#and it all keeps building inside him during the victory tour until he just | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

everlarkficexchange · 3 years

Text

A Simple Choice

Written by: @justajjfan

Beta’d by: @sunsetsrmydreams

Prompt 83: Katniss is whipped instead of Gale in Catching Fire, Peeta’s the one who’s there to take care of her after. [submitted by anonymous].

Prompt 116: Peeta braids Katniss’ hair to soothe her. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: Mature

Warning: Mention of whipping

A/N: My thanks to @everlarkficexchange ; @javistg and @xerxia31 for allowing me to go way over the deadline. It was a real struggle but I’m so excited I finally have something post-worthy. My apologies to the 2 anons who have been so patiently waiting for their prompts to be turned into stories. I hope you like what I’ve written. A special thank you to @sunsetsrmydreams. This story would be nothing without you.

~~~

Chapter 1

“Trust me.”

I did. I trusted Katniss with my life, and so it seemed at the time…with my impending death.

After everything we both went through to survive, enduring the pain and horrors only The Hunger Games could bring, it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

The Capitolites craved this abhorrent form of entertainment and under the watchful and devious eye of President Coriolanus Snow, thrilled at the sight of children kill and be killed.

As it was in previous games, once the first wave of bloodshed was spilled, tributes from Districts 1 and 2 formed packs like wolves and hunted down the weak and vulnerable one by one before turning on themselves until only one was left standing.

The Victor.

All this savagery was broadcasted live each year across Panem in all its goriest detail and deemed mandatory viewing for every citizen.

Through it all, Katniss and I beat the odds and fought our way out of the gruesome web the Gamemakers spun to be the last two remaining tributes from the same district. But I should have known better…should have never allowed myself to be duped into believing the odds would at last be in our favour.

All our valiant efforts to stay alive was thrown in our weary and battle-scared faces.

President Snow had no intention of honouring the change in rules by allowing both of us to live and for the first time in The Hunger Games infamous history, have two tributes jointly crowned as Victors. So when the words bellowed in the air announcing the revocation of those rules, it came as little surprise to me.

The promise of a peaceful life and all the wealth any citizen could ever want held no sway over me. Already knowing the odds would never be in my favour, I accepted my fate.

For as long as I could remember, it had always been a fanciful dream of mine to live a life with Katniss, if she would allow it. Dreaming of our toasting and the vows I would say to her as I broke a piece of bread I baked myself and brought it to her sweet mouth. The feel of her soft body as we made love for the first time, even as far as raising a family of our own someday was a stupid pipedream, and I foolishly clung onto it all. Any hope of it becoming a reality was ripped from my grasp and shattered into a million pieces.

The choice was a simple one. When we were reaped, I vowed to do everything I could to protect Katniss even if it meant sacrificing my own life so she could live. I had no chance of winning and besides…no one needed me back home. But it became apparent Katniss had other ideas.

“Together?”

The sound of her voice echoing my question came as a soft whisper and in that moment we understood each other. If we couldn’t leave the arena together, then we would die…together.

In the face of death itself, that one singular word gave me a strange sense of calm and peace.

“One.”

Starting off the count knowing how little time I had left in this cruel and merciless world, the chance to tell Katniss what I’ve always felt in my heart was before me…and quickly ticking by.

“Two.”

I inhaled a deep breath sure the words would flow but instead my voice fell silent. Time was clearly against me but how many words would I need to express what Katniss meant to me?

In the precious dying second, my hand as if possessed with a will of its own, reached for her braid. This was something I had always longed to do and if I couldn’t say those words to Katniss, then I hoped she would feel them through this one innocent touch.

I would have given anything to sketch those steel grey eyes staring back at me. A chance to kiss her deeply and unravel her braid as I gently combed my fingers through the silky dark tresses the way I hoped she would like. Just one last chance to watch over her as she slept soundly in my arms and whisper the words she should have heard me say years ago.

But this was the cruel reality I was faced with and the closest thing I would ever get to realising any part of my dream. And I made sure not to let that final moment between us slip by.

“Three.”

I focused on the only image I would take with me into the darkness…her eyes.

Slowly, we brought the handful of poison berries to our lips, ready to end this before the Gamemakers took the choice away from us when the deafening sound of Claudius Templesmith’s desperate shout rang out from the hidden audio speakers, freezing us both from any further movement.

“STOP! STOP! STOP”

…and so we did.

***

All that seems like a lifetime ago instead of weeks. The Hunger Games, The Victory Tour and everything in between changed after the cameras finally stopped rolling and we boarded the train for home. And as we sped closer to District 12, Katniss began to withdraw from me and eventually shut me out completely and it confused me.

What did I do to make her feel so indifferent towards me?

Those lonely nights on the train were the hardest to deal with. Sleeping without Katniss beside me was a new torture all on its own but it was what she wanted. I guess in the end, conscience got the better of her and I was finally put out of my misery with the hurtful truth.

It was an act…a show that Katniss and our mentor Haymitch Abernathy devised to fool the Capitol into believing we were star-crossed lovers desperate to be together even in death, only it was me who was completely fooled.

But their plan worked, and it kept us both alive. The cave…the embraces…the whispered words…all those kisses were just part of the act and she wanted to forget them all…but I didn’t.

When we finally arrived home, the citizens of Twelve were all at the train station to welcome us home. To my astonishment, they were cheering us both as heroes. Perhaps they too, were acting in front of the cameras. But as soon as the scripted speeches were done and the crowd slowly dispersed taking Katniss and her family along with it, the finality of it all hit home.

I was alone.

***

Living in the Victor’s Village was a new start. But even in our proximity, Katniss avoided having any sort of contact with me. I tried my best not to let it affect me, but the hurt I felt inside festered like an open wound.

I missed her so much.

At first, I blamed myself for Katniss distancing herself from me. She said she wanted to forget and maybe I reminded her too much of the arena and the nightmares those memories brought her.

But I had nightmares too.

Hearing her screams in the dead of night will haunt me forever and even now, it takes all my willpower to stop myself from crashing through her front door and rushing to her side.

She doesn’t need me.

At first, I thought time alone would help her figure things out in her head and I of all people, understood. But time wasn’t what she needed. I finally came to terms with what was real.

Gale Hawthorne had been her choice all along.

***

As one lonely day slowly creeps into the next, working in my family’s bakery has been my saving grace, helping me cope with my new life a little more each day. With both Bran and Rye learning new trades from the Merchant businesses they successfully married into, it left my father with no resources to help run the bakery, making me his only viable option.

The strain showed on his face and although dad would never admit to it, especially in front of my mother, I knew he needed my help desperately. So, when I suggested I could work in the bakery for a few hours each day, he accepted my offer in a heartbeat. In an odd kind of way, it felt good to be needed even if I was being used to keep our family business afloat.

It wasn’t like I had anything better to do.

Understandably, my older brothers were quick to register their new living and working arrangements at the Justice Building, automatically forsaking any claims of inheritance or ownership of the bakery. But it was a small price to pay as far as they were concerned, if it meant being free from under our mother’s thumb.

So, technically speaking I am now part-owner of the Mellark Bakery with all rights and privileges bestowed to any Merchant business holder, making mother my employee.

An ironic twist in fate.

***

Safely hidden in the darkness of my own room, my racing heart begins to calm after waking from my usual nightmare. As it is on most nights, my first compelling impulse is to rush towards the opened bedroom window and look in the direction of her room and breathe out a sigh of relief when I see her.

“It’s okay…just another bad dream…she’s safe,” I whisper to myself as I stare at the shadowy figure pacing the floor from across the way. Even in the darkness of her room, I would recognise her silhouette anywhere and she’s becoming alarmingly thinner by the day.

Katniss always leaves her lamp on during the night because she fears being left in the dark. Her phobia started soon after her father’s tragic death in the mines and the thought of him being buried alive in the explosion has left her emotionally scarred. At least that’s what she told me once before she drifted off to sleep in my arms.

Now, each night I watch on helplessly as Katniss paces her room. When I leave my house in the early hours of the morning for the bakery I try so hard not to look, but it only takes two steps outside my front door before my eyes dart towards her dimly-lit bedroom. She’s always there. Standing at her window, sleepless, anxiously twirling her messy braid around her fingers. When she spots me, she’s quick to move from sight.

I tell myself I must be imagining it, but I swear I can feel her eyes boring into the back of my head as I walk along the pathway, towards the gate. But I won’t allow myself to turn around and see if I’m right. She’s probably glad to see me leave while she waits for Gale Hawthorne to arrive.

It’s no secret Gale and Katniss are together now. My mother takes great pleasure in reminding me of this fact.

“Stop pinning over that Seam trash! She used you! It’s a known fact what she does with that Hawthorne boy in those woods. She’s probably carrying his brat inside of her. Time to get on with your own life and find a wife to help you in the bakery…a nice Merchant girl…someone pure like Delly Cartwright. She’s smart, pretty, comes from a respectable family. Those qualities are a rarity. Delly’s the perfect choice for you.”

Choice. Why do I always cringe when I hear that word?

I can’t continue to ignore the facts before me. Katniss hates me. She spends every Sunday with Gale sneaking off to the woods for hours. When they return, he stays at her house until late and the curtains in her bedroom which are usually left open even during the night, are drawn until he leaves.

I’m surprised Mrs Everdeen who was brought up with Merchant values would allow such a thing, but I guess after watching us in the cave during The Games and The Victory Tour, she’s not troubled by it now and happily overlooks her daughter’s lack of propriety because it’s with Gale Hawthorne after all.

I’m sure to hear the announcement of their toasting soon.

I need to keep reminding myself what Katniss does with her life is none of my business. What made me think it ever was? She’s clearly moved on with her life and maybe it’s time I thought about doing the same with mine.

For once my mother may have a point.

tbc…

#Springtime Edition 2020 #submission #justajjfan #prompt 116

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junmyeonning · 4 years

Text

Ardour

Type: One Shot

Pairing: Kim Junmyeon (EXO Suho) X unnamed OFC

Rated: M

Summary: Ardour: intense feeling of love, feelings of great warmth and intensity.

they've really missed each other during this EXO tour, of course sexy times happen now that they're together again. No real plot. Just sex, intimacy, and some fun. Cute bf Junmyeon, beware. Also hot bf Junmyeon.

Word count: 2.4k

She wakes up to find no one beside her on the bed. She yawns and gets up then goes to the bathroom to freshen up a little.

As she finishes up and heads out, she thinks it's time to look for her missing boyfriend. It wasn't too hard though because she spots him as soon as she enters the living room.

"Hey you," she holds his face in one hand as she leans down to kiss him, smiling as they pull away.

"Hey, I didn't wanna wake you" he smiles back lovingly. She thought he looks so cute like this, hair all fluffed up and parted from the middle as usual, and wearing some comfy T-shirt and sweatpants.

"Yeah well you should've. I wanna spend every moment with you before you go again..." she pouts. He laughs a little then pulls her towards him from the bottom of her nightie, urging her to sit on top of him on the couch.

"Don't think about that now. We still have quite some time you know" he murmurs as he goes to kiss her again.

It gets heated as they get more into it, and she accidentally lets out a little sound.

"Mm Jun... I've missed you so much" she pulls away just a centimetre to speak, still sharing the same breath.

"Me too baby, you don't even know..." they continue kissing again, this time with more tongue action and movements.

She starts rocking slowly on top of him and he groans into her mouth, his hands moving down from her waist to hold her bottom from under her silky nightgown.

"No underwear huh?" He smirks, then begins a trail of kisses from the corner of her mouth all the way down her jaw then reaching the neck.

"For convenience." She says mischievously, biting her lips as she feels his wet kisses on her neck.

He starts sucking and biting, which causes her to moan lightly and whisper his name under her breath.

But then he stops, only to remove the only piece of clothing she has on. She groans in protest when he doesn't act quickly, feeling all kinds of hot and bothered while he's just running his hands and admiring the view.

"Myeon we have all time for this later I just really need you right now..." she's almost whining at this point. He chuckles in reply and gives her a little kiss on the mouth.

"My baby is impatient," he says playfully, still rubbing circles on her waist with his hands. Her face falls into a frown as she looks at him.

"I'm not a baby..." she mutters under her breath. Her hands went to grab at his T-shirt to pull it off but he's still in a playful mood, as he snatches them before she does anything.

"You're so cute." He laughs and kisses the inside of her hand while holding the other.

"You're really calling me cute while I'm naked and waiting for you to fuck me?" She says in disbelief, smiling against her own will.

"I guess I am," he laughs "but okay I'll stop. Go ahead continue," he leans back and she pulls off his T-shirt finally, only his bottom half being covered now.

She unconsciously licks her lips at the sight of his bare torso, her hands moving on their own as she touches his chest and abs.

"Look who's taking their time now, you can do it but I can't?" He crosses his arms covering up his chest. She chuckles at that. He got her.

"Ah I can't help it when you look like this Junmyeonnie," she leans forward and kisses his pouty mouth "please sit back? Let me?" She gives him puppy eyes and he can't help but give in.

"Okay okay... next time it's me though." He puts his hands behind his head and leans back, letting her do as she pleases.

She smiles in victory and leans forward with him, kissing him again. She just can't get enough of him.

Moving back a little she begins a trail down his neck until she reaches his chest, kissing and sucking and biting. She flicks his nipple and hears him hiss from above, causing her to giggle.

At this point he knew where she was going with this as she pulls down his pants and gets on the floor between his legs. His breathing gets a little heavier as he watches her, but she just smiles at him and rubs his thighs.

"Relax Jun, let me take care of you..." He groans in reply and she moves to pull off his boxers.

Her eyes widen as his hard length slapped up against his stomach. She licks her mouth and comes closer, wrapping her hand around him.

He moans at the contact and bucks up a little into her touch. She gives him an 'innocent' smile, keeping eye contact as she goes in to lick the head.

He throws his head back at the sight and moans again as she sucks the tip. He looks back at her once more then places his hands on her head, encouraging her to take more.

After playing a little she takes him in more, deep and wet. One hand helping her pump where she can't reach while the other begins stroking his balls lightly.

"B-baby I... ahh" he's lost in pleasure as she continues what she does, slowly picking up the speed. His moans getting higher only fuel her desire to get him off even more.

"Mm s-stop... I don't wanna..." he can't finish his sentence when he feels her throat vibrating around him as she lets out a sound, working harder and faster to get him there.

All getting too much for him his eyes shut close and he gets even louder, tugging on her hair tighter as he almost reaches an orgasm.

But then it all stops. She pulls away like he asked and wipes her chin, looking up at him and smiling like it's nothing.

"You little..." he groans and drops his head in defeat. She laughs at that and raises a brow "I did what I was told, nothing bad about that" teasing him was one of her hobbies, she's always loved to do it and he secretly -well not so secretly- enjoys it.

"Come here," He shakes his head with a smile, then leans forward and grabs her to get back up on his lap.

"How come you're so sexy?..." he mumbles into her neck as he kisses that spot again, this time his hand travelling down to her wet heat.

She hums in reply, then jumps a little when his fingers make contact with her sensitive bud. She feels herself getting wetter by the second if that's possible, because after all that time away from each other it made her ache for him even more than always, which she never thought was possible yet here she is.

"J-Jun..." she moans and he slowly builds up, rubbing quicker. "Yes sweetheart?" He whispers into her ear then bites the end lightly.

"Don't stop..." she gets a little louder as he picks up the pace, and suddenly it feels harder to breath with the way his hands are moving in that dangerous place.

He switches to only rubbing with his thumb as two of his fingers make their way inside, preparing her for what's about to happen.

"Talk to me baby. Tell me what I'm doing to you," she feels his hot breath against her skin as he speaks in a low, sexy tone. She almost can't handle it all, everything being too much at the same moment.

"Your fingers Junmyeon... ahh" she throws her head back and grinds against his his hand. Although it all feels too good, she craves something else by now.

"B-but Jun... I need you right now." He smirks in reply "what do you mean? You have me right here." He teases and she gets more and more frustrated by the minute.

"You know what I mean!"

"What if I don't?" She gets sick of his games and pushes him roughly by the shoulders to lay back again, his eyes getting wide at the movement.

"Then I'll show you." She gets her hand on his hard member once more, and he bites his lip in attempt to not let out a noise.

After stroking him a little she positions herself over him, then teases the tip of his head back and forth against her pussy, causing them both to sigh in pleasure.

Finally he slips in and they both moan. His hands holding her by the waist to steady her as she rises up then comes back down, slowly as to adjust to his size.

"S-so tight baby..." He manages to choke out. She looks at his wrecked face and feels herself getting even more turned on if that's possible.

"Oh Myeon..." She says breathlessly. He was taking her breath away and she can't handle it, all feeling way too pleasurable.

As the pressure builds up the movements get faster, the slow rocking turning into quicker bouncing. Heavy breaths mixing with each other.

"Sweetheart I-... fuck..." he loses his wording for a bit, eyes closed shut just feeling it all. "-I wanna try something,"

She just lets out a sound in approval, unable to use words at the moment. He gets himself to finally stop, pulling out his still-stiff member and going to lie down with his head on the couch arm.

He throws her a smile and pats his lap for her, motioning to come sit back on him. She didn't have the time to process just how fucking good he looks like that, all sexed up and ready for more of her.

She goes to crawl the small space to get to him on top, and before she continues he just shake his head.

"On your back, lie down on me." She stops at what he says, face lighting up as she realises what he has in mind. Obeying what he says she lies on top of him, his chest pressing up against her back as she feels his body heat.

He adjusts her body exactly where he should, her throbbing core directly over his hardness, waiting for him to slip back inside.

"Ready?" He says lowly into her neck from behind, then kisses the spot afterwards making her melt into him.

"Ah yes come on..." she feels like almost begging by now. Anything to feel him once again.

He wanted to tease her more but his initial thoughts are ruined by his untamed desire. He wants her just as bad he can't stop himself.

He thrusts up again into her, entering nice and slow, feeling every inch. She feels his ragged hot breath on her from behind which drives her crazy, causing her to moan in return.

"Oh baby..." she tries to meet half way with his slow deep strokes, loving this sweet torturous feeling.

"Mhm, you like that?" He's obviously trying to hold himself back, prolonging their pleasure as much as possible. She squeezes around him unintentionally when she hears that, to show him how much she really likes it.

He growls as soon as he feels her velvety walls gripping him so deliciously.

"Does that answer?" She chuckles through her breathlessness, eyes closed as she feels all of him.

One of his hands leave her hips to grab at her chest, getting her to moan louder once again when he pinches her nipple.

"Myeon... y-your cock..." she bites her lip to stop herself from being too loud, as she places her hand on his cheek from behind her.

"My cock what," he snaps up into her a little harder, making her gasp and let her head fall back more into him.

"Feels so good..." she manages to mumble as he tilts her head to face him more, smashing his lips onto hers finally.

