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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

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Beyond the Blood Tie - Chapter Eighteen.

Get ready to love me... ;)

Previous Chapters - One Two, Part One Part Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen

Words - 6,260

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

Angel's POV

"You can't drop a bombshell like that and then casually say, 'oh that's not why I'm here.' Jesus fucking Christ, Angel! I have to keep it to myself too, because it'll fuck with Edie's head even more if she knows that you love her. You motherfucker, dropping that on me," Aileen cries, waving her arm around before dropping it into her lap. "Really, I could have done without knowing that if it isn't the reason you want to speak to me." Yeah, she’s pissed. As I expected.

"I told you that so you wouldn't think I'm an asshole, one who is dicking her around, to use your chosen words. I know full well I should leave her alone, I just struggle at times, because of the very fact I love her," I admit.

"You're a vampire! Grow a pair," she yells, before drawing fiercely on her cigarette.

"Edie is my weakness," I confess, looking to my left at her. "Anyway, we're digressing. The reason I'm here is just to see how she is." I then add honestly.

"You should know, what with the blood tie," she snorts.

"No, it's wearing off with me much more quickly. It always does with the vampire, because it gets diluted the more different blood we feed on. I still pick up on her a little, but that's mostly when I'm near, and those moments are never for very long," I explain to her. That's only half true, I'll confide in you. I can pick up on her if I really focus, but it's begun to drive me mad.

"She's quiet, not her usual, talkative self. She'll bounce back though, she always does. You just need to keep your distance.” True, I suppose. If Edie is going to get over me, I need to stop following her around.

"Is she happy with that girl she's met?" I ask, unable to stop myself. Whoever she is, I want to break her damned neck. She has what I want, and I don't like that. Seething jealousy doesn't sit well with me at all.

She scratches her head, rubbing her hand over her face with a sigh. "To be honest, not really, because Katya has one problem. She isn't you. I probably shouldn't have said that, but it's true. There you go.”

"Pity I can't do anything about it," I lament. "Look after her for me. I know if anyone is going to, you will." I add to her as I stand.

"I will, goes without saying. And you stay away, you hear?" Nodding, I move out of her back yard rapidly, straight back to my own home, even though I have an urge to go and sit close to Edie's house, see if I can see her. I want to see her, but I know I have to stop. Aileen was right, it has to go both ways. She doesn't get to see me, so I shouldn't get to see her either. I miss her so fucking much, though. I enjoy her company greatly. I like her inquisitiveness, and miss her picking my brain with her endless questions. I just miss her being close by above all. Kissing her, that's another thing I crave more than you could imagine, not even the urge to have sex with her surpasses that right now. I know it would if I did ever, could ever kiss Edie again. Someone else gets that pleasure now though, that girl Katya.

She isn't happy with her though, because she isn't me, as the one-armed lady with the large glasses just told me. I wish I could be the one who makes her happy. Actually, I suspect that I am. I just can't physically be around her to do it. I'll get through this, eventually. I know I will. It'll be a test of my vampirism, to harden my heart to the woman I love when truly, I don’t want to. I thought she'd just forget about me and move on with her life, and in a way she has. What Aileen told me tonight though, it confirmed to me she hasn't fully forgotten me, just like I cannot forget her. I wish I could. I wish I could flip a switch in my brain and not have a clue who Edie Bailey is.

Work takes my mind off her, especially with the piece I'm doing at the moment. The guy I'm working on is having what will be a full bodysuit done by me, with lots of intricate cover ups of his old tattoos, everything in Polynesian tribal theme since that's his parents place of origin. The only thing I'm not to cover is a portrait of a woman on his shoulder which he wants me to go over again to make it brighter, and add her name in loopy script underneath.

"So, just to make sure I've got the spelling right before I begin adding her name," I say to my client, showing him the line drawing.

"Yes, perfect man, stick it on," he replies with a smile and a nod before I wheel myself back behind him again and position it on his shoulder.

