Well, none that I'm personally aware of anyway.

13. Do you take pride in your writing or does it embarrass you? Why or why not?

I am not really embarrassed by my writing. Except maybe some stuff I wrote as a teenager. When I didn't know what I was doing. I take some pride in it. I'm hardly an award winning author, but I do like some of the stuff I've produced. If not most of it.

14. Do you compare yourself to other writers? In a positive or negative way?

Both, and I think it's inevitable. All creators are gong to do this. Only some more than others. I try to be positive when I can, but some level of 'gee they've done this way better than me" Is very human and only natural. I let it pas along after a bit though. I try not to dwell on it much.

15. How do you think your writing improved over time?

I think I started getting better at the things I was always good at, and using less word clutter, you could say. I used to be so bad for run on sentences, rambling. I've tried to trim and focus better. This goes much better when I have someone editing for me of course. Practice has helped a lot.

17. What's the best engagement/interaction you've received from someone who has read your work?

I love all the engagement I get, and I find it difficult to rank them. I like being quoted back to a lot, or people who say 'you did this bit really well'. I try to be as in-character as I can, and start getting annoyed with myself if a character sounds too OOC. I know that on some level, every character is largely up to interpretation, but I do my best to fit in with what I believe is accurate to them. Whenever I get feed back to that end, I appreciate it.

18. Do you only write when you're inspired, or do you try and sit down and write no matter what?

Definitely the former. I did one Big Bang and had to write regardless and found it at times nearly impossible Forcing writing is one of the hardest things to do, and it will sound stiff and stilted if you try. At least it does for me. I don't even use outlines. I am a flow only dude.

19. If you could write an ideal fic, what would it include?

Hmm. It would honestly depend on the fic, but I guess something with a really engaging plot (action or mystery, perhaps? Or something spy thriller like) with intense character dynamics, intrigue. Things I enjoy reading already, aided by good dialogue and atmosphere.

20. What's the greatest gift you've gotten from your writing?

Having fun and making people happy (or any other satisfying emotion) I know it might sound silly, but having a good time and people enjoying themselves really is half the gift for me. After all, this is fanfic. I'm not getting paid, it's not going to wide audience bookshelves. This is for fellow fans, engagement with friends, and the fun of writing in a conveniently pre-established area. You could say.

Thank you for sending in!

#answered asks #deep fanfic asks #ask gamess #asks

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yespleasetommyshelby · 3 years

Text

Temporary - Oscar Diaz imagine Part 6

Previously...

"De nada princesa." He winked before stepping out into the yard, a chorus of 'spooky!' coming from the Santos as he closed the door behind him.

A cough from beside me brought me back to earth, turning to see three sets of eyes on me, Ruby and Jamal looking as though I'd killed somebody right then and there and Cesar with a knowing smirk on his face.

"What?" I asked innocently.

------------------

"What did you do?" Jamal asked, still stood staring at me with wide eyes.

"I have never, ever, seen an actual smile on that guys face." Ruby muttered, watching the front door as though Oscar would magically walk through it any second.

"He's got a point." Cesar added making my eyes move to him. "He's my brother and I've never heard him call anyone 'princesa' before, let alone offer to let a girl stay over with no repayment, if you get what I mean." He smirked as he looked at me, his eyes holding a knowing glint.

"Maybe I just have that effect on people." I shrugged with a slight laugh. "Anyway, what's this about a school dance?" I asked in attempt to change the subject.

"It's on Friday and we're gunna get freaky with it." Jamal sung as he moved his hips in what I think was supposed to be a 'sexy' way.

"Okay, that's gross." I stated pointing at the younger boy as he slowly stopped dancing, crossing his arms before flopping down on the couch besides me.

"What is with you people and throwing water on my flame?" He groaned to himself.

"Jamal, baby, you need to have a flame for someone to put it out." I spoke with false sympathy, laughing as he rolled his eyes and mimicked me.

"How were the school dances in Cali?" Ruby asked leaning against the kitchen counter as he watched me.

"Uh, I didn't actually go to any." I shrugged thinking back to how me and Jess would just take a couple bites down to the beach and drink the night away.

"You didn't go? Like, to any?" Cesar asked with a surprised look on his face.

"Not that I remember no, I used to just go down to the beach and get drunk." I shrugged with a small smile.

"You should come." He continued making me look up to him in slight confusion. "To our dance." He clarified with a smirk.

"Oh, well in case you haven't realised I finished school a couple years ago, and I didn't even go to yours." I smiled at his offer.

"So? We can bring dates from other schools, or not from school at all, this is freeridge, it's a pretty relaxed deal." He shrugged, the smirk still on his face.

"I'm not sure that's going to a school dance with a fourteen year old is such a great idea." I muttered unsurely.

"You're overthinking things here Lia." Jamal said loudly as he pushed himself up and stood next to Cesar and Ruby. "God, you're definitely related." He spoke to himself as he looked up to the ceiling.

"Hey!" Me and Ruby yelled at the same time making Jamal raise his eyebrows in an 'I told you so' style. "But he's right." Ruby shrugged. "It's nothing serious just a dance, besides, I thought you'd be up for some fun after whatever just happened." He continued.

"Ruby's right." Cesar nodded, all three boys stood watching me and waiting for an answer.

"Fine." I sighed in defeat. "You're on." I smiled.

--------------

"Thank you again." I smiled as Oscar grabbed what he needed from his room before spending the night on the couch.

"Ain't nothin'." He shrugged as he headed towards the door, fresh shirt and shorts in hand.

"I'm going to the school dance with your brother." I blurted out stopping him with his hand on the doorknob. "Oh my god that sounded so much stranger out loud." I groaned as I flopped back onto his bed staring at the ceiling.

"Why?" He snorted as he turned round, dumping his stuff on a set of drawers before he stood at the side of the bed looking down at me in a mix of confusion and amusement.

"They was talking about the dance and I mentioned I'd never been to one, then Cesar offered to take me." I shrugged before sitting up and looking up at him. "It's not that strange right?"

"You're 19 and going to a school dance with my brother." He said matter-of-factly as he looked down at me with a raised eyebrow.

"I know it's so weird." I half groaned, half laughed as I thought about what I had agreed to. "You know you don't have to sleep out there right? I'm more than happy to, this is your bed after all." I mentioned, running my fingers through my tangled hair.

"A princesa should sleep on a bed, not a couch." He gave me a small smile and a shrug.

"And what about a caballero?" I asked making him look at me in confusion. "Well, you were my night in shinning armour." I teased with a smirk, and I'm sure, I saw a hint of pink lining his cheeks before he cleared his throat and it was gone. "Oscar Diaz get your culo into the bed before I tell all your little home boys that you cried at Marley and me." I smirked knowing that seeing Spooky Diaz crying earlier was going to come in handy, not that he'd admit he was.

"A) I wasn't crying, and b) even if I was you wouldn't dare." He muttered narrowing his eyes at me although the small smirk on his face let me know that he wasn't quite 100% serious.

"Try me." I smirked.

I let out a laugh as he sighed loudly throwing his head back before huffing his way over to the opposite side of the bed, pulling his top over his head before throwing himself down dramatically.

"You're such a drama queen, you know that?" I laughed as I lifted the cover and settled down on the pillow.

"Let's remember who's bed this is yeah." He muttered, both of us laid on our backs and watching the plain white roof.

"Was you close to them? Your parents I mean." I whispered remembering Ruby saying that the Diaz brothers had been alone for the majority of Cesar's childhood.

"My mum died when I was younger, couple years after Cesar was born, I don't remember much about her other than she was a jumped up crackhead." He muttered, my eyes widening slightly at how blunt and open he was being about it. "Me and my dad were kinda close when it came to gang business, I guess, but other than that I barely knew the man personally." I felt him shrug from his place besides me. "What about you?" He asked making me scoff quietly.

"Well, I don't know if you've noticed or not but me and my mum don't exactly have the greatest relationship. She's constantly on my ass trying to put me down, she tried her hardest to make me into the housewife that she's always been, and that's just not me." I shrugged laughing slightly. "But my dad." I trailled of with a sigh, a small smile on my face. "He's the greatest man I've ever met, I mean sure, he's had some troubles in the past but he's always put me and mum above it all. Even when it costs him more than he has, he always finds a way to make sure we're alright." I smiled at the thought of the hero that was my dad.

"He sounds like a good man." Oscar whispered making me turn to face him only to realise that he was already watching me.

"He is." I whispered with a small smile, my eyes captured by his as the familiar butterflies from earlier suddenly reappeared, his eyes moving between my own and my lips.

Not risking another interruption he quickly leant forwards and captured my lips with his own, moving our lips against each other's slowly, the cliché of butterflies and fireworks never really making much sense to me until this moment, when I felt it all.

I kept my eyes closed as we slowly pulled away, his forehead resting against mine as he released my bottom lip with a slight pop. Taking a deep breath I opened my mouth to speak before I was interrupted by a quick kiss on my lips before he pulled back completely.

"Sorry, I uh, I shouldn't have done that." He said quietly, looking into my eyes briefly before reaching over and playing with the small 'D' pendant that hung around my neck. "I know you got a boyfriend." He muttered scowling, dropping the necklace as though it had burned him.

"It's alright Oscar." I smiled slightly, bringing my hands up to the sides of his face my thumb rubbing his jawline gently. "I'm done with him, enough is enough, right." I shrugged making him chuckle slightly.

"It's okay." I smiled bringing my hands to the sides of his face, my thumb rubbing over his jawline gently. "I'm not with him anymore." I shrugged making him chuckle slightly.

"Good." He smirked, placing his hands on he sides of my face forcing me to let go of his and hold onto his wrists instead. Giving me one more smirk he leaned in placing his lips against mine as his hands disappeared from my face, reaching behind my neck as I felt the weight of the necklace disappear.

Pulling away I couldn't help but laugh as Oscar threw the necklace towards the drawers opposite his bed, the small chain sliding across the surface before dropping down the back. Letting out a chuckle of his own he laid himself down pulling me towards him do that my head was resting on his chest, his arm wrapping around me waist from behind while his other was folded under his head.

"Night Lia." He mumbled, placing a small kiss on my forehead.

"Goodnight Oscar." I whispered into the otherwise silent room, placing a brief kiss to his bare chest before drifting off into the darkness.

——————

"Aye Spooky! Where you at?" Accompanied by a know at the door make me jump the next morning as I was getting myself a glass of water in Oscars kitchen the next morning.

Since I'd always been an early bird, as my mother would put it, it was no surprise that I had woken up before Oscar and Cesar, my head resting on Oscars chest with his arms wrapped around me tightly.

"Spooky man, open up!" A different voice called from outside again accompanied by a know that was more like banging.

Sighing to myself I debated whether to go and wake Oscar or to just answer the door myself, yet another knock on the door answering my question for me.

"Can I help you?" I asked as I opened the door to be met with the same Santo that had stepped up to Diego yesterday along with another one that I recognised from the Monse and Cesar fight, the one who tried to step up to me, bitch.

"Where's Spooky?" The bitch asked as he looked me up and down with smirk, only then did I remember that I was in the same clothes I'd slept in, a pair of Oscar's boxers and my tank top, luckily I had remembered to put my bra back on when I'd gotten up this morning.

"How 'bout you show me a little respect before I slam this door in your culo feo." I smiled sarcastically crossing my arms over my chest before the other guy got my attention.

"Hey, uh, Lia right?" He asked with furrowed brows like he was trying to remember. "I was there when your boy came for you." He smiled slightly.

"Right." I nodded. "Thank you for that." I smiled sincerely, genuinely thankful that he had stepped in.

"I'm sad eyes by the way." He smiled as he stuck his hand out for me to shake. "And that's Johnny." He nodded over to his companion.

"Lia." I smiled putting my hand in his and shaking it lightly. "But you already knew that." I laughed.

"Is spooky here or what?" Johnny huffed against the door frame, once again letting his eyes roam my half naked body.

"Spooky's gunna kick the shit outta you if you don't stop looking at her like that." Cesar's voice made me jump as he came to the door with a glass of juice in one hand. "Here." He smiled as he handed me the juice while taking the water from my other hand.

"Oh, thank you C." I smiled as I took a sip. "Oh shit yeah, you guys wanna come in?" I asked quickly remembering the two Santos stood waiting in the doorway.

"Thanks." Sad eyes laughed as he made his way in, fist bumping Cesar on his way.

"Apologise." I said, putting my arm across the doorway before Johnny could walk in, looking up at him with a smirk as he glared down at me. "Apologise for acting like a jackass or you can wait for Spooky out in the yard." I shrugged as he looked at me in disbelief. "Oh, and it rained last night so the couch is slightly damp." I shrugged again as I went to close the door before his hand stopped me.

"Alright, I'm sorry." He smiled sarcastically as he tried to take a step inside.

"You're sorry for what exactly?" I smirked as I stepped in his way again, getting a kick of amusement at the scowl on his face. "Well, I'm waiting." I sighed tapping my invisible watch on my wrist.

"I'm sorry for being a jackass." He groaned rolling his eyes. "Happy?" He sighed as he looked down at the smirk on my face.

"Very." I smiled as I moved out of his way to let him in, closing the door behind him.

"Aye spooky! Where you been man? Damn hyna trying to make me wait inside." Johnny cheered as Oscar appeared from the hallway in nothing but the pair of shorts that he'd slept in last night.

Sure, Oscar Diaz wasn't exactly rocking an eight pack and abs of steal, but my god was he something to look at first thing in the morning. I couldn't help but blush as his eyes landed on me, scanning me up and down quickly before he looked back to Johnny, giving him an uninterested look before shaking his head and heading into the kitchen.

"Lia." He called looking over his shoulder at me. "Come here a second." He added, motioning for me to go over to him.

"What's up?" I asked standing next to him as he opened the fridge only to from when it came up empty.

"I was gunna ask if you wanted anything but I gotta go to the store." He groaned rubbing a hand over his tanned head.

"I can take a walk to that cafe down the street, mama coco's is it?" I asked recalling seeing the small cafe a few times since I'd been back in town.

"Nah." He muttered shaking his head, closing the fridge and heading back into the living room. "Johnny, go down to mamma coco's and grab me a coffee and one of those roll things I like." He told him before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a twenty and throwing it onto the Santos lap.

"Do you normally sleep with cash on you?" I asked amused knowing that he had slept in those very shorts. "My bad." I giggled as he turned to look at me with an eyebrow raised and an amused smirk playing on his lips.

"Nah, the girl just offered man." Johnny shrugged as he picked up the cash and held it out for me to take.

"I don't care." Oscar muttered as he pushed his outstretched hand away. "What do you want?" He asked looking over his shoulder at me.

"I'll have a tea with two sugars please." I smiled at him. "Oh! And a blueberry muffin!" I added excitedly, smirking when Johnny rolled his eyes.

I laughed as Johnny stood up with a huff before making his way out of the house, with one last laugh I made my way back to Oscars room to put on my clothes from yesterday since the rest of my stuff was back at Ruby's.

"Weren't you wearing that yesterday?" Monse's voice made me jump as I made my way back into the living room that was now occupied by Oscar, Sad eyes and the core 4, plus Olivia. The core 4 was dotted around the room, Sad eyes was laid back on the recliner in the corner while Oscar and Olivia was on the couch, their thighs brushing slightly, a wave of jealousy washing over me before I shook it off, he wasn't mine, I had no right to be jealous over silly little things like that.

"Uh yeah, I haven't been back to Ruby's because, well, ya know." I shrugged slightyl before turning to the blonde girl. "You must be Olivia." I smiled over at the young girl, I'd never met her before, or even heard of her before mum and Geny told me about he staying.

"That's me." She smiled. "You're Lia right?" She said, crossing one leg over the other subconsciously pushing hers and Oscars legs closer together.

"And my date to the dance on Friday." Cesar grinned as he came over to where I was stood and out his arm over my shoulders.

"Strictly friends only, got it." I raised my eyebrows as I looked to him, making him chuckle and nod in agreement.

"Since when are you taking her?" Monse asked confused, ignoring the looks that the rest of the crew was giving her instead opting to keep her attention on me and Cesar.

"Since last night when she told me that she'd never been to her own school dances." He shrugged casually, to him it was no big deal but I could see I'm Monse's eyes that she was hurting.

"You know I don't have to go, not if you two were planning on going together." I said quickly, not looking to be in the middle of a teenage love triangle or whatever this shit was.

"Nah, we're just friends, right monse?" Cesar shrugged as he pulled me close to his side, Monse not missing the gesture.

"Right." She mumbled looking at the ground just as Johnny stormed in and threw a paper bag down onto the ktichen counter before putting the drinks down considerably gentler.

"Oh food!" I grinned as I pulled away from Cesar's hold, jumping up on the counter and opening up the bag, immediately pulling out my blueberry muffin and digging in, sending a muffin filled smile in Johnny's direction. "Gracias." I smirked as he shook his head and leant against the wall.

"Aye where's mine foo'?" Oscar piped up, leaning forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched me finish my muffin, throwing the wrapper to the side before taking a sip of my tea.

"I'm the bag." I shrugged with a smirk, watching as his eyes lit up with amusement while Ruby and Jamal watched with horror on their faces.

"Is that right?" He asked smirking at me with an eyebrow raised.

"That's right." I nodded as I blew into the lid of my tea before taking another sip.

"You not gunna bring it here?" He asked tilting his head to the side slightly like a confused puppy.

"I'm sorry, remind me how much you're paying me to be your waitress again?" I asked sarcastically, laughing as Ruby and Jamal's eyes widened that little bit more.

"I'll get it for you Mr Spooky Sir." Jamal said quickly getting up from his seat and rushing towards the bag only for me to grab the bad and hold it behind my back.

"Nu-Uh." I muttered shaking my head with a chuckle. "I'm gunna need the owner of the bag to come and collect it thank you." I smirked looking from Jamal to Oscar who was watching me with an amused smile on his face before he pushed himself to his feet and walked over.

"I'm right here." He smirked making Jamal jump as he appeared behind him. "Can I get my food now?" He asked as Jamal scurried back to his spot making me laugh.

"Of course." I grinned handing the bag over. "What do I get for keeping it safe for you?" I asked quietly, knowing that the other people in the room were watching the interaction.

"I could think of something." He muttered, a smirk on his face as he stepped closer.

"Oh yeah?" I smirked back as he took another step so that we were basically chest to chest only having to look up at him slightly from where I was sitting on the counter.

"Yeah." He mumbled before taking my head in his hands and bringing his lips down on mine in a slow but butterfly filled kiss.

The joint "Oh my god." From Ruby and Jamal making us pull apart slowly with small smiles on both our faces.

#on my block imagines #cesar diaz #on my block #on my block imagine #ruby martinez #monse #spooky diaz #Oscar diaz imagine #oscar diaz imagines #Oscar diaz series #on my block series #temporary part six #temporary #temporary series #spooky diaz imagine #spooky diaz imagines

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3pirouette · 3 years

Text

Fic: The Honey Trap (11/12)

Title: The Honey Trap

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Peggy’d lost count. She wasn’t sure if she was a double or triple agent at this point, and in the end, it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting out of this alive.

A/N: This was absolutely the hardest chapter for me to write even though the very end of it has been done for a while now. GETTING to that point was really difficult, and I struggled to make sure you're seeing it as I am in my head.There's only one more chapter after this. I hope you enjoy this.Thanks again for going on this crazy ride with me- I SWEAR this was supposed to be cute and sexy when I first started writing it. Seems that was not the story that wanted to be told.