He picks up the pace as they continue kissing, him gripping her hips a little tighter as he slams upwards again and again. He hits that deep spot inside which causes her lips to falter in their movements, her mouth falling open by itself as the moans get stuck in her throat from it all being just too much.

"Yes yes, r-right there..." she's barely able to voice it out, the pleasure clouding her senses and making her dizzy. She feels his hand move down there and start rubbing her clit once more, this time combined with his thrusts it's just enough to get her there.

"Come on baby girl. You're gonna come for me? Yeah?" His words are the last straw as powerful waves of orgasm hit her suddenly, making her moan loudly as she turns her head away from him.

After riding out her high he doesn't stop, instead holding her hips with both hands again and now chasing his own.

"Fill me up Junmyeonnie," she caresses his cheek once more, urging him to follow up with her. "Come inside me baby..."

His moans get higher in pitch as he releases his hot white liquid deep inside her, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden as he lets it all out while she's gently holding his cheek.

He's still coming down from it and his stuttered breathing is returning to normal again. She looks at his side profile in this state, suddenly having the urge to kiss his cheek.

He looks almost magical in this euphoric state of mind, so beautiful and vulnerable and all hers.

They stay like this for a few minutes. Her resting back against him while he has his head forward resting sideways against hers, not pulling out yet just enjoying each other's warmth.

"I love you..." he has his eyes closed as he kisses her temple. She chuckles to herself, feeling so cheesily happy to be in this moment like this with him.

"Mhm love you too..." she can't help giggling, which makes him re-open his eyes and raise a brow in confusion.

"What's so funny?" He smiles at her in both disbelief and adoration.

"Nothing, i'm just happy." She kisses his cheek once more. "Now let's get up i'm hungry."

#suho #exo #kim junmyeon #junmyeon #suho smut #junmyeon smut #exo smut #suho one shot #exo one shot #exo fanfic #junmyeon one shot

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jlalafics · 4 years

Note

I’m torn between 7 & 13 so if you’re taking prompts still, you decide which you prefer 🥰

Why not both? ;)

______

7. “I almost lost you.”

13. “Kiss me.”

“Where is he?”

Gale stares at Katniss, resignation in his gaze. He knows that with the return of Peeta, his time with her is over. Truthfully, it was all a mistake; those small caresses…the kisses—and he knows it.

More than once, another voice fell from her lips whenever they were together.

“He’s in there with Haymitch,” he tells her.

Katniss can hear her heart beating in her ears as she approaches the closed door. She doesn’t know what to expect despite the numerous times that she watched him during those interviews with Caesar. Her chest aches recalling the last interview—right before the rescue—the pain in those blue eyes.

Blue eyes that she knows so well from long nights during the Victory Tour…eyes that watched over her in a cold cave…that stared at her emaciated form before throwing her burnt bread to save her family’s life.

Taking a deep breath, Katniss turns the knob, pushing the door open.

Haymitch meets her eyes and she can see relief in those usually burdened greys.

Her mentor approaches her, squeezing her shoulder.

“Be gentle with him,” Haymitch advises quietly. “He seems overwhelmed by everything…and he keeps asking about his family.”

The Mellarks perished with a majority of the citizens of District 12. The remaining people were all shuffled in with District 13 in this underground barracks.

Haymitch reaches the doorway and, with a final nod, closes the door.

Peeta is sitting on the exam table and she can see the heaviness in his shoulders, burdened by weeks of torture at the hands of Snow.

Katniss moves over to his front and approaches him carefully. He looks up at her steps and her breath hitches at the weariness of his eyes.

However, there is something else that she can’t quite catch…

“Peeta,” she breathes out.

He meets her stare, his expression calming at the sight of her. The relief at the look is palpable.

Her arms are suddenly around him, her nose pressing into his skinny shoulder and the rest of her trembling. His own arms wrap carefully around her.

“I..I almost lost you.”

Katniss pulls away, looking him over. Peeta is definitely in need of some weight gain and has obviously been roughed up. She can see that several hours…days of sleep would help because he looks like he could drop from exhaustion at any moment.

His hand reaches to brush away the tears that have unexpectedly filmed in her eyes. “Don’t cry.”

She lets out a laugh, happy to see that her kind Peeta is still in there.

“I must love you a lot,” Peeta continues in a whisper.

“You’ve never really said it,” Katniss replies. “I think that you did show it…more than I ever did.”

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly says.

“Why do you need to be sorry?”

Peeta looks to her shamefully.

“Because I don’t remember having such a pretty wife.”

Her whole body goes cold.

“Peeta, do you know my name?”

“No.” He is crestfallen, his arms encircling his thin frame. “I don’t know it. I’m so sorry!”

Katniss reaches for him, pulling him to her and he rests against her chest.

“It’s alright. We’ll figure it out…together.”

++++++

“The doctors are still running tests,” Haymitch tells her. They’re standing outside of Peeta’s room in the hospital sector. “So far, his MRI’s have come back clear, and his blood tests are fine.”

“He doesn’t remember me.” Katniss looks at the man in the hospital bed who is sitting with Prim. Peeta turns to her and gives her a smile. “He thinks we’re married—”

“Did you tell him that you aren’t?” he retorts. The look on her face brings a chuckle to his lips. “Looks like someone wants to believe it’s real.”

“Not funny, Haymitch.”

“I’ve talked to Johanna and Annie,” he continues, ignoring her ire. “They were all in the same place, though they were taken to another room during questioning. Right before our squad got them, Peeta was taken one last time, that’s possibly when they erased you.”

“Erased?” she repeated.

“I’ve talked to him. He remembers everything about District 12—except for you.”

“Why would Snow do this?”

There are several reasons, of course.

The first being that there would be no reason for Peeta to fight. She was really the only reason that he joined the Careers or volunteered for the Quarter Quell in Haymitch’s place.

The second reason is that Snow is trying to throw her off. He knows that taking Peeta’s memories of her will preoccupy her thoughts and deter her from fighting. She won’t want to leave him for missions—and he’s right, she doesn’t.

And the third, Haymitch says as she bites her lip anxiously.

“Because Snow knows that you would do anything to keep Peeta safe—including turning yourself over to him for a cure if it comes to that.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Katniss confirms.

Because she would do it in a heartbeat.

This is the worst time to realize that she might actually love Peeta Mellark.

++++++

“Why did we get married so quickly?”

The doctors advised Katniss to go along with the story, afraid that opposing the one thing that Peeta seems to believe will trigger a breakdown. Dr. Aurelius, District 13’s resident psychologist, has already met with Peeta once and has concluded that, even though he can’t remember her, Peeta trusts her.

The doctor tells her to go along with it until they’re sure that he’s stronger, mentally and physically.

Peeta has already watched snippets of their first time in the arena as well as the Quarter Quell. On screen, they do look like the Star-Crossed Lovers of District 12, but he has no memory of the scenes playing in front of him. He doesn’t remember the weeks before the Quell was announced when he could barely look at her or her suggestion of getting married during the Victory Tour.

Or his unhappy acceptance when Katniss had brought it up. He wanted it to be real.

Now, she wishes it had been.

“Because we didn’t want to wait,” she answers as they walk along the corridors where the resident barracks are. “We were going into the arena and we were scared of what might happen. So, we decided to have a toasting—”

“Was it nice?”

Katniss smiles. “It was.” She lets her mind wander into what might have happened. “Haymitch and your father were our witnesses at the Justice Building. My mother and Prim made us dinner and your brothers made us a wedding cake.” She swallows down her guilt. “You made our toasting bread.”

“It sounds beautiful.” Peeta stops, his hands going to her shoulders, and she is filled with an inexplicable warmth. “I wish I could remember.” He meets her eyes, concern in his stare. “I saw something else…my interview with Caesar before the Quell—”

He looks down at her abdomen.

“I-I lost it.” She’s practically choking on her lies. “With you gone and the stress after the Quell, it was just too much.”

“You would’ve been a good mother,” he assures her.

The question comes out tightly. “How would you know?”

“I watched the part in the Games with Rue...” Peeta moves closer. So close that she starts to notice things. Like the small scar on his cheek or the slight freckling on his nose. He still smells sweet despite not being anywhere near the Mellark Bakery. “You took care of her.”

“She took care of me,” she replies, swiping at her eyes.

“Prim told me about how you volunteered for her,” he persists. “She says you took care of her, even though you were a kid yourself.”

Katniss doesn’t know how it happens, but she finds herself in his arms as her arms wrap around his own waist.

“Do you know that you saved my life…my family’s life when we were kids?” she says, her cheek against his chest. “You threw a loaf of burnt bread to me. We were starving and that fed my mother so that she could give Prim milk. It fed me after everything ran out in our pantry.”

He rasps at her words. “I bet my mom really enjoyed that.”

“Not really. The next time I saw you, you were sporting a bruise on your face.”

“Sounds about right.” Peeta holds her tightly and she calms in his embrace. “I don’t mind if it meant I kept you alive.”

How could he still care so much about her?

‘Because he doesn’t know who you really are’, a voice inside says.

Katniss closes her eyes, afraid that the truth will come seeping out of her.

“You would have been a good father,” she tells him instead.

++++++

“I’m lying to him, Prim.”

Katniss sits on what used to be her bed. Peeta has been moved out of the hospital sector and they are given a residence of their own. Dr. Aurelius insists that she continues to pretend that they are married, that she continues to act like she loves the man lying next to her in bed.

The tests continue to come out clean, no sign of brain trauma. The doctors can only conclude that it is some sort of conditioning that the Capitol put him through.

“It’s for his own good,” Prim replies pragmatically as she folds her newly laundered uniforms. “I’ve read about cases like his. We need to give him time to settle, then slowly bring him to terms with the truth. If you try to tell him too much, he could regress.”

“You’ve read about this? You’re only fourteen, Prim,” Katniss says. “You’re not supposed to be reading psych cases.”

“Then what I am supposed to be doing?” she questions. “There is a rebellion happening. You are the symbol of it. I need to help in any way I can. If that means working on the medical team to help my brother-in-law, then so be it.”

“I feel guilty, Prim,” Katniss admits softly. “And…I care for him.”

Prim stops mid-fold and looks to her, a small grin on her lips. “Just care?”

“I can’t let it go any further than that,” she tells her. “The guilt would kill me. I also think about everything that we went through before that. The Peeta I remember was so angry at me for pretending it was real, yet he still forgave me. He wouldn’t forgive me for this.”

Prim sits down next to her. “May I suggest something?” Katniss nods. “Start clean.”

“What do you mean?”

“You two get a chance to start anew,” her sister says. “Become his friend…maybe more if it works out like that. I think that this might be good for your relationship.”

“What relationship? We don’t know anything about each other,” Katniss scoffs.

Prim looks to her, a slight smile on her lips. “Exactly.”

++++++

Peeta and Katniss sit together in the mess hall at a table away from everyone else.

However, not one to be deterred, Johanna joins them, sitting uncomfortably close to Peeta.

Katniss glares at the woman who cackles at her expression.

“We’re friends, Mrs. Mellark. We had cells near one another in the Capitol.”

Peeta looks to Katniss, reaching underneath the table to take her hand and give it a squeeze. She calms down immediately, taking a deep breath, and stretching her mouth into a semblance of a smile.

“You’re always welcome to sit with us,” she says through clenched teeth.

Johanna smirks. “Thank you.” She puts an arm around Peeta’s shoulder. “So did the wife give you a proper welcome home?”

Katniss could feel the heat on her face. Everyone had been advised to pretend that she and Peeta are married, for the sake of his mental health. Johanna was one of those who opposed to the idea though after a talk with the medical team, she finally agreed to the charade.

It didn’t mean that she would allow Katniss to get away with it so easily.

“Johanna,” Peeta starts calmly. “It’s only been a month since we’ve been rescued, and Katniss is busy with her missions. We’re not…ready.”

“We’re starting with a clean slate,” Katniss adds.

Annie and Finnick join them, trays in their grasp. However, as they sit down, they join hands using each of their free ones to pick at their meals. Katniss can’t help but feel a little envious of their closeness. She’s never thought about how it feels to be so connected to someone and there’s something inside that hungers for it.

‘Him! He could give you what you need!’, that voice inside her screams.

“But you sleep in the same bed, right?” Johanna questions.

She says it just as Gale and Prim join them.

Prim sits next to her sister, while her grey-eyed friend chooses the spot across.

Katniss can’t bring herself to look at Gale; if she did, she would probably see him glaring or pouting—both would be equally annoying.

“Yes,” she chokes out. “What of it?”

“I’m surprised that Coin hasn’t demanded a little Rebellion baby,” she taunts. “Aren’t we all just part of this little plan of hers? We were rescued…and Katniss does those stupid little propos…what better way than to start a new generation of District 13 soldiers for her cause?”

Katniss stands up, slamming her tray on the metal table in anger. “Stop!”

Johanna merely smirks and for a second, Katniss envisions herself stabbing the woman with her fork.

Instead, she turns to Peeta. “I’m going to our room. Take your time.”

He nods, taking her hand to kiss the top of it as he glares at Johanna.

Turning away, Katniss rushes towards the nearest exit corridor. Why did she let Johanna get to her? She can usually take the woman’s biting words—

“Katniss.”

She turns to see Gale slowing down in front of her.

“It was uncalled for—what Johanna was saying. This lie though—you being Peeta’s wife and being in love with him? How is it going to feel when he finally knows the truth?”

“Don’t you think that I worry about that every time I’m with him?”

Katniss steps towards her friend and can see the longing still there in his eyes. However, the depth of her feelings for Gale aren’t even close to what she feels for Peeta.

“It kills me to know that he could just go right back to hating me! Especially since I’m in—”

Gale steps back, pain in his eyes. “Shit Katniss, did you feel anything for me?”

She straightens herself before meeting his stare.

“Not the way you wanted.”

++++++

Katniss and Peeta lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to look at one another.

When she returned to their room, she took a quick nap before meeting with Coin. The silver-haired woman had quickly checked-in about Peeta before announcing that Katniss would be taking a trip to District 8 to their hospital.

Peeta would stay as he was deemed not ready.

He is there when she returns, apologizing for Johanna’s crassness. Katniss holds him tight, the conversation lingering in her mind.

They haven’t been—she cringes at the word—intimate.

It seemed a lot easier when they were fearing for their lives for them to just kiss.

Now they share a room and a bed, and it feels like they’re a million miles apart.

“I’m going to District 8 tomorrow,” she says suddenly. “Coin wants me to visit their hospital.”

Peeta shifts, looking to her. “Will you promise to be safe?”

She turns to meet his eyes. “Would you believe me if I did?”

He laughs wryly and Katniss shifts to lay her head on his chest.

“Probably not. My wife has a penchant for running into dangerous situations.”

“You had a tendency to follow me,” she retorts.

“Obviously, I’m an idiot,” Peeta tells her. “Why would I follow a beautiful woman into a deathtrap?” He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Oh, now I remember…”

Katniss turns her head, her chin on his chest. “What do you remember?”

“Nothing really. I just imagine that I would’ve followed the woman I love anywhere.”

She nods, stamping down her disappointment. “Oh.”

“You sound upset,” Peeta says. He sits up, resting back against the wall and she follows. “I know that this is hard on you. I’m not the husband that you had—”

“No!” Biting her lip anxiously, Katniss tries to find her words. “I guess I’m just reeling from Johanna’s words. Somehow, she always knows how to hit you where it hurts.”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you,” he admits. “I just didn’t know if you’d let me.”

“Um…you’re my husband. Why wouldn’t I want you to?”

They inch closer together.

When they look to one another, they’re only a lean-in away from a kiss.

So, Katniss leans in—

Peeta suddenly draws back, his face going white.

Ow, that hurt.

She gives him a shaky smile. “You aren’t ready—”

“No! Something happened to me, like my body instinctively just pulled away!” Peeta is panicked, his blue eyes pleading with her to understand. “There is nothing I want more than to kiss you.”

Katniss nods. “Let me try.”

Her hands reached to his face and, taking a breath, she dips her mouth towards his—

The pain is electric, and she draws back, her fingers going to her lips. “Ow!”

“Are you okay?” Peeta reaches to take her hand away from her mouth. “What happened?”

Katniss frowns. “It hurt.” The sensation still lingers on her lips like a slow spreading flame. “We should go to the medical ward.”

“It’s late,” Peeta replies. “You have a mission tomorrow and you need to rest.”

“Why aren’t you worried about this?” she demands to know.

Her husband chuckles. His blue eyes glowing at the sight of her all agitated.

“Because there are other places that I can kiss you,” he answers.

Peeta brushes his lips against her forehead and there is no instinct to push away.

She, however, feels the kiss all the way to her toes.

“See? We’re in the safe zone.”

He continues down to her cheeks, smacking each one with a loud smack that causes her to laugh. Then, his lips are on her jaw…in the crook of her neck and she moans when he nips her earlobe. She never realized how that one spot could cause her whole body to uncoil.

“Should I keep going?” Peeta asks, his voice husky. “Will you allow it?”

There’s still a little bit of the old him in there; the one that remembers her.

Her hand reaches to the bottom of her shirt, pulling it over her head eagerly. “Yes.”

He kisses his way down until she is crying out his name, his face between her thighs.

Katniss sleeps soundly until her alarm sounds and she must regretfully leave her husband with a kiss to his bare shoulder.

++++++

Katniss finds herself shaking horribly—or is it the hovercraft?

Boggs is sitting next to her, his dark eyes staring at her in concern.

“Katniss, there was nothing you could have done,” he tells her.

“I shouldn’t have gone,” she replies tonelessly. “It was the perfect countermove to get the rest of Panem to hate me.”

“Your message to the citizens counteracts that,” Cressida assures her from her seat, across from Katniss. She had been introduced to the woman during a previous mission along with her assistant Messalla and her two cameramen, Castor and Pollux. “Remember that people out there still believe in you.”

“Those people are dead.” She hangs her head between her legs. “I can still see them in front of me…”

Everyone goes silent as Katniss draws in her breaths, trying to keep her thoughts intact. Her eyes go briefly to Gale, who has not said one word to her.

They aren’t friends anymore. They’re comrades—and she finds that it doesn’t sting like she expected it to.

The hovercraft enters District 13 and she is eager to leave, bouncing in her seat.

They have made a full stop and she jumps from her seat as the ramp lowers—

Peeta is waiting for her, along with Haymitch and a stoic Coin.

However, Katniss sees only him, and she is running down the ramp until she is in his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist.

He presses kisses to the top of her head…her forehead…her cheeks…that one area behind her ear that causes her to come undone—

“Ahem.”

They turn to see Coin watching them, a calculating look on her face. Haymitch smirks seeing Katniss’ very public show of affection while Boggs look on in amusement. Cressida’s team is to the side as she directs them on the best shot of ‘The Star-Crossed Lovers’.