"So, who is Anolani then? Your wife, I take it? She's very beautiful, I must say," I ask, as I begin to retouch the portrait of the woman with the long black hair on his shoulder. Whoever did the tattoo originally did an excellent job.

"I wish she could have been. She was the one who got away, sadly. When the first boats began taking the rich people out of here fifty years ago, she was on board one of them. Her family was one who had hung onto their wealth after the disaster, and they wanted to go back to Polynesia to start a better life out there, in a place not ruined by the virus. I never saw or heard from her again, not until years later when her sister got in touch with me to tell me she'd died of lung cancer at just twenty-nine years old. She was eighteen in the picture I used for the portrait you're touching up now. She was a real beauty huh?" he explains to me.

"She really was. It must have been really difficult for you, losing her like that. How long were you together for, before she left?" I inquire, adding white highlights to the face and eyes of the beautiful Anolani. I like to ask my clients the stories behind their tattoos, at least the more meaningful or interesting ones. If I'm sticking a fucking Tweetie Pie tattoo on some dumb broad's ankle, I have absolutely no desire to know why she's having it done. I don't do that kind of work nowadays, though; I'm too talented to waste it on stupid cartoon characters. Most of the work I do is custom.

"That's the thing, my friend. We weren't together. I was always too gutless to tell her I was in love with her. We were best friends; we grew up in the same little Polynesian community, and I had ample time to tell her how I felt. I never did, though, so hence why she was the one who got away. I loved her to death, it broke me when I heard she'd died, because she passed without knowing how much I loved her. I don't know about you vampires and love, but if you ever meet somebody you love with all your heart, don't you let them go, you hear me?" he chuckles, sighing. His words, damnit they just hit me like a tonne of bricks.

"I bet you wish you could rewind the time, huh?" I then add to the conversation.

"You're absolutely right, I do. My grandmother always used to tell me that love finds a way through, and I've never forgotten those words. She said I should have told her, that if I did, she might have stayed here with me. What got to me the most, though, is what her sister told me. Anolani loved me too, and if only I'd have spoken up about it, love would have found a way with us. No matter how complicated, love finds a way through any situation," he goes on to say, while I just sit and wonder if this is the universe shouting at me to change my mind over Edie.

Could love find a way through the problem that I'll end up killing her? There's something I've been toying with for a while now, but it's a risky thing to even consider. Could my love for Edie possibly quell that uncontrollable urge to drain her dry? Is there something up in my brain that I don't control, that would stop me at the crucial moment from taking her life without meaning or wanting to? It's a massive gamble, a huge risk to take with her life, a life so precious to me.

"If I ever find her, I'll make sure I don't." I humour him with, before going back to solely concentrating on the tattoo I'm working on. I finish touching up her face, add her name and then continue with the work I'm doing on the rest of his back.

"How you holding up there? If you need a break, just say so," I tell him a few hours later, marvelling to myself that he's been sitting here for three hours so far without a break in his four-hour session. Most people can't take that.

"I'm cool, my friend. Just you keep working. I can handle the pain, it's nothing new to me!" He's right there. He has enough piercings and tattoos as well as the pain he obviously carries in his heart over Anolani.

"So, are you being miserable and going home, or coming out with us tonight? It is a Saturday, come on!" Eric tells me as he walks across the studio to where the light box station is, where we draw out all of our line drawings for the tattoos.

"Where are you heading to?" I ask, wiping away smears of blue ink from the man's back.

"Up to Hell's Gate, I'm meeting a girl up there who I first met a few weeks ago, but who I've seen a lot more over the last fortnight. Oh, wait until you see her, so damned hot!" He exclaims with a whistle, while looking excited and making my client laugh. Eric often gets the comedy vote here, being so upbeat and human like for a vampire. He sets people at ease, too, with the way he is. A girl having a tattoo on the back of her neck by him recently got so upset she was in tears, so Eric just stopped and took off his gloves before giving her a huge hug. Sal and I aren't that tolerant. If you cry in my chair, you get told to calm the fuck down, same for the other Latino vampire here.