Chapter 11: What Must Be Done 0800 the Next Morning

“What are we supposed to be looking for?” Dum Dum’s voice sounded over the comms.

“Don’t know,” Steve replied from his own cover a few hundred yards away. “But her transponder is still on, and she’s in that base.”

Bucky’s voice came in loud and clear, as he was lying right next to Steve. “How do you even know she’ll be able to give us a signal?”

Steve looked at his friend, lying next to him in the snow, and found he couldn’t lie to him. “I don’t. But I know Peggy, and if she wanted us here, she’s gonna let us know when to come knocking.”

Phillips burst into the line, tinny as his position was the farthest away. “Cute sentiment, but if we don’t get some kind of signal by 1400, we’re going in. The US Army doesn’t run on faith alone.”

~*~ 1100 That Morning

Peggy had thought she’d prepared herself. She’d heard the story from Erskine himself long before it was deemed classified and long before he started softening the catastrophic outcomes of using the serum on the wrong person. She’d listened to Steve’s story of watching Schmidt pull his face away to reveal his true self underneath. She thought she’d been ready.

She wasn’t.

Peggy wasn’t prepared for what it looked like to see a man peel seemed to be real human flesh from his face, only to reveal the red skin of a monster, the gaping hole where his nose should have been, and the sunken eye sockets of a madman. She couldn’t stop the roiling in her stomach or the sharp shock of fear that darted up her spine.

She supposed she controlled her face well enough, because he seemed impressed at her lack of response. “Fraulein, are you not afraid?”

Never one to back down, Peggy figured she couldn’t get herself in any more trouble than she already was. “I suppose the outside matches the inside now.”

He took heavy, long strides to stand right in front of her and looked her up and down. Wallace, by her side, stood stock still, far more frightened and surprised than she was. “You have no fear,” Schmidt commented hesitant to show how that impressed him. He looked Wallace up and down and smirked. “Perhaps you should learn from your… boyfriend here.” He turned and walked away. “You should have a healthy fear of your superiors, though a certain level of fearlessness is necessary to do what must be done.”

He turned, smiling at them. “Are you?” He looked Wallace up and down once again before circling the pedestal in the middle of his laboratory. The late morning sun through the windows gave him an eerie glow as he prowled like a cat. “Are you willing to do what must be done for the glory of the cause?”

“Yes sir,” Wallace replied before lifting both arms and saluting, “Hail Hydra!”

The Red Skull’s laugh was dark and sarcastic, unconvinced of his loyalty. “Of course, you are.” He turned towards Peggy, stopping at a pedestal. “And you? Are you as willing to lay your life on the line as your boyfriend is here?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Peggy insisted, standing up tall. “And you could not imagine the things I’m willing to risk my life for.”

He laughed heartily this time, looking out to his static guards. “Ah ha! The spirit!” He turned back to her, the grin disturbing on his skeletal features. “The determination!” He took a deep breath, slowing his excitement as he smoothed the cloth over the pedestal. “We shall see how far that will get you, fraulein.”

With a nod of his head the guards behind them were moving them forward, hand on their arms, roughly guiding them up to the pedestal.

“Behold,” Red Skull smiled, gripping the canvas, “The Tesseract.” He pulled away the canvas, and Peggy felt like she couldn’t breathe.

~*~

“What the hell is that?” Bucky kept his eyes on the sniper scope, looking through the large windows.

“What?” Steve asked desperately, not having a scope to look through.

“There’s a… a block.” He shrugged. “It’s glowing. It’s a big glowing square and it’s…” Bucky passed the rifle to Steve to look. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

“Rogers?” Phillips’ voice cut through his ear.

“Sir, it looks to be a cube, made out of the same energy source as the energy weapons we’ve been studying.” Steve shifted the scope, watching as Red Skull laid his hand on it, the cube pulsating blue light. “Maybe 6 inches square?”

“That’s enough,” Howard piped in. “That’s enough to wipe out a significant part of Europe, or the whole east coast, on its own. They amplify it…”

Phillip’s voice was tight, controlled but on edge. “Rogers, you’re the one with eyes. Are we a go?”

Steve swallowed as the Red Skull blocked his sight of the cube, but he could still see her face over his shoulder. He could see the panic in Peggy’s eyes, could see that something was wrong, but he didn’t know, wasn’t sure, if going in now was going to make it better or worse.

“Rogers?”

Steve tossed the rifle back at Bucky. “I’m going in… by myself. Wait for my signal.”

~*~

Peggy could feel her gut tightening with each passing second. The energy pouring off the Tesseract seemed to flow through her, seemed to set her on edge, but the men around her didn’t seem to feel it. Wallace was still standing, both afraid and struck with worship at the sight of Schmidt, and Schmidt only seemed to feel the power of it when his hands were on it.

It seemed to call to her: the light, the power, beating like there was something far too contained in that tiny box begging to be let out. Like it was begging to be saved.

Wallace babbled on next to her, trying to impress Schmidt with his confidence, his commitment to the cause.

The Red Skull stopped his tirade with a hand, tipping his head to Peggy. “And you? Do you share your boyfriend’s sentiment?”

Peggy felt a flow of courage, and repeated her earlier statement. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Before the Red Skull could answer, the doors burst open, a compliment of guards flanking Steve as they paraded him in in his full Captain America regalia.

Peggy smiled widely at the sight of him. “That’s my boyfriend.” She turned, bolstered and waved cheekily. “Hello, darling.”

Steve lifted his chin, but didn’t otherwise change his stance. Peggy didn’t mind the cold reception, when he was focused like this there was little that could get through to him besides the mission, and she needed that now. She needed someone fresh and clearheaded to pull her through the rest of this.

And if Steve was here, she doubted very much he was alone. He was always very good at following directions.

Red Skull, however, laughed. It was a small chuckle at first, then a full out guffaw as he looked at Wallace, anger starting to bloom in his eyes. “You’ve been double crossed. By Captain America, no less.” Wallace stammered as Schmidt motioned for the man to be brought closer to him. The guard flanked him, dragging him forward. “Let us see where your heart truly lies, shall we?”

Without preamble Schmidt grabbed his hand and pressed it to the Tesseract.

The room froze. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then he screamed.

It was a scream like nothing Peggy had heard before, a scream that came from the depth of his soul and didn’t hide the pain he was in. The blue light seemed to seep through his skin, lighting him up from the inside and turning him into a writhing conduit as he fell to the floor, his body shaking with unnatural spasms.

The room watched quietly as his shaking slowed until it was quite clear he was dead.

Red Skull looked down at him, his stature unchanged, his hands clasped behind his back. He let his eyes roam over the body as he made a hum of disinterest in the back of his throat. “It has never done that before,” he murmured quietly.

He looked up sharply, eyes narrowed. “Now her.”

Peggy struggled against the two guards who nearly lifted her from her feet to move her forward. She could hear Steve screaming and fighting behind her, her name torn from his throat with the sound of him getting hit by something. She couldn’t see him, didn’t have time to worry or imagine as she struggled.

She stopped moving once they placed her hand on the cube, though she could still hear the dull thuds of Steve fighting behind her, the crashing of the windows as reinforcements joined them.

It all slowed as she felt a heat run through her, spreading through her body from her fingertips. She could have cried at the thought that this was how it ended, after all she had gone through, Steve was going to have to watch her die a writhing mass on the ground, unable to do anything about it, and she wouldn’t have made a dent in slowing Hydra.

The despair slowly turned, though, and she felt strong. Comforted. The warmth spread through her like a hug, and though it seemed impossible, the light of the Tesseract dimmed, leaving her as alive and intact as when her fingers had first touched it.

Schmidt looked at her in wonder and yelled loudly in German, speaking so fast she couldn’t follow what he was saying. He was quickly hustled away by guards who flanked him, the Tesseract glowing in his hands as he shepherded it with him. The men around her tried to pull her away, too, but she managed to overpower them with the assistance of Barnes and Dugan.

The Commandos flanked her as Hydra retreated through dark corridors, the only men left in the room were her true allies or unconscious guards on the floor.

Steve turned her, his hands roaming and checking for injuries. “Peggy? Are you alright? Please. Please tell me you’re ok?”

“I’m—” She was cut off as he pulled her tight in his arms. She let herself revel in the feel of it for just a second, wrapping herself around him tight as well. “Fine. I’m fine.”

“I thought you were dead,” he whispered, burying his nose in her hair. “I thought you were going to die right in front of me.”

“Will someone give me a damn report?” Peggy nearly laughed at the faraway sound of Phillips in Steve’s earpiece.

“Wallace is dead,” Bucky reported, looking around the room. “Peg seems ok for now, but they’ve retreated.”

Phillips was strong and clear through the line. “I’ve got men moving in through every available entrance. We’re ending this today, let’s take ‘em down.”

“You sure you’re ok?” Steve pulled back, brushing her hair away from her face.

Peggy smiled, reaching down to pick up a small energy gun that one of the Hydra agents had dropped. “We have a job to do now,” she smiled softly looking in his eyes, “we have a lot to catch up on later.”

Bucky groaned. “Come on, lovebirds. I can hear an engine.”

Without hesitation, Steve and Peggy followed Bucky and Dum Dum down the dimly lit hallway, pausing here and there, relying on Steve’s hearing and the reports of other soldiers they ran into to take them a winding route to an airplane hangar.

A journey that only took minutes felt like years, and filled Peggy with a sense of overwhelming Déjà vu. She knew she’d never been here before, hadn’t heard about the huge plane in front of them from Wallace or any of her other intel, but somehow knew exactly how this was going to go.

The plane engine revved and she didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Steve’s hand and ran.

Peggy ran faster than she’d ever run before, keeping pace with Steve as the plane started to taxi, leaving Barnes and Dugan jogging behind them, getting farther and farther away.

“Peggy?” Steve choked out, confused as she kept up with him and they closed the distance on the plane.

“I don’t know, I just know we have to be on that thing.” She nodded at the plane. ��We have to.”

She didn’t know why she knew it, or why it seemed so important, but Steve didn’t question her, just started pumping his legs faster. She faltered, finally reaching the limits of her newfound speed, and he pulled her up into his arms without missing a step.

When they were close enough, nearly outside as the plane sped even faster, he risked a glance down. “Ready?”

Peggy paused, pressing her lips to his for the barest of moments. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was a reassurance nonetheless. She nodded, turning her attention to the wheel.

“Three, two, one!” At the end of the countdown, Steve tossed her with all his might at the wheel of the plane. She grappled for just a second, but his aim had been true and she landed safely on the metal gear. She looked back to see him building up speed again for his own jump, and then quickly turned back to the wheel, pulling herself up and out of the way into the well.

Steve was quickly under her, climbing up the wheel as it slowly retracted into the plane, the ground disappearing below them as the plane took flight.

“Nothing like making a close call,” she whispered.

Steve looked up at her from where he was crouched, hands on his knees, catching his breath. “Little closer than I’d like,” he whispered back. “Do you know something about this plane?”

“Nothing,” she turned a circle, looking at the holding bay they were in. “But I think we’re going to find out pretty fast.”

“Those aren’t…”

Peggy nodded her head, fear running down her spine. “They are.” They were surrounded by bombs hooked to smaller planes that were barely more than room for a pilot and a propeller. The bombs were named for their targets, making it clear the plan was launch from mid-air, attacking the eastern seaboard of the US and the western seaboard of Europe, crippling most of the Allied countries in one go. “Do you think they—”

Steve cut her off, nodding. “Look.” He pointed to the floor of the plane that was lined metal grates that were just shiny enough to bounce back the blue light from the underside of the vessels. Steve felt his stomach drop, and knew this was a mission they might not come back from. “We have to stop this plane.” He crouched low, looking to see how much of the glowing blue was the energy source and how much was bomb. “Howard said that if they had enough of this blue energy source, mixed with enough explosive, it could be catastrophic.”

Peggy followed his gaze. She didn’t know what enough meant, but she was sure there was more than that on this plane. “How catastrophic?”

Steve stood slowly, fear in his eyes. “Extinction level.”

Peggy swallowed hard, knowing exactly how he felt, because she felt the same dread and responsibility. She took only a breath to commit to it. “We have to stop this plane.”

He pulled the shield from his back and they slowly started to make their way forward and up through the belly of the plane.

Steve paused a moment while they were still alone, his voice barely above a whisper. “Peggy, what happened when you touched the cube?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered back, reaching out and lacing her fingers through his. Even the feeling of the leather of his gloves was reassuring to her now.

“Are you… did you…” He couldn’t quite come up with the words to finish his thought as he looked at her, concerned and nervous.

“I’ve never run that fast before in my life and you know it,” she sighed as she looked up at him, trying to keep herself from worrying and falling apart. “Howard will just have to figure this all out when we’ve finished, yes?”

It was a high hope to believe they’d both make it out of this alive, and they both knew it, but neither said it out loud.

Steve nodded, squeezing her hand before he let go and turned, moving forward again. “When we’ve finished,” he mumbled, trying to convince himself.

Errant Hydra guards were taken out swiftly between the two of them, the trail of bodies behind them growing with each step. It wasn’t long before they’d burst into the cockpit, Schmidt at the controls, protected by a guard of masked Hydra agents.

Peggy knew she’d never punched like this before, never held her balance like this before as Schmidt pitched the plane to try to give his minions the advantage. She knew she was fast and strong, but never like this. She knew something had happened when she touched the cube, she just didn’t dare guess what, or even try to think too hard about how long it might last, or what it was meant to be able to make her do. No, she just focused on masked face after masked face until there was no one left but Schmidt to deal with.

She lifted one of the guard’s abandoned energy weapons into her hands, waiting for Schmidt to make his move.

He kept his spot in the pilot’s seat, the cube in hand, and looked them over. “If I thought there was a chance of swaying you two to my side, I’d be impressed.” Schmidt tipped his head and stood, disappointed. “But you’ve killed nearly all my men, and left me no choice.”

“You’re done, Schmidt,” Steve announced, slowly putting himself between Schmidt and Peggy.

He chuckled slowly, far more devious with the red skin over his features than he had been with the fake skin making him look somewhat human. “Cut off one head, two will grow back in its place,” he spouted, smiling like a demon. “Hydra will live on long after I have made my stand. I am willing to sacrifice for what must be done, are you?”

He turned, flipped a few switches, and the plane lurched again, causing Steve and Peggy to stumble.

Red Skull laughed as he looked back at them. “Auto pilot. Such a lovely invention, don’t you think?” Without pause he pulled his gun from his belt and shot at the console, sending smoke and sparks into the air. “I had planned on dozens of small explosions, a capitol here, a state there… but it looks like one great, big bang will have to do.”

Peggy could feel the sweat running down her back, saw the stress in the way Steve clenched his hands. Schmidt had done it: he’d put all his cards on the table and the plane was taking a one-way trip they couldn’t reverse.

Peggy looked at Steve, felt her heart drop at the desperation in his eyes. He was always so fast to come up with a plan, to know what the next move needed to be. His rueful gaze told her he had nothing.

But Peggy knew what needed to be done, she knew there was only one way this went, and it meant that none of them were walking away from this if they were going to save thousands, if not millions, of lives.

She brought her weapon up, and aimed it at him, voice cold. “I told you that you had no idea how far I’d go, and it seems I was right about that.”

“Peg, no!” Steve called, stepping forward, trying to get in her way.

Schmidt stepped to the side, putting himself right back in her range. “I don’t think I was, fraulein.” He challenged her with his eyes. “The hero always tries to find another way out.”

“We can stop this plane, Peggy,” Steve whispered, staying where he was.

She didn’t look at him, but kept her eyes trained on Schmidt. “You and I both know we can’t, and we both know what’s at stake.”

Peggy paused, the energy weapon in her hands and aimed at Schmidt. She didn’t look back at Steve, she could already see the panic in his eyes in her periphery, and she was afraid that if she looked at him, she wouldn’t have the strength to do what she needed to do.

She looked at the Tesseract, at the pulsating glow of it, and remembered how warm it had felt when she touched it, how it had almost felt calm and safe. How, for a brief moment, she’d felt like everything she’d ever done had led her up to that moment, and the cube somehow was telling her that it would all turn out exactly the way it was supposed to.

Deep in her gut, she knew it would all turn out the way it was supposed to.

Schmidt laughed, and Steve yelled, and she pulled the trigger.

Peggy wasn’t afraid. Whatever was going to happen was going to bring an end to all of this, and she knew with every fiber of her being this was the right choice as the energy beam hit the Tesseract and bounced back at her.

~*~

The explosion was like nothing he’d ever seen. The weapon hit the tesseract with its own energy, and everything slowed.

He felt the concussive force before he saw the fiery light explode in tendrils.

He felt the plane start to nosedive, fast, and saw the gaping holes in the panel where the controls had been.

He reached out, trying in desperation to fight the freefall of the plane to get to Peggy.

He saw the way the light wrapped around her, cradling her before he could get to her.

He saw the way the light wrapped around Schmidt, the way it didn’t cradle him but how it choked him, strangled him and twisted him until there was nothing left but the burning brilliance of the energy around him and then nothing but the space he used to occupy.

He saw the way Peggy seemed to float.

…the way he knew she was safe.

…the way he somehow knew they were both safe as they floated together in freefall.

…the way they melded together, his shield below them as gravity seemed to take hold again, protecting them as they crashed.

…the way her eyes glowed when she looked at him and the blue light of the Tesseract surrounded them as water started to rush in.

…the way he didn’t mind as the water surrounded them.

…the way she didn’t either.

…the way he felt calm.

Warm.

Safe.

He felt her tuck into his side, wrap her arms around him.

Then he felt nothing.

#Steggy Fic #Steggy #3P's Fic #I swear the last chapter is getting posted tonight

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watchtower-feed · 4 years

Text

Running Hot

Notes: I lied. I didn’t write at all yesterday because I watched a sports anime on running. That’s the origin story of this baby. Also, I needed a break from the angst and write something fun. Words: 1,611

Waking up in the morning to go jogging on campus is one of the hardest things a student has to work through to build into a habit. But not you. Not when you have a six foot three beefcake acting as your carrot (and hopefully, stick).

Every morning, at three in the morning, an hour you didn’t know existed until now, Damian Wayne leaves your co-ed dorm to jog around the campus. After he finishes his route through every trail, he heads straight for the varsity gym until his first class at ten.

You’re not a stalker. You don’t know this because you deliberately sought it out. You came across this information by accident. It was one drunken night where your friends forgot about you and you forgot how to get back to your dorm. So you sat by the park bench in front of the varsity building.

That was where you first saw him. Sweat lathered limbs that made his muscles shine even in the low light. Shorts short enough to see half his ass. No shirt. And eyes that can pierce through your soul like a real, actual bad boy. Not the leather-wearing kind that smokes their lungs to shit or breaks windowshields and then runs off before the cops arrive.

No. This boy--- this man looks like he would wait for the cops and stare them down until they agree that yes, he had to do it.

Once sober and once it’s time for a new dawn, you put on your running shoes (ones you only use when you go grocery shopping) and head out to maybe accidentally run into this perfect hunk. You’re surprised to find the door opening before you even touch it. You look up and right above your head, there’s a strong hand pushing it open.