Gale stands back before heading towards the barracks, but not before getting a gentle pat to his shoulder by Coin.

“I’m so sorry about the hospital,” Peeta says, his eyes trained on her. “When Haymitch told me that there was an attack…I thought I lost you.”

“I’m here,” she breathes against his shoulder.

“I’m glad that you’re back safely, Katniss,” Coin suddenly says as she approaches them. “I’m sorry to hear about the losses.” She looks between herself and Peeta. “I’ve talked to the medical team and I feel that Peeta is ready to join you when you go to the Capitol.”

Katniss looks to the woman incredulously. “Are you sure?”

“Snow believes that he holds the cards because of what he’s done to Peeta,” Coin continues. “Seeing you two together will show him and the Capitol that you two have overcome. That, despite him erasing Peeta’s memories, he is still the enemy.”

“Peeta isn’t ready,” she insists.

“Well, it’s not your call,” the women tells her. “You and your husband will be ready in two days to travel to the Capitol.”

Coin turns, exciting the landing area, without even looking back.

“Katniss…” She turns to Peeta at his call. “I don’t want to be here without you. Waiting here after hearing about District 8—it was the worst feeling in the world. Even worse than realizing that Snow erased you from my mind.”

“Also, we’ve talked to the doctors about what happened to you two…last night,” Haymitch suddenly says. “Peeta didn’t want to wait on finding out and it kept him distracted after you left.”

“And what did they say?” Katniss asks eagerly.

“Let’s go to your room and we can talk over their theory,” their mentor suggests, looking around. “Away from the cameras.”

++++++

“I explained what happened to the medical team as well as to Dr. Aurelius,” Peeta starts as soon as they are back in their room. “I told them about my negative body reaction as well as what happened when you attempted to kiss me.”

“I should also tell you that Dr. Aurelius feels it isn’t in your best interest to mention this to Coin,” Haymitch interjects.

It just confirms Katniss’ distrust of the woman; there is something not quite right and instinctually she has had her guard up.

“They believe that your kiss is probably a trigger,” Peeta says with a sigh.

“I don’t understand.”

“It means that, if we were to kiss, it could trigger some sort of psychological reaction,” he tells her, his eyes full of pain. “And no one knows if it will be a positive or negative one.”

She looks to him. “What do they mean by negative reaction?”

“A couple of things they suggested were that I could become violent towards you, even attempt to kill you, or my memory is completely wiped out. Not just of you, but of my whole life. I could possibly become incapacitated, just a shell of a person.”

This can’t be possible, but she pushes forward.

“And, the positive reactions?”

“I could get my full memory back,” Peeta continues. “Or, there is no change, whatsoever.”

“So, we have one good reaction, one neutral, and too many negatives,” Katniss concludes. She shakes her head. “No. We’re not taking that chance.”

“I told you she wouldn’t be happy,” Haymitch says.

She turns to glare at the man. “Can you please give us some privacy?”

“Don’t kill the messenger…or the guy who went with the messenger,” Haymitch mutters. “Keep me posted, you two.” He pats Katniss’ shoulder. “I’m sorry about District 8.”

He leaves them alone to contemplate Peeta’s news.

“I know that this is scary to hear,” Peeta tells her. “The odds aren’t in my favor.”

She glares at him. “But…?”

“I think it’s a chance that I need to take.”

Katniss stands up, turning away from him.

“Please don’t make this harder than it already is.” His arms wrap around her, his chest pressing into her back. “What if it unlocks something important?”

“And, what if it doesn’t?” She turns to him, almost pleading for him to change his mind. “What if you become violent, or you lose all of your memory? What if you become a vegetable?” Her eyes shut, imprisoning the tears threatening to escape. “I couldn’t take it, Peeta! I couldn’t…”

Peeta embraces her, kissing the top of her head.

“If I was any of those things, would you abandon me?”

“Never,” she says into the crook of his neck.

“Then, I will be alright,” he assures her.

“Why do you have to be so stubborn?” Katniss wipes her nose against his shirt. “That’s supposed to be my job.”

“I guess I learned from the best.” Peeta gazes at her tenderly. “We have to go on this mission in two days and I can’t be the weak link. If something were to happen because of me, I couldn’t live with myself. I need to do this…because we lost a lot of people…I lost my whole family because of Snow.”

“You have me!” she persists. “Am I not enough?”

“More than enough!” he replies, his voice raised. “Our children, Katniss! Do you want our children to be born during a war?”

“And, if we never get that chance?” Katniss’ voice breaks and she can’t believe what she’s about to say. “What if something happens to you and our children have no father?”

“Why are we even talking about this right now?” Peeta suddenly asks her. “Do you want to try to get pregnant?” A smirk rises on his lips. “I mean, it’s been how long since—”

She stares at him in confusion—is this man seriously trying to suggest sex in the middle of an argument?

Katniss sighs.

Doctors be damned.

“I need to tell you something,” she tells him. “And it will likely change your mind about children. It will change your mind about me.”

Katniss sits down on their bed, patting the spot next to her.

Peeta joins her, taking her hands in his. “What is it?”

“We aren’t married, Peeta,” she confesses, feeling the weight of truth lift off her shoulders. “In fact, we weren’t even really a couple. You see, in the first Games we were in…”

Katniss goes on to explain how Haymitch told her to capitalize on the whole ‘Star-Crossed Lovers of District 12’ idea and how it would save their lives due to their popularity. How she convinced the world that she was in love with him and that Peeta had loved her back—until he realized the ruse. How he had been angry at her before the Victory Tour and then how they subsequently tried to form a partnership.

She told him how she had suggested that get married because it would convince Snow that their relationship was genuine.

Katniss can’t bring herself to look at him as she continues onto the Quarter Quell. She stammers through explaining the kiss on the beach.

“It was the first time I really ever wanted something…and someone.” Katniss looks up to find his eyes on her, his expression unreadable. “Then we were separated, and you were taken to the Capitol. I was brought here.”

“Why would you lie about being married to me?” he asks gruffly.

“When you saw me, you thought I was your wife,” she replies helplessly. “And I didn’t disagree with you. Then, the medical team and Dr. Aurelius decided that we should keep letting you believe that it was true. We didn’t want to risk you possibly having some sort of breakdown.”

“If we never found out about this trigger, were you going to just keep lying to me?”

“I don’t know.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “I’d like to think that—one day, when this is all over—that I would tell you. Because you deserve nothing but the truth.”

They lapse into a silence, the weight of her words filling the air around them.

Katniss knows that she’s lost him.

However, he was never hers to begin with.

“I have one more question.” She looks to him, waiting for anger. “When all is said and done, do you still love me?”

“I thought we just talked about this. It was all for show—the relationship, the marriage, the baby—"

“Bullshit.” Peeta chuckles wryly. “I watched those snippets when it was just us and you can’t fake emotion like that. I can tell when you’re lying. Even now—” His hand reaches to cup her the back of her head so he can look at her straight on. “I can say for certain that you feel something for me. It’s all there—in your eyes.”

“I do.” It comes out in a gasp. “I think I’ve loved you for a long time and I’ll keep loving you after all of this.”

They fall into each other’s embrace, kissing every inch of exposed skin.

Katniss cries against his shoulder, knowing that there isn’t going to be a discussion on what needs to happen.

Peeta has already made his choice.

His hands cup her cheeks and he presses one last kiss to her forehead, his eyes glistening with love…and fear…and hope…

‘Till death do us part’, she promises to herself.

“Katniss,” he whispers, his mouth inching towards hers. “Kiss me.”

So, she does.

FIN.

*I’m going to run and hide now.

#rosegardeninwinter #Everlark Fanfiction #Everlark #In District 13 Everlark #Mockingjay AU

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wordsturnintostories · 5 years

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show me your rosettes, baby (g)

summary: The world tour is over and the Bangtan Boys finally get their well-deserved break. When Namjoon suddenly can’t find Jimin anywhere, things take an unexpected and pretty unbelievable turn. “Kim Namjoon!” “Hyung. How common is it for people to turn into cats?” word count: 1.6k note: hmmm i can't just leave you guys without at least giving you a short treat, can I? this is for you, @taeshuworld... i hope it will all get better soon. i know this won't help much but maybe it can give your heart some comfort ✨

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It’s during the third day that Namjoon begrudgingly makes three mind-blowing discoveries. Firstly, he really needs to keep a better tab on his friends (aka he’s not a perceptive friend at all outside of Bangtan), secondly, Jimin really has no idea what they are saying to him and thirdly, he realizes that he can’t lie to save his life. (He should really work on a good way of introducing this Jimin to the others - he can’t lie about this.) But then again, it’s not like Namjoon lies to the members often, let alone enough to get some practice in. (But the thought of the cheeky brat called Taehyung that always plays along with his lies does annoy him. The younger always acts so gullible and innocent, never giving off any vibes of treason with those big brown puppy eyes. The nerve!)

The day starts rosy. Hues of red and lilac mix with faded blue in a slow, heavenly progression, calling for a mellow day in Korea’s capital. Namjoon enjoys it, takes a few photos of Seoul’s skyline that elegantly poses in front of the impressive canvas. His own lyrics travel through his mind, reminding him of the shifting image the metropolis takes in his mind, being so different than what he remembers from his first days with the members.

When he looks down through the window, there’s nothing he hasn’t seen before - the bustling of too many humans on too small sidewalks, pressed towards the high buildings by the loud traffic that separates them from the other side. Almost everyone chooses a fast walking pace in this part of Gangnam, born with a destination and stepping ahead with bold steps and expensive clothes.

Locking these images away as precious memories, Namjoon turns around, watching with golden anticipation how the first rays of sun slowly reach out to create a sight that he has never seen before. A baby leopard’s body softly rises and falls with every breath, nestled into the curving white sheets of the rapper’s bed. Thanks to the visiting sun’s light, the fur glows in a warm golden tone even through the dark spots almost make up all of the cub’s plushy baby pelt. He looks like a tiny glowing ball of fur. It’s a sight, truly a sight worth seeing every day, Namjoon thinks and takes a few nice pictures of his little dongsaeng. Pictures even Taehyung would frame and hang on his walls, right next to his thousand-dollar paintings.

At the moment, everything is quiet and Namjoon even hears his own heart rumbling its own chill melody, riding the soft indie playlist vibe. The only thing that makes him feel even better in this beautiful room with the big windows that let him see even Namsan Mountain dipped in the glorious sunrise is the feel of Jimin under his fingers.

At first, Namjoon is hesitant to even sit back on the bed. It would be a shame to wake my little dongsaeng up, he thinks, he’s sleeping so peacefully. But then a strange yet not unfamiliar sense of loneliness, of reclusion wraps around him in this early hour, struts in before he can close the door and he needs to feel another warm body close to himself. To his relief, Jimin doesn’t protest when he is slowly lifted against Namjoon’s t-shirt-clad chest. His little paws simply knead the firm underground and he finds a new way to curl up, not able to hold himself on his feet with the morning stuck inside his bones. He slightly tips over to the side and into Namjoon’s open hand.

It’s pleasant to have him here like this, Namjoon thinks, even if we don’t know what’s happening. Maybe Yoongi was right and this is a blessing rather than a curse. Until it ends, we’ll just cuddle and play. It sounds like a good plan in Namjoon’s mind and it’s enough to push away the bitter feelings that come with being an ever-recognizable idol who can’t even step in front of his own door without precautions.

Jimin doesn’t seem to sense his inner struggle, just comfortably nuzzles his snout into the rapper’s throat and falls asleep with his tail and legs slightly twitching against Namjoon’s palm. He must be dreaming. How adorable. The small movements remind him of Rapmon and with a longing sigh, he tells himself to pick her up later. When Jimin dreamily darts out to lick Namjoon’s jaw, he wonders whether Jimin and Rapmon would like each other. Whether the dog would recognize that this is Jimin, who she has played with many times before (even she can’t resist Jimin’s charms).

Namjoon’s soul feels light with the sun falling in gently and Jimin lathering him in kitty affection at the same time. He can only hope that Rapmon likes sharing.

Breakfast goes… okay. It’s not difficult to get Jimin to munch happily on meat. It’s just that he’s so easily distracted (and by the smallest things, really) that Namjoon has to catch him from rolling off the table twice and after relocating to the floor, retrieves Jimin from underneath the sofa, not once, not twice, but four times. There is just one incredibly bold (and lucky) ladybug inside the apartment with them and there seems to be no other explanation; this one must be part of the Resistance because even when Namjoon carries it outside, it just comes back and continues crawling over any given surface. Namjoon notes with a discouraged sigh that all his parenting methods and tactics are useless with his dongsaeng now.

The first time Jimin catches it in his mouth Namjoon has all the mind to let him have this victory and get him back to breakfast (Jimin’s stalked after the bug for five minutes, looking disheveled and dirty as he’s collected every single cloud of dust from behind the bookshelves and Namjoon is not koniophobic in any way, but he simply doesn’t have the nerve to wash Jimin ten times a day).

The second time the dancer catches the red little thing in his mouth (yeah, because it escaped the first time, good job Jimin), Namjoon looks to heaven while he waits for the crunch. It doesn’t come. Instead, he has to deal with a regretful-looking cub that puts its paws on his thighs and meows some hardly understandable pleas at him while opening its mouth. He has no idea what it means but he spots the wet little bug and digs it out. The second it’s out in the open, Jimin excitedly paws at it, effectively tossing it through the room and sprinting after it before Namjoon can complain or even remember that he wanted his dongsaeng to eat this nutritious breakfast that required twenty minutes (!) of passionate research. But the kitty plays and just when the hyung rises to pick up the happy-go-lucky cub, the doorbell rings.

Shit. A shock flows through Namjoon’s body without him even knowing who this is going to be. It could be Yoongi, who has forgotten something in his room (unlikely, he’s got all one could need to survive a zombie apocalypse in that studio of his), or any other member who took a few trains too early to surprise the leader with a premature return (just as unlikely, they will all spend as much time with their families as possible). Other than that, there is a slight possibility that staff is at the door, sent by management with some new information about their upcoming tour or schedule changes or maybe a new sponsoring deal. Shit, it might be staff. I haven’t checked my mails or my schedule since we came home. Who else can get into the building?

There’s just a slight issue that comes with the reassuring knowledge that this is staff (staff is on very good terms with all the members). Staff can’t see Jimin like this. Namjoon moves fast, grabs a complaining but weak cub with a thrashing tail and a little ladybug provocatively crawling over his face. For a lack of good hiding places and time, the rapper places the kitty in a drawer in the next room. Best solution, he thinks, (pats his own shoulder for his problem-solving skills) and rushes towards the door when the bell rings for the third time.

Trying to present himself as a collected, calm human being with no leopard cubs hidden in his apartment’s drawers, Namjoon remembers his stage breathing exercises, takes a really deep breath (and a second one, for good measure) and moves a hand through his hair. A soft meow that sounds like a confused question sounds in the distance and he hopes he can either get this business done outside the apartment or that whoever is out there won’t be able to pick up Jimin’s vocalizations. (He is aware that separating the cub from the only parental figure in his life so spontaneously can’t be good, but he shoos that gut feeling away in hopes of good luck.) The bad feeling is accompanied with a crashing sound in the distance that makes Namjoon’s head whip around so hard he might get neck strains later. The little leopard, undeterred by his fall and crash, runs to the door immediately.

“Oh God, no, Jimin-ah,” Namjoon pants in surprise and tries to grab the little one who is just way too curious for his own good. Those blue eyes glow with babylike innocence and Namjoon has to hold on to the wall to not fall for the younger’s charms. No, he wants to say sternly, but something tells him the little leopard doesn’t understand the concept of… things… yet. So all he can do before the doorbell rings a fourth time is to kinda push Jimin away gently and ignore the playful mewl and the sharp claws digging into his big toe. That should occupy him enough, Namjoon hopes and grabs the door handle.

masterlist | moodboard masterlist

tags: @xmagicxshopx, @taeshuworld, @justanemptydream, @hoodmeup, @gingerpeachtae

#park jimin #jimin #bts #bangtan #bts fanfic #smyrbg #show me your rosettes baby (g)#yay #part three #wordsturnintostories #oct18 #what do you think?#who is behind the door?#cute jimin #cute namjoon #kim namjoon #rm #wow

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theonyxpath · 4 years

Link

By Lauren Roy

Jo’s breath fogged the Perspex case, momentarily obscuring the prototype from view. Inside, the device lay dormant, all sleek silver curves and a blank interface awaiting its commands. On its own, Jo told herself, it was just a machine. It made no moral judgments. It saved lives or ended them, and the person who fed it the instructions was to thank or blame, not this lump of metal and wires.

Jo hated it a little bit anyway. She also needed it, and that made her hate it even more.

“Hey, kiddo, shake a leg, yeah?” Blake had been on edge all night. They’d gotten into DuttonTech so smoothly — fake badges letting them into restricted areas, Jo’s disguised tools sailing through security, green lights across every board. Blake trusted Jo and Dana to get them in, sure, but the fact he’d gone the last few hours without having to subdue so much as a slightly suspicious intern was making him antsy. Jo couldn’t blame him; Archangel never hired their crew for the cakewalk jobs.

But she wasn’t going to let Blake’s nerves unsteady her hands. She was elbow deep in the display case’s guts, only the last set of clamps and a weight sensor left to bypass. Easy peasy lemon-squeezy. She’d be home and in her pajamas in less than two hours, cracking a pint of victory ice cream and texting Leanne with the good news, that help was on its way. This was a killing machine in Dr. Alexander Dutton’s hands, but in Leanne’s possession? Jo’s sister could use it to save thousands.

She just had to unlatch the clamps.

Blake checked the cameras for the hundredth time. Downstairs, the security guards in their cozy little command room were watching the same looped feeds of Dutton’s lab Dana had set up hours ago. He knew the timing of their rounds, knew which guards just jiggled the occasional doorknob and which would swipe their access cards and look around the empty, after-hours rooms. He’d studied the dossiers Dana gathered for him over the last few weeks. The patrol team closest to their floor right now consisted of an ex-military type and a guy whose pre-DuttonTech police record was peppered with assault charges from bar fights. Ideally, Blake wouldn’t have to trade blows with either of them, but he believed in being prepared.

Waiting was killing him. He’d offered to smash the case when they first got here, just grab and go, but both Dana and Jo had shot him down. Something about delicately calibrated this and potentially volatile that. Of course, that described everything that DuttonTech put out these days, especially the volatile part. Blake had seen firsthand the damage the company’s products wrought. He’d wielded some of them himself, back in another life.

He’d never stop paying for that. Could never. But working for Archangel assuaged some of the guilt. He clenched his fists and tamped down the urge to find some other volatile thing and pitch it into anything that looked delicate.