"Yeah alright, I'll come for an hour or so," I relent, figuring it can't hurt just to show my face for a bit. It isn't until about half an hour later when we're getting ready to close up the shop that I suddenly remember that Hell's Gate is Edie's usual Saturday night haunt. Ahhh, shit! Oh well, she doesn't like metal, so I'll just stay in that room all night. I won't run into her there.

"Well, I'll be in the dance room, dude. Sasha likes to shimmy," Eric tells me as we're pulling the front shutters down over the shop windows.

"That means I'll be staying in the metal room, so I don't potentially run into Edie," I state, as we begin to walk down the street.

"Yeah, cool. No problems. Just come and meet her first, though, and then you can do whatever the fuck you like with the rest of your night. Sal's already there too, he just text me," Eric replies, before we move at vampire speed in the direction of the club. When we arrive, I do as I promised and go with Eric to the dance room to meet this girl Sasha he's been raving about, and as soon as I see the leggy girl with the wild blonde curls walking towards us, I groan internally.

I swear, someone is playing a joke on me. This absolutely, positively cannot be happening. The girl Eric is seeing, she's Edie's best friend. Oh, why? Why is the universe playing games with me? Out of all the fucking women Eric could have met, why did he have to meet and like the one who is so close to the woman I can never be close to?

"Sasha honey, this is my friend and business partner, Angel. Angel, Sasha," Eric says in way of introduction.

"Yeah, I know who he is," Sasha states uncomfortably, smiling at me a little sadly. Eric looks confused.

“She’s Edie’s bestie,” I whisper.

"Shit, you're joking me! Ahh, crap," he winces.

I smile thinly, leaving them to it, standing at the rail for a little while, looking out for the one I love so fucking much, it hurts. I then turn away, shaking my head. Nope. Can’t do that.

Ursula often says she believes in energies working all around us, changing and shaping our very lives and what happens to us. She firmly believes in reason and that nothing is random. The man telling me about his lost love, and now Eric associated with someone so close to Edie, I have to wonder if it is coincidence, or if these things happened for a reason, as my creator would say they have. It's suddenly like I can't think where Edie is concerned, my thoughts keep cutting out. Leaning back against the balcony rail, I watch Eric handing Sasha a drink before picking her up and sitting her on his lap. I then overhear her telling him about her day when he asks, and him the same afterwards when she asks inquires.

I wish I could have something so simple with Edie. Oh, how she consumes me. I can feel she's somewhere near, her pull to me strong. When I turn around and scan the dance floor, there she is, my beautiful love. Except she isn't mine, since she's with the girl Katya, and it makes me sick to the root of my fangs to see them have a good time together. When I witness Katya stop dancing to put her arms around Edie and kiss her, I watch Edie offer her cheek instead of her lips, and even that is bad enough for me to endure. In fact, it’s so bad that as I watch them, I begin to question myself, question just how much pain I can take. Would Eric's suggestion of silvering myself to have sex with Edie truly be more painful to me than existing without her? I can't even manage the time I’ve been without her, so how am I going to deal that for a longer period? I can't, and it’s honestly that simple.

I realise now that I can't be without her, and whatever pain I have to endure to be with her, then I'll endure it. That will be a true test of my vampirism, to allow myself what I want, but suffer for it. She's worth it.

Watching Edie, I see her beginning to look around, knowing she can feel me nearby. Just look up here, my baby. Let me see those pretty blue eyes... and there they are, locking onto mine as she stares up at me from the floor to where I am here on the balcony. She comes to a total stop, staring right at me, so many emotions showing on her face. I then watch Katya pause to look at her, turning her head to follow her line of vision right up to me, before turning back to Edie and giving her a mouthful of shit that I tune my ears in to hear over the roar of the music.