You stare at it and follow the tanned muscular limb with your gaze until your eyes meet with dark green eyes setting your skin ablaze. Suddenly, it’s too hot to breathe from your nose alone. You stare and only now realize that he’s crazy tall, close to a head taller than you.

He’s looking back at you and raises an eyebrow at your stunned figure. You completely lose it. He looks like the bad guy your parents warn you about as teenagers but you go into his van anyway because his eyebrows alone promise the most amazing sex you’ll ever experience on this planet. Maybe even in the entire galaxy.

“You’re in the way.”

His voice fits his body perfectly and you wonder if God is a sexually frustrated woman. It’s low and deep, almost guttural, like an animal. Can’t be tamed. Defintely wild and dangerous.

Like a mute, you keep staring at him and Damian Wayne isn’t known for his patience. He rolls his eyes and steps closer so his foot can hold the door open. Then he grabs hold of your waist, calloused hands and a firm grip, (oh how you wish you were wearing a sports bra or crop top), and lifts you outside, out of the way of the dormitory entrance.

As soon as he put you down, you cover your face with your hands because you may not see it but you can definitely feel the red on your face. When you look, he’s already gone.

The next morning, you’re wearing a sports bra and running shorts, and you’re already stretching outside at 2:30 am. You hear kinks and cracks every time you fold your limbs over the other and you wonder if you should do this regularly, at least to keep healthy.

Finally, at 3:08 am, Damian walks through the doors. His eyes catches yours for a single second before he already breaks into a run. You almost trip as you try to keep up. You’re swearing to yourself as you try to keep up with him. His pace makes you wonder what ever happened to warmups? Or jogging? Why does he have to be running?

You last 5 minutes before you stop and lose him. You’re wheezing like an asthmatic 6-year-old during his first PE class. “Fuck you, Damian Wayne,” you say out loud.

The next day you’re already jogging. You take your chances and see if he follows the same path. By 3:11 am he runs past you and you speed up to keep up. You last 8 minutes this time, losing him again.

You keep doing this every day and you keep asking yourself if you’re a stalker or a madman. Why are you doing this to get Damian Wayne’s attention? Why can’t you just ask him for his number like a normal college student?

But this has gone on for too long that you don’t feel like giving up. You just want to finish his whole lap around campus until he enters for the varsity gym. If you do that, if you can finally keep up, then maybe you’ll stop this. And maybe Damian Wayne will ask you out.

Of course, it’s not easy to get on athlete’s level. Especially if you’re not even an amateur. So it takes you months. At least it’s not half a year, but months of running every single morning is still an insane amount of dedication to chase after a hunk whose eyes can make you cum in an instant. Or is it?

You shake your head, dispelling such thoughts because the view in front of you is amazing. You’re staring at Damian Wayne’s bare back, chiseled to perfection and ruggedly adorned with long scars that could rival a bear hunter’s marks.

Then you realize it’s past 4 am. You’re suddenly giddy with excitement and adrenaline because he’s about to head to the varsity gym.

Suddenly, all happy chemicals in your body leave you as you watch him turn towards the campus border. You stand, breathing loud and annoyed, while watching Damian Wayne continue running on the road until he was out of sight.

You skip the next day. You lay awake until it’s time for your first class and you go through the day just like any other, but more upset.

“Gosh, Y/N. Why are you in such a pissy mood? Isn’t exercise supposed to give you happy hormones or something?”

“It’s called dopamine, dumbass. I almost made it yesterday, okay? But then Damian Wayne decides to change his running route and goes off campus!”

They chuckle, “You fucking stalker.”

You hit your friend and pout, “I’m not. This information just came to me.”

To your further annoyance, they laugh and tease you some more. One of them suddenly stops and stares at someone behind you, and quickly says, “Kind of like how Damian Wayne is coming to you. Right now, Y/N. Like now.” Your friend grabs your shoulders and turns you until you see him standing behind you in his full (and fully clothed) glory, along with some of his varsity friends beside him.

He looks at you with his arms crossed and he raises one eyebrow. You suddenly ask the god of sexual frustration what you’ve done to anger her.

“I didn’t see you running this morning.”

“Oh,” you stammer dumbly because your jaws and mouth muscles have suddenly gone stiff. “Cramps?”

His eyebrow goes down while the other shoots up. Dear god, he can do it with both of them!

“Are you asking me?”

“No! Did I? Did I ask you out?”

Loud groans flood your table like a tsunami. While his friends snicker loudly.

“No, I didn’t! Ugh--” you harshly rub your face, trying to wipe off the stupidity you woke up with this morning, “I meant to ask you out--” but it obviously didn’t work. “I’m going to stop talking now.”

“Promise?” teased one of his friends who’s leaning in over Damian Wayne’s shoulder while holding his stomach, cramped from all the laughing.

Damian Wayne pushes his face back effortlessly and turns to you with the same deadly serious expression he always seems to have. “So you didn’t run this morning because you were going to ask me out?”

You sigh. Tired of the groans and chuckling, you decided to come clean. “I’ve been running with you, or more like running behind you, these past couples months because I… Ithinkyou’rehot?”

He narrows his eyes and leans down, closer, “Telling or asking?”

You stare at him and you can really see his features now. His protruding cheekbones. His prominent jawline. His annoyingly clear skin. His soft jet black hair. “Definitely telling,” you blurt out. “But I never caught up with you-- obviously-- so I thought-- maybe-- if I--” Goddammit finish an actual sentence before the hot guy leaves. “If I finished your run with you before you go to the gym then maybe I can ask you out.”

You bite your lips as you eye Damian Wayne and wait for your doom. Your friends are crossing their fingers but definitely invested in such a scene.

Damian gives this little sigh and a small tilt of his head, as if saying ‘is that all?’

“Yesterday I ran with my brothers at Gotham park. Tomorrow, finish my run with me on campus.” He pauses to look at you, making sure you’re still keeping up because you’re just gaping at him. You nod. “I’ll skip morning practice. We’ll walk to this small diner in the city. My oldest brother calls it ‘a hole in the wall’ because they make all kinds of breakfast foods.”

You’re still gaping but your mouth has definitely opened wider. Impatiently, Damian uses his rough hands to close it. “Nod if you agree.” You nod. “Good. See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧

#DC imagines #DC fanfiction #DC reader insert #Damian Wayne x reader #Damian Wayne fanfiction #Damian Wayne imagine #watchtower-feed #acropen #lexyartem

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pinknerdpanda · 4 years

Text

Sunset

Word Count: 2,649

Characters: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Language, feelings of abandonment and hopelessness (but it gets better!!)

SSB Square Filled: “The man on the bridge, who Was he?” (bolded and italicized below)

A/N: This was written for my beautiful Name Twin - @amanda-teaches Writer + Reader Challenge (prompt bolded below) and also @captain-rogers-beard Flex Your Writing Muscles Challenge (photo prompt in the title graphic is from 6/4). It also fulfills a square on my @star-spangled-bingo card. This began as something rather therapeutic for me, and it became a whole lot fuffier than I expected. So...yay?

Beta’d by: @shy-violet-soul who always encourages me and showers me with love, and @princessmisery666 who has helped me with this fic in more ways than I can even describe. Everytime I hit a wall, she was there with help, support, love and ideas and I am so thankful for her.

It felt wrong.

The sunset was spectacular - fiery hues of crimson and amber evening kissing the brilliant blue of the fading day; ashen shades of violet and lavender the only evidence of their embrace. The last remnants of sunlight danced across the rippling surface of the water, painting the gentle waves in warmth as they lapped against the shoreline.

Salt hung heavy in the air as it whipped loose strands of hair around your face. The taste lingered on your tongue like a lovers’ kiss as you tried in vain to brush the wayward locks from your eyes.

So wrong.

Soft laughter punctuated every dull crash of the tide upon the sand. You watched the dwindling groups of people hold onto what little remained of their peaceful beach day. Though as the warmth of the day vanished, so did the people.

Being here was supposed to be a homecoming; a celebration of the person you were and the life you’d lived. It should have been a gasp of oxygen after surfacing from a deep dive; sustaining, energizing and life-giving.

Instead, the tranquility of the scene before you only seemed to underscore the pain boiling deep behind your ribs. Even as the sky turned to ink and the stars blinked down at their reflection in the water, the anguish seared your lungs and stole your breath.

It was unsettlingly unexpected.

A fresh wave of tears prickled the corners of your eyes and you clenched them shut in an attempt to keep them at bay. It might have worked, if you hadn't been immediately met with the vision of him behind your eyelids.

It wasn't his fault. Not really. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell. Seeing him today - even from a distance - was like pouring salt on a wound. The elation on his face as he'd grinned up at the little girl perched on his shoulders felt like a dagger straight to the chest.

The soft sound of bare feet on sand caught your attention. You sniffed, shifting to pull your knees up to your chest as the footsteps stopped beside you.

"You want some company?"

The gruff voice was soft and despite wanting to hate your new companion for lacing his words with such obvious pity, you couldn't. Your pain had been dealt by hands less sure than his, so you shrugged instead. There was something warm and comforting in his presence and your soul cried out for more. The feeling multiplied exponentially as he dropped to the ground beside you, his knee grazing your thigh as he folded his legs underneath him.

"'S'pretty here."

You nodded once, weakly. Even a broken heart couldn't make you think otherwise. Once upon a time this spot had been your own, personal oasis. Well, as much of one as a public beach could provide. But you didn't need much. Life had been simple, then. Now? Now, 'simple' sounded like a fairytale. Another on a long list of things you dreamt about, but didn't dare hope for.

“The man on the bridge,” Bucky began, his voice gentle. “Who was he?”

Brass tacks. It was one of the things you admired most about him; his ability to cut straight to the heart of the matter without poetry or pretense. It wasn’t a question borne out of irritation or obligation; instead patience and comfort reigned in his words. He could read body language and facial expressions better than 99% of the planet, but you knew even the other 1% could have plainly seen the pain in the heart so cruelly branded onto your sleeve.

“This was,” you cleared your throat as best you could with your heart taking up space there. “I used to live here. I always wanted to live by the ocean, so when I lost my job due to budget cuts, I decided ‘what the hell?’. Packed up, cashed out my savings and started driving. As soon as I hit the city limits, it felt like home. Had a hell of a time finding a job, but I did eventually. I met him there.”

You sniffed, stretching out your legs and leaning back with your palms in the sand behind you. Without having to look you knew he was watching you; waiting until you were ready to continue.

“I never believed in love at first sight; still don’t, because that’s not what it was. He was sweet, funny,” you smiled despite yourself. “Kind to a fault. The type of kindness that infuriates you because it makes you realize how selfish you actually are. But he loved me. I don’t know why, but he did. He loved me fiercely; even when I couldn’t return it and sure as hell didn’t deserve it.”

Bucky’s breaths matched the roll of the tide; calm and gentle and unwavering. You felt him shift, his shoulder grazing yours as he matched your position.

“What happened?”

The air between you vibrated with the low timbre of his words. Not that you noticed - not really. Remembering was always the worst part; remembering just how easily you’d been forgotten.

“The blip.” Your voice was so faint it barely registered in your own ears, but you knew he heard it. You knew from the way he inhaled deeply as he shifted; from the feel of vibranium fingers sliding gracefully across your own.

“I don’t blame him. He couldn’t know we’d all come back. I couldn’t expect him to live out the rest of his days mourning my ashes.”

The tightening in your throat and the tingling at the corners of your eyes cut off any other words you might have said. If the roles had been reversed, you wouldn’t have known what to say to yourself. But true to form, Bucky did. Brass tacks and all.

“Still hurts.” Not a question, because he knew. His words were meant every bit for himself as they were for you.

A humorless chuckle broke from your lungs and you nodded.

“It still fuckin’ hurts,” you agreed.

"So that's why you wanted to come here." Not a question, but an acknowledgement.

Biting your lip, you narrowed your gaze at the calm waves. "I guess I just wanted closure. I missed this place. Missed the memories I made here. I knew seeing him was a possibility, but I'd hoped.." you trailed off.

Bucky hummed in understanding of words you couldn't find.

You looked at him then, the sliver of moonlight above casting him in a sort of macabre splendor. Chestnut waves rendered a dozen shades of grey and gaze focused on the heavens. Trying to ease some of your burden while still obviously saddled with plenty of his own, he looked peaceful; tranquil in a way that felt contagious.

You sucked in a breath, hoping to provide him the same respite he offered you, willingly or otherwise.

“Coming back from that place - that state of nothingness - was jarring enough. But then having to face the five years worth of reality you left behind? It’s a wonder any of us are still alive today to mourn it.” Shifting again, you crossed your legs and turned to face him, his hand enveloped in both of yours. “But we are. You, me, Sam...all of us. Finding the love of my life had become a husband and father without me; it was the hardest thing I’ve ever faced. But I did - face it, I mean. And in some fucked up way, it led me to you.”

Bucky tilted his head toward you, his gaze narrowed and his eyebrow raised.

“You’ve been watching too many Lifetime movies, sweetheart,” he deadpanned, though his eyes sparkled with affection.

You shrugged. “S’true.”

Even if you’d had a second to process the mischief in his expression, you still would have been startled by the quick tug of your hands as Bucky pulled you into him. You squeaked, landing with a muted thud beside him. He caught your hands just as you tried to flick sand at him, and held you close instead.

“You’re getting sappy, ya know that?” He sighed, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

You rose enough to see his face, blinking sweetly down at him.

"I’m sorry, what were you saying?” You purred, in feigned innocence. “I keep getting lost in your eyes.”

Bucky grumbled, his grip on you tightening as he lifted you both off the ground. “You’ve done it now.”

You giggled as you twisted away from the ticklish prodding of his fingers, though it was no use.

“Put me down, you neanderthal.” You shouted in mock protest, trying and failing to wriggle free.

“Oh you don’t have to worry about that, doll,” Bucky crooned seconds before tossing you - rather ungracefully - into the shallow water.

Scrambling to your feet, you couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips. You kicked at the water, aiming for Bucky's face, but he anticipated it. Of course he did. He dodged deftly out of the way before grabbing your waist and pulling you both into the waves.

Coughing and sputtering, you shoved half-heartedly at his shoulder as a genuine smile bloomed on your lips. Neither of you seemed bothered by the water that lapped over your still entangled bodies.

"Thank you, Bucky."

"For what?" He scoffed, an incredulous but warm look moulding his features.

"For this," you waved a hand in the air. "You didn't even ask why I wanted to be here, you just offered to come with me. Never asked for details or tried to pry. You could be off saving the world...again." Bucky rolled his eyes. "But you're here saving me, instead."

Bucky's eyes dipped to your lips as the air began to crackle with unspent energy.

"You say that like it's two different things, doll."

The heat you felt under his careful gaze only intensified as the weight of his words settled on you.

Bucky stood before you could respond, holding his hand out to help you to your feet. He didn't let go as you strolled away from the water, instead he laced vibranium fingers with your flesh ones. Just as you reached the boardwalk that would take you back to the hotel you’d rented, Bucky glanced sideways at you before redirecting his steps. Smiling, you allowed him to lead you further down the beach, unwilling to let go of the bubble of peace you’d found just yet.

“Ya know,” Bucky murmured, his thumb stroking your knuckles gently. “It took a long time for me to reconcile my past with my expectation of the future.” He paused, noticing your questioning look before continuing. “What I mean is, my past is so…” Bucky shook his head and stopped walking.

You wrapped your free hand around his bicep reassuringly, encouraging him to continue but you waited patiently until he was ready to go on.

Bucky cleared his throat. “For a long time, I believed my past dictated my future. It’s full of so much pain and regret and things I can never undo. I always figured my future would be more of the same; a kind of comeuppance for everything I’d done.”

“Bucky…”

His lips curled into a half smile as he squeezed your hand gently. “I know. It’s taken a lot of therapy and literal reprogramming, but I know. It wasn’t me. Not really. Even accepting that though, I still always wondered how it would frame my life going forward.”

“Your past is just that, Bucky. It’s in the past,” you cocked your head to one side. “Your future is what you make of it.”

Bucky’s smile grew and he reached out to brush the damp hair from your face. “Yours is too, ya know.”

There he was, cutting straight to the heart of the matter, with as few words as possible. Again.

As your steps resumed, you kept your grip on his arm, snuggling in close as the temperature dipped slightly without the sun to warm the air.

“When I first met you, I had no idea what to make of you,” Bucky chuckled. “Honestly, you were a little intimidating.”

You scoffed. “You were intimidated by me?”

“Well, yeah,” Bucky sighed. “I was so irritated that Sam signed me up to be part of that support group - without telling me, mind you - but then you were there. You were funny, gorgeous and kind. You were so quiet, but there was this fire behind your eyes, and I wanted to know why you kept it locked up.”

The memory of that first meeting made your stomach twist. The plan had been to bide your time in silence so you could at least tell your therapist you’d gone. You’d wanted to be anywhere but there, until he walked in. The whole room had recognized him - if the quiet gasps and whispers were anything to go by - and it had been painfully obvious how uncomfortable that had made him.

Bucky laughed. “I’ll never forget the way you plopped down in the seat beside me, threw a bottle of water at me and glared at Frank and Donna until they stopped staring.”

“They were being rude.” You shrugged.

“They’re nice.” Bucky countered.

You shrugged again. “They are, but that night they were being rude. Nothing screams ‘Welcome to our blip support group’ like oogling the new guy.”

“Alright, well my point is,” Bucky stopped again, this time turning to face you, his hands gripping your shoulders gently. “I knew from the moment you shot icy death glares at them, that whatever my future held, I wanted you to be a part of it.”

Blinking, you opened and closed your mouth a few times before frowning.

“Remind me again who’s been watching too many Lifetime movies, Buck?”

“I’m serious,” Bucky chuckled lightly. “But, I get it. The wounds are still fresh, and I don’t expect anything, but I just want you to know that I’m here. And I’ll continue to be - in whatever way you’ll let me - until you send me away. This place?” Bucky waved a hand. “This is your past. But just remember that it doesn’t get to decide your future. You do.”

You bit your lip, allowing his words to envelop you with peace and warmth and - for the first time in a long time - hope.

“I think,” you paused, furrowing your brow, “Sometimes our wounds stay fresh because we keep picking at them. I think I’m ready to leave the past where it belongs.”

Bucky hummed, thumbs rubbing circles against the balls of your shoulder.

“And for the record, Barnes? I don’t plan on sending you away any time soon. So it looks like you’re stuck with me.”

Throwing his head back, Bucky barked a laugh before sliding his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. You felt him press his lips to the top of your head as you snaked your arm around his waist, relishing his warmth.

“Well, lucky for both of us, doll. There’s no place I’d rather be.”

As you continued walking down the beach you’d once considered home, wrapped in the arms of the man who wanted to be your future, it struck you. The beauty of the setting sun had felt wrong because you’d been looking at it through the warped lens of your pain. The resplendence of the day drawing to a close wasn’t a mockery of the life you’d lost, it was a crimson and amber colored reminder that every day draws to a close and there will always be beauty to be found in the ending.

But the hope of the morning - when the sun will begin it’s reign once again, overpowering the darkness with it’s warmth and light - is where the true splendor is found.

You glanced up at Bucky - the man offering you the same promise of the rising sun, and for the first time in a long time everything felt right.

Like what you see? Want more? My SPN Masterlist is here, and MCU is here. Thanks for reading! :)

A/N 2: I am using my new and improved taglist. If you want to be added, see this post.