Dana had six different data feeds scrolling past on her glasses’ left lens, telling her all DuttonTech systems were normal. She was jacked into the guard station’s audio, listening to two guards being wrong about the top five horror movies of all time. She’d set her little worm free on DuttonTech’s R&D servers — after, of course, she downloaded clean versions of the files to her own drive to peruse later. According to her own internal stopwatch (ONE one thousand, TWO one thousand) her team was right on schedule.

It was too bad they’d never be able to take credit for tonight, because damn, they were good. She imagined herself at some fancy Archangel cocktail party, regaling new cells with the story. Maybe she would embellish it, just a little, add in a tiny scuffle so Blake could have his crowning moment of awesome. Add in a few extra lasers for Jo to have to limbo under, and…

Click.

“Shit,” muttered Jo.

The lights in the lab went red.

There was an extra clamp. There was an extra freaking clamp, and it was so tiny and so obvious in hindsight, exactly where Jo would have put one if she wanted to protect her valuables from someone like herself. It hadn’t been on the blueprints Dana procured in one of her hacks, because of course it wasn’t. Dutton was notoriously paranoid. He’d either installed it himself, in secret, or had one of his lackeys do it and…what? Wiped their memory? Had them killed? Transferred them to a DuttonTech facility in Antarctica? Jo wouldn’t put any of that past him.

But that didn’t matter now. Their cover was blown. Dana was counting off the seconds until security got to them, her fingers flashing over her tablet’s screen. “We’re about to have company.”

Blake came and crouched beside Jo. He glanced at her hands, frozen on the prototype. “Kiddo, we’ve gotta run. Now. If you don’t have it free, you have to leave it.”

“I can’t.”

He frowned. “You stuck?”

“No.”

“Something gonna cut off your fingers if you move?”

“No.”

“What is it, then?”

Jo closed her eyes and pictured her sister’s face. “Leanne. She’s with the LRE in Caracas.”

Blake’s sharp inhale told her that he hadn’t known. Jo didn’t talk about Leanne much. He and Dana knew that Jo’s parents had been dissidents, murdered by their government for speaking out. They knew she and Leanne grew up in safe houses where they were never truly safe, and that Jo had turned to Archangel when she got old enough to be more than a charity case for the organization. That was about as much intel as Jo ever shared, because talking about Leanne made her worry. And worry had sharp, sharp teeth.

“You saw the emails Dana intercepted. Dutton’s going to sell this to the enemy, then that’s it for the resistance. This isn’t just about Leanne.”

Blake might let everyone else in Archangel think he was all muscle, minimal brains, but Jo knew better. He’d read the whole dossier, not just the guards’ vitals. “How long do you need?” His voice was deadly calm.

“However long you can buy me.”

“Get that thing out of there.” Then he was gone.

“We’re doing what now?” Dana gaped at Blake as he assessed the camera feeds on her tablet. She’d managed to lock the guards out of the elevators for the time being but couldn’t keep them out of the stairwells. One patrol had only been a few stories down.

He grunted as the patrol he was monitoring gained another landing. “We’re holding tight until Jo gets that damned thing free. What else can you do to keep them out of here?”

Dana peered around the lab. Until now, she hadn’t really let herself see everything. Sure, she knew the layout, and had a strong idea of what other projects DuttonTech’s brain trust were working on, but being here in meatspace? The temptation to start taking things apart would have distracted her from their mission. She’d kept her eyes firmly on her work and ignored the siren song of the shiny.

Now, though… She took it all in, performing a frantic inventory with a glance. “Get me a screwdriver,” she said, “and every inch of wire you can find.”

For a hasty build, it was impressive. Dana had to guess at what a quarter of the parts she found even were, but as she stared at the small mountain of electronics Blake dumped on the desk, the schematic came together in her head. The spliced wires and electrical tape meant it would never win any beauty pageants at the hackathon, but that didn’t matter.

As long as it did its job.

She dragged her cobbled-together creation out into the hall. It whined as it powered up; the highpitched tone of power gathering combined with a low, ominous hum. Dana listened a moment, until it sounded stable enough, and darted back inside. As Blake shoved a pair of desks across the doorway, Dana scuttled further into the lab and planted herself near Jo. The other woman nodded slightly, acknowledging her presence, but didn’t peel her eyes from the device inside the case.

“How are we looking?” Dana asked.

“There’s a wire on the last clamp. It’s what tripped the alarm. I’m trying to make sure it’s not going to fry the whole thing when I remove it.”

“Smart,” said Dana, then, “Oops, hang on, big noise.” On her tablet’s screen, the camera view showed two guards emerging from the stairwell. She counted (ONE one thousand, TWO one thousand, THREE) and yelled, “Blake, NOW!”

Across the lab, Blake slammed his fist down on the trigger Dana rigged. He dropped into a huddle, covering his ears.

The lab doors were, by necessity, prettied-up fire doors. Sure, deep-pocketed investors on a grand tour of DuttonTech could glance through the extra-thick glass to see scientists bustling about within, but if something exploded during a demo, those investors (and their wallets) would be safe. Now, those same doors muffled the worst of Dana’s sonic barrage. The pair of guards dropped to the ground, hands covering their ears as they writhed in pain.

The disruptor’s effects would only last for so long, though. Already, Dana could tell the pulses were losing their potency. “Thirty seconds, Jo. Then they’re back on their feet and super pissed.”

It was impossible. Jo held the wire pinched between her fingers, this hair-thin filament, and knew it was all for nothing.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Leanne, I’m sorry.

If she’d only taken one last look, she’d have spotted the trap. If she only had another five minutes, she could undo it. But time was well past up. Blake and Dana stood by the doors, their jaws set, their expressions grim. That awful thrumming pulse outside let out one last whump, and an eerie silence took its place.

If she was fast enough, faster than she’d ever been in her life, she could mitigate the damage. Not prevent it entirely, but… But enough.

Jo steadied the prototype with her left hand, readied the wire in her right.

She held her breath.

Pulled.

The spark traveled up her fingers, to her wrist, straight up to her elbow. The sharp tang of hot metal, melted plastic, and seared flesh filled the air. Had she taken the brunt of the jolt? She thought so but wouldn’t know until Dana got a look at the device later. When they were safe. Jo pulled the prototype free of its case and ignored the tingling in her fingertips. She joined Blake and Dana at the door. “Let’s go.”

In the hallway, the security guards were gaining their feet. Blake smiled.

The first one got up. He staggered as his balance betrayed him, but Blake wasn’t going to take that for granted. Guy like this? He had to fight after being pepper sprayed, tazed, or whatever the hell else they made Navy SEALs do. Sure, Dana’s device had done its damage, but Blake bet this guard was exaggerating its extent. It’s what he’d have done.

Three strides and Blake was in the ex-SEAL’s face. Sort of. The dude was a giant, six-and-half feet tall with a neck like a tree trunk. Blake only came up to his chest. His opponent swung, a short, sharp blow that would have knocked a weaker fighter flat. But Blake had training of his own. He deflected the jab, but as he’d suspected, the guard wasn’t as bad off as he’d pretended. More shots rained down, driving Blake backwards toward the lab.

A streak of red skittered down the hall toward him. Jo had liberated one of the lab’s fire extinguishers and shoved it his way. Blake danced out of the ex-SEAL’s reach and scooped it up. Only one shot at this. He swung it in a high haymaker arc, cranking the extinguisher’s heavy bottom into the ex-SEAL’s jaw. The big man went down in a graceless heap.

Blake looked back to where Dana and Jo huddled in the doorway and signaled them forward. Jo winced as she passed the first guard. Then she stopped short. “Uh. Blake?”

He thought the second guy was down for the count. It was the bar brawler, the one who should’ve been an easy takedown except…except he’d managed to unholster his sidearm and push himself to his feet. His arm wavered, but even if his aim was off, the hallway was narrow enough that he’d probably hit one of them.

“Easy, now,” said Blake. “Let’s all be calm.”

“Drop the extinguisher,” said the guard. “And you, put down the device.” He swung the gun toward Jo, and Blake felt his heart hit his stomach. That wasn’t a standard-issue piece. It was a DuttonTech special; destruction in Glock’s clothing. Blake had carried one of the previous generation himself. He’d seen what they could do, how the bullets tore up a body as they passed through.

“Okay.” Blake lowered the extinguisher, hoping to get the guard’s focus back on himself. “Look, we’re cooperating, see?”

“Oh, fuck that,” snarled Dana. She shoved past Blake, keeping to the other side of the hall from the guard — out of arm’s reach, but drawing his attention.

“I’ll shoot!” The guard whirled to follow her. His finger tensed on the trigger.

Blake barreled forward. He could never beat a bullet, but he had to try. The corridor seemed miles long, the air thickened like molasses. The guard might as well have been on the other side of the world, for all the good Blake could do. He saw the trigger pull back in agonizing detail, heard Jo screaming Dana’s name.

Dana just kept walking.

The gun didn’t fire.

Time started again, and Blake plowed into the guard at top speed. He drove him back and slammed his wrist against the wall until he dropped the weapon. Blake got a forearm across the guy’s neck and twisted to look at Dana. “What the hell?”

“Oh. Yeah.” She stopped fiddling with her eyepiece and came to stand beside him, still well out of the guard’s reach. She addressed the guard instead of Blake. “That thing that split your eardrums two minutes ago? I also had it resonating at the same frequency as the timing crystal in your shiny new gun. Probably cracked it. You shouldn’t pick it up again.” She gave Blake an apologetic grin. “I should have told you: I don’t make unitaskers. Learned it from a TV chef. Now will you knock him out, so we can go?”

Archangel paid damned well. Jo funneled most of her paychecks down to Leanne, helping to fund the revolution and keep her sister fed, clothed, and armed. With what was left, she bought tools to help with her craft. One of the first things she’d learned was, to be a good thief, you ought to have a good getaway car. So, she sunk a ridiculous amount of money into an old tank of a car and paid even more to have it tuned up, tricked out, and street legal. It had served her well so far, and now, with DuttonTech heavies chasing them through the city’s 3 A.M. streets, Jo prayed it’d get them home safe one more time.

It took 10 blocks for the black SUV to catch up to them. She’d figured a clean getaway was too much to ask, but Jo cursed the universe anyway. “Get ready,” she said, and jammed on the gas. Bullets hit the car’s frame like a sudden spate of rain. The back window spidered with cracks but held firm. She was glad she’d splurged on the bulletproofing.

The SUV sped up, drawing even with them. Jo stared ahead at the rain-slick street. The good thing about pulling off their heist so late at night was that no one drove in the business district at this hour. They had a good straightaway and, as she watched, all the lights turned green. In the rearview, Dana flashed her a thumbs-up.

Metal screamed, and the whole car shuddered as the SUV slammed into their side. Jo fought the wheel to keep them on the road. In the passenger seat, Blake swore as the door crunched inward.

PULL OVER, came a voice over the SUV’s bullhorn. RETURN WHAT YOU STOLE, AND WE’LL LET YOU GO.

Blake flipped them off.

Another sideswipe, and the car rode up on the curb. Jo swore and yanked them back onto the street, but not before she took out a row of newspaper boxes.

“You know what?” said Blake. “We’re risking our lives for this thing, I think we deserve a demo.” He pulled the prototype from the backpack Jo had shoved it in.

“Uhhhh.” Dana poked her head into the front seat. “Remember that talk we had about delicate and volatile?”

“She’s right. And I might have damaged it when I took it out of the case,” said Jo. “We don’t know what it’ll —”

But Blake was already pushing buttons, and the blank interface was responding to his touch. The options flashing by read stun, pulse, and stream, and a slider ran from low to high. Blake selected pulse and pushed the slider all the way up.

“Point it at them, not us!” Dana shrieked.

Blake turned the device and held the business end up to the window. Jo caught a glimpse of the SUV driver as he aimed. All the color drained out of the DuttonTech security woman’s face. She turned her wheel, disengaging the SUV from Jo’s car, but not soon enough. Blake slapped the automatic window button, and as soon as he could get the prototype’s nose through the gap, he fired.

THOOM.

They couldn’t see the pulse, but they felt it. Jo’s fillings buzzed. Every bone she’d ever broken ached like there was a storm overhead. The SUV flipped up and over, and for one terrible second, Jo could see what the pulse had done to the people inside, how none of their features were in the right places anymore. How everything had gone so very red. She’d be seeing that in her nightmares for years to come.

None of them said anything as they pulled away. In the rearview, Dana’s eyes were wide, her lips gone white. Blake let out a ragged sigh. The device’s interface blurred, cleared, then switched to one blinking red word:

Error.

The sun was coming up by the time they got back to their safehouse. Dana switched on the morning news while she examined the prototype. Not a word about their break-in at DuttonTech. Not a peep about a late-night car chase in the business district, nor any stories about a deadly crash. DuttonTech had covered it all up. Was that good for them, or bad?

Can’t worry about that just now. Let’s make sure we’re not going to explode first.

She handled the device gingerly, as if it might wake up and turn the three of them into human slag, but it turned out there wasn’t much chance of that. She could see the burn marks where Jo had pulled it from its kill switch. Once the casing came off, the insides were about as fried as she’d expected, even though Jo had taken some of the shock. “I don’t know how this even turned on in the car, let alone fired.”

“Is that it, then?” asked Jo. “All that work and it’s just…a hunk of metal?” She didn’t have to say her sister’s name for Dana to know she was thinking of Leanne, how she’d been counting on getting the prototype out intact to help her. Dana had made that connection long before she handed Jo and Blake their dossiers.

“Hey.” Dana set her tools aside. “First off, we’ve set DuttonTech back. They don’t have the physical prototype, and their IT group is going to have a miserable time sorting out the mess I uploaded to their servers before anyone there can even think about building another.”

Blake came in from the kitchen, carrying a tray with three coffee mugs and Jo’s pint of victory ice cream. He’d declared getting out alive a sufficient win, and Jo hadn’t argued the point. “She’s right, kiddo. We’re not even close to done. If Dana can’t get this thing up and running, someone in Archangel will know who can.”

“I have an idea about that.” Dana took her mug gratefully. She was bone tired but needed to stave off sleep as long as she could. There was too much to do. “The woman who taught me to do what I do, she studied alongside Dutton back in the day. If we can find her, I think she’ll be able to fill in a whole ton of gaps.”

Jo frowned. “‘If?’”

“No one’s heard from her for a while. She went off the grid, and we don’t know why. Last place she was spotted was Brussels.” Dana set the prototype aside and tapped her tablet awake. “Who’s up for a rescue mission?

The Trinity Continuum Core Rules and Trinity Continuum: Æon are available in print from Indie Press Revolution (core, Æon) or in PDF/print-on-demand from DriveThruRPG.

#Onyx Path Publishing

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arazialotis · 5 years

Text

Moto Grand Prix - Part 1

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: Around 3000

Warnings: swearing

Summary: A request from @acortez82 An idea I liked so much I decided to to a little series out of it. Jared invites Jensen to not just any motorcycle race but the biggest one of all. The final race of the grand prix happening in Valencia, Spain. A hot rival between seasoned veteran Suarez and new to circuits Esposio makes the excitement buzz in the air. Although knowing nothing about the sport, Jensen can’t help but root for the rookie. And just perhaps, he will leave Spain with more than just the love of the track.

Everything I write is beta’d by the wonderful and pristine @misguidedconqueress I couldn’t do it without her!

I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time. This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

Let the race begin!

----

As soon as the clapperboard snapped down, marking the end of filming and the start of winter break, Jensen raced to his trailer; bags already packed, wanting nothing more to run back home to the warm sunshine in Austin. While the rest of the cast and crew were celebrating with champagne, he was putting together the last bits of his travel details. A knock on the trailer door startled him from his thoughts and he went to answer, dreading anything that could keep him at work longer. Jared appeared on the other side, bundled up from the chill up yet still beaming with delight.

“I was hoping to catch you before you rushed off.” He laughed, his breath fogging in the air. Jensen nodded his head, directing him to come in. The wind slammed the door shut behind them. “Man, I am so sick of this weather.”

“You and me both, brother.” Jensen chuckled. “When I signed up to become an actor, I thought it’d be palm trees and beaches. Had I known they were going to ship us off to Canada, I might have thought twice. So uh, you doing anything fun with your time off?”

“Actually that is what I wanted to talk to you about.” Jared started. “But first let me give you an early Christmas gift.” He said, handing Jensen an envelope.

Jensen eyed him suspiciously before taking it from him. “With it still being over a month away, I’m afraid I can’t yet reciprocate the gesture.”

“Would you shut up and just open it.” Jared playfully ordered.

He ripped open the seal with his thumb and pulled out its contents. His eyes widened with shock as he tried to process what he was seeing. He looked at Jared for clarification but received nothing other than a smile. He held two tickets in his hand, one for an airline and the other for some type of sporting event.

Jared couldn’t contain his excitement any longer. “I scored tickets to the MotoGP!” “The what?” Jensen asked, still confused.

“Dude.” Jared chastised. “Grand Prix motorcycle racing. The last race of the year… In Valencia! To determine the winner. Esposio is so close to taking the lead…”

“Wait. Wait. Hold up. So you are taking me to Spain?” Jensen clarified.

“I’m taking you to Spain!” Jared exclaimed.

“Dude!” Jensen went in for a quick bro hug. “This is going to be awesome. God, how can I repay you?”

***

A few short weeks later, both Jensen and Jared had ventured to Spain. Seeing sights, experiencing local cuisine, and breathing in the glorious ocean air revived their spirits after months in the desolate Canadian winter. But the main event had yet to take place. Jared couldn’t keep his mouth shut the entire time. Naturally it caught Jensen up to speed. Apparently, many people were rooting for the racer named Esposio. It was his first tour and he was neck in neck with a long seasoned veteran of the tracks, Suarez. Esposio needed to place first to take the championship, and on top of that Suarez had the home track advantage.

Jared had made a vast understatement when he said he had scored seats. The VIP Lounge which they had access to was positioned right over the Ducati and Yamaha garages and just past the finish line, allowing them a great view of all the action. Jared was already schmoozing with other high rollers in the lounge but Jensen prefered to keep quiet, leaned up against the railing and watching the commotion in the pits. Part of him even wished he could be down there, working in the trenches, but knew he’d screw something up.

Anxiety and excitement heighted as the time for the race drew nearer and nearer. Jared pointed out Esposio, on a Ducati bike numbered 34, decked out in a grey and red uniform. The rider appeared nervous, looking back and forth between other drivers, checking and rechecking his bike’s mechanics. Jensen could understand why. From what Jared had explained, everything for him counted on this last race.

Before the crowd could even realize it, the race had begun. The bikes whizzed passed the stands; already heading into the first corner. Jensen gulped against a lump in his throat, realizing how close the bikes were to each other and how low they got at each turn, the drivers’ knees literally scraping the edge of the track. He kept a sharp eye on 34, dreadfully anticipating a crash at any moment as the bike weaved in and out, skillfully attempting to move closer to the lead.

The bikes drove out of sight, but the crowd could still make out the whirring of the engines. They grew distant, the seconds drawing out, the roar slowly building up until the bikes were visible again. A few made their way closer to the line and flew by once again. The crowd roared, Suarez already taking a place in the top three. Another large group sped past with Esposio caught in the middle. Finally a few stragglers joined the rest, and just like that the first lap was over.