Weirdos:

@hannahindie @amanda-teaches @ellen-reincarnated1967 @feelmyroarrrr @masksandtruths @princessmisery666 @jamielea81 @foxyjwls007 @becs-bunker @super100012 @shy-violet-soul @emoryhemsworth @impandagrl

Heroes:

@arrowsandmixtapes @bethbabybaby

#flex your writing muscles challenge #star spangled bingo 2020 #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #MCU fanfic #panda writes #panda writes MCU #Bucky Barnes #bucky angst #bucky fluff

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linskywords · 4 years

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criminal-minds-fanfiction wrote a bunch of questions for authors that you’re supposed to let people ask you, buuuut I felt like answering all of them instead of doing my actual job this afternoon. 😄 Here we go:

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fanfiction?

Like 25 maybe? I started writing about a year after I started reading it. I had a fanfiction-deprived adolescence, y’all.

2) What fandoms do you write for and do you have a particular favourite if you write for more than one?

The hockey boys pulled me in years ago and they haven’t let me go. I do sometimes write other things: I almost always participate in Yuletide, and I’ve actually written a bunch of Animorphs fic under a different name (ask me if you want to see it!). Mostly hockey RPF, though.

3) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

Haha neither. Well, I guess OC’s, if I had to choose -- I don’t read or write reader inserts. But I tend to keep OC’s for original fiction.

4) What is your favourite genre to write for?

I was very confused about fic having genres before I realized this was probably referring to the genre of the canon works. Um...sports. :D

5) If you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be and why?

Don’t make me choose my favorite child. Um, probably the first wolfverse story -- I don’t know if it’s the best one, but I’m very grateful to it for starting the ‘verse!

6) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

None of them, if that’s an option. If I really had to choose...probably the Kirk/Spock fic I never finished even after uploading it to AO3 and promising to finish it this time. I still want to finish it!! But it would be the first to go.

7) When is your preferred time to write?

I don’t have a strong preference. Afternoon/evening. I like having multi-hour blocks, and I use the Forest app to keep me off my phone while I do it.

8) Where do you take your inspiration from?

Plot bunnies come from all over the place: random thoughts, memes, real-life conversations, suggestions from other fandom people. I tend to have a pretty strong “THIS IS A STORY I WANT TO WRITE” response when something grabs me the right way.

9) In your xxx fic, what’s your favourite scene that you wrote?

Haha this is probably why I’m not supposed to just answer all of these in order. XD I’ll answer for my current WIP: the scene where Geno kisses Sid for the first time. So soft. So angsty. 😈 (My own story has cursed me to love Geno. I am doomed.)

10) In your xxx fic, why did you decide to end it like that? Did you have an alternative ending in mind?

In general: I know how my stories are going to end when they start. Sometimes it does evolve a bit as I write. One thing I’d like to play with is including more of the main characters being together at the end of the story, instead of ending it at the moment when they get together; the latter makes sense from a tension perspective, but I’ve been finding when I read lately that I want more of the happy times at the end, so I’m going to try to move in that direction.

11) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

Only for typos, I think.

12) Who is your favourite character to write for? Why?

Ooooh. Either Patrick Kane or Jonathan Toews. There’s something so compelling to me about Patrick’s fanon voice. And every love interest in every original story I try to write is Jonny.

13) Who is your least favourite character to write for? Why?

I...don’t really write about characters I don’t like? I wish Auston Matthews would shave his mustache.

14) How did you come up with the title for the xxx? - You can ask about multiple stories.

About fifty percent of the titles I come up with are desperate scrambles because I’ve got nothing. The other fifty percent I have a perfect song lyric for from the start.

15) If you write OC’s, how do you decide on their names?

I only write OC’s in original fiction, but: I’ve been phonebanking lately, and I’ve been writing down all the good names I come across. The best so far is someone with the last name Quackenboss.

16) How did you come up with the idea for xxx?

MAGIC.

17) Post a line from a WIP that you’re working on.

Oh...oh no. Um.

“It doesn’t matter what he was thinking about. His knot popped; that’s the important thing.”

Some of you can probably guess what that’s about. :)

18) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

Mostly on my computer. I have a lot of beginnings of stories I haven’t finished yet; many of them I’ll probably go back to. I tend not to post things until I’m done or close to done with them. (That one Star Trek fic being an exception. Mea culpa.)

19) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

YES. The 1988 timer one and the 1988 story where Patrick’s a girl who sneaks onto the Blackhawks in disguise. I’d love to do a Bennguin version of both of those.

20) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

Hm. Some of them I think I rushed a little. More Than I Could Ever Promise, I think it needs a good old-fashioned battle scene in the mountains at the end to really round out the plot.

21) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

Have I mentioned astolat? What, only two or three hundred times? I should mention her again, then. Give me that woman’s ability to plot. Inject it into my veins.

22) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

Haha. I often have slightly cringy moments in my old stories. You Made My Life an Adventure, I definitely didn’t really know what I was doing yet...

23) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?

I usually listen to music.

24) How do you feel about writing smutty scenes?

Turned on.

25) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

Yes. The sequel to My Heart Forgets to Beat.

26) Which part of your xxx fic was the hardest to write?

The Sid/Geno wolfverse story I’m working on now is maybe the hardest thing I’ve ever written. The language barrier is such a new challenge for me.

27) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?

I don’t formally outline, but I tend to have a sense of the major plot beats. One reason I love writing fic is that the plot and world tend to be straightforward enough for that. I have a lot more trouble doing that with original fiction.

28) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fanfiction?

This will radically reduce the amount of time I spend writing original fiction.

29) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

Like You Have a Secret I think is less read than some of the others because it’s het, but I really love it. Similarly, some of my stories that are inspired by other works (Tangled, Doctor Who, The Giver) tend to be read less because people think they need to know the source material, when really I deviate from the source material so much it’s not important.

30) In contrast to 29 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

Huh. Probably not. I’m definitely surprised when some stories take off -- Kinda Narrows It Down I wrote pretty quickly, on a whim, and I was surprised by the extent to which it resonated with people. Turns out lots of people think Tyler was coming out in that tweet. XD

31) Send me a fic recommendation and I’ll post it for my followers to see! (The asker is to send the rec not the answerer)

Ooh. Ignoring the terms of this question, but: I just read this TK/Patty story and loooved it. It’s a different take on werewolves than the one I use in wolfverse, and it’s super compelling:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24029188

32) Are any of your characters based on real people?

Hahahahahaha. (I mean...less so than you might think.)

33) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

I absolutely love it when people write screaming flaily responses to my fic. Also anytime anyone says that they’ve been having a tough time and my story was exactly what they needed. Maybe my favorite was the responses to More Than I Could Ever Promise that told me it read like a novel; that meant a lot to me right then.

34) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?

Fandom is amazing; people almost never give me concrit. I did have someone ask once if I randomly chose when to stop writing and just ended my stories there. I was pretty offended, since of course that’s not true at all, but I can see where they were coming from: my stories tend to wrap up after the characters get together, and sometimes there’s a lot of potential story left to tell at that point. But stories have to end sometime.

35) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest?

I tend to share them! I find other people’s enthusiasm to be strongly motivating, and sometimes people have awesome suggestions I wouldn’t have thought of.

36) Can you give us a spoiler for one of your WIP’s?

Well, I only have the one. XD Sid...is about to have an important conversation with Mario.

37) What’s the funniest story you’ve written?

Ooh, I’m not sure I’m the write person to answer! No idea, really. My recent TK/Patty is probably pretty funny. Or maybe Quality Time, where Patrick doesn’t understand why he keeps losing track of time when he’s cuddling with Jonny. Anything with a super dumb protagonist, probably.

38) If you could collab with any other writer on here, who would it be? (Perhaps this question will inspire some collabs!) If you’re shy, don’t tag the blog, just name it.

Wow, I have no idea. I’ve never really written a story with someone, so I’m not sure how that would work. I want to say astolat again but honestly I’d be too intimidated.

...no, I’m gonna say astolat. Even if I made a fool of myself I think I would learn a ton.

39) Do you prefer first, second or third person?

Third. For some original stuff I like first person, but third feels right for the hockey boys.

40) Do people know you write fanfiction?

My close friends do. Most of my friends have the vague idea I write fic, but they don’t know my username or anything.

41) What’s you favourite minor character you’ve written?

Patrick Sharp. No question.

42) Song fic - What made you decide to use the song xxx for xxx.

I will legit listen to a new album with a doc open to write down promising lyrics. Titles are HARD, y’all.

43) Has anyone ever guessed the plot twist of one of your fics before you posted it?

I think people guessed where the Tangled fic was going. Though I also liked the guesses that it would be about Patrick’s mullet. XD I don’t really mind when people guess twists -- in the kind of story I write, it’s more about the experience of reading it than about surprise!

44) What is the last line you wrote?

“His parents have always been very respectful of any choices Sid’s wanted to make. They haven’t pried into his private life when he’s tried to set boundaries. But they’re wolves, and they know him a lot better than Jordy does. Sid isn’t going to be able to keep it a secret from them what he’s going through.”

...no guarantee it survives in that form. :D

45) What spurs you on during the writing process?

Getting the story out of my head and into reality! Spoon out that lake, baby.

I also do love the prospect of posting it for people to enjoy and respond to. It’s one of the reasons I find fic so much more rewarding than original fiction, where the timeline to a readership is so much longer.

46) I really loved your xxx fic. If you were ever to do a sequel, what do you think might happen in it?

Things, probably.

47) Here’s a fic title - insert a made up title. What would this story be about?

This exercise might be going off the rails a bit. (If anyone does want to pose this to me, feel free!)

48) What’s your favourite trope to write?

Ooh. Mutual pining. Friends to lovers. Werewolves. :D

49) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

The first fic I ever, ever read was a random Kirk/Spock one I found through google, and I was like “OMG IS THIS WHAT AROUSAL FEELS LIKE”

50) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Oh man. Angst, as long as it can have a happy ending. But it just wouldn’t be the same without the smut.

#this was fun #i guess i should go back to work now #fic #fandom #ao3 #tropes #hockey rpf #writing #patrick kane #jonathan toews #sidney crosby #geno malkin #tyler seguin #probably some other people

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 3 years

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Michael in the Mainstream: Crash Bandicoot

Reviewing video games is not my forte. Like, sure, I can review the Metal Gear franchise because it’s near and dear to my heart and it’s incredibly story driven to a cinematic degree, but I’m not super good at touching on game design or any of that. I stick with movies. But then there are a lot of games I love and want to talk about, such as this game, Crash Bandicoot, and it’s like, how do I talk about this? This is a platformer that is very light on plot and is more about precision platforming than anything, and I’m just not really good at talking about gameplay.

But I’ve come up with a solution! One that I plan to use going forward for a few other games, too! I’ll start with a few paragraphs with my basic overview of the game, and then I will do a ranking of my favorite levels, and then how I’d rank the bosses. I’m much better at talking why I enjoy the challenge of specific elements of games like these then I am talking about the game as a whole, so let’s see how this turns out.

Crash Bandicoot was the first video game I ever played, and so is extremely near and dear to my heart. It’s a rather simple game, a “save the girl” platforming adventure in the vein of something like Mario, where an intrepid hero travels through platforming challenges to save the love of his life from an evil mastermind, though as the main character is a furry animal with a bit of 90s ‘tude, and his archenemy is a mad scientist who utilizes cyborgs to stop you, there’s a dash of Sonic in here too. Being a simple platforming game like this, you’d think there wouldn’t be all that much to the story… but surprisingly, that’s not totally the case (although the story is still relatively simple to later entries).

Crash was meant to be the ultimate soldier in Dr. Neo Cortex’s army of evil marsupials and other assorted critters, an army he presumably was going to use for world domination. After rigorous training, Crash was set to be brainwashed and turned into a mindless slave, but something got screwed up and Crash remained a good, heroic guy. He ended up chased out a window and washed up on the beach of a nearby island, and set out to save his buxom, big booty bandicoot babe Tawna from the creepy clutches of the cantankerous Cortex, causing chaos and crushing crates as he went along. The manual included with the original version of the game actually outlined sort of a little story for the first island, showing how the levels involved Crash infiltrating a native village, defeating its leader, and then riding a hog to escape on his way to the next island. It’s kind of fun and imaginative, and the next island keeps it up, with Crash having to brave ancient ruins to make it to the volcano on the other side of the island, before finally going through Cortex’s toxic power plant, causing a reactor meltdown, and climbing Cortex’s castle to confront him as his island burns to the ground. It’s a fun, simple story that’s not too challenging on the mind while still being engaging.

Perhaps the best thing about the game is the music, which was done by Josh Mancell with the assistance of Mark Mothersbaugh’s Mutato Muzika production company. Let’s not beat around the bush here: Every single track in this game slaps. Basically every track in the original trilogy slaps, but I feel pound for pound this game just hits all the right notes with its music. It perfectly sets the tone for each level, with eerie levels like Slippery Climb getting foreboding music and unsettling yet somewhat whimsical levels like Road to Nowhere getting music that perfectly suits it. This is the biggest downgrade of the remake; they redid the score, with no option to go back to the old tracks, and while some of the updated tunes are great, they don’t really hold a candle to the original (especially the creepier levels, which got dumbed down a fair bit to the point of narm).

The one thing this game is being known for these days is its pretty brutal difficulty, at least with the original release. A lot of the staple elements of the series like checkpoints saving the boxes you had previously broken and an actual save room were not present, so every level (including the brutal ones where the margin of error was incredibly slim) needed to be completed perfectly in one go. The challenging road to 100% completion was absolutely brutal, but thankfully the remake polished things and brought it more in line with its sequels to the point you only need a flawless run on colored gem levels. It can still be pretty tough since the colored gems are located in the hardest levels of the game, but it’s a lot easier than it once was.

The original game is a great, fun game, but only play the original release if you really want to test your skills; the remake is the way to go. The game holds up amazingly well even today, so no matter which version you end up playing you’re in for a fun platforming challenge.

Anyway, let’s get on to the levels!

TOP 10 LEVELS

10. Generator Room

There’s something to be said about the various one-shot themed levels of the third island. Toxic Waste is an interesting one we’ll talk about later, The Lab is a fun penultimate level, and Cortex Power is a frustrating slog of confusing backtracking. The Generator Room, though? This is unnerving atmosphere and dark ambience at its peak, with the eerie, minimalist music and the looming Cortex faces lending a chilling sense that you’re being watched as you make your way through this dark platforming challenge. It’s not the most exciting level, but among the one-shot themes it stands out for being a heaping helping of nightmare fuel… Though moreso in the original game. The remake sadly toned things down a bit too much, though it’s hard to blame them, really.

9. Native Fortress

The level that caps off the first island is a more challenging remake of The Great Gate, and closes out the story of the first island by showing how Crash escapes the territory of Papu Papu’s tribe. It’s a pretty fun and reasonable challenge for the point in the game, but my favorite aspect of the level has always been that, when you get the red gem, you get to fly up in the clouds and experience the painted background of the other two islands with less clutter. It’s just a simple background image, sure, but I have always found it very pretty and breathtaking.

8. Road to Nowhere

Everyone’s favorite! This is one of the more challenging levels if you don’t know what you’re doing because of the tricky and precise jumps you need, but it just has so much atmosphere and pleasant music it’s hard to get mad even if I screw up and plummet to my doom a few dozen times. Bouncing off of hibernating turtles to make long jumps and inexplicable evil hogs help make this memorable. Frankly, if you want to direct your ire to a stage, direct it to The High Road, the third island’s more challenging take on this level’s theme and which is a joyless, frustrating experience.

7. Castle Machinery

This level is honestly a bit of a breather for being so late in the game; sure, it has a lot of tricky jumps and an annoying crate bridge you need to really think about to conquer, but overall it’s just an improved take on Heavy Machinery without an obtuse branching path to figure out. Still, this level really makes the list because, if you have the right colored gem, you can just immediately skip the entire level and gain thirty free lives in the process in one of the single funniest moments in the game.

6. Toxic Waste

This level is simple, straightforward, and to the point. It’s one long-ass hallway where Crash is on a narrow walkway and has to avoid incoming barrels being tossed at him by the Mafia. It has no branching paths, no crazy elements, just Crash, some barrels, some boxes, and some bad guys. It’s almost too basic, but what saves it is the atmosphere of it all and the sheer awesomeness of the music, no matter which version you’re playing. It’s a level that has stuck in my mind since I was a kid. In a way, it also set the basis for colored gem unlocks in the games to follow, as avoiding the barrels is more of a puzzle than anything, much like the tricky puzzles you had to solve to unlock the colored gems in Cortex Strikes Back and It’s About Time. It’s a neat little first step even if it’s not quite there yet.

5. Boulder Dash

I almost didn’t include one of these levels, but God, these levels were trendsetters! The whole “Crash gets chased by dangerous thing” trend began in this game, and this second take on the boulder chase from the second island is a lot more fun and challenging than the earlier version of the level. And if you get the colored gem, you’re taken to a pretty underground alternate exit with tons of crates, which is pretty dope.

4. Fumbling in the Dark

The only one of the secret levels that requires a Cortex key to make the list, Fumbling in the Dark is a remix of Lights Out, the level it branches off of. That level is a bit of a cakewalk if you have the right gem, with an alternate exit being available to you before the level’s challenge ramps up. Not so with this level! You’ve gotta do some tricky timed jumps as quick as possible so you can get to the next Aku Aku mask before the light runs out. It’s a pretty fun and fair challenge, and it pushes my platforming skills to the limit. I also just really enjoy the creepy, Gothic aesthetic of the levels inside Cortex’s castle.

3. Hog Wild

This is, hands down, the funniest level in the game. From Crash’s really suggestive eyebrow waggle which leads to him tackling a pig to the extremely goofy music, this level is just an absolute blast. It does have an equally fun yet more challenging remix as an optional secret level, Whole Hog, but I have to give props to the original level for being the most hilarious thing I ever saw when I was little.

2. Slippery Climb

Where Stormy Ascent is a brutal, unrelenting challenge, Slippery Climb is more of a tough, but fair challenge. It’s definitely up there with Sunset Vista and The High Road in terms of difficulty, and the fact you’ve gotta do a flawless run of it if you want the red gem is daunting, but this is the most thoroughly rewarding mandatory level to conquer. You’re gonna feel really cool when you take this one down, guaranteed. Maybe not as much as when you take down Stormy Ascent, but still, this may be the toughest level in the game.

1. THE GREAT HALL

youtube

WOO YEAH BABY! LOOK AT THIS CHALLENGE!

Ok, ok, here’s the real number one:

1. N. Sanity Beach

This is the first level in the game and, thus, one of the easiest. And yet I placed it above all the levels I find to be more fun and challenging. Why? Well, for one, the pure nostalgia of it all. This was my first level in a video game, and I have fond memories of traversing the beach and jungle. For the other, this is one of the most perfect tutorial levels I have ever seen. Basically everything the game has to offer is laid out to you and slowly dished out to you: you start with a couple crates and a free life, move on to experience some enemies and pits, you can get total invincibility if you’re smart, you’re introduced to branching paths and backtracking… Everything is dished out to you at a solid pace so that any new player will be able to figure out what they’re doing with relative ease. Plus, the music slaps, and interestingly enough halfway through the level changes to a different song (the only level to do this). It really does encapsulate the game as a whole in one tiny package, and for that, I think it’s my favorite level of all.