Jensen felt a slap on his shoulder, which drew him from the trance.

“So first lap over, what do you think?” Jared boomed, energized from the action.

“Man. It is crazy. You think they’d let us test run after they are finished?” He playfully questioned.

Jared chuckled. “Dude, you would die before you even got to the first corner.”

“I know how to ride a bike.” Jensen rolled his eyes.

They watched the group take another corner, darting low to the ground. “Not like that.” Jared remarked.

“Not like that.” Jensen agreed.

The racers took each lap at incredible speed, the entire thing couldn’t last over an hour. He had trouble keeping track of the leaders and laps as most everything was conducted in Spanish. So instead he found himself keeping his eyes fixed on Esposio. He was sure tactics and strategy were involved but to what extent he had no idea. Esposio seemed to keep in third or fourth place a majority of the race, weaving in and out, darting dangerously in between other bikes. Jensen was simply amazed.

When it came down to the final two laps, a hush seemed to come over the crowd as everyone waited with anticipation to see if Esposio would be able to pull ahead. Even Jared’s bubbly expression was replaced by intense concentration. Almost as if Esposio had been holding back on the gas pedal, a burst of speed gave way taking him to second place.

The distance between first and second was noticeable and they were both going full speed, Esposio persistently chasing Suarez. The final lap sounded and Suarez quickly glanced behind. Both took the first curve tightly and little by little Esposio was gaining on him. Jensen was practically holding his breath.

Coming up on the fifth turn of the track, they were neck and neck, fighting for control of the inside corner. Suarez beat him to it, pulling a bit further ahead. Esposio had caught back up by the eigth curve, and again started the dance for control. Jensen watched on the screen as Suarez seemed to jolt his bike towards Esposio, almost as a threat. Esposio backed off, taking the outside of the curve, but then came speeding up on Suarez taking advantage at the ninth and tenth.

With only four more turns left, the crowd began to hold their breath with Jensen. Esposio held the lead but not by much. Both riders were so focused on the track ahead, yearning so badly for the win. With only a few more nail biting minutes left, the gap between Esposio and Suarez began to grow and grow as did the hope for victory. Finally, Esposio crossed the finish line and the crowd erupted with a roar. Esposio continued down the track throwing his hands up in the air. His hands came back down on the bike before popping a wheelie, gaining more cheers from the crowd.

As he made his way around the track once more for the victory lap, celebrating with the crowd, it was clear some Suarez fans were leaving the stands with sour faces. Esposio went to the Ducati pit and joined in dancing with the crew, jumping up into the coach’s arms and being lifted into the air.

During the time between the initial celebration and the podium, Jensen finally was able to part with the track to do a bit of schmoozing and grab some hors d'oeuvres. By the time he made his way back, Mayer had already took his place in third and Suarez on second - sporting a clenched jaw that raged with jealousy. As the announcer continued Jensen could barely translate, something about a new driver making history, Clelia Esposio, and the crowd erupted again as the racer made his way to stage.

The red and gray helmet came off with a flow of long hair shining in the sun and Jensen was struck. Time slowed as she made her way to the middle, accepting a medal and trophy. She kissed the announcer on the cheek and laughed before throwing both her hands up into the air with a yell. Time came back to speed as her team raided the podium with shaken up champagne bottles spraying her. She continued to the laugh and joined in the riot as Suarez grudgingly left the stage.

“So we coming back next year?” Jared asked Jay.

“You never told me Esposio was a girl.” He said breathless.

“Didn’t I?” Jared seemed confused. “I’m pretty sure I did. You interested?” He teased.

“Shut up.” Jensen shoved him with his elbow.

Jared chuckled. “Good, less competition for me.”

Jensen pleaded with any powers-that-be he’d be able to meet her.

***

The following morning, after a brisk morning bike ride, Jensen was heading back to his room for a quick shower before he planned to meet Jared for brunch. The hotel was classical romantic, filled with red stone floors and archways. Yellow lanterns hung from the ceiling and vibrant plants decorated the lobby. Sounds of birds echod along with the chatter of guests. Jensen made his way to the elevator, pushing for the doors to close.

“¡Espera!” A voice called before a hand then, an arm appeared; stopping the doors from closing.

As you made your way into the elevator, Jensen caught his breath. Despite the lack of helmet hair or a uniform, he recognized you immediately.

“Lo siento y gracias.” You spoke in your broken middle school level Spanish.

You pushed your button before looking to meet the stranger; both of you staring at each other, his soft green eyes invited you in. You looked away, blushing for the moment that lasted too long.

“Oh, um… No hablo Espanol.” Jensen stumbled.

“Oh.” You laughed, picking up on his accent. “Me neither, at least not well, but I am picking it back up little by little the more time I spend here.”

Both of you remained silent glancing at your feet, waiting for the elevator moving slowly up.

“So um…” Jensen dared to speak again. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but uh, you look very similar to Clelia Esposio.” He kicked himself for asking a question he often was asked by fans. He knew you could easily blow him off if you weren’t interested.

You smiled and bit your lip, but excitement won over and you widely grinned, the victory of yesterday still resonating with you. “Actually that is because… I am…”

“Wow.” Jensen sighed. “You had an amazing race yesterday. I was there, watching the entire time.” “Hopefully not rooting for Suarez, that pig. Oh, don’t tell anyone I said that. Could cause a huge PR Scandal.” You laughed still getting used to all the publicity.

Jensen clearly understood. “You have my word.” He sincerely promised.

The atmosphere was suddenly interrupted as the elevator unexpectedly jolted down and then up again. You yelped and clung to the sides. The doors partially opened showing a concrete wall and then shut again. The elevator halted, the lights went off with only a dim light flashing. Jensen came from the corner he held steady to, to test the doors but they refused to open.

“Jeez.” He complained, taking a phone corded to the wall. “Hola. Ah yes, um… the elevator.” He looked at you desperate. “I have no idea what he is saying.” He whispered.

You gritted your teeth. “I can try.” You took the phone from him. “Hola Senor. Si, el ascensor no trabajar. Si. Mas despacio, por favor… uh huh. Si. Que?! Tres horas?! No. Senor. Por favor. Si, si… okay. Gracias.” You hung up and looked hopelessly at Jensen. “They are aware of the problem and have already contacted a crew, but it could take up to three hours.” You sat down on the floor defeated.

Jensen’s stomach grumbled and he joined you on the floor. Though he was hungry, he couldn’t help but be excited to steal more of your time. After a few minutes of silence, he dared to start a conversation again.

“Sorry for the, uh.” He peeled the sweaty shirt from his chest. “Smell. Went bike riding this morning, the pedaling kind.”

“Oh no problem, I think you smell good.” A blush hit you after you realized what you said. “Sorry, that was weird. Its fine, it smells fine, I mean not horrible. Um… So, you been a fan of MotoGP long?” You nervously ran your hand through your hair, trying to change the topic.

“Yeah, I mean no. I actually just found out about it. This was my first race and I learned about everything this weekend from my friend Jared who bought the tickets.” He explained. “But I think I will probably be a fan from now on.”

“You from the states?” You asked.

“Yeah Texas originally, then moved to Cali. Now I spend most of my time between Vancouver and Austin.” He rambled.

“Those are like opposites.” You pointed two fingers at an imaginary map to visualize the distance. “Cause of work or family?”

“Work.” He briefly stated.

“And what do you do?” You asked.

“Uh, me and Jared are actors.” Jensen shook his head, almost embarrassed.

“Wow.” Your eyes lit up. “Anything I would know?”

He laughed. “Mainly a TV show called Supernatural.”

Your brows furrowed as you tried to recall if you had seen it. “So like… monsters, and ghosts?”

“Yeah. It’s about two brothers who save people and hunt things, the family…” He stopped himself. “Yeah, like vampires and werewolves and shit.” You stifled a giggle. “I guess I’ll have to check it out.”

“Oh, you don’t have to say that.” He waved off.

“No, I want to.” You promised. “So Jared and um.. What was your name again?” “Jensen.” He reached out his hand and shook yours. “Jensen Ackles.”

Your tongue peeked out between your teeth. “Is that like a stage name?”

Jensen’s shoulders shook as he silently laughed. “Nope, that’s my real name.”

“You can tell me.” You pushed. “Clelia Esposio is…” You pointed your finger at him very seriously. “But you can’t tell anyone.” Your demeanor eased. “My real name is Y/N Y/L/N. It’s weird, only family and a few friends know.”

“Well Y/N.” Your name sounded enticing rolling off his tongue. “It is very nice to officially meet you. But I promise my only name is Jensen.”

“Fine then.” You pretended to pout. “Keep your secrets.”

He chuckled. Though the minutes dragged on, you and Jensen filled up the time chatting, getting to know each other, talking travel, playing 20 questions and would you rather. And what was three hours, both of you wished was longer. The lights blinked back on and the elevator shook to life. Both you and Jensen stood up, steadying yourselves against the wall. The elevator was heading back down to the lobby.

“I guess this is it.” You stated.

“I can say without a doubt, would recommend 10 out of 10 getting stuck in this elevator.” He joked. “But perhaps it was only the company.”

You bit your lip. “Ah, but if it wasn’t posted to twitter, who's to say it happened at all.” You teased back.

Jensen thought about it, and gave it. “Actually, you’re right.” He took his phone out of his pocket. “Do you mind? To commemorate the moment.”

“Of course not.” You smiled.

You leaned in close to him, grinning widely as his lips held tightly together forming a slight smirk.

He looked down at it and smiled ear to ear. “Perfect.”

“Find a good filter.” You pleaded. “I don’t want to look ugly.”

Jensen scoffed. “That’s not possible.” You found heat rising to your cheeks yet again. “Say uh, are you and Jared in town tomorrow night still? Perhaps we could go for tapas and dancing.”

“Yeah.” Jensen agreed. “I’d love that.”

“Wonderful. Meet me tomorrow night at Casa Montana? 11?” You asked.

“That should work.” He believed.

“Let me know officially through your tweet.” You winked. Jensen was about to ask for your number when the doors being pried open silenced you both. When they finally busted open, your freedom in containment was broken by the assault of flashing cameras.

“Ms. Esposio. Ms. Esposio. Clelia!” A crowd of Spanish reporters called.

Hotel security escorted you through the lobby, evading the group to the best of their ability. Jensen was left alone and unnoticed except for a bell clerk suffering through an attempt at an English apology. Before you were brought to a guarded service hall, you turned around to glance at Jensen once more, subtly licking your lips and parting with a wink.

----

Tags

Forevers: @nanie5 @sea040561 @crushing83 @mogaruke @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @ginamsmith @jotink78 @blushingdean @sup3r-pott3r-lock3d @dancingalone21 @li-ssu @highonpastries @daddy-kink-confirmed @weewooweewoo1212 @carryonmyswansong @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @atc74 @superapplepie @coolness22 @cassieraider @winchesternco @adaliamalfoy @iwriteaboutdean @spnbaby-67 @cigsnpie @curedean @monkeymcpoopoo @adoptdontshoppets @maddiepants @onceuponathreetwoone

JensenxReader: @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish @jensen-gal @be-amaziing @mizzzpink @akshi8278 @beatlesobsessionlove @tiffanycaruso @mywillfulwinchester @boxywrites @aubreystilinski @its-not-a-tulpa @iamabeautifulperson18 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @gloriousartisanfancreator @sp8b8 @aomi-nabi

#jensen ackles #jensen and jared #jensen x reader #supernatural #SPN #SPN FANDOM #spn fanfiction #fan fiction #fan fiction series #Jared Padalecki #Jensen x You #jensen x y/n

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sparda3g · 6 years

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Attack on Titan Chapter 109 Review

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There’s a reason why we have role models in our time. They can be inspiring and encouraging. They can help a person or people to gain a future. The only downside is it doesn’t always mean good. One can inspire them to do great things; however, it’s their decision to choose a path. This series has done stories about inspiration in the past; this time, we see the effect from the characters we followed since the beginning. This may be a chapter with more developments in story and conflicts, but it’s one that is necessary to understand the deep foundation of its long-term effect. Leader is a fitting title.

Gabi and Falco are brought to the girl’s orphan home. I believe it’s not the same home where we last saw Historia, but regardless, she doesn’t appear here at all. Instead, it’s a story of two Marley kids; one tries to fit in and the other can’t stand to live on a soil of the devil. This is quite the challenging chapter for those who can’t stand Gabi’s attitude, but it is necessary if the ending truly has its merits.

For the most part, she is still under influence of Paradis Island citizens as demons while Falco is more open to others. Once they got inside the girl’s home, he does the talking for both. If Gabi were to talk, it’s an early game over for them. Falco may not be strong, but he is wise to think carefully. He thought of a fake name for both and a fake backstory on the spot. The way he speaks appears like a bad actor. If so, I would love to see it animated.

The Braus Family welcomes them to the farm. As you can guess, they are nice people, helping others like they are family. It was all nice and charming with the mother patting Gabi’s head like a nice kid, until Gabi knocks her hand violently. It really got awkward at the dining table; almost like they are about to scream, “Evil!” Falco reacts quickly to ease the mood and eats his breakfast with glee. Seriously, I believe he’s pulling a bad acting skill. I really want to see it animated. So everything seems back to normal. For now.

We have a greedy lady, Kiyomi, and a strange fellow, Darius, having a chat. Basically, he greets her to the Paradis Island, the most dangerous island in the world. He actually said that, which is funny. She congratulate them for their victory at Marley. But the real important note is the invention of an aircraft run by iceburst stone. It’s designed for the flattening the world plan. The next battle is shaping up to be more devastating than I thought.

Speaking of devastating, there’s an uproar by the Headquarter. All the introduced characters from the Uprising Arc are presence here. This is like a tribute to the anime since it’s the current arc. While we’re at it, let’s also put Hange into the mix, because there’s nothing like a good old reunion. Sadly, it’s a reunion of trust slowly being tarnished.

Once again, I feel bad for her to appear disloyal to her people. With the anime recalling the moment, it’s actually sad to see this. That’s a good timing on Isayama’s part. Everyone feels like Hange has changed her way when they are told about Eren as captive and such. She can only tell them that her method is to save Eldians. It’s not the best answer but she is clearly stressed out. The one who leaked out the info is the new recruits. That includes Floch.

Usually, the new batch of characters tend to be the next runner-up to die. It could still be the case, but they are adding something else to the table, starting with Floch. He’s making it difficult for Hange since he’s more on the freedom fighter side that believes domination is the key. He wants to cause a protest to free Eren. This ensue a heated debate between him and Hange and it’s interesting.

It’s mainly because no one is really right, even if one path is already decided. One way or another, Paradis Island is in a tough position. Either die by starvation or die by fighting. I like how the one panel has them sitting in their chair silently, indicating either no one wins the debate or Floch has the lead because of the path they’re already in. He pleads once more to release Eren, which is his closing argument. Although Hange was again1st his idea, she thought he might be right. It was technically her fault to follow this plot, but she won’t let the damage go any further. Therefore, she sends them to solitary confinement.

This means she won the confrontation, right? She has, in a sense of disagreeing his proposal. However, Floch got the last laugh by not only be glad to go to jail, but doing so for the humans of the walls. That makes him look like the hero and at the same time, mocks her. The sad part is the reminder of a moment from Uprising Arc, where that guy in misery warned her that the role is played in turns. In other words, she’s playing the role now. She is slowly losing her cool, but she can’t let it go nor get some sleep. Damn, I missed her eccentric personality.

If you recall a new female recruit, she is Luise and yes, she is the one who Mikasa saved in the past. Good eyes, fans. Those two have a chat at the cell and this is where the chapter’s title becomes clear. Luise is a big fan of hers ever since that day. I can’t confirm if she loves her in a romantic sense, especially how she hoped she was in the same cell as hers, but regardless, she is obviously influenced. That all said there’s something not right.

While Luise is all about fighting to survive, her ways of handling it is questionable. She thinks if she breaks out the cell, she will be excused because she fights for honor. I know other manga excuse it like nothing, but let’s be real. It doesn’t matter because she still stand by her choice, no regret. It gets a bit personal when she mentions Mikasa’s reasoning to join Survey Corps and it annoys her. The sad part is it feels like Mikasa is responsible for Luise’s upbringing; for better or worse. It tops it off with Luise saluting; a familiar imagery from the past. That right there says it all about inspiration.

The one part that I’m still wondering the purpose is when Mikasa has a sudden flashback to when her life was changed forever. It strongly emphasized the brutality of the moment when Eren killed that invader, including the close-up shot of his expression covered in blood. It’s rather eerie with Eren casually saying not to worry in a disturbing view. I don’t know the meaning behind it or rather, what’s going to follow up this scene. It’d probably be addressed when she and Armin confront Eren.

The segment with Pixis and Yelena is more of segue to something interesting that is saved for next time. That said I did enjoy the build towards it with Yelena just chilling and Pixis jotting down all the evidences that interested him. It’s no secret that she would love to speak with the Great Eren. That is actually noteworthy because it plays a part in here.

Apparently, she was caught in an act where she requested to be placed under supervision and the one who was placed in that position was Floch. That already tells you everything. Because of him, he took her to a residential area that was pretty close to Eren’s residential area. That’s where they believe she and Eren made contact. That’s not hard to argue against. With Pixis got her attention, they’re going to have a long talk and it could be interesting. It could answer a lot; at least that’s what I’m hoping for.

I got to say, Isayama does have strange yet funny sense of humor, considering the dark nature. Case in point, the cleaning up the barn scene. Gabi and Falco are normally cleaning when suddenly the horse was channeling the fans and take a bite of her head. She then slips and falls hard; it must be fans’ pleasing moment. I laughed at that horse. Hell I think it’s laughing as well. Don’t forget the classic bucket on the head. I like how Falco keeps screaming her name for every blunder. It’s pretty funny really.

It’s also funny how they take her devil calling as a joke. She’s like, “This is the work of the devil!” Falco is like, “Uh no…It’s just the horse.” Thankfully, he’s thinking straight to keep it calm, making the best out of the situation. He convinces her to stay by noting that Marley and the world will eventually arrive to attack, though she thought he hated Zeke for the betrayal. The one worrisome to keep in mind is Falco did screw up for Marley by sending Eren’s letter. If she learns about it, God knows what will happen next.

We then have an unusual children drama segment involving with Gabi, of course, and the girl. Surprisingly, I was pretty intrigued. I must have missed it, but the girl’s name is Kaya. Anyway, it was all calming during the break, nice and easy, until Kaya mentions the tragic event four years ago. That was the trigger for Gabi. Because of the lessons that was shoved into Marley’s children’s mind, she acts like Paradis Island is filled with murderers that asked for sympathy. It is like, “Yeah, well, you did sin first, so why you’re acting like the victim.” The funny part is Kaya knew those two are from Marley and it took them a couple of words to realize what she just said. Isayama and his comedy.

What’s also hilarious is how this was an earth-shattering news to them, wondering how she knows, only the explanation boils down to, “Falco said it out loud.” Oops. So it was his fault. Who knew? Falco laughs it off but Gabi tries to attack with a pitchfork in front of others. This would have been the best time to expose them, but Kaya lies and say she only got upset due to their friendship. Amazing how Kaya comes off more mature out of this feud, though that’s not a surprise. The only question is why.

She takes them on a tour to a village where she used to live four years ago. She explains her grim experience with a titan, when she was with her mother with legs problem. If you haven’t guessed it by now, she’s in fact the same girl who Sasha saved back in anime season 2. The long-term payoff strikes again; bless this series. Also, good call once again, fans. The way she tells her story is disturbing, especially the part about her mother’s slow, painful death. I know we have seen it before, but it doesn’t make it any less scary. She then proceed to ask them a tough question that makes this segment necessary: what did her mom do to deserve it?

I believe, and hopefully I’m right, this moment is where Gabi put everything on the table and lash out from the bottom of her heart of her feelings. I said this because her attitude and mindset must change right here, right now. Instead of having her endlessly complain about the devil crap, she must put in her place and this is the time. Right from the very start, she already lost the argument when she mentioned something that happened a thousand years ago. So what?

Okay, it’s not the best choice of words, but the thing is a person should only look what’s now and later on. If there’s anything to recite a past, it’s your own, that’s it. Don’t let another’s journey carry you. Everything she spouts has nothing to do with Laya’s mother, let alone her. This is why Gabi’s mental state is so corrupted. The most effective part is when Laya begins to respond back and every time she does, Gabi slowly loses her stand. Her argument is nothing but a reach for the sake being the righteous one.

Laya has the same expression throughout the chapter until she loses it here because of Gabi’s unconvincing answer. Her stand is far more reasonable than Gabi because not only she lost her mother, but it happened not so long ago. She saw it herself and Gabi could only reference a history that who knows is even true. She’s clearly defeated; couldn’t even say anything more. Falco gives her the answer and it’s all because of the military. Simple as that. He apologizes because he has a heart. It’s not his fault but I can understand why.

After all that breakdown, Laya continues to cover them. That’s nice and mature of her, but why. It’s because of Sasha. It’s rather awkward that she mentioned about her in front of Gabi because well, you know. She explains the story of how she was saved and ultimately, changed her life. Gabi actually calmly ask why she’s helping them, which I think it’s a good sign for her character to calm down for once. Her reply hits the theme perfectly; she want to become a good person, like that girl. In other words, Sasha was her role model; her leader.

This seems to be a defining moment for them, so they can learn and grow up outside of Marley. It’s definitely challenging to withstand Gabi, but she’s a kid and manipulated to the core, so I won’t fault her that much. Now, if she remain very similar after this, I don’t know how much we have to endure. Still, if this is changing point, I’ll be glad that it happened here.

This was a pretty intriguing chapter. It continued to build up each aspects at Paradis Island, including the new weapon that I’ll bet it will happen when Marley attacks. The whole conflict within Survey Corps continued to be interesting, not knowing where this is going, including Eren. There were noteworthy tidbits such as Mikasa’s memory that could lead to interesting developments. The whole segment with Gabi and Falco can be rough for many, but if its payoff begins to surface in the next chapter, then it’s well worth the endurance. The theme was well addressed with how one generation can effect another, for better or worse. It’s why “Leader” is the chapter’s title. Life goes on.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #chapter 109 #review #spoilers

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gibberingcultist · 4 years

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Return to the Dunwich Legacy

There is only one h in Dunwhich. There is only one h in Dunwhich. There is only one h in Dunwhich. . .

Designers: Matthew Newman, Adam Sadler, Brady Sadler Artists: Lots and lots! I’ll do my best to credit the imagery utilized. Cover image by Tomasz Jedruszek. Playtime: 60-120 minutes per scenario. BGG Weight: 4 / 5 (based on 1 vote. Pshh!) Mechanisms: Action Point Allowance System, Cooperative Play, Deck / Pool Building, Hand Management, Role Playing, Variable Player Powers

Our Investigators

What’s a smelly drifter doing teaming up with a famed astronomer? I have…no idea. I chose “Ashcan” Pete primarily because he was an investigator from the Dunwich expansion that I have yet to play. But also Ashcan seems pretty flexible with his trusty dog Duke which starts immediately in play. Duke can assist Ashcan Pete in either investigating and or attacking monsters while not taking up his crucial ally slot. Lets just hope nothing bad ever happens to Duke. Ashcan seems pretty flimsy without him. My GF chose or rather settled for Norman Withers (replacement) because he is the last Seeker Investigator that she has yet to play. She loves the Seeker Class. He will be able to cast some spells which will help us with combat and encounter deck mitigation perhaps. It also helps that both our investigators have high willpower in preparation for some barn-busting bastards that may or may not be coming to a country side near you.

Ashcan Pete allows for up to 5 level 0 cards from any other class. I went for all Guardian cards. Trusted to help boost Duke’s health and sanity, and in-turn Ashcan’s overall success. I also grabbed a few trusty weapons from the Guardian deck and most importantly Dynamite. The Forgotten Age has scarred me. Besides that, I love my Lucky‘s and my Resourceful‘s from the Survivor class.

It does make sense for Norman Withers to have connections with Dr. Henry Armitage. I’m going to imagine Ashcan to be like Mack from Cannery Row. And Norman would be Doc. Ashcan is going to work real hard to get Norman some frogs. But first Norman will need to lend Ashcan some gas money. . . and a car.

The House Always Wins

I thought one of the two primary purposes of the Return To boxes was to fix any errors or problems with the original scenarios and yet the creators didn’t think to fix that lack of instruction about criminal enemies losing their aloof keyword after Agenda 1a. We should have realized sooner but because the scenario didn’t specifically state that they lost the aloof keyword, we didn’t even think of it until we already moved onto Agenda 3a. There was no turning back three rounds. It wouldn’t have even been an issue had they become hostile sooner either. I was prepared to fight anything and everything by Agenda 2a. It’s just frustrating to do something wrong and so soon in the campaign. I would like to see the necessary reprinting of specific cards included in these Return To boxes. I suppose FFG has plans to sell us errata packs later or a RE-Return to…

Beyond that one miscommunication, The House Always Wins is a very thematic and enjoyable scenario. We are tasked by our old mentor Dr. Henry Armitage to seek out two of his colleagues, Francis Morgan and Warren Rice. Armitage is in distress about Warren Rice potentially being in danger and Armitage is unable to contact either individual. Francis Morgan will know where to find Warren so we decide to find Francis first in hopes that he will give us some sort of benefit later on. So off to Francis’ favorite casino and lounge.

One doesn’t only get clues through the conventional method of taking an investigation action but rather he/she needs to press their luck gambling, grease some wheels by purchasing drinks for patrons at the bar, tip the performers for some inside information, and or just plain cheat your way through. The aloof hunter pit-boss will follow you around the establishment making sure you aren’t putting your nose anywhere it doesn’t belong. I only wish I could have killed him myself for his victory point before allowing the Conglomeration of Spheres to devour him. The conglomeration moved through, consuming everything and anyone in it’s path a la The Blob. Using any melee weapons against the blob also devours the weapons in the process. Fun! In the end we did manage to knock Francis Morgan out of his trance and run out into the back alley before any serious harm was done. Overall a very fun scenario.

Extracurricular Activity

Turns out Dr. Henry Armitage has separation anxiety issues. It’s been only 5 hours since he has last seen Professor Rice and already he’s digging in the trash, having accidents, barking at the door. I wonder what kind of extracurricular activities were going on between these two. Anyway, now that we have Francis Morgan in tow. . . never mind, Francis didn’t help one bit. Extracurricular Activity was another incredibly enjoyable scenario, this time taking place late at night, at the Miskatonic University. Being that we chose to find Professor Rice second, he was no longer in his office. Where could he have gone? Meanwhile a strange biological experiment breaks out of the Chem labs, and starts making it’s way towards student housing. Both Ashcan and Norman rush to warn the kids and successfully manage to wake them before the foul experiment conducts a few experiments of it’s own on the sleeping students. But instead, I suppose it just slinks off into the woods. Who knows!

The need to locate and request the help of the night janitor to gain access to the offices was top notch. Immediately soon after finding and making friends with “Jazz” Mulligan, we are forced to make the decision between finding Professor Rice or saving the students while the clock quickly ticks down. Everything in this scenario worked at making you discard as many of your cards as possible. That in combination with the Beyond the Veil treachery card, a dire feeling of dread from running out of time is established. Beyond the Veil would almost certainly eliminate most investigators unless you have a ton of allies to help soak some of that damage. So between a quickly thinning deck and the ever creeping experiment, decisions need to be made. I hope we made the right one. In the end, Professor Rice is believed to be kidnapped. Armitage ends up joining our party as he can’t handle staying home alone any longer.

The Miskatonic Museum

Several months ago, Armitage and his colleagues stopped a rampaging horror from tearing through Dunwich, a backwater town several hours north and west of Arkham (read The Dunwich Horror for a better understanding of what all went down). Shortly after, a bestial citizen of Dunwich, named Wilbur Whateley recently made an attempt to steal the Latin translation of a book called The Necronomicon but died in the process. Armitage feels that this book, currently located at the Miskatonic Museum, will once again be the target for theft. So in order to protect it we are tasked with stealing it first. Makes total sense! Harold Walsted, curator of the museum, might also be able to help us. Upon breaking and entering into the museum, a monster called the Hunting Horror is also discovered to be perusing the exhibits long after visiting hours has ended. The Hunting Horror is a persistent winged snake creature that grows stronger the longer the scenario runs. We end up killing it three or four times over the course of the break-in, yet it manages to keep coming back from the void.

This scenario was just as fun as the other two played so far. We seem to be on a whirl-wind tour of some of Arkham’s notable locations. Gaining control of the night security guard was a god-send for my character as both Ashcan’s personal-weakness cards have double action resolutions. So having good old Adam Lynch with us helped save me many actions through-out the scenario. He even made it easier for us to know which exhibit halls we should or shouldn’t enter. Adam Lynch should get a raise. Harold Walsted was unfortunately ripped to shreds at some point during the night. We eventually gained access to the restricted hall, where we once again decimated the hunting horror and retrieved the cursed Necronomicon. The Hunting Horror is like a backwoods version of the Harbinger of Valusia.

We choose to keep the Necronomicon because destroying books, even evil ones, are against our nature. If evil did exist, I would want there to be some sort of record or compilation of the knowledge of evil rather than to live in ignorance of it. Not knowing doesn’t keep the evil from happening. So in direct opposition to that of HP Lovecraft’s written stories. Afterwards, we decide it’s best to lay low for a while after all that we have seen and done. So we catch the next train to Dunwich to continue our investigation into what else is possibly going down. I only wish Adam Lynch could have submitted vacation time to come with.

The Essex County Express

Zebulon Whateley and a Earl Sawyer meet us at the station. We are so exhausted from the events on the train that we fall asleep upon the drive to Dunwich and wake up naked in a stranger’s bed. Actually I don’t know if we were naked. Probably though. This is a horror game after all. Upon our waking, we find a mostly abandoned Dunwich to explore and to judge with great disdain. You know Blood on the Altar is going to be fun when you are instructed to assemble a stack of potential sacrifices. Investigators are tasked with exploring the streets and back alleys of Dunwich in search of missing citizens. Something strange is going down and we aren’t getting any warm welcomes from those still too present to not be missing (?). In our thorough search we find a hidden chamber (and the key for admittance) that was housing a massive grotesque abomination. We find this hidden chamber very quickly strangely enough. Armitage must have had some prior knowledge of its where-abouts from his previous gallivant through the scenic Dunwich countryside. We somehow make the determination that this abomination, a mass of flesh, meat, and bones is that of Silas Bishop, one of the missing townsfolk. Or perhaps many of the missing townsfolk. Not sure. We quickly resort to the Necronomicon and cast a restoration spell as if this wasn’t our first abomination rodeo. Someone seems to be turning people into mini Yog-Sothoths. Somehow in the process, Zebulon Whateley gets himself scarified to Yog-Sothoth. I do hate when that happens. Sorry friend.

Kidnapped was especially terrifying for me as Ashcan because if Duke had been kidnapped and sacrificed to Yog-Sothoth. . . I’m pretty sure Ashcan would have just given up on life and drank himself into an early grave. Or at least that’s the story I would make up in my head as I file his investigator card away and build a new deck for my new investigator.

Blood on the Altar

Undimensioned and Unseen

This is the most frustrating scenario in the history of scenarios. I refuse to believe anyone is able to kill all the Dunwich Horror’s that are running amok. Armitage and his buddies only had to deal with one within the story of The Dunwich Horror. Why do we have to deal with five of them! Seems a bit excessive don’t you think? I do appreciate the variety of them within the Return To campaign. Each horror has unique stats, conditions, and artwork. I did not realize the first time playing this campaign that these horrors are supposedly invisible and are only detectable through Armitage’s special dust concoction. Or the transferring of clues from specific map locations. I suppose that makes sense why we can’t damage them through normal means although I feel like dynamite would still do damage to anything, invisible or not. The title makes me think they are undimensioned as well. But diminsioned enough to destroy everything in their path

These massive horrors wander randomly from place to place, completely without purpose. Half the time you hope they don’t move into your location because it’s a terrible place to try to combat them. The other half of the time, you are finally ready to sink some damage into them, but now they moving away from you! It’s like herding cats. Giant hideous cats with lots of tentacles and mouths. So much of your time is spent either taking location-specific actions to draw them a particular way or you are taking the move action, one to three times in round, just to chase them down. Still a very thematic scenario. It’s just a scenario that you are meant to lose. We did what we could until eventually we just ran out of time.

Where Doom Awaits

Armitage & Friends™ speak of Sentinel Hill as a known site for dark rituals. Someone is making or calling these creatures into being, so we head there looking for anything out of the ordinary. The Dunwich townsfolk all seal their doors for the night, aware of something sinister is just on the horizon. The path up to the peak of sentinel Hill is long and winding. We get turned around quite a bit but eventually make our way to the peak where a Seth Bishop is conducting some sort of foul sorcery. Seth has managed to open up a rift in time and space, allowing for unknown horrors to escape through. We manage to appeal to Seth’s humanity by showing him what was left of Silas Bishop. Or perhaps it was the constellation pendant (elder sign?) that brought him back to reality. Anyway, his ritual was interrupted and we… enter the rift?! Yeah sure why not.

I enjoyed the struggle of getting up to the peak by exploring all the ascending and winding paths. Each path holding unknown dangers of losing time, resources or cards. My Ashcan was defeated by the infamous Beyond the Veil treachery card. But at least I died at the peak. Exactly how I imagine a real hike would be like, for me. Doom awaits at the peak it seems. I don’t quite follow all the different characters’ backgrounds and story lines but I do enjoy the thematic aspects of the Dunwich Legacy. I suppose the next step is to enter the gate and fight Yog-Sothoth itself.

Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in Yog-Sothoth. He knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again. He knows where They have trod earth’s fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as They tread.

Lost in Time and Space

We entered, we stumbled around different times and spaces, we got stumped on what to do with the small rift just beyond our reach at the Edge of the Universe. Fortunately the Necronomicon seemed to understand our desires and worked through us to recite the proper verbiage to close the rift. Or something like that happened. Not sure how we suddenly knew what to do to close it. Then we high-tailed it out of there all the while avoiding Yog-Sothoth’s unwanted gaze. Some Yithian creatures make their appearance. Less scholarly then those from the Forgotten Age campaign.

The Return To made the scenario slightly more challenging in that when forced to move via a treachery card’s effect, you are instead returned to the terrifying presence of Yog-Sothoth. Yog-Sothoth can not be dealt damage and every so often, it’ll strike out at you from Realms Beyond. So Yog-Sothoth seems to be very much like an Azathoth in that it seems to be a destroyer of worlds. So big and so beyond one’s comprehension that he’s not killable per say. Luckily it has been banished and locked outside the universe and now will remain so for the duration of this campaign.

In Summary

This has been a very enjoyable campaign. Having as many additional cards in your investigator deck would be key to surviving and doing well in this campaign. Most of the treacheries or scenario specific effects will force you to discard cards from your deck. This can be great if you have some weaknesses get discarded this way. Terrible if you have a Beyond the Veil hiding down there waiting for you to exhaust your deck. So you play knowing full well you only have a few rounds left before you are straight up killed. Building a good deck can feel somewhat less worthwhile considering half the time you will end up just discarding your nice upgraded cards from these treachery effects anyway. So there’s a higher chance you won’t even see the cards you put into your deck.

I felt like the story was a little lacking, or perhaps you have to understand what just took place in the Dunwich Horror (story) to best enjoy this narrative in this campaign. I would say the story doesn’t matter as much because the scenarios were fun to play. There’s the Miskatonic University, The Clover Club Casino, and the Miskatonic Museum. Then we take a treacherous journey on a midnight train to Dunwich where we explore the sodden streets and decrepit shanty town and uncover a series of sinister rituals to help Yog-Sothoth escape into our realm. Why anyone would ever want that is beyond me. Time for “Ashcan” Pete, Duke, and Norman Withers to retire.

Final Score (AVG): 4.375

#Arkham Horror LCG #h.p. lovecraft #Dunwich Legacy #the dunwich horror #return to

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neen-writes · 7 years

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Iron Legends: Reforged -- Chapter 16

Series: Fairy Tail

Characters: Gajeel, Levy, plus appearances from Natsu and Lucy.

Genre: Hurt/comfort, Sci-fi

Summary: The old lab had always been fuel for a good story, something you would half-heartedly joke about going to sometime. Some did, and when they came back they never talked about it again. The legends circulated, telling of ghosts, monsters, and anything else someone would be likely to conjure up about an abandoned building. But even with all the stories meant to keep everyone away, there are still those for whom the intrigue is too tempting.

Read the Reforged chapters on FFnet here, Ao3 here, and read the entire original story here!! AND find this fic’s soundtrack here!

Note: I did a lotttt of work completely rewriting this one and trying ti up the emotional tangibility. I hope it shows. Huuuuuge thanks to @spikerr for her suggestions with this chapter, and @bluuesparrow for beta reading (even if she burned her dinner xD). These chapters have been the MOST fun to work with and I honestly can’t wait to work on the next one when all the shit finally hits the fan. Enjoy!

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8 Ch. 9 Ch.10 Ch. 11 Ch. 12 Ch. 13 Ch. 14 Ch. 15

Every blow sings pain through him. They light up every nerve and somehow he only feels half of it. A deep pain aches within him but on the surface his sensations are dulled, like a limb that’s fallen asleep. At times he feels like he is watching the abuse from the outside, an agonized spectator to what he absolutely deserves. Gajeel watches the other subjects tear him apart piece by piece, and more than that he sees everything he thought he could have been… they could have been, torn apart. Every piece of him that’s ripped away, he hears the same two words boom through his thoughts: she’s dead.

Levy is dead.