Boss Ranking

The best way to describe the bosses in the original Crash is that they are incredibly basic. Most of them have simple patterns, easy tells, and don’t take much effort to take down. There’s not really anything here that will put your skills to the test, but none of them are really bad per se; in fact, considering how hard the levels can get, it’s sort of a breath of fresh air when you get to a boss that can be taken down without thinking hard.

6. Papu Papu

Coming in last place is our first boss, the big chief of the first island himself. He’s a pretty simple and straightforward boss battle: just jump on his head a few times and he’ll be out cold. It’s pretty nice to ease in new players, but it’s seriously not much of a challenge (though none of these bosses are particularly hard, mind you).

5. Koala Kong

So far, this has been Koala Kong’s sole major outing, as he was pretty quickly replaced with the more engaging Tiny Tiger in terms of dumb muscle.Tiny at least has some semblance of combat prowess and strategy, while this guy is just tossing boulders at you to spin back while he’s flexing and posing like he wants a part in the next volume of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. He’s certainly not the sharpest tool in the shed. Still, he’s not bad or anything, just a bit of a generic battle compared to the last three or the one before him.

4. Ripper Roo

Ripper Roo is a bit of a frustrating puzzle boss, requiring just the right timing to get in any damage on the guy. Still, the fun and bouncy music coupled with the amazing stock laugh does help make him a bit more memorable than the previous two bosses. I will say he’s probably worse in terms of an actual boss battle, because he ends up being more an exercise in precision than the typical dodging and waiting for the right moment to strike, but he’s also a funny kangaroo in a straitjacket, and I think that counts for something.

3. N. Brio

The longest boss in the game, Brio comes with a massive health bar that you’ll shave off pretty quickly for his first phase if you’re careful, and whose second phase features him hulking out into an incredible monstrosity. He’s simple and straightforward, much like all the bosses to be honest, but I think the bosses on the final island all have solid presentation to make up for that. Brio just comes out at the lower end, which is honestly a running theme for him in Crash games, as his battles are rarely the best out there and few can match his debut.

2. Pinstripe

Pinstripe may not be the most challenging boss in the world, but damn is he cool. A tommy gun-toting potoroo gangster who goes full-on Scarface and starts blasting up his office when you walk in while cackling like a madman? Awesome. Defeating him is also heavily implied to be the reason Cortex’s castle eventually starts burning down, as he accidentally shoots the generator upon defeat, which is a neat little touch. If nothing else, Pinstripe is just fun, and he has killer theme music to boot.

1. Cortex

Cortex begins his reign as the big bad of the franchise with a final boss battle that, while lacking in serious challenge, has such good music and presentation that it’s hard to really care. The fight is simple and straightforward: you dodge his blasts, and hit back the ones of a certain color so they blast his health off. All of this is done from atop his dirigible, as his island burns down in the background. The bosses just don’t get any cooler than this.

#Michael in the Mainstream #review #video game review #Crash Bandicoot #Naughty Dog #Platformer #nostalgia

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padfootagain · 4 years

Text

Girl Crush (XXV)

Chapter 25: A Merry Sunflower

Here we go with a new chapter! This is disgustingly sweet. Tooth-rotting fluff. Even I am feeling all giddy and sweet because of it. So read at your own risk, this is just too fluffy!!!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think about it!

Word Count: 2547

"That's an abuse of our friendship, plain and simple."

The way you rolled your eyes was almost audible, he didn't need to turn around to know about your gesture.

"Dramatic as always," you replied, dipping the brush inside the bucket full of this pale pink, almost white shade you had chosen for the doorframes of your shop.

"I should be writing my next album, and instead, I have been up since 5am for a week and painting all day!" Harry argued, gesturing around in the vague direction of the wall he had been painting, as if to prove his point. "My arm hurts so much…"

You let out a happy laugh.

"I'm not joking! It hurts," Harry replied, faking outrage, when it was hard for him to hide his smile.

Your laugh always made him feel happy and his heart grow all warm and soft. He tried not to feel this way, a little voice in his head pointing out that you weren't single, but he shushed it for now.

It was a happy and sunny day in L.A. You were painting your soon-to-be flower shop together, just the two of you, taking it slow and spending more time giggling and joking around than getting actual work done. And for a moment, Harry allowed himself to forget about this guy you were seeing, about the fact that his feelings for you had changed in a way that made him feel guilty. Instead, he pushed all his worries aside and decided that he would enjoy that day as much as he could, making sure to treasure every minute he would spend with you.

And so far, he had.

"I'm also starving," he pointed out, and as if to agree, your stomach made a weird noise that made both of you giggle.

"I have to agree for that one. Let's take a break. Pizza?"

"You've read my mind," he grinned, throwing the paint roller in his bucket and heading for the door already.

You had installed a little wooden table and a couple of chairs outside already, where you would soon be putting flowers and plants. The front of the building had been renovated as you had asked, and the sign above the door was to be finished the next week. The partially-painted letters already had a shape that was defined enough for the name of your future shop to be read.

Sunflower and Peonies.

Soon enough, the place would be full of them, and dozens of other kinds of colourful plants. Your dream was becoming reality, so much so that you could almost touch it.

For now though, Harry and you had taken the habit to eat lunch there, in the street, watching cars drive by and children running around. In the early afternoon, there weren't so many people around, most of them coming and going from or to the beach only a few streets away. You could almost hear the rush of the waves moving across the ocean, and the air smelt of salt and cloudless skies.

Harry went to pick up some pizza a few houses up the street, and came back just as you were opening some apple juice and filling up two glasses.

He had taken your favourite pizza, as always; had not needed to ask you for your order. He just knew you that well that it was a natural behaviour by now to order everything you liked most.

"You were complaining about staying away from the studio because of me, how is the writing going?" you asked, settling down around the table.

"It's going okay," he nodded with confidence. "We have a few good ones, I think. I can't wait for it to be over so you can hear it too."

"I can't wait to listen to it. But can't you give me a snippet, at least?"

He shook his head no, his mouth filled with food.

"Nope! Nothing! You will not hear anything before it's all ready and perfect."

"I'm your best friend!"

"I'm your best friend too, and you use me as free labour to renovate your shop, so don't give me that argument!"

You both exploded with laughter. The sun felt warm on your skin as you threw your head back with your laugh.

"It's not my shop yet. It's quite far from the big opening still," you reminded him, but he shook his head.

"You've come so far. It's a matter of a couple of months at the most. You're almost there, Y/N."

"I couldn’t have done it without you."

Your voice was earnest, but he shook his head.

"It's your baby, I have nothing to do with that. I mean… besides the handywork now."

"No, you're wrong. You've always made me believe in myself more than anybody else ever has. You're the one who lifted me up whenever I doubted myself. I reckon that I would have given up a long time ago if you hadn't been there to make sure to keep me on the right path."

He gave you a tender smile.

"I wouldn't be where I am today without you either, you know? You've kept me on track too."

He raised his glass full of apple juice to toast.

"I guess we're just an amazing pair of friends," you laughed.

"I guess."

Your glasses made a little 'cling' sound as they met, and you both drank a gulp of the fresh beverage while a bunch of surfers were walking before the store.

Harry leaned back in his chair, his old Rolling Stone t-shirt stained with dots of white paint hugging his torso a little too tightly. He stretched his long legs and brushed his brown strands out of his face. And the sight of him relaxing by your side made a smile creep up on your lips without you even noticing your own gesture.

"How many songs do you have ready for the album?" you asked, taking another slice of pizza.

"Not enough," he laughed.

"Come on, you can at least give me the name of one of them. Come on! Or who the songs are about! Harryyy!" you whined, making these puppy eyes that you knew he could never resist to.

But he mercilessly shook his head. Or at least, that's what he wanted you to believe. In reality, his will was slowly breaking.

"You're so cruel! You know everything about my project and I know nothing about yours! Come on, tell me one thing!"

He stared at you and he really, really tried his hardest to not reveal anything. But your eyes were so bright in the warm sunshine, and you looked so… perfect. Carefree. For once, you didn't seem worried about anything. You just seemed… happy. And he couldn't say no to you and take the risk to make your mood get a little less merry. So, he heaved a sigh, giving up.

"I… wrote one about you last night," he admitted.

You raised a surprised eyebrow.

"About… me?"

"Don't act so surprised."

"I am surprised! No one's ever done this for me before."

"I've never said it was the first song I wrote about you," he replied with a frown.

You looked at him with wide-eyes.

"Really? You have? Which ones?"

He suddenly realized that it might not have been the best idea he ever had to mention that he had been writing love songs about his best friend for a long time…

"I mean… you're my best friend. I take inspiration in things you do and things that you are and… like in a lot of other things," he replied, trying to sound more casual than the situation truly was.

"So… just… not really about me just… situations we were in?"

"Umm… sometimes."

"What is it called?"

"Hmm?"

"The song you wrote last night about me, what is it called?"

He couldn't refrain a tender smile.

"Sunflower vol.6."

You grinned, looking up at the name of your future store.

"What is it about?"

You. It's about you and what I wish we could have. Kisses in the kitchen and bright flowers all around…

"It's about… I don't know. I just went home from your shop last night – after you've made me work all day long – and I wrote it. So… I guess it's about you."

"I can't wait to listen to it," you grinned.

Your smile was so bright, Harry was certain that it could outshine even the Californian sun.

The pizza was gone by now, and you took a moment to merely enjoy the warm beginning of the afternoon. A comfortable silence settled around the two of you, like a large cocoon.

Your hands on the table were mere inches away, and it seemed that they had been slowly drifting towards each other for the past few minutes. When you realized how close your fingers were from his, your first instinct was to reach out to touch them. Harry had taken his rings off to paint, and for once his fingers rested bare on the wooden surface. The cross tattooed on his hand was bathed in sunlight.

But just as you were about to reach out, you thought better of it. All of a sudden, the simple gesture made you feel… guilty.

Why though? He was your best friend, had been for years. It wouldn't mean anything to hold hands. Why was your heart rushing at the thought of intertwining your fingers with his, then?

"We should go back to work, or you'll complain that I make you go home too late again," you said, standing up too fast making your head spin, your feelings a little overwhelming all of a sudden.

He dramatically moaned, throwing himself across the table and grabbing the edge.

"Noooooo!" he whined, almost like a little child. "I don't wanna!"

You couldn't help but laugh.

"Come on, drama queen! The sooner we go back to it, the sooner we'll be done with it."

"Noooooo!"

You stood by his side, and tickled that one spot on the side of his ribs that never failed to torture him, and he burst into laughter at the first contact, jumping away from you and crossing his arms to protect himself.

"That's so unfair!" he protested, narrowing his eyes at you, which wasn't really convincing considering the bright grin plastered on his face.

The sight of his dimples made your own lips curve into a smile on their own accord.

"Come on! Back to work!"

"You are so cruel. And so bossy! Since when are you bossy like that?"

"Since I'm about to become an actual boss! I'm my own boss now! An entrepreneur!"

Harry opened the door for you, and bowed down before you, making you laugh.

"After you, then, my lady!"

You cleaned up the table outside, and were soon back at painting. You were working next to each other, Harry painting the wall and you decorating the window frame with a pastel shade of blue.

But there wasn't so much done on Harry's part. Because instead of painting, he kept on being distracted by how the sun, coming in through the window, illuminated your features. How it made your eyes glimmer, and it seemed to embrace the shape of your lips, and for a moment, Harry was jealous of even the sun.

He shook himself when he reckoned he had spent too long studying the way you slightly frowned as you focused on the task at hand.

But he figured that you were too serious. Way too serious in such a sunny and happy afternoon. So, he dipped his brush in the bucket of paint again, and drew a line on your arm, making you jump.

"What the hell are you doing?!" you squealed, moving your arm away.

But Harry didn't reply. Instead, he approached the brush again, slowly, with mischief painted all over his features from his sparkling green eyes to the smirk on his lips.

"Don't you dare!" you warned him, trying to sound serious, but a smile started to make its way across your face too. "Harry, don't you fucking dare!"

The next second he was jumping forward and putting paint all over your cheek. And of course, you retaliated, and you were both laughing and crying and struggling to keep the other at bay.

Which one of you tripped and pulled the other to the ground? You didn't know, but you both found yourselves on the floor all the same, still painting all over each other, still laughing so hard that your tummies ached and tears wet your eyelashes.

"Stop! Stop, please! Stop!" you begged as you tried to crawl away from Harry. "Stop! I give up! You win!"

"I win?"

"You win! Harry, stop! I can't breathe!"

He finally released you, putting his weapon away, and he lied down by your side on the cool floor.

It took the two of you a while to catch your breaths. When you turned to him, Harry had a large blue line running across his nose, left cheek and neck. He also had paint in his hair, and all over his arms and hands. His t-shirt was a mess too. You looked just as messy and happy as he did.

You took a moment to look at him. To let your gaze linger on the veins running up the side of his neck, and the way his hair fell all over the place, and the curve of his eyelashes, and the strong angle of his jawline. Until he turned to you as well, trapping your soul in his green eyes.

And you wished that you could look away but you couldn't. He was grinning at you, and you grinned back, because you couldn't do anything else. You couldn't do anything against his stupid dimples, and the ridiculous paint over his nose. His smiles always made you want to copy them.

And all of a sudden, as you were simply staring at him like this, all covered in paint in the empty room you had yet to turn into the shop you dreamt of, you realized that there was no one you would want more to be with you then. You were building your dream, watching it come alive, and there was no one you would rather have by your side to make it come true.

But you were with Gareth, you said you loved him, shouldn't you have wanted him to be there with you instead of Harry?

Maybe you should have. And yet, it wasn't the truth.

Harry was by your side as the most important part of your life unfolded, and it was all that mattered to you.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"You're never going to leave me behind, right?"

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

"Of course not. Where would I want to go without you anyway?"

"I don't know… ahead?"

But he shook his head, staring at you as he made a promise he knew he could never break.

"I'll always be here for you, Y/N."

You exchanged a bright smile.

"I'll always be here for you too, Harry. You know?"

"I mean… you're my best friend. It's in the job requirement."

On the brushes all around the room, the paint dried to the sound of your laughter.

************************************************

Taglist : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet@notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky@snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity@i-padfootblack-things @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy @addictedtofictionalcharacters @staringmoony@madamrogers @cronias13 @stylesfics-xx @mellamolayla @mariaenchanted

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles series #harry styles imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #series #imagine

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goldrushzukka · 3 years

Note

1, 2, 7, 8, 9. (Sorry, i know that's like...all of them)

1. what themes would you like to write about that you feel don’t get explored very often?

i love writing coming out storylines. it’s not really that they’re uncommon, i just find a lot of catharsis in them.

2. what are some common elements of stories you are tired of seeing? what would you avoid writing about?

i tend to avoid writing sibling dynamics bc i’m an only child and therefore not really. qualified. i love reading it though!!

7. favourite description in your WIP?

it was really hard to pick one so i have a few answers for this bc i love to talk about myself so. (under the cut bc JESUS this got long but spoilers for and i’ll do anything you say (read it here!) ahead!!!)

- from chapter 2:

Sokka looks at him, a fantasy come to life, and takes off his stupid sweatpants.

He throws them at Zuko’s head, and earns himself a short burst of that real laugh, shocked and unguarded.

“You asshole,” Zuko says. He sits up and grabs Sokka’s hand, pulling him down on top of him. Something comes alive under Sokka’s skin where Zuko’s fingers graze his wrist. He calls it lust and ignores the fact that it feels nothing like it.

Zuko kisses him, his mouth still in the shape of laughter, and the alive thing screams for his attention. Sokka buries it and hopes it won’t deafen him before they’re done.

im very fond of this whole chapter (i think it’s probably my favourite? it was definitely the easiest to write) but i really love looking back on this part particularly now that we’re in the angsty part of the story bc this is where it all started. yes technically it started in chapter 1 but this is when sokka starts to fall for zuko. this is the beginning of all those pesky non-casual feelings that he’s going to pretend don’t exist until someone else calls him out on them.

- also from chapter 2:

He’s forty-five minutes late already, and when he knocks, a woman made of pursed lips and sharp angles answers the door. She looks elegant and expensive the same way a skyscraper does. Or a cache of medieval weaponry.

“Oh,” Sokka says, digging into his pocket to find the map on his phone. “I must have the wrong place, sorry -”

She looks him up and down, her eyes narrowed in a way that feels violent and practiced, and her smirk turns distasteful. Sokka risks a glance down at himself, at his torn up jeans - not distressed, just torn - and the Madonna t-shirt he’s pretty sure actually belongs to Katara, and thinks she might have a point. The bag in his hand feels heavier when her eyes land on it.

“Zuzu,” the woman calls into the apartment, “your dinner’s here.”

“I didn’t order -” Zuko appears in the doorway, bitter frustration in his expression as he looks at the woman.

His eyes fall on Sokka, though, and his face clears into a light-pollution smile.

this is technically two so i will start with: i love azula. i haven’t found any room to bring her back yet but believe me i am LOOKING. she’s hot and mean and gay and i LOVE HER. oh also insider scoop but suki’s date from earlier in this chapter.......WAS azula. they probably won’t see each other again because once azula met sokka and connected his face to the Best Friends Forever picture frame on suki’s desk she stopped answering the phone.

pt 2: i’ve had a couple of comments mention the “light-pollution smile” line specifically and i am always so happy to read them bc yeah. YEAH. i’ll admit it. that line HITS.

- from chapter 4:

He sets his phone down - only, he doesn’t. He misses the table by a mile, and in his scramble to catch his phone before it breaks on the hardwood floor and wakes Momo on the cushion beside him, his hand finds the lip of his cereal bowl, and then that’s falling, too. He manages to catch the phone, but something in his head gets lost in translation on its way down his arms, and he ends up with a boxers-only lap full of soggy Cheerios.

Momo gets a splash of milk on his back and hisses at Zuko for his crimes, and somehow that’s the worst part of it.

haley @fruitysokka said that this passage reads like an action movie and i think about it all the time. (thank u haley i love u)

- lastly this extended metaphor from chapter 6:

The soup is good, once the heat of it clears him up enough to taste it. It’s thick and warm and there’s enough pepper that Sokka gets a kick from it even in his condition. He feels it all the way down his throat and into his stomach, where it mixes with the prickly nervousness he’s feeling from Zuko’s attention.

He sets the bowl down on the table and asks, eyes stuck on his hands in Momo’s fur where he’s climbed into his lap, “How was the date?”

“It was good, actually,” Zuko says. “Jet seems like a nice guy. He’s very - uh - passionate, I guess you could call it? He’s a climate and human rights activist.”

The spines of Sokka’s nervousness turn to daggers.

...

“I said yes. We’re getting lunch on Sunday.”

The daggers are swords now, and Sokka’s heart sinks down, down, down, right to the hilt.

...

“I’ll text you when I’m home,” Zuko promises, and Sokka’s heart skewers itself on a second sword.

Zuko’s smile when Sokka says, “Thank you for the soup,” is a third.

The door closing behind him is a fourth.

The silence as Sokka shuffles back to bed is every single one that remains.

something something canon swordsmen something pride comes before the fall something chivalry fell on his sword from eden by hozier. you guys get it i dont have to explain myself

8. favourite dialogue in your WIP?

ok so i cant share my actual favourite dialogue bc it's a spoiler for chapter 8 and i technically haven't written it yet (it's in my brain just.....plaguing me) but it's GOOD i SWEAR so. once again i have more than one answer bc actually? i love this fic and im proud of it. deal with it.

- from chapter 1:

“Hey, stranger,” Sokka says, still watching him in the mirror. The corner of Zuko’s mouth ticks up.

“You’re not following me, are you?” Zuko’s tone is seductive, endlessly so, and Sokka wonders while he dries his hands if he has to put it on or if he just sounds like that.

“You give a guy one compliment and he thinks you’re stalking him,” Sokka mutters, and Zuko laughs, low and enticing. Not the genuine, endearing laugh of this morning, but one with an agenda.

Well. Sokka always likes a plan.

“Are you following me? ” Sokka asks. He spies a miraculous dry patch on the sink bank and tries to be casual about the way he hops up to sit on it.

“I might be,” Zuko says, and at Sokka’s raised eyebrow, he continues, “I saw you at the bar and I wanted to talk to you. Sue me.”

“You wanted to talk.”

“Amongst other things.”

as a chronically awkward person i am INSANELY proud of the flirting in this fic. no idea if it would work in a real life situation. excited to never find out bc im not about to use lines from my fanfiction on real women.

- from chapter 2

“You must be Suki,” Zuko says. He meets her gaze, and his fingers go still under Momo’s chin.

“And you’re Zuko,” Suki replies, her smile all different shades of intimidating. “I’d shake your hand, but I know where it’s just been.”

i wrote this entire scene just so i could have suki say this. im not even joking. suki is my favourite part of this entire fic and its not even ABOUT her.

- from chapter 3:

When Sokka crosses the room and slips under the covers beside him, Zuko says, “I can leave, if you want. I can go home.”

...

He asks, still barely hovering over Zuko, “What if I don’t want that?”

Zuko swallows. “I can stay.”

“So stay,” Sokka says, and lays his head down on Zuko’s chest.

i just think it’s sweet. i like it a lot. makes my heart hurt a little when i think about it.

- from chapter 4:

[Suki // 15:13] there is a LOT of chmpagrjn

[Suki // 15:13] cahpmhagne

[Suki // 15:13] chsanpghn

[Suki // 15:14] alcohol :)

once again: suki is the best part of this whole fic. i love her so much. she is the reason the word bestie exists. im really proud of the texting in this fic bc it’s my first time actually including it in fic and it’s turned out really well!!

- ok last one bc i just realised this is turning into a novel. from chapter 4:

“How’s my baby?”

Zuko glances down at Momo, batting at the untied laces of his shoes with one determined paw. “He’s doing just fine.”

“And how’s Momo?”

“He’s - what?”

are there better written, more narratively important and emotive lines in this fic? yes. is this the best part of the entire thing? also yes. i invented the jin/yue wedding because i needed a reason for zuko to have a key in what became chapter 6, but sometimes i think the entire fic exists just for this exchange. best dialogue i have ever written.

9. what scene was the hardest for you to write and why?

the start of chapter 6 of aidays was difficult. i kept wanting to skip ahead to the meaty parts - i.e, zuko and his soup - but i didn’t want to do sokka a disservice like that. it was also really hard to maintain the balance of accurately describing the delirium of illness while still being coherent for the reader? so that took me a couple of days to get right.

#dreamrena #ask game #this got AWAY from me #anyway.#theres.....that #asks #mine #and ill do anything you say #might as well go in the tag since its all i talk about in this #uhhh. enjoy?#i have more thoughts on literally all of aidays so. at the risk of sounding even more in love w myself than i do in this already.#if theres anything else anyone would like to know more about (excluding spoilers obv) i am MORE than happy to talk about it #sam winchester voice The Lore

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arin-schreave · 3 years

Text

the first appearance of light in the sky before sunrise

before you read i just wanted to say thank you soooooo much to bri for being the most amazing cohost and my voice of reason these past 6+ months and putting up with me (y’all seriously have no idea lol). thank you to everyone who participated in oc6 and for helping make it the fun mess it was with your amazing characters. this fic is is trash but it’s what i’ve got. thank you to bri and ester for editing. my watch has ended.

-anna🙃

HELLO OC6ERS. this has been quite an interesting selection, hasn’t it? and yes. i did put up with anna but it was fun most of the time :) i can’t believe y’all roped me into this hosting thing a second time around, but it’s been a hoot. i hope you enjoyed safiya, wylan, jackson, and my evil villains as much as i did. and to bertha and myr!!!! y’all!!!!!!! idk how your characters have managed to make arin fairly decent in my eyes but you have. quite the feat. many thanks to anna for listening to my screeching advice most of the time, to anya for making the loveliest lady for jackson, and to ester, my homie, for making idalia--the most perfect match for wylan that could ever exist. it’s been WONDERFUL. see you guys next round!!!

-bri <3

You can click here for the Google doc or keep reading below. If you go to the doc please note there are some edits at the bottom of the fic so you may want to come back when you’re done reading and scroll down to the bottom to see them.

October was the hardest before Arin had readjusted to the silence. Everything had gone from chaos to calm in an instant and he hadn’t realized the ways he’d gotten used to it. He’d look for the familiar faces of the Selected only to be disappointed when he remembered that everyone had gone home.

He often wondered what Clemence and Jen would think of the choice he’d made to send them home, followed by too much silence on his part. Arin felt selfish because of the regret he felt for missing them both but he still knew it was the break they all needed. He’d put their lives on hold for months and hadn’t given them as much as he could have during that time. So he was trying to give them the space and time they needed to heal from the damage of the Selection.

Then came November with its highs and lows. Arin spent so many sleepless nights alone in his bed staring up at the ceiling thinking about his mistakes. He thought of how controlling he’d been with Felicity and what it had done to her, how devastated Jen had been when she thought he was eliminating her, the way Clem had been heartbroken when they’d said goodbye… But he was trying to be better. He’d gotten back into running, he’d finally started seeing a therapist again, he cooked for himself. Some days he’d go to the library on campus and spend a few hours doing his work in one of the study rooms before returning to the palace. Others he’d spend in back to back meetings with advisors discussing Illéa’s transition into a casteless society. Still, there was always a lingering empty feeling inside him. Then a call came.

---

It was the quietest Christmastime that Arin could remember there ever being in his home. Servants were still rushing around as they tried to put the final touches on the decorations. The majority of palace staff would soon go on vacation through the beginning of the new year and it would only grow quieter. There wasn't the same level of excitement there usually was during the holiday season.

There was a soft knock at the door and he straightened in his chair while he set aside what he was working on. He glanced down at his watch as he called for her to enter. She was early but only by a few minutes. When she slipped inside the office he noticed she'd kept her jacket on, which meant she didn’t plan on staying long.

He took a deep breath as she walked towards the desk, trying not to think about the last time she'd been in his office. When she’d kissed him in front of Clem. That hurt to think about but for different reasons than it had at the time. When she reached the desk she didn’t sit. Felicity merely raised her eyebrows at him in anticipation.

“Thanks for coming.” He gave her a nervous smile. “It means a lot to me.”

There was some skepticism in the look she gave him when he motioned for her to sit. She even glanced around the office to see if they were alone as if it was all a trick. Then her eyes met his again but still, she remained standing. It gave him somewhat of an uneasy feeling but he ignored it since she was likely uncomfortable as well.

“I know Christmas is over a week away but I wanted to give you your gift early since we won’t be doing things the usual way this year.”

Some of the awkwardness slipped away and Arin could feel the hint of the friendship they’d once had. He’d forgotten how good that felt. For a moment they were who they’d been before they’d ever been Arin & Felicity. They were two childhood friends sharing a moment that was nothing but platonic. He’d missed the sense of ease between them.

He thought about the way things usually were on Christmas. Every year his parent’s friends would come over at some point for a few hours to visit and they’d exchange gifts. When they'd been younger all the kids would play and Felicity had been among them. With everything that had happened they had decided it would be for the best to skip the year’s celebration.

This year the Schreaves would likely attend the Christmas Eve service at church before returning home for a somber meal. Then afterward they would gather in the family room for an hour or two before they all went their separate ways. As for Christmas morning… Well, that was one big question mark. So many things were those days. It was all one day at a time.

“I didn’t get you anything.” She gave him an apologetic look which he waved off.

“Well, I didn’t either.”

Arin glanced over at his desk drawer, taking a moment for himself before he reached down to open it. This moment had been such a long time coming and he was ready. He pulled the little velvet box from where it had been sitting for almost a year and set it on the desk. Felicity’s eyes widened with recognition as he slid the small box towards her. She swallowed hard, one hand going up to cover her lips as she only stared at it. He couldn’t help but smile a bit at the reaction, knowing her well enough that he was able to tell she was far from upset.

“Lis, I’ll always love you no matter where we are or who we’re with, you know that.” It felt good for him to say what he knew he’d been feeling the last couple of months. “But only as a friend. I’ve known you longer than almost anyone in my life and you aren't someone I could ever replace. But we aren’t the same people we were five years ago or even last year and we both know that’s for the better.”

Felicity reached up and wiped at her eyes, huffing a laugh before she mumbled something about how unfair he was being. Her eyes met his as she picked up the ring box, one thumb brushing over the top with fondness. She was silent for a few moments while she enjoyed the familiarity of the velvet against her skin.

“I know things are busy this year but please don’t put off getting her present. It’s your first Christmas.” She looked down at the ring box with a soft smile.

He could tell how much it meant to her that he’d given it back. Given how things had ended between them proper etiquette was that she return the ring and she had. But what was Arin going to do with it? He couldn’t propose with it or ever give it to his future… spouse, which meant that it would only end up tucked away in some corner of the vault collecting dust.

Felicity didn’t know that Arin had yet to figure out what he was going to do. Not that she would since they didn’t speak often and he wasn’t sure how much his sister told her. It was a reasonable assumption that he’d have made a decision by now even though there’d been no announcement. There'd been so much going on recently that Arin's priority wouldn't have been that, which Felicity knew.

“It doesn’t matter since I’m not sure when I’ll see her next anyway. Jen is with her family in Waverly for Christmas.”

Arin paused at that as he processed what he’d said. He replayed the sentence in his head to make sure he’s said what he thought he had. Then he narrowed his eyes at Felicity. She hadn’t taken her eyes off him.

“What did I say?” He asked somewhat cautiously.

She gave him a confused look as if she didn’t understand the question. Then seeing that she’d heard him right she frowned.

“You said Jen is in Waverly for Christmas.” She answered. “Is there a problem?”

Arin tugged at his collar. He began to count in his head as he took a steadying breath. He knew Felicity was someone he could talk to but not about this. Not yet. Maybe one day they’d completely go back to the way they were before they’d been together but they weren’t there yet.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m sorry to keep things so short but I have a meeting in a few minutes,” Arin told her.

He didn’t but he glanced at his watch anyway. She knew him well enough to know it was Arin telling her he needed to be alone. Felicity nodded in understanding but didn’t move quite yet. Then she stepped around his desk, giving the box a couple gentle taps against the surface. She stood there a few more moments but then she shook her head, changing her mind about what she was going to ask him.

“Merry Christmas, Arin.” She said in a hushed voice, then turned to leave.

Arin leaned back in his chair once she was gone, a million thoughts running through his mind. He thought about the two women who had become his world over the past couple of months. Both were kind and wonderful. But he couldn’t be with both of them. When he thought about Jen he couldn’t help but smile and feel warm inside. She had a way of lighting up everything around her and making it all feel so alive. Then there was Clem who was soft and sweet and reminded him that he could always keep going. When she looked at Arin he felt like his mistakes meant nothing and all would be forgiven.

Each woman meant more to him than he could put into words. They’d seen Arin as he was and they still wanted him despite it all. Through the ups and downs, they’d stood by him, giving him their time and love. He’d known for some time that he was in love as well but up until then, he’d thought it possible he had equal feelings for them both. He’d been searching for an answer and there she was. She’d been in front of him all along.

He had the vague memory of telling her that she wouldn’t ever be happy with him but that didn’t feel so true anymore. So much had happened since then. She'd seen him at his worst and together they’d gone through more in the span of a few weeks than most couples went through in years. Jen had become someone he relied on and turned to when things were hard. She’d held him that night in the kitchen when he’d burnt the cookies, she’d tried her best to comfort him when he’d been sick in the Great Hall after they’d somehow stayed alive, and she’d been behind him every step of the way during the funeral procession. Even when she'd broken up with him she'd been the person he'd wanted to share it with.

Their moments weren’t always perfect and rarely turned out as planned but each one added up and made them who they were together. They’d had sad moments like when Jen had told him how well he’d done the day of his mother’s funeral. Then there had been the in-between moments like the day in the library when she’d told him what had happened with Ian. He’d been so careful and scared. But then there were the happy moments. There was the simplicity of painting with her in the attic, grocery shopping in a supermarket with narrow aisles, reaching for her in the middle of the night, the way she would laugh at his terrible jokes, so many things…

Arin thought of Felicity then. There had been love between them but at some point, over the past months, it had slipped away. Looking back on it, it didn’t feel the same way being with Jen felt. Somehow everything with Jen felt so much brighter and vivid. When he thought of her there was a pleasant heavy feeling in his chest and if he tried to imagine his life without her it felt meaningless. There were so many things unspoken between them and yet they both knew they were safe together. It only ever took one word.

He needed to think. It was Thursday and Arin had talked to Jen recently enough that he knew she’d be arriving back in Illéa on Monday. He had a weekend to figure out what he wanted to do if he even wanted to tell her that soon. Talking to someone would help but Wylan wouldn’t be the best person since he was with Jen and Arin didn’t want to put more on his plate. Wylan deserved to enjoy the rest of his vacation with his girlfriend- even if they had a third wheel.

Arin considered his mom but wanted someone more level-headed… so the obvious choice was Safiya.

---

When Arin found his sister in the family room on the third floor, she was curled up on one of the couches beneath a blanket. She had her laptop resting on her lap, playing a movie. Safiya didn’t pause what she was watching as Arin walked towards her, a hint of a smile on his face. He could already tell she knew something was up as he sat on the couch across from her.

“Do you have a second?” He asked after watching her for a long moment.

Being curious, Safiya paused what she was watching with a nod and set her laptop down on the coffee table. She laid back down on her side, still snuggled beneath the blanket facing him.

“A few. It looks important”

Arin took a deep breath, leaning back against the cushions of the couch. He noticed how Safiya wasn’t sitting up the way she normally would have been but the past months had been hard on everyone, her especially. Not only had she lost a parent but so had Theo.

“It’s actually very important.” It’s actually about Jen. He smiled a bit.

Safiya’s smile matched his own as she tucked one hand against her cheek.

“Finally joining the club?” She wiggled her ring finger enough for him to notice.

Arin blushed at the suggestion. The thought had crossed his mind but hearing someone else bring it up made it feel more real. Most mentions of marriage with Jen had been brief and made as jokes. Yet that's what he wanted. He wanted to marry her one day and have a life. If that was what she still wanted with him.

“I don’t know…” Arin admitted, grimacing in embarrassment. “I haven’t talked to her yet. And she doesn’t know it’s her.”

“You should probably remedy that.” She told him, her voice calm as she spoke despite her growing smile.

Arin nodded in agreement. He had every intention of telling Jen- assuming she’d listen. He thought back to the conversation they’d had in the early hours of the previous morning. They’d had moments during the call where they’d been at odds but at the end of it, they’d been... them and it made him optimistic.

“She’s in Italy with Wylan right now and won’t be back for a couple more days.” Arin was grinning at that point. “So I have a bit of time to think.”

He knew all it would take was a text or a phone call or even getting on a plane but he needed to think things through. Arin was certain about Jen but he wanted to make sure he got things right. He had four days until she was back in Illéa which felt like too much time and not enough time all at once.

“I’m happy for you, you know,” Safiya told him in a quiet voice.

Arin chuckled a bit at the realization that he hadn’t said Jen’s name out loud a single time the entire conversation. Safiya was smart enough to know who he was talking about from the mention of Wylan since she knew about his trip. Still, Arin wanted to make sure they were on the same page.

“It’s Jen. I realize I should have led with that. Sorry.” Arin ran his fingers through his hair with some anxiousness. “It’s been a weird day.”

He paused, taking a moment to consider his next words more carefully. It was a delicate topic that most people had grown used to tiptoeing around with him. He hadn’t told anyone what his plans had been with Felicity though he’d mentioned he'd be seeing her that afternoon to Jen during a conversation. She’d asked how he’d felt because he’d been so nervous and she could tell something was off.

“I just came from giving Felicity her engagement ring back.”

Safiya raised her eyebrows at that. Arin was sure she’d be hearing about from Felicity at it some point. It was possible she already knew since Felicity would have had time to text Safiya and she’d been waiting for him to bring it up. Though he figured was unlikely.

“Oh? Did that go well?” She asked.

He furrowed his eyebrows briefly as he thought back to when he'd returned the ring. Arin focused on those last moments before Felicity left and the way she’d stepped around the desk. Then there’d been the hesitation. That was the only part of the interaction he had any uncertainty over but he kept that to himself and nodded in response to his sister’s question.

“It went surprisingly well. She seemed to appreciate it.” He answered, stopping a moment to bite at his lip. “It felt right since I didn't have any use for it.”

“I don’t think Jen would appreciate a ring given to your former fiancée,” Safiya replied with more of her usual snark.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that I've already bought her a brand new ring that looks exactly the same?” Arin smirks a bit as he speaks. “I thought her only issue would be that it's used.”

Safiya half snorted and shifted onto her back to face towards the ceiling. Arin wondered if she was feeling well but didn’t dare ask. His sister had the best handle on her health out of anyone he knew. But still, he worried about her.

“You’ve reached the end and yet still so much to learn.”

“Don't worry, I haven't given the ring a single thought considering she broke up with me a few weeks ago.” He sighed. “I have that mess to fix first.”

“Is that what made you realize she’s who you want to be with?” Safiya gave him a sideways glance.

Arin rubbed at his forehead, feeling like it would overcomplicate things to explain how the conversation had gone. She’d only been the person who gave him the push in the right direction. Even if he couldn’t pinpoint the moment he’d fallen in love with Jen it certainly hadn’t been twenty minutes ago in an office with his ex-fiancée.

“Not quite. I’m sure that helped but there was this moment with Felicity where it was so easy like we were friends again. Maybe I just needed to let go.”

“Sometimes it takes letting go to realize what you want to hold onto.” She hummed, eyes going back to the ceiling.

Arin frowned as he went over his sister’s words. He thought back to the attack in the Great Hall, remembering the moments of uncertainty and the whispers in the chaos. She’d told him that she loved him for the first time. Jen had told him since as well, even when things had gone wrong on their Greece trip. Even then.

“I’ve already lost her more than once and if she’ll take me back and I think she will, I don’t ever want to let her go.”

“So... what did you come here to ask me?” She nodded before asking more quietly. “Or did you just want to let me know?”

“I came to tell you because you're my sister and one of my best friends…” He paused and huffed a laugh. “But right now I'd kind of like you to tell me what to do because some crazy part of me wants to drop everything and fly to Italy and sweep her off her feet but I don't feel like that's the right move.”