No, that wasn’t quite right. She wasn’t dead. She was murdered. Levy died screaming and it was his fault.

Of course it was his fault. Had he stayed away from her, she would have never been drawn into this. None of this was a surprise, he always knew in some part of him that it would all come back to this. He should have known that Jose would return for him, that was inevitable from a man… no, a demon as voracious as he was. In any amount of time, at any time, Jose was bound to return.

But still, Gajeel couldn’t resist himself around her. He knew to keep his distance, but he had been so selfish that he convinced himself to go against his instincts. His desire for her presence and his craving for the peace she brought him clouded every logical thought he had and she paid the price for it.

His thoughts slowly turned to what-if’s. What if he hadn’t left her that night? What if he hadn’t let his fear and anger get the best of him? What if he had given her the benefit of the doubt? He imagined being there when Jose came for her. How easy it would have been to end everything there, kill him at the door. Absolutely destroy him for even trying to use her against him.

But he wasn’t there. He didn’t end it. He didn’t save her.

He lost everything.

Every waking moment reminds Gajeel of it. Every time he sees Jose’s face, he is reminded of it. It was the sole reason every time he was restrained and brought out for treatments that he welcomed them with empty compliance. Like fire the lacrima pulsed power through him, and each time he was forced into a change, he could feel more of himself being chipped away.

His thoughts became fuzzy after each treatment, and after both Rogue and Sting thoroughly defeated him, he could feel himself slipping away more. Gajeel was losing his hold on himself, and it was only a matter of time until they achieved the feral, mindless soldier they wanted, or until the treatments and injuries killed him. He welcomed either option.

Gajeel convinced himself, decided, that was what he deserved: to lose himself. In any capacity. This way, the memories of her screams that haunt him day and night become more muffled, and were a dull echo by the time he was thrown into the ring with Cobra.

At this point it felt the same as the other matches. The pain was still dulled, but this time there was a voice. Rogue and Sting didn’t speak. This one does. Gajeel couldn’t make out any of his words, and it was a muffled hum until he felt something yank in his chest. It was such an unfamiliar sensation that for a moment he felt awake, and for a split second, the words were clear, and something snapped.

Not her, you bastard! Gajeel felt everything, and above all, he felt absolute rage. He felt fire and bloodlust and a taste of the animal he’d come so close to so many times before. It had taken so much in the past to bring him there and this time… all it took was her. The mere mention of her. And Cobra had the misfortune of being the soul in front of him when the switch happened. Now nothing else mattered but killing his opponent. It was his only directive, his only instinct, and nothing but the downfall of his counterpart would stop him.

It felt like both forever and no time at all before he could feel the pulse of Cobra’s jugular beneath his iron palm, struggling to beat. And then, he lost his grip. The victory slipped from his hands for a split second and before his rage could surge again, the words that had been an echo, a whisper at the back of his thoughts, rang through as clear as day.

“She’s here, you idiot.”

Then, everything stops. He is a hurricane tamed, an unstoppable force meeting its immovable object. The fire in his veins dies out, the air leaves his lungs, the roar in his ears goes silent.

Levy.

As much as he worked to forget her, silence her memory, there she is. There is her blue hair and her warm eyes and her kind smile. She isn’t screaming, she isn’t dying; she’s holding her hand out to him and calling him back from the darkness. The memory of her calling his name is the cruelest fabrication of his thoughts, but still he can hear it so clearly.

She is here. She is alive?

Which, more than anything, meant she was in danger. That, for him, was redemption reincarnate. Soon enough, she was a rushing river flowing life back into his broken hull, making him whole again. It smashed the conditioned walls that had nearly completed sealing up who he was. The current swept up the shreds left of him and wove them back together in an embrace he thought he could only dream of.

He had no way of knowing if Erik was lying to him. That didn’t matter nearly as much as the prospect that she could truly be here. Gajeel wouldn’t dare take that chance of ignoring the snake.

In that same token, he knew Erik isn’t lying, Gajeel could feel it. He lifted his eyes to look to the grey glass panel that was a barrier between him and the spectators behind it.

She is alive.

Something in him stirred and he felt a burst of adrenaline. Like drums, his blood beat in his ears and Gajeel could feel himself returning with each thrum.

Levy is alive.

All at once, he knew exactly what he needed to do. Erik’s plea reached him loud and clear just before he felt the sting of the tranquilizers. Before darkness engulfed his sight, he resolved himself to his final task, and the trigger he knew he needed for it. I’m coming for you, shorty.

By the ninth day she was fully exhausted. Levy no longer felt like she was being given a tour of the exhibitions there. Instead the woman resolved herself quietly to the imprisonment that consisted entirely of her usefulness to the researcher. The little backup plan on standby, the trump card to be revealed at a moment’s notice to cripple her dragon once more. That was what she had been brought down to until she could think of something to get out of this. Cooperating, for now, was her best option. And her list of options was already short.

Still, Levy couldn’t tear her thoughts from the look he had given her at the end of Cobra’s match. But, really, how could she have even been sure he was looking at her? She spent all night thinking about that look, seeing those red eyes with more life in them than there had been during his whole time there. By morning, Levy hadn’t made up her mind what it meant, but chose to use it to fuel her hope. She needed something to cling to.

But even with that, there was little Levy could do, still not knowing even the general direction of an exit, or even having the ability to make a run for one if she did. The blunette wasn’t near healed yet and Jose had her under lock and key.

Jose remaining oblivious to “the look” was a blessing, however the air as she stood in the observation room again was still tense. In some ways, the scientist had gotten exactly what he was working for yesterday, but in the end still lost control of the situation. At this point, she felt if it went wrong again, she would be introduced to the new aspects of her role here.

Which lead Levy to think: what would happen if Jose revealed her to Gajeel again? Would Gajeel even recognize her at this point? It had been seven days now at their mercy, beaten again and again in the arena and subject to who even knew what kind of experiments in the background. He looked so dead inside, and as much as it broke her, she couldn’t be sure that her dragon was still there.

Jose said nothing to her, a heavy scowl sitting on his features. His demeanor, the one of pride and manipulation, seemed to have fallen away. The game had become a lot less fun for him now that things were not going his way, and it showed. Levy swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of the atmosphere.

Slowly, she moved her attention to the arena, waiting again for the competitors to appear. Levy tensed, and a dull ache resulted from her barely-healed shoulder. With a loud hiss the doors opened up on either side, and she waited for the men to enter.

Rogue appeared first, and Levy felt her stomach twist a little. She couldn’t help but wonder about the purpose in putting Rogue against Gajeel again. Perhaps because Gajeel had started to comply in some way, Jose felt putting him against someone with the desired conditioning level would even him out. It might have been a conditioning process in of itself. From the beginning, in everything she had read, these two were the ones that fit together for the trials. Rogue was the success, and Jose wanted desperately for Gajeel to become that.

The iron dragon finally stepped out of the dark, with far more composure to his stance than any of the days before. He walked with purpose, his back straight and his arms visibly tense against his metal restraints. He was alert, focused, and more importantly, present.

Levy glanced to Jose, who also appeared to notice the change in Gajeel’s stature. The newfound vigor was obvious, and from what she had read in his journals, Jose was more than familiar with it. And rightfully wary of it. Its resurgence was likely a source of either great uneasiness, or great frustration for the researcher. But it was still far too early to recognize if it was a sign of disobedience, or if it heralded the transition into the specimen he was looking for.

The doors closed noisily behind the men, and Gajeel shifted slowly on his feet as the cuffs released from his wrists. With a shrug of his shoulders and a barely audible growl, the iron scales manifested across his beaten flesh. The iron covered the bruises and scabs, and armored him readily for the fight ahead. His breaths were deep and even, focused, and his eyes never left Rogue. It was a heavy gaze that perturbed even the heavily conditioned male across from him. Something had changed; something he could not pinpoint. And being trapped in that room with him was more unsettling than it had been before.

The wait for the starting buzz was nearly suffocating. She couldn’t stop looking from Jose to Gajeel, feeling the anticipation of something growing in the silent space. Levy couldn’t shake it, and the anxiety was enough to make her sick.

The sound finally cut the air, and as much as she expected both of them to rush at the same time, it was only Rogue that advanced. It might have been preemptive measures to strike down whatever it was that he saw in front of him now, before Gajeel could reveal what it was that had already set the shadow-user on edge. His darkness stormed around him violently, and Gajeel merely opened himself up to the oncoming attack. With a heavy boom, Rogue shouldered Gajeel into the wall behind him, and a pained cough erupted from him.

With an outward swipe of his fist, he pushed Rogue back, but didn’t move nearly fast enough to land any sort of significant hit. All it did was establish space again, and Gajeel merely side-stepped in a way that his back now faced the left, a good amount of open space behind him. And then he opened his guard again, beckoning Rogue to him with a cock of his head. If Rogue didn’t know better, he might have thought he saw a smirk on his face, the flash of something wild and hungry in his eyes.

“What the hell is he doing?” Jose growled under his breath. This wasn’t the broken creature that had first stepped in here, but it also wasn’t the fighting machine he had witnessed against Rogue. It was an indescribable grey area that he had no use for.

“Come on,” Gajeel growled under his breath, and Rogue stared at him for a moment, before charging again. Once close enough, he cut a shadow-engulfed fist up at Gajeel’s chin, launching the iron dragon up to hit the ceiling with another booming impact. There was a roar of pain, and gravity had only barely started to bring him back down before Rogue was midair to meet him, twisted from a kick that sent Gajeel back down to the ground faster than the onlookers could see. He hit on his side with such force that he bounced and hit the wall for a second impact.

As Rogue dropped back down to the ground, he wasted no time with his shadow tendrils, reaching out to wrap around Gajeel’s ankles and throw the man over into another wall. The pain shot through him like before, and he could feel his chest tighten as the survival instincts began to rise in him. His focus shifted to the pain that set his senses ablaze, and could see the edges of his vision begin to blur. He was more aware of the pain now, his senses heightened since his last battle. He felt everything in full, and his instincts had something to take hold on again. Gajeel clenched his teeth, a growl building within him as he pulled himself up to his feet again. You’re losing, he thought to himself over and over. He tried to fixate on losing, and what would happen if he did. What would happen to her if he did. He felt that fire briefly with Cobra, and he needed to again: now.

If I lose, she doesn’t make it. If I lose, I fail her again. I can’t lose her again. I won’t be a tool. I won’t let him beat me. I need to survive, survive, survive...

The feral rage was welling up within him and as the adrenaline began to course he knew exactly where he was headed. His breaths quickened, his heart raced, and he felt the burning in his skull. Gajeel felt his grip on himself slipping as he hissed through his teeth. Rogue positioned to attack again, unaware of the slow shift, and with this final piece in place, Gajeel suddenly whirled to the reflective window, and bellowed his last resort.

“SAY SOMETHING!”

Levy reacted instinctively, reflexively, without a second thought or single regard for the pain that the jolt of motion brought within her. She moved so quickly that Jose didn’t even have a chance to react, and urgently pressed the same button she had seen Jose use multiple times before. The one she had memorized with half-baked plans for escape.

“GAJEEL!” her voice cried out, piercingly, over the intercom and echoed throughout the arena. Immediately following, agony erupted from her shoulder as Jose yanked her back by her injury, his slender fingers digging excruciatingly into her flesh.

“You stupid gi—!“ Jose couldn’t even finish his statement, a sudden roar filling room. He looked urgently to the arena below just in time to see Gajeel overcome Rogue. It was a blur, but when he stopped, he had Rogue pinned on his back to the floor by his neck. The iron dragon loomed over him, face like a hungry animal.

The second he heard her voice, before she even finished the first syllable of his name, his world burst back into life. Everything of his being became about her, and only one thing was on his mind: she’s here, she’s here, she’s here…

Gajeel’s eyes glossed over, glowing, and he arched his back to puff out his chest, tightening his hold on the shadow-user. The iron dragon inhaled sharply, and much to Rogue’s surprise, and Jose’s horror, the shadows were drawn into Gajeel’s maw. A tangible aura began to manifest around him, rolling off his darkening hide in waves, and Rogue went pale with the realization of what he was trying to do. He’d seen him do this once before, nearly killing everyone in the process.

“You can’t!” Rogue gasped in a moment of reason, memories flooding his thoughts of the day six years ago when this had happened before. Gajeel had no idea of what he had done then. It was an instinctive switch to stay alive, and it almost leveled the old facility. His surge of power had lasted only about five minutes, but it was enough time for him to set into motion the events that led them to this facility before he fled with what was left of his strength. Rogue felt a chill spread through him, remembering what Gajeel had looked like that day, and what he started to look like now.

In a sharp jerk backwards, Gajeel stumbled back off of Rogue towards the center of the room, a dark sheen over his iron scales as the shadows now swirled around him as well. He swayed steadily from side to side, a wide grin curled on his features that bared his fangs. His black mane moved with a phantom wind, rising around him in menace. A chuckle started to shake his chest and the dark vortex around him picked up speed, adding wild life to his black locks.

His head rolled back on his shoulder, focusing his darkened, tilted gaze on the observation window. The laughter jumped to a fever pitch and he lifted a single, dark finger to point in the direction of the unseen watchers. “Jose~!” Gajeel bellowed threateningly, just before noticing the compartments begin to open up along the walls of the arena.

Jose jolted into motion then, previously frozen in terrified awe. On his face he had what looked like a realization, like he had just connected two details in a distant memory. He pulled the girl to him, backing away from the window. Is this…?

Gajeel knew he had no time to waste now that he had set this in motion. He didn’t know how long he could hold this power, but all he knew was he felt the insane surge now. And he would use it.

He inhaled deeply, the shadows becoming violent, as his chest and cheeks puffed. Both fists clenched at his sides and he arched back, turning his attention directly up to one of the several ventilation shafts above them. A rumble, and then a high-pitched screech filled the air, as a blast of black and gold launched upward from Gajeel, striking the vent directly. A series of rapid crashes and booms immediately followed with a flash of flame, before all the lights cut out.

Levy barely had the time to see the blast as she was pulled, kicking and screaming, from the room, pain searing through her. “Stop your squirming and get moving!” Jose barked, voice shaking with panic. They emerged into halls that were lit only with the red pulses of the fire alarms, but Jose moved knowing exactly where to go. Of course he did. Every door previously sealed shut now sat wide open, and she could barely distinguish Jose’s muttering about generators failing. Something about damage elsewhere and a loss of backup power.

Both nearly lost their footing when another explosion rocked the facility, and a heat pressed at their backs as roofing and debris fell from above and littered the walkways. A roar followed closely behind the destruction, one that did not sound like Gajeel. Jose froze for a second, a choked, guttural sound escaping him over the chaos. Levy couldn’t tell for sure, but he looked paler than usual. The pause only lasted a moment before he jumped their pace, and she tried not to fully scream in pain, feeling the warmth of her reopened wound spread down her arm.

Jose turned a sharp corner, stopping in front of an elevator without thinking. “Damnit!” he hissed at the lifeless machine, tightening his grip on her to keep moving. Another boom came, this time from far under their feet, and Levy had an idea of the location, confirmed by the sharp curse from Jose. “That insolent--!” he shouted, barely able to finish a thought, “I will not have this happen again, I will not lose everything again!!” he bellowed, looking back to Levy quickly as they navigated the halls. “You! You are going to stop him!” he shouted, jabbing his finger at her.

That was the final straw to break her out of her agonized stupor. With a sharp rush of determination, Levy yanked suddenly enough from Jose to slip from his grasp. “The hell I am!” she stumbled backwards, eyes darting around her frantically for anything that could help her. A third explosion from below dropped more debris, and Jose followed her gaze to a dislodged piece of piping. Both lurched for the item, Levy doing her best to push past the pain and reach it first. Her good hand scrambled for the pipe, and she clumsily swept it upwards at the man as she fell onto her good side. The blow glanced off the side of his face, enough for him to lose his balance with a curse of pain.

Levy kicked away from him and scrambled to her feet, pipe in hand, and made a run for it, trying to get as far as she could before he was able to regain his bearings. The woman only knew how to get down to holding, and up to the infirmary, but none of this knowledge served her when there was no power for the elevators. The best she could do was run until she found stairs, or any other helpful landmark. But with the alarms blaring in her ears, light limited, and the building beginning to crumble around them, this was not something she had the luxury of taking time to figure out. Gajeel, where are you?!

She looked to her shoulder, seeing her shirt darkened to a color other than what she woke up with. Not good, she thought, staggering slightly on her feet. She thanked the heavens for her panic, and primarily, her adrenaline. It was likely the only reason she could move at all at this point.

Levy whipped around another corner, seeing another long open hall, identical to the last. She could have been going in circles for all she knew, a thought that brought a sense of dread with regards to the man she was trying to gain distance from. She had to bite back the defeated whimper that threatened to rise, and the burning in her eyes that could have been tears or smoke. She wasn’t sure.

The red alarm light dimmed, putting her into the momentary darkness. Either it was her panic or her heightened sense of awareness, but Levy could swear the darkness between the pulses lasted longer than before. For a moment, she thought maybe the power to the alarms might have died as well, but the blaring continued. She took a tentative step forward, the pounding of her blood in her ears urging her to move even if she couldn’t see.

Her breath hitched, a sharp pain spreading from her shoulder, stopping her again, because it was followed by a chill slithering up her spine. Suddenly, there was a heaviness in the air, and the hairs on her neck stood up, alerting her to another presence. Levy could feel the color drain from her face, either from her bleeding wound or the terror that roared through her. When the red light finally illuminated the path in front of her again, she found her instincts to be right on point.

Her lungs deflated in a defeated, desperate huff, grip tightening on her very useless weapon in comparison to who blocked her path. The whimper she had kept at bay earlier finally escaped as she stared into those dark eyes.

“Rogue…”

“Sir!” The panicked, sudden cry from Laharl brought Igneel’s attention up from the vehicle he was about to enter. Immediately after the shout, what sounded like the rumble of thunder followed.

Urgently, the chief looked to his lieutenant, then followed the direction of his point. A massive stack of black, acrid smoke rose from somewhere farther within Hargeon, where they had only arrived and begun to canvas not an hour ago. In one sense, it was a gift, as their search thus far had yielded no answers to the location of the new facility. In fact the locals were more likely to walk in the other direction, feigning frightened ignorance, than give them a moment of time for questioning. The smokestack was assuredly the marker for their destination.

On the other hand, their situation had just become far more dire. “Move it! I want all our available units and the Hargeon department converged on that spot, now! That’s our place, Laharl!” Igneel bellowed, entering his cruiser and slamming the door shut behind him. God damnit, I can’t have this fail after coming this far, I can’t fail them!

#gajevy #fanfiction #ftfanfics #fairy tail #iron legends

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misssophiachase · 7 years

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Angel of the Morning

So, I kind of did a similar theme on another drabble but didn't think I gave it the proper time and energy given it was during the craziness of 25 days of Klaroline. You can read it HERE if you’re interested. So because I loved the concept here is the similar premise but with a different twist on things. Plus the Bella Hadid/Weekend stuff gave me some inspiration.