He knew it was ridiculous but he had an overwhelming feeling that he’d wasted so much time being an idiot. And he knew the feeling was right. He’d paused the Selection two months before and while he’d made progress for the country and even some for himself he felt like without her it didn’t mean nearly as much. But Safiya immediately shaking her head told him that she agreed with him for once.

“I've talked to Wylan a bit and seen how it's going from pictures.” Safiya pursed her lips slightly. “And she broke up with you. Let her enjoy the time where she doesn't have to be stressed about something else being asked of her after... everything. I don't think she needs to be swept off her feet. She needs to be told that she's all you could ever want and you're willing to spend the rest of your lives showing her how much she's valued.”

“When we spoke yesterday we left things on a really good note and I haven’t stopped thinking about everything she said. I want to spend the rest of forever giving her everything even knowing things won't always be easy.”

“Is this a sensible, adult decision I hear coming out of your mouth right now?” She asked, the corner of her mouth lifting into a half-smile.

“Seriously, Safiya?” Arin narrowed his eyes at her. “I am the leader of a country and you're going to tease me about adult decisions?”

“Someone has to.” She chuckled.

“You, Wylan, Mom, Jen...” Arin held up a hand then put a finger down for each of the names he listed off emphasizing Jen’s because he'd let her tease him every day for the rest of forever if she wanted.

“Jen's the only one who will be as honest as I am, and since she's not in a place to tell you this, I will.” She waved her hand.

Real or genuine. That’s what she’d said her name meant and she was never anything but. Jen, Jennie, Bee… She felt like the most real person in his life. And he never wanted that to change.

“I think she might be harder on me than you are though.” Arin joked, reaching for one of the pillows which he pulled to his chest.

“You say that as if it's a bad thing,” Safiya said with a small laugh.

“I’m afraid you’d both get along a little too well.” He raised his eyebrows at her.

He wasn’t sure how much time his sister had spent with Jen in the months she’d lived in their home but he was certain that they’d get along. Safiya would gain a sister which was something Arin knew she wouldn’t take lightly. It had only been the two of them the majority of their lives until the past few years. They’d added Wylan, then Theo who Arin was still working on getting used to, and he hoped Jen would be next.

“You should be happy she'll get along with the in-laws.” She told him, amused at the thought.

Arin gave her a sad smile as he thought about their mother. He knew their loss haunted them both every day but he wanted to focus on the things they had to look forward to even if it was only briefly. Though he wondered how soon things would settle. He was still adjusting to his brother in law and the transition was still strange for him to wrap his brain around at times.

“Well, I don't come with a lot of people. It's just you, Mom, Wylan, and Theo.”

“You don't need a whole village. I think we'll suffice.” She briefly returned the smile before it faded when her thoughts also went to what they’d lost.

Arin grew more concerned as he observed the look on Safiya’s face. The past months had taken their toll on the entire family but seeing his sister act so… ordinary worried him. It seemed to Arin that it was more difficult than usual for Safiya to keep up her usual appearances.

“Hey, how are you doing?” He asked in a softer tone.

She stayed facing the ceiling. Safiya didn’t smile again but she didn’t let herself delve into the dark feelings the attack brought on.

“Fine. For the most part.” She sighed, looking over at him. “Maybe you can invite her over for New Year’s.”

He pursed his lips at the sudden subject change. It was strange for him to see his sister deflect in the same way he did. They both knew she wasn’t fine and saying it wouldn’t make it so. Still, he blew out a breath and decided to let it go for the time being.

“What are the big plans this year?”

“Homemade pizza, champagne, and watching the ball drop from the couch.” An absent smile formed on her lips. “Theo still needs rest.”

Arin nodded in understanding. Anyone who had been there still needed rest but that wasn’t possible. At least Theo was taking his time with his recovery. He could imagine the loss of a parent having also experienced it but he couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of witnessing what Theo had after enduring everything the night of the attack.

“It'll be his first Christmas and New Year's away from home, won't it?”

“They do Christmas a little differently so I’m leaving that to him.” Safiya nodded.

“It'll be different for us all this year I think. A lot quieter than usual.” Arin told her.

“At least Wylan will be around.” She replied as she thought about how she’d been missing him.

Arin smiled at the idea. At least some things stayed the same. They’d each been so busy that they hadn’t gotten to talk as much as they should. After everything, he’d almost expected Wylan would spend Christmas in Clermont. Though he wasn’t sure why. However, Allens seemed like another decent possibility as well.

“I haven't spent enough time with him recently,” Arin admitted.

“He's preoccupied with his future wife.” She chuckled to herself.

Arin wondered if they’d have had more than just a couple days if things could have been different. Maybe he’d have come to his senses… She wouldn’t have broken up with him. But as lovely as the thought was he knew it wouldn't have happened.

“I wish I had the time.” He sighed. “But I have meetings and a million other things to do. And Felicity reminded me about all the Christmas shopping I haven't done.”

“And what are you getting for Jen, hm?” Safiya asked.

“Am I allowed to say myself?” Arin joked in a serious tone after biting at his lip.

His sister’s only response was an intense flat look which caused him to roll his eyes in response. Sometimes she didn’t appreciate his sense of humor as much as he would have liked.

“I wasn't serious.”

“Good.” She said with mild amusement.

“Just because we talked yesterday doesn't mean we'd get back together if I told her I wanted to. So I may not need to get her anything for Christmas.”

“I think a gift might soften it, Arin.” She chuckled.

That seemed like it wouldn’t go over well. He wasn’t sure showing up out of the blue with a gift would be what Jen wanted. He’d expect a telling off if he pulled that move. Though he deserved to be told off regardless of how he went back to Jen. He knew that much.

“Are you saying I should just start sending gifts now?”

“Everything in moderation.” She fiddled with the blanket on her lap. “One gift and some suppressed Arin honesty should suffice.”

“At this point, I’m not sure there’s a point in toning down who I am.” He told her, furrowing his eyebrows as he spoke. “She already knows.”

“Everyone could use a little self-improvement.” Safiya shot him another flat look.

“It’s possible I’d rather focus on the country first.” He shrugged.

Safiya sighed. She didn’t feel like opening the same can of worms again since it never seemed to get them anywhere. Though Arin wasn’t trying to get on her nerves with that statement. He had so much he wanted to do for Illéa and he felt like even if he had years it would never be enough. There were so many things leftover from the previous generations of Schreaves that needed to be fixed.

“Congratulations.” She told him, having summoned a smile. “I'm happy with your choice, not that you really needed my approval.”

He knew he didn’t need her to say that but he did at the same time. Arin needed someone to tell him what he wanted was right. It might have been shallow but it reassured him.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

“Yes.” Safiya chuckled. “Very wonderful.”

“She’s the one, Sia.” He smiled, thinking about Jen.

“I know.” She said softly. “Go get her, Arin.”

Go get her.

That was all Arin wanted to do.

There were so many things he was still uncertain about but Jen wasn’t one of them. With her next to him he was sure the rest would fall into place. She wanted more which she’d made sure to tell him and he wanted more too. He wanted the ups and downs and the times in between. Arin didn’t want only one more minute with Jen. He wanted a lifetime of moments and minutes with her.

He’d told her that it would be easier if it was a choice they could make together and she’d agreed. Now he’d made his choice. Whatever came next they could decide together. Together. Jen and Arin. He liked the sound of that.

#the selection #selectionoc #schreave fic #challenge ten

8 notes · View notes

nitewrighter · 4 years

Note

Do you think Hanzo ever tried to talk to Widow about her... Condition? And about Gerard? Does Widow ever talk to Hanzo about his 'I-killed-my-bro-and-can-never-forgive-myself' state of mind? Would love to see what you think about that

This turned into a fic-ish thing referring back to this ask

---

This mission was her last chance.

If Hanzo wasn’t going to be Talon’s key to acquiring the Shimada clan, then that loose end needed to be cut if they were going to move forward in their dealings.

And Talon sent her in here like an indifferent older sibling handing off a worn down toy rather than be the one to break it.

She convinces herself she’s still the assassin they made her to be (they designed her to do that.) She ignores the random high pitched ringing in her ears, her general lack of appetite somehow mutating into full-blown nausea, the hesitation and shake to her muscles. Stupider. Clumsier. It takes seconds longer than it should to assemble her rifle. The infrasight on her visor helps her track him down, establish multiple vantage points. He’s just making his way through the underbrush, unawares he’s flying into her web like so many other victims. She could see the way he carries himself through her scope, sure-footed, practiced, a full-body-awareness she knows well, but coupled with a melancholy that seems to heave its weight onto every movement. She almost feels charitable fixing her sights on him. Don’t worry, Scion, it will be over before you even know what’s happened.

It should have been one shot. Was it her vision doubling? Was it the shake of her arms? Why did the gun feel so much heavier than normal? Did she have him in her crosshairs or did she just convince herself of that? It doesn’t matter. The wood on a tree trunk next to his head splinters with her shot and his head immediately jerks in her direction.

The mission just got a lot longer. A lot messier. He draws a bow off of his back and dodges into some bushes.

She would be fine with this. She would be patient, as she has been patient on so many missions before, but there is darkening at the periphery of her sight. She thinks of wood rotting in spring thaws. Stone cracking as water freezes and unfreezes in its fissures, but this is the mind blurring, more time passing than it should, and she tries to re-focus on the mission. An arrow whistles through the thick jungle air and she’s forced to grapple to a new perch. The muscle memory alone is enough to get her through it, but she’s unsure how much she can trust her automatic reactions.

They hunt each other for hours. It’s more silent, more tedious than anyone would expect. To fire is to give away one’s position, so there’s long stretches of time (they are long stretches of time, aren’t they?) that are filled with only the desperate scanning of dark jungle shrubbery while trying to make one as small and unseen a target as possible. But then, all the problems that had brought her to this point start bubbling up again. Vision blurring, time stretching and contracting, her heart straining against everything Talon had done to it. Talon had been putting her in freezing cold suspended animation between missions to try and slow the effects of their own experiments on her, but here in the heat of the jungle, all those efforts seem to melt. She didn’t feel the cold, she always said, but she can feel herself coming apart here. There’s too much shake in the barrel. She keeps her focus on him throughout all of it. She’s on a well-camouflaged platform up in the trees when his arrow grazes her cheek and that flare of adrenaline throughout her whole system burns her out and her vision goes black.

She’s unsure how much time has passed. It had to be only a few minutes--seconds, even, where she’s scrambling out of the darkness, trying to claw her way back to consciousness.

The humidity of the jungle lingers like a fever sweat on her cold skin. She feels his callused knuckles on the inside of her cheek and something hard and sharp digging into her left molar pulling her back into consciousness. She grunts a little as she feels something come loose from her tooth and the hands still, only momentarily, before quickly withdrawing from her mouth. Her eyes blearily open long enough to see his moonlit silhouette examining the cyanide capsule Talon stored in her tooth. His mouth is tight and tugged down at the corners as he examines the option he has just taken from her. He looks so tired. She wonders briefly if he’ll just pop it into his mouth right there. His nostrils flare with a resigned exhale as he flicks the cyanide capsule off into the darkness of the jungle’s shrubbery.

“It’s not that easy,” he says quietly before darkness sweeps over her again.

---

She wakes up under bright fluorescents and a soft whirring fan. There’s an industrial air conditioner humming somewhere, but the building must have poor circulation because the fan is only pushing the stuffy air of the room back down on her. She tongues the gap in her molar, and then realizes her head feels lighter. Her hair is down and spilling out over the sides of her little clinic cot. Her visor--her hand clumsily pulls up to feel for her visor. No--no gun--the rifle is gone. Something itches on her skin. She glances down to see a tacky Numbani Heritage Museum tee shirt hastily yanked over her jumpsuit. Her eyes flick up to the only other human figure in the room. He’s clearly feverishly scrubbed off the mud of the jungle in the bathroom, but the scent of sweat and blood and rotting earth still sticks to him.

“What...?” she starts woozily.

“You’re in a clinic in Nonthaburi,” he says, pushing up from his chair, “They managed to provide enough biotics to stop your organs from shutting down, I grabbed what extras I could, but I would say we have 15 more minutes until law enforcement comes here.”

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“I don’t know yet,” he says, looking out the window.

“...you took my capsule,” her voice drops to a hiss.

“We both still have things we need to answer for,” he says. He opens the window, “You’re in no condition to fight. Our only option is to keep moving.”

“Talon will come for me,” she says, her eyes narrowing.

“Then by all means,” he says, nimbly slipping out the window.

She pushes off the cot and stumbles as her boots hit the floor. Stupid, sluggish, weak. She’s the opposite of everything she should be right now. She can’t go back while he’s still alive. She sways and it takes an embarrassing amount of focus just to stay upright. She stumbles toward the window. A hand extends to her through the window frame and her face twists up in disgust. He’s waiting for her, out on the fire escape.

“I don’t need your help,” she says, swatting the hand aside. The hand withdraws back out and she braces her own hands on the window frame.

She falls. Her shoulder flares with pain and the fire escape rattles beneath her, enough to wake the whole town. She glances up and there’s his hand again. A snarl falls out of her as she grips it. She wants it to hurt, but he doesn’t react at the tightness of her grip.

“I am going to kill you,” she says as he hauls her up into a fireman carry and descends the fire escape. He doesn’t respond to that.

---

“I am going to kill you!” she has to raise her voice over the buzzing motor of the hovercycle he hot-wired.

He doesn’t respond to that. Apparently focusing on quickly weaving through traffic.

----

“I’m going to kill you,” she says as they both deftly pick the security tags off of new clothes in a store with Lúcio’s latest album blasting over the speakers. Lights bloom in the corners of her vision. It’s been 4 days. He’s stolen her another batch of biotics to keep her going.

“Mm-hm,” he says before pulling a two pairs of pants off the rack, “Black or gray?”

“...Black,” she says.

----

“I am---urgh-- going to kill you,” she says mid-gag as he holds her hair while she grips the toilet seat before she throws up again. It’s been 6 days. The bile feels hot in her throat. She can’t remember the last time something felt warm inside her.

“Just breathe,” his voice is gentle.

“You’re deluding yourself doing this,” fury is leaking into her voice, maybe the bile is thawing it out from all the mood-suppressors Talon put her on, “You should have killed me. There’s nothing to save. You’re a killer and I’m a killer and that’s the only way this--” The next stream of vomit cuts off her words.

“I know,” he says, keeping a steady hand on her back as it convulses with her gags.

---

“I’m g-going to k-kill you,” her teeth are chattering as he pulls his jacket around her. She’s lost track of how many days its been. There are no cryo-sleeps to keep her mind sharp. Everything’s bleeding into everything else.

“This isn’t working,” he says, “You need a doctor who can figure out what’s going wrong.”

“Just s-s-steal me more biotics!” she snaps. His jacket stinks of him. She pulls it tight until her knuckles whiten.

“...so you can kill me?” he arches an eyebrow.

They stare at each other for a beat.

“Yes,” she says stiffly.

“We need help,” he moves to put a hand on her shoulder but she flinches back and lightheadedness bubbles up from the base of her skull with the suddenness of her own movement. She shrinks into his jacket and his hand is still extended toward her. “Please.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I do what I must.”

“T-that’s not an answer.”

“I’ve killed every assassin that’s come for me,” his voice lowers slightly, “I... cannot remember the last time I did something that felt like a choice and not a reflex. But this is a choice.”

“...the first assassin you choose to spare, and it’s the h-hardest assassin to keep alive,” her eyebrow arches with amusement even as shudders wrack her body, “You have shit luck.”

“...I really do,” he agrees, “You have a choice here, too,” he keeps that hand extended toward her but hesitates, knowing she might flinch back again.

She looks down at his hand.

----

“I’m going to kill you,” her voice is quiet from the watchpoint infirmary bed. He glances up at her, half-obscured by the multiple IV’s leading into her arm. He’s been missing half the day, his presence only confirmed by the sounds of arguments outside the little infirmary room. He’s scrubbed the stink off of himself and wearing their odd gray and orange training clothes

“Mm,” he grunts in mild acknowledgment while frowning over the tablet one of them gave him.

“I am,” she says, turning over in the infirmary bed at him, “Talon had to have put a failsafe in. Something that’s going to make me scorch the earth before they lose me.”

“They’ve already lost you,” he says.

“You brought me to the place where I can do the most damage,” she says, turning on her back and looking up at the ceiling, “Talon had to have planned this.”

“I’m sure they meticulously planned your violently vomiting all over a Bangkok train station platform,” he replies. There’s a new exhaustion on him, his body accepting the apparent safety of his environment, but his mind pushed to its brink just by being here, “And they were definitely counting on me being a warm and charitable soul.”

A chuckle falls out of her at the idea, but it melts away as quick as the fog of breath on glass. “I’m not...meant to...have...” she doesn’t know how to finish the sentence but exhaustion is creeping back over her. Her eyelids feel heavy. She feels his callused thumb gently tuck her hair back from her temple.

“I don’t think I am, either,” he says quietly, retaking his seat.

“Two broken weapons....” her voice is fading.

“Just rest,” he says but sleep snuffs out his voice as she curls up in the infirmary bed.

#widowhanzo

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ees-designs · 3 years

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Thinking about Thinking Wrong

When I was in high school I got to spend the summers working at a little art gallery and printmaking studio in Maine. The artists were a husband and wife team in their late 50s, him a french citizen and her from California, both with a wild collage of life and work experiences. They are by far the most interesting people I’ve ever met. They met on a tall ship and continued on from there, living and making art in a variety of places. They are the kind of people who can fit in at any event and know everyone in town. The kind of people that always have a dog at their studio even though they don’t own a dog. The kind of people who spend hours teaching the neighborhood kids printmaking for free just to keep the technique they practice alive (I was lucky enough to be one of those kids and it has shaped my life in countless ways).

They are the kind of people who solve things with a delicate touch of creativity and a little bit of intention.. As opposed to brute force or money (Which I think is unfortunately the way that people usually try and solve things).

As a fourteen year old I came to them with a rather naive and singular view of the world. But the two of them are “think different” kinds of people. I had several AH HA sort of moments while working with them but there is one that I remember vividly. We were creating sunflower themed decorations for a local nonprofits fundraising event and we needed something to cord off an area in the middle of the event space. It was too late to order any of those barrier things they use at movie theaters and there wasn’t much money left in the budget. We went though a bunch of options for things and finally we just called it quits. My teenage brain was totally stumped because this was a fancy event and I had a ridge singular view of what that should look like. The next morning I showed up for work and there were 6 milk jugs painted green with a wooden stake in each one. All connected with yellow ribbon and topped with tiny flower pots. I know I know.. This seems like sort of a simple solution but it was a revelation for baby me. It hit me then; that I wasn’t looking at the world differently enough. I was missing the potential in so many things just because I had a certain idea about how problems are solved.

So that being said Thinking wrong is not a new concept for me though I have never heard it articulated quite as well as in the book “think wrong: How to Conquer the Status Quo and Do Work That Matters”. Which in one definition says “thinking wrong is conquering biology and culture to change how thinks are to how they might be.” The book makes the argument that not only does one have to over come social norms to think different but one has to over come their own biology. People are wired to form habits.. Do things the same as they’ve always been done. It takes considerable mental effort to grow out of those patterns.

I had never thought about it in that way but it seems obvious to me now. Because it took a while to train myself to think like my printmaking mentors. To see a milk jug full of sand as something that could be turned into a decoration at a fancy fundraiser. Because I was lucky enough to work with them at such a young age this kind of solutions don’t seem so far out.

Now of course not all problems can be solved by repurposing recyclables but all problems can be improved with that sort of creative thinking. Even Wicked problems, A problem so interconnected with other problems that a linear solution will just create a new problem, can be mitigated with a little bit of creative thinking.

The hardest part of these wicked problems is it is easy to get extremely overwhelmed by them if you zoom out too far. I definitely struggle with this. I am a big picture sort of person but with problems like this you have to narrow down. You have to figure out how you can make small improvements without creating further problems.

There are many ways to do this but for me as a graphic designer it is to help small companies and organizations doing good work. I can’t fix the big horrible parts of consumerist corporate America (that’s a whole other rant) but I can help small organizations that align with my values. I can be the reason why one social good organization gets funding and maybe make the world a little better: by solving one little problem so someone else has the ability to solve one more.

In the same way that those artist took the time to teach me how to look at the world in a new way so that I have the ability to make it better.

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eirian-houpe · 4 years

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Disparate Pathways - Chapter 9

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Characters: Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle (Once Upon a Time), Maurice | Moe French, Gaston (Once Upon a Time), Spinster(s) (Once Upon a Time: Think Lovely Thoughts), Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Blue Fairy | Mother Superior, Black Fairy (Once Upon a Time), Baelfire | Neal Cassidy, Emma Swan, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Colette (Once Upon a Time), Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Widow Lucas | Granny, Dove (Once Upon a Time), Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Wicked Witch of the West | Zelena

Additional Tags: Abusive Parents, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Violence, Gun Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Torture, Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, UST, First Time, Drama & Romance, Kidnapping, Extortion

Summary: Gold has a past, a past that he has rejected, but it seems one that will not let him go. Belle, daughter of Governor Maurice French has been kidnapped, along with her mother, and just as the authorities raid the organization that is holding her hostage, decides to make her own bid for freedom, unknowingly derailing an undercover sting, and Agent Milnor has not choice but to take her into 'protective custody,' but is he all that he seems? As the threads of the story grow more tangled and the threat to Belle, and to Gold, her appointed protector, grow ever more real, a growing, mutual attraction makes everything far more desperate and far too personal for Gold to ignore what he knows to be the truth.

Read Previous chapters on AO3

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8]

Chapter 9 - On Whose Side

Even with his feet firmly on the ground, Jefferson felt less than confident. They still had a long way to go, and a light flickering on inside the house made his appeal to Belle all the more urgent. He supposed he should thank their good luck that at least the grounds at the rear of the house appeared empty, though he was under no illusion that appearances could be more than deceptive. However, ensured of their safety, at least for a few moments more, he turned his attention back to the diminutive young woman he was trying to save.

“Lower yourself down,” he instructed, his voice barely above an urgent hiss. “Wrap your arms and legs around the supporting post and slide down to me.” He saw the fear in her even before she spoke and added, “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you.”

“I… I can’t,” she stammered, but he shook his head, becoming aware that he’d been counting in his head, anticipating the moment when whomever it was had turned on the light inside the house would reach them.

“You have to. You’ve done the hardest part. This bit is easy.”

She shook her head again, and he pressed his lips into a flat line, controlling his increasing worry, and as encouragingly as he could, coaxed,, “All you have to do is slip over the edge and find the post with your legs first, then your arms once you have lowered yourself. You can do this.”

He saw the moment that she grabbed her resolve, and moved to position himself by the post where he would be best able to fulfill his promise to catch her, mindful, of course, of her injured hands.

“That’s it,” he crooned as she began to hang off the side of the awning by her elbows. “Just a little further.”

With almost a whimper, she practically dropped onto the pole, and he moved to catch her, thinking she would miss and fall, but somehow she managed to slam into the support and wrap her arms and legs around it so tightly that she didn’t move at all lower from the spot to which she had propelled herself.

“Ease up,” he murmured to her, not quite able to reach. “Let yourself slide lower. I’ve got you, I promise.”

Lips still pursed, he watched as, inch by inch, she slipped closer to the ground; closer to his reach. As soon as he was able he put a hand to her back, as much to assure her of his presence as anything else, and after only a few more, agonizingly slow, downward inches, she twisted her body as she let go with her arms, launching herself at him.

Anyone with lesser reflexes would have been toppled by the way she suddenly slammed into his chest, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck and shoulders, but some part of Jefferson had half expected such a thing. He sensed she was nearing the edge of what she could take in one night, and they still had to get out of the compound. He wrapped his arms around her back and for a moment held her tightly, reassuring, “You did good… great.”

Then, he lowered her to the ground and gently prized her grasp from him, though he kept contact with her.

She surprised him, asking in a shaky voice, “What now?”

“Now we get the hell out of here,” he told her, shooting her as boyish of a grin as he could muster under the circumstances. Then he pointed to the trees that lined the open expanse of the grounds. “We cross to the shadows of those trees, and follow to the wall. Stay low, and stay by me.”

She nodded and moved slightly closer as he hooked one arm through hers, and he saw her cringe as he pulled the gun from where he’d holstered it.

“Just in case,” he pledged, hoping he wasn’t making an empty promise. “Ready?”

As she nodded, he let go of her arm and slipped his own across her back to guide her as they crossed the back lawn. He tried to shorten his strides and still maintain a good speed, especially when they crossed the less shadowed patch of grass where light from the upstairs windows spilled out into the night. They reached the shelter of the trees without incident, and though he breathed a sigh of relief, he knew they had to keep moving. It wouldn’t take long for the two men who had been shooting at them to find their way down - unless of course they’d run into trouble on the way. The thought should have brought him some measure of comfort, but with the way everything had gone down since he learned of the takedown, he had little faith in gaining help from the authorities.

He led Belle deeper into the darkness beneath the trees, heading for where he knew the house was surrounded by high walls, but where he also knew there was an electronic gate for which - as a member of this ‘criminal elite’ - he had a key.

“Let’s hope they haven’t cut the power,” he muttered under his breath.

Belle turned to frown at him. “To what?” she asked.

He shook his head. “It’s all right,” he said. “Not far to go now.”

He could tell she was tiring fast, and after everything she’d been through that evening he was surprised that she wasn’t an utter wreck. He thought she was probably running on adrenaline, and that once she came down from that, then there would be problems. He had to get her somewhere safe, and fast.

The thought made him look down at his phone as he pulled it from his pocket and flicked to the secure email account. Damn it, Gold! he thought vehemently as his message went unanswered. Fine then, he answered himself. We’ll just have to do this the hard way.

Jefferson’s luck held as far as the gate was concerned, but not so much with what lay beyond. He heard the voices even as he pressed the fob against the gate sensor and winced as the whir and click seemed inordinately loud in the surrounding hush. He tugged the gate free, and wedged a nearby stone between the gate and the post to keep it from closing fully as he turned to Belle and tucked her into the dip made between the brick gatepost and the wall.

“Stay here,” he told her urgently. “Stay quiet… I’m not sure which side those guys out there are on, so…” he frowned to himself as he tugged a second gun out of a pocket and pulled back the slide. He had no clue whether Belle had even handled a weapon before, or whether she’d be able to use it with her hands in their current state, but he wasn’t about to leave her defenseless while he dealt with whatever awaited them outside. “...if anyone other than me comes through that gate… don’t wait, just squeeze the trigger.”

He handed the gun down to her, flicking off the safety as he did, and watched as she looked at it with near revulsion, but she nodded, and cradled it between her trembling hands.

“I’ll be back,” he told her softly, and nodding added, “You’re doing great, Belle.” Then, without another word, he turned, pulled open the gate and slipped through.

The narrow street beyond was poorly lit, but he wasn’t about to let that lull him into a false sense of security, though it did offer him a measure of protection as he took in the scene. There were two men, both wearing vests that identified them as FBI, which was promising, but didn’t actually mean anything worth Jack as far as he was concerned. The FBI were supposed to have had his back; supposed to have given him a thirty minute heads up on the takedown, and it hadn’t happened, so he could only assume that there were two separate factions within the Bureau.

The question was, on whose side were these two agents?

Moving carefully so that he stayed in the shadows, and could circle the car, parked barely six strides away, to approach the men as if he’d come around from another direction entirely, Jefferson took a deep breath and then straightening up, put a jaunty spring in his step as he moved to deliberately catch their attention, keeping the hood of the car between himself and the others.

It wasn’t long before one of them spotted him, and flashed - far too quickly to be seen in the darkness - an open wallet in his direction.

“Move on,” he instructed, gesturing behind him with a thumb to indicate further along the street. “This is none of your concern.”

“You know what the issue is with this world?” Jefferson said, as though answering the agent’s instruction, though the words were the first half of an identification protocol that he and Rab had agreed upon.

“Are you deaf?” the agent answered, “I said move on!”

Jefferson sighed, then muttered under his breath, “Well then, I guess that answers that question.” Then more clearly and with another sigh. “Sorry, fellas… no can d—”

Before he could even finish his insincere apology, one of the two agents rushed at him across the front of the car, but Jefferson was ready for him, and caught his arm as he got close, using the man’s forward momentum to launch him toward a garage wall on the opposite side of the street. He heard the rush of air burst from the man’s lungs as he hit hard, but Jefferson didn’t wait to see if he were winded enough to stay put. Instead, with a half roll, half slide, he propelled himself across the hood of the car toward the man’s partner, lashing out with a foot as the second agent’s arm began to rise, no doubt holding a weapon.

The kick brought a hiss of pain from the man, and the satisfying clatter of a weapon landing some way in the distance. He didn’t wait, however, for his adversary to recover, but slid off the hood of the Taurus, getting his feet under him to rush the man before he could fully recover.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other agent gather himself and begin moving away from the wall to head in his direction, even as he ducked a wild swing from the man in front of him. He saw a dark shape in the hands of the first of his assailants, a weapon… a gun? Swearing softly at the necessity of using his nearby opponent as protection, and counting on the man’s vest or his partners fast reflexes, to save the agent from lasting harm, Jefferson grabbed at the mans arm as he took another wild swing, catching it by the wrist, twisting it around behind, as he moved to use the man as a shield.

He heard the too familiar crack of the leads as they were propelled from the tazer, and managed to push the man away from himself and into the trajectory of the leads. He winced as the agent jerked like a man with Saint Vitus’ dance before he toppled to the ground.

“Oops,” he offered, with an almost apologetic shrug before rushing the agent that had just disabled his partner by accident.

The fight was brief; fast and dirty, he didn’t have time for finesse. The downed agent wouldn’t stay down for long and he had to take them both out. He drove his shoulder into the man’s partner, into his stomach and used the force of his rush to carry him back against the wall again, knocking the wind from the agent before straightening up to press his forearm across the the man’s throat and hold him in place as his struggles weakened. At first Jefferson had to endure a few painful but ineffectual punches, and even to twist aside against a knee raised toward his groin, but as consciousness began to elude the man he held in place the attempts grew less frequent, until the agent finally became a heavy weight as he slumped against Jefferson.

“See…” he said as he pulled both men to sit at the base of the wall, and after searching the pockets of the unconscious agent for the car keys, found some zip ties which he fastened around their wrists even though he hated those thing. “…that issue I was talking about…?” he went on, answering his own question. “Everyone wants an easy solution to their problems, and everyone refuses to make things easy.” The men groaned almost simultaneously beginning to wake. “Tell that to Rab when you next see him, and tell him also that this is where I disappear.”

#rumbelle #disparate pathways #i will always write jefferson #hurt/comfort #implied torture #implied drug use #implied noncon #violence #gun violence #drama/romance #UST #eventual smut #first time #angst

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 4 years

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Since the beginning of the 2020 pandemic, I have been doing basically nothing with my hours that are not occupied by work (thankfully a job I can do from home) besides watch British comedy. So far there are four panel shows of which I’ve watched every single episode since March 2020: Taskmaster, 8 Out of 10 Cats, Catsdown, and WILTY.

I have decided I want to do a post about my favourite episode of all four of those shows, now that I have seen all of them and can have an informed opinion. Here’s the second one.

Taskmaster

Season/episode number: s04e05

Date it originally aired: May 23, 2017

Lineup: Hugh Dennis, Joe Lycett, Lolly Adefope, Mel Giedroyc, and Noel Fielding; with Greg Davies and Alex Horne hosting

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ljLBbpnkK2c&t=23m27s

Why it’s my favourite: When it comes to Taskmaster, I have binge watched every season in a couple of days or fewer, so I don’t really think of them in terms of episodes. Unlike other panel shows, the panelists don’t change until the end of the season. So in my mind, every episode blends together and each season feels like one long episode divided into tasks.

It’s very difficult for me to pick my favourite season of Taskmaster because they’re all really, really good. There are days when I could swear up and down that I don’t like anything in the world as much as I like Taskmaster. But if I’m forced to narrow it down to a favourite season, it has to come down to 4 or 7. It’s really hard to pick just one favourite between those two, because that’s comparing apples to oranges. They are so different from each other and I love them for such different reasons. Season 4 is this 6-hour beautiful dream that gives us a little flash of what the world would be like if it were populated by unspeakably lovely people who get along and are just perfect to each other. And season 7 is this 7.5-hour journey through increasingly frenzied chaos, in which five different people were having five different breakdowns that lasted throughout all ten episodes.

If you really made me narrow it down to one favourite, it would have to be season 4. And my favourite task of season 4 is an exception to the theme of this being a group of people who are perfect to each other all the time. In episode five, there was a team task in which one person had to fill a bathtub with things, one person had to cover it with Saran Wrap, and on the three-person team, one person had to fill it with water. I watched this season once myself and then re-watched it with my dad when I was staying with my parents for a while early in the pandemic (my dad raised me on old school British comedy when I was a kid/teenager, and in 2020, I’ve returned the favour by getting him into more recent panel shows). As this task started, I told him, “I don’t know if this is the funniest task of the whole season. But it’s definitely the one that made me laugh the hardest.” I watched it again just now and it still does the same thing to me. It makes me laugh so hard I tear up and can’t breathe. My throat is actually a bit sore right now from laughing.

First we see Mel and Hugh, and it’s perfect. Mel’s, “Oh, Hugh, no,” when she saw him putting things in the bath instead of covering it is maybe the most adorable thing to happen in a season that’s chock-full of adorable moments. The way they figured out they had to work together and Hugh started helping Mel with her task before the end. The way they were so pleased with their work when they were done. Hugh taking off Alex’s shoes and then Mel wrapping his feet in Saran Wrap.

And then Greg makes a big deal about how there’s no reason why the younger people (and Noel) can’t work together just as well, so you go into it knowing that we’re about to see them not do that. But nothing could prepare the viewers for the God damn calamity that is Joe, Lolly, and Noel completing this task. I will never, ever get tired of watching Lolly throw the table into the bathtub and Joe throw it out over and over. Just when you think it can’t get funnier, Lolly steals his Saran Wrap and runs off to throw it in a bush. Yet somehow, I think the funniest part of it all is Noel just standing there with a hose in the tub – in the words of Greg Davies, “While Rome burned.”

This task just perfectly encapsulates everything that’s great about Taskmaster. The lovely working together contrasted with the competitive chaos. The silliness of the task’s premise contrasted with the seriousness with which the contestants take it. The contestants sitting in the studio, looking at the video of their own performance, and not being able to explain what the fuck they were thinking.

Runner up: Not an easy choice, but I think I’d have to go with the task at the end of season 7, when Rhod Gilbert broke the task by tying up Alex in addition to tying up himself.

Honourable mentions: There have been so many tasks across the nine seasons and so many of them are great that I couldn’t come up with a decent, concise list of the best ones. So I’m just going to make a list of what I can think of off the top of my head that are really good tasks. It is a cop-out, but this is my blog and I’ll cop out of I want to.

- I know Alex Horne has said he doesn’t like the task in season 1 where they had to high five a fifty-five-year-old because it brings in strangers in a way they don’t like doing, but God I enjoyed watching that one.

-The time Rob Beckett lost his mind while trying to play charades with Sara Pascoe across a river and then Dave Gorman just got Ben Fogle to do it for him.

-The time Jon Richardson had to do four of his own tasks, including a makeup tutorial, and got so upset but then redeemed himself by getting four points.

-The time they all had to carry giant balls up the hill and everyone had a breakdown except Katherine Ryan who somehow turned it into a feminist statement and Richard Osman who brought the mat down the hill and then got vindicated by Susie Dent.

-The time Josh Widdicombe had to count beans by himself.

-The time David Baddiel and Jo Brand stopped for a sandwich and a cup of tea in the middle of the task and still almost won it because the other team was so bad.

-Every time they’ve brought in that poor Swede.

-Basically everything that happened in season 7, but I have to give special mention to the extension on the house team task and to Rhod fucking with Greg all season by using that picture of him and also his mom and also a video of him sleeping.

-Also that time when they had to compose songs in season 7 and James Acaster slipped in a season 1 reference by asking, “Or is it a big rock?”

-Noel Fielding looking like a hero, tearing through that task where they had to hop on one foot - doing it better than every other contestant even though he was doing it in heels.

-The obstacle course in season 4 where a blindfolded person had to put their teammate in a bin and Mel shouted at Hugh in German.

-Sally Phillips fucking a water cooler.

-That time they had to build stuff out of sand in season 5.

-Also season 5: that time Nish Kumar and Mark Watson had to make a song and I braced myself for it to be terrible and then it was really good.

-The nursery rhymes in season 2.

-Also season 2: impressing the mayor. Jon having to leave the room. Joe buying him ice cream and alcohol. Doc the rapper singing a show tune. Kathrine writing a rap that I assumed would be shit but then it was good, and Osman writing a poem that I assumed would be shit and then it was good, and also apparently he can juggle.

-Remember that time when Noel Fielding married a duck?

-Also season 4: dragging the camel through the gap.

-That task in season 8 where they had to move a ball only using water and most of the contestants did slightly different variations of using a hose but Joe Thomas lost his God damn mind.

-All those times that Russell Howard tried so hard to beat Liza Tarbuck and would think he’d finally done well enough and then she’d do something cooler. Special mention to the time that this happened when they had to lower the wooden spoon.

-The time the season 4 cast had to set music videos to ringtones.

-The time the season 3 cast had to make snowmen and Paul Chowdry created an absolute abomination.

-Also in season 3: propel the pea. Rob Beckett thinking he was so clever by putting it in a wheelbarrow but then Al Murray put it in a car. Dave Gorman really obviously cheating and pretending he didn’t. Sara Pascoe actually just doing good a job of throwing a pea. And Paul Chowdry fucking up as always.

-Draw the best picture of a horse while riding a horse.

-The time they had to build a bridge using on things that were on the table and it broke Jon Richardson’s mind when he realized the boat was a clue.

-"Fiddly. How?" "Bubbly fuck!"

-Basically all the “pick your ingredients and then cook a meal” tasks have been great.

-Another candidate for a task that can be described as “I don’t know if this was the funniest task of the season, but it’s the one that made me laugh the most”: the very first task of season 1, when they had to eat as much watermelon as possible in a minute.

-The last task of season 9, where Rose Matafeo sailed through the seven tasks because she got them in the right order but everyone after her did it wrong, leading to Ed Gamble taking forever and replying, “fuck you” when Alex tried to say goodbye to him. But then everyone but Ed ended up getting disqualified so he still won.

#taskmaster #my tag for favourite episodes of four panel shows

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