Angel and Supermodel Caroline Forbes and Lead Singer Klaus Mikaelson come face-to-face at the Victoria Secret Fashion Show but this isn't the first time they've met.

Beauty and the Beat

Part 1: Angel of the Morning

Miami Beach, Florida - Present Day - December 2017

"This is Amber Daly reporting live from the Fontainebleau Hotel in Miami where anticipation is building backstage with only three hours until showtime. As you can see behind me some of the gorgeous Angels are already in hair and make-up, preparing for this evening."

"So, what do we have in store for this special twentieth Victoria Secret Fashion show, Amber? Given last year's extravaganza with guest performers Taylor Swift and Fallout Boy, there's a lot to live up to tonight."

"Not only do we have some of the most beautiful women and pieces of lingerie on show but this year British Band The Originals, will be rocking the catwalk. They are currently on a worldwide tour promoting their new album Blood Thirsty, which recently topped the charts in twenty-eight countries, including the US. If anyone is going to get this party started, it's definitely these guys."

"They've certainly made a name for themselves and not just for their music, Amber."

"Well, it's no secret these boys are all absolutely gorgeous, especially my favourite lead singer Klaus Mikaelson. Plus, we all know they like to party."

"And I'm sure tonight will be no different. It's certainly exciting knowing that our favourite angels will grace the catwalk including the stunning Caroline Forbes. Surely she's considered a veteran by now?"

"Maybe in modelling terms. This is her third show and I'm fairly certain it won't be her last given just how loved she is in this tight knit Victoria Secret Family."

"I suppose the big question and rather large elephant in the room is how you think she's going to go with her ex-boyfriend singing while she's modelling?"

"From what I know of these two they are both extremely professional. I guess we're just going to have to wait and see but every single camera will be on them tonight and everyone knows the camera doesn't lie."

"I can't wait, Amber. We'll check in with you later."

As the TV camera was finally lowered, Caroline had to fight the urge not to roll her eyes. Yes, it was all part of the theatrics on the day but every once and a while it would have been nice to get ready in peace.

She also would have preferred not to hear about Klaus bloody Mikaelson yet again. She knew he was performing but it kind of felt like the media were trying to rub her nose in that fact.

"You okay, roomie?" Bonnie asked, rubbing her arm comfortingly.

"I have a mind to stomp on his foot with my stiletto as I walk by and that's only the beginning," Katherine promised.

Caroline knew she was lucky to have her best friends and fellow angels at her side during this difficult time. The Victoria Secret Show had been hers and hers alone the past few years but now Klaus of all people had to come and ruin her parade.

Caroline had no intention of letting him get to her though. She just hoped that as she wiggled her hips seductively down that catwalk in her brief panties and bra set that he wished he'd never messed with her.

Dubrovnik, Croatia - 7 years ago - July

"God save our gracious Queen. Long live our noble Queen. God save the Queen. Send her victorious, happy and glorious. Long to reign over us, God save the Queen."

Caroline awoke with a start, the strains of the British National Anthem wafting into her room at this ungodly hour. Yes, she was travelling across Europe for some fun and excitement but being woken up by some clearly drunken singers, no matter their raw talent, wasn't too pleasant.

She groaned, placing her pillow over her head, trying to block it out but it was clear after ten minutes that the noise wasn't going to abate anytime soon. She heard her roommate and best friend Katherine groan in frustration nearby. At least Caroline wasn't the only one to lose some sleep tonight.

"What the hell is that?"

"It's supposedly singing Katherine," she murmured.

"Someone thinks they're a comedian," she muttered into her pillow. "Caroline, make it stop!"

"And why is it my job to do that?" Caroline baulked, sitting up and glancing at her friend on the neighbouring bed.

After High School ended they decided to travel Europe for the summer, desperate to see everything after being stuck in little, old Mystic Falls all these years. Their experiences soaking up diverse cultures had been phenomenal so far but tonight's interruption wasn't so welcome, especially given they were due to depart for Prague in a few hours.

"You're just such a good organiser, Care," she mumbled, her eyes still firmly closed.

"That I might be but crowd control isn't my specialty," she insisted, pushing away the covers and walking towards the window to scope out the party crashers.

She separated the blinds taking in the activity at the pool below. Four males wading waist deep in the water were clinking beer glasses and singing along loudly still, a few bikini clad girls were swimming nearby. Apparently some people enjoyed their entertainment, go figure.

"Oh come on, you're the Sheriff's daughter. You have that whole reprimanding tone down."

"I am not that bad," she scoffed, finally averting her gaze from the window.

"I hate to break it to you BFF but yes you are," she said. "If anyone is going to listen to your nagging, it's going to be those idiots."

Caroline wasn't quite sure whether to take that as a compliment or not. However she barrelled onto the balcony, momentarily forgetting that she was wearing a fitted singlet and the briefest pair of shorts. Caroline decided to blame that on the sticky, summer weather and her forced insomnia.

"Could you keep it down?" She yelled, making them all look upwards.

Caroline was trying to ignore just how gorgeous the curly, haired blonde looked as he inspected her closely, his blue eyes flickering over her body slowly. She hadn't noticed those crimson lips or those dimples earlier but Caroline had to admit they were throwing her off balance slightly.

"Instead of yelling like a banshee, how about you come down and join us instead, darling?" A cocky brunette replied.

Caroline moved her gaze between them, realising all of the guys were extremely good looking, Caroline had no intention of giving into their charms though.

"I have much better things to do than listen to bad singing at this time of the morning."

"Like what?" The blonde answered, those lips curving into a knowing smile as he regarded her lazily.

"Sleeping," she growled, trying to ignore his hungry looks. "So if you'll excuse me."

As she attempted to make her way inside, Caroline heard the strum of a guitar and a loud call from below."Oh, I know why she's a little upset," he yelled. "We're singing the wrong song, boys."

As Caroline closed the door she couldn't mistake the opening strains of the Star Spangled Banner from below. It was hard not to smile as she laid back in her bed. Caroline had never heard it sung so well, not that she would ever tell them that.

On FF HERE

#beauty and a beat #angel of the morning #misssophiachase #klaroline drabbles

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vamonumentlandscape · 3 years

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Rustburg: Rosenwald School and Brookneal: Patrick Henry’s Red Hill

Rustburg Rosenwald School

As we were on the way to Patrick Henry’s Red Hill, Dr. Sherayko suggested we make a quick pit stop at the Rosenwald School being restored in Rustburg. According to SavingPlaces.com, there were over five thousand Rosenwald buildings, but now only 10-12% of them survive. The schools were built in the early 20th century by Booker T. Washington (African American educator) and Julius Rosenwald (President of Sears Roebuck) to educate and advance Black education across the south. With Jim Crow Laws, Black Codes, and systemic racism across the south, finding academic education for African Americans was next to impossible. Washington and Rosenwald put forth the first large-scale effort to bring widespread education for African Americans.

None of us expected more than a drive-by to see the progress undertaken thus far at the old Campbell County Training School. We were pleasantly surprised when we saw a full crew out and very welcoming to us curious visitors. We got the chance to meet Lorenzo Megginson, descendant of Lynchburg’s Megginson Rosenwald School founder, who oversees the site's rehabilitation. He was kind in allowing us into all of the buildings for a closer look and to give us a personal tour. The Rustburg school was one of the largest Rosenwald Schools ever built. When it was at its height, the campus had six buildings. Dormitories for teachers and students and another classroom space for home economics were victims of fire or just were torn down by the county. Thankfully, four buildings remain and we were able to see them. The auditorium and gym space, the four room high school, another classroom space, and the two room elementary are currently being renovated. The spaces were owned by Campbell County Schools for a while and were used as offices and storage. Megginson walked us through each building to provide wonderful information about what was and what is to come.

First we got a look inside the auditorium space. In the large room with vaulted ceilings, there was a stage and what seemed to be where a basketball goal once hung from the ceiling. Megginson explained to us that this space was a multipurpose room used as a classroom, cafeteria, gym, auditorium and much more when it was a part of the Rosenwald system. Later when it was owned by the school system, it was an office building. You can still see on the unfinished floors where cubicles once were. The best part of this space were the wooden floors that they were able to save. They are just a reminder of how the past is not so far from us. This space will be a community center for local organizations to use. Community is very important to Megginson - just as important as saving the complex’s history.

After looking in the most newly renovated auditorium, we walked into what was the four room high school. From where the space was briefly used after being a Rosenwald School in the 1960’s and 1970’s, there was wood paneling everywhere and the faint smell of cigarette smoke. It was truly a blast from the past. Megginson told us this space will be transformed into a museum and education center. What was most exciting and what we must keep a secret about are some of the wonderful artifacts that will be displayed in the old school. We cannot wait to be able to come back to visit this space and see the changes that have been made.

The last two stops were in the other building. Within this space, additional classrooms were renovated to house administrative offices of the Campbell County Training School Complex (CCTSC). Sadly, an electrical fire broke out after finishing the renovations and part of the building is in disrepair. Thankfully, the team was able to save most of the important documents and files. Part of the building still stands renovated and acts as an office and visitor center. We hope that it will also be fixed up again so the deserving staff can have a space of their own. We walked to our last stop on our impromptu tour, the elementary school. This is the most untouched building on the campus. The original green paint, pencil sharpener, and furniture are still there. It was so incredible to be so close to such rich history. This space will be a continuation of the museum and education center. As of now, it is acting as a storage space while the other buildings are being renovated, but it will be brought back to glory someday.

Meeting Lorenzo Megginson and being able to have a personal tour with him was a miracle. We were truly in the right place at the right time. We cannot thank him enough, or the extremely kind staffers, for allowing us to get an intimate look at the CCTSC. If you would like to learn more about the CCTSC, head to their website at: https://campbellcountytrainingschoolcomplex.org/ . We all would strongly encourage you to place a donation to the complex if you have the means. This wonderful organization seeks to provide a community centered education complex for all to enjoy. We cannot wait to be back in the future when it opens to the public!

Campbell County Confederate Monument (Please see next post for more pictures)

Another out of the blue stop on the way to Red Hill was the Campbell County Confederate Army Statue. Dedicated on September 17, 2016, the Lost Cause narrative is dripping from each side of the obelisk.

Fate denied them victory but crowned them with glorious immortality

This monument is dedicated to commemorate the courage and patriotism of the men from Campbell County who served honorably in the Confederate Army

Proved themselves worthy of the cause they were defending

The monument was erected by the Sons of the Confederate Veterans and, according to them, is in memory of “those who fought in the war of northern aggression.” The donors are all listed proudly on this very problematic monument. For the research team, this is one of the most problematic sites we have encountered. In a rural neighborhood, on private property, Confederate flags flying high, and engulfed in the Lost Cause narrative, this monument is one to question.

Red Hill - Brookneal

After our short stop at the Rosenwald School in Rustburg and a very random Confederate monument on private property, we commuted for about an hour to Brookneal to Patrick Henry’s Red Hill. As the last home and resting place of one of the founding fathers, the site presents Henry’s story through interpretation at the reconstructed main house, kitchen, and gardens. Henry’s law office has mostly remained the same as it is the only building to have survived a fire in 1919. The piece that we sought to see the most at Red Hill was the isolated cemetery utilized for African-American burials, which sits about half of a mile from the visitor’s center. It served as a reminder to us that Red Hill has a history tied to the enslavement of human beings, just like Thomas Jefferson's Monticello. Though he owned slaves, our discussions with staff members at the visitor center depicted a fraught relationship between Henry and the institution. He supported legislation in 1782 during his governorship to allow Virginia slaveholders the ability to free their enslaved persons. As a Christian man, Henry stated in a 1773 letter that “a time will come when an opportunity will be offered to abolish this lamentable evil.” Though his rhetoric does not excuse his participation in the abhorrent institution of slavery, it does set Henry apart from men like Thomas Jefferson, who never expressed similar views. He was a moral man who played an integral part in the fight for American independence.

Red Hill is worth the trip for Virginians. A man of his time, Patrick Henry was a slave owner but was on the right path until he died in 1799. Though some remodels and additions were made to the modest site by John Henry, Patrick’s son, the grounds are interpreted as authentically as possible to the time of its most notable owner. As evidenced by the newly placed signs surrounded by dug-up red clay and our conversations with knowledgeable staff, interpretation covers the lives of the enslaved persons at the Red Hill plantation better than it ever has. We even learned that the orientation video shown in the visitor center is currently being edited to show the presence of enslaved persons in its narrative. Visitors need to know of the hardships endured by the enslaved throughout the life of Patrick Henry, as well as after his death. Many parents were separated from their young children after being sold to other slave owners. If historical interpretation at other similar sites follows the example of Red Hill, society will be more likely to understand the context of the past. We can then address the current issues of inequities that lay before us.

#confederate #patrick henry #red hill #rustburg #rosenwald schools #campbell county #monument

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mastcomm · 4 years

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Rafael Nadal Is Closing In on His 20th Slam. He Isn’t Counting.

MELBOURNE, Australia — One more major title, just one, and Rafael Nadal will share the most prestigious record in modern men’s tennis with Roger Federer.

But Nadal is panther-quick to assure you that he is not ripping forehands in practice or drifting off to sleep with “No. 20, No. 20” ringing in his head.

The chase obsesses tennis fans — this three-way tussle to finish with the most Grand Slam singles titles in the history of the men’s game.

With the Australian Open well underway, Federer has 20, Nadal has 19 and Novak Djokovic has 16.

All are comfortably into the third round, but when Nadal sat down for an interview at his Melbourne hotel this week, he insisted that he had never viewed it as a chase.

For him, the number by his name is simply a byproduct of his relentless pursuit of the best effort within himself.

“I am happy with who I am,” he said, tapping his barrel chest with an index finger. “I was very happy with 16, very happy with 17, very happy with 18, very happy with 19, and if one day I get to 20, I will be very happy, too. But my level of happiness is not going to change because of this. Do I make myself clear?”

It is as if Nadal is trying to build fences around the achievement before anyone else has a chance to start putting up anything resembling barbed wire.

“Getting to 20 does not make me incredible,” he said. “And if I get to 22, I am not more incredible. I see my life as something more normal.”

Would it be different if Nadal were chasing a record from another era instead of his own? When Federer equaled Pete Sampras’s record of 14 in 2009, Sampras was retired. When Sampras equaled Roy Emerson’s record of 12 in 1999, Emerson was long retired.

Nadal is on the verge of equaling Federer, his longtime tennis yang who has become a very friendly rival. They are headed for Cape Town, South Africa, to play a charity exhibition together the week after the Australian Open.

“I think the good thing is to appreciate being part of a story that has never happened before,” he said. “You never had so many matches between three players like this: Novak against me, me against Federer, Novak against Federer. So many finals and semifinals and important matches between all of us, and that is a story that will remain in the history of our sport.”

Federer is 38; Nadal, 33; Djokovic, 32. All would once have been considered past their tennis primes at those ages. “I wouldn’t have thought I’d still be here,” Nadal said.

But they have inspired one another, and as the 2020s begin, Nadal is ranked No. 1, Djokovic, No. 2; and Federer, No. 3.

Their collective staying power explains why no active player in his 20s has won a major singles title, which is unprecedented in the Open era or any era.

“I don’t hear much talk about the Grand Slam record in the locker room,” said the American veteran Sam Querrey. “At least the guys I talk with a lot, the Americans, we never talk about it, probably because none of us have even one. It’s not relatable. Actually it’s not relatable to someone who has three, like Stan Wawrinka. He’s a star. They are superstars.”

Djokovic and Federer are in the bottom half of the draw in Melbourne, but danger still lurks in the top half for Nadal.

If he beats his Spanish compatriot Pablo Carreño Busta in the third round, he will face either Karen Khachanov or Nick Kyrgios.

Kyrgios, who relishes getting under Nadal’s skin and once upset him at Wimbledon, actually mimicked Nadal’s service motion during his second-round victory over Gilles Simon on Thursday.

“Honestly I don’t care at all,” Nadal said of Kyrgios’s stunt after defeating Federico Delbonis 6-3, 7-6 (4), 6-1 on Thursday night. “If it was funny, good.”

But Kyrgios, for a change, has looked more inspired than conflicted in his home nation.

Inspired is, of course, Nadal’s default mode. He practices like he plays: at full in-the-moment throttle, even if he practices and plays less often now to preserve his energy and fragile knees. Last April, he experienced a rare motivational crisis, brought on by his latest round of injuries, that had him muttering “I want to get out of here” in the midst of a victory over Leonardo Mayer in Barcelona.

But he has rebounded convincingly and said he still plays for the same reasons — love of the game and the fight, and the desire to achieve personal goals for himself and those close to him. He is newly married to longtime girlfriend Maria Francisca Perello and, despite his fiercely protective attitude toward his private life, is speaking openly about their desire to start a family.

The Australian Open remains the major tournament he has won the least. His only title came in 2009, when he reduced Federer to tears after a five-set victory in the final.

He has won 12 French Opens on the red clay in Paris, two Wimbledons on grass and four United States Opens on an acrylic hardcourt surface quite similar to the one at Melbourne Park. But he has often stumbled at the final hurdle here, losing four finals, the most recent one to Djokovic last year in a 6-3, 6-2, 6-3 rout.

Djokovic, who has beaten Nadal nine straight times on hardcourts and won the Australian Open a record seven times, remains the rightful favorite again. If Nadal cannot get to 20 in Melbourne, he will, if he remains healthy, have a fine shot of getting there in Paris in June.

Federer, five years older, has had ample time to see this coming, but it is also worth remembering that the Grand Slam career record is a relatively contemporary obsession. Until Open tennis began in 1968, many of the greatest players, including Jack Kramer and Pancho Gonzalez, quickly turned professional, which made them ineligible for Grand Slam events. Rod Laver, who twice won all four Grand Slam events in a single year, has said he paid scant attention to his total. In the 1970s and 1980s, the game’s greats regularly skipped the long trip to Australia.

Even a more recent player, Andre Agassi, skipped the tournament for eight straight years at the beginning of his career. But by the mid-1990s, with prize money and crowds increasing at the Australian Open’s new venue at Melbourne Park, the stars had begun making the trek as a rule.

So it has remained, and the Grand Slam events and the Grand Slam record have become an increasing focus.

Nadal understands the trend but resists it.

“I cannot evaluate my whole career on four tournaments a year,” he said. “Tennis is much more than that. I try to value everything. If I go to Acapulco, I’m happy playing Acapulco, and if I win there, I’m incredibly happy. Same in Barcelona.”

For those who keep track, and not many do, Federer has won 103 tour titles, Nadal has won 84 and Djokovic has won 77.

Still, the numbers that resonate are 20, 19 and 16.

“I am happy to be part of this from the inside, but if I end up finishing third, I don’t think I’m going to be less happy in the future,” Nadal said. “And if I end up finishing first, I don’t think I’m going to be any more happy in the future, either.”

from WordPress https://mastcomm.com/sport/rafael-nadal-is-closing-in-on-his-20th-slam-he-isnt-counting/

#Sport

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