“Who's that guy on the balcony you're checking out? Edie you're meant to be here with me, so be here with me. If you wanna be a whore and go for him, then at least have the decency not to do it while I'm standing right in front of you!" Oh no, you did not just call Edie a whore within my earshot. Bad move, Katya.

"Did you just fucking call me a whore?" I hear Edie challenge her with. That's my girl, she never lets anyone get away with being an asshole to her. Katya replies, and before long, they're having a full-scale argument in the middle of the dance floor. I watch it unfold, unsure of what is holding me back, until I hear the words of the Polynesian man echoing through my head. Love always finds a way through.

This is the prompt, the push I need to move to Edie's side and do what I should have done all along. I can't be without her; I just can't do it. I love her too much to live in the misery of a life without her in it, and I see that now more clearly than ever before.

Edie's POV

"Seriously, when did you become so fucking jealous? We haven't even been seeing each other a month and you're already going psycho on me for allegedly checking out guys, huh? What the fuck is your problem?" I rage at Katya, who is really, really beginning to annoy me. I've been thinking of ending our dating for a few days now, because she just doesn't stop bugging me. I said I wanted something casual, but she obviously doesn't. She calls me all day long, and if I don't answer my cell, I get a barrage of texts asking me why I haven't called her back, and any time I even so much as look in the direction of someone else, she gets jealous. Seeing Angel staring at me from the balcony just made me realise how much I don't want to be with her, in any way, shape or form now.

Of course, seeing him, it reminded me quite clearly who it is I want to be with. I can’t, though, and that anger has all come out right at her. She probably doesn’t deserve most of it.

"What the hell? What the fuck is my problem? What the fuck is your problem, Edie?" she shouts at me, while I just feel embarrassed because people are turning and looking, watching my would-be (from her point of view) girlfriend tearing strips off me.

"I am. I'm her problem. I'm also someone who takes great objection to Edie being called a whore." Those words just spoken came from a third party to this, the party that caused Katya to flip at me in the first place. I turn, and there he is. The one I truly want to be with. I've ached and longed for him for weeks. My life without him being a part of it has been dull and colourless, and now as I turn around and look at him, take in his beautiful face, a face that it feels I haven't seen in years, the colour comes charging back into my life.

"I don't know what the fuck this has to do with you! How is what's between me and my girlfriend anything to do with you?" Katya shouts at him.

"I'm not your damned girlfriend!" I cry, my mouth hanging open in exclamation. If I thought that was shocking to hear, well. . .

"Because she's the woman I love, and if I ever hear you call her a whore again, I'll tear your fucking tongue from your throat. Do I make myself clear?" Angel warns her, while without thinking I automatically slip my hand into his, his fingers finding mine and clenching tightly as soon as he feels them. His face then moves to my ear, where he tells me something that makes everything suddenly very different.

"You can bind me in a thousand tonnes of silver if that's what it takes to be with you in the way I want to be. I'm yours, Edie. I want you to be mine.” I can’t believe my ears, I can’t! My insides have melted instantly at hearing those words, my heart racing, a huge lump forming in my throat. Oh my god, is this real? I've never felt so coveted before in my life. He wants me so much, that he’ll freely endure vast amounts of pain to be with me.

“Really? You’d do that, just for me?” I ask, shaking my head with bewilderment.

He smiles, kissing my forehead, his hand coming up to stroke my cheek. “I have no other choice. I can’t be without you, Edie.”

"Well, if that’s the case, I think that can be arranged," I smile, making him laugh a little. I then lean in closer and kiss him, just once on the lips, but making it linger. "Yep, I'm definitely all yours." I then add, looking right into his eyes as our noses touch. I am, it's true. He's all I want. We smile at each other for a few moments, and I feel through our blood tie that the happiness consuming me is mirrored back through him, but before we can enjoy the moment any longer...

"Edie, what the fuck have you got to say about all this, huh? Have you been seeing him at the same time as me?" Katya yells, her eyes wide and crazy looking, her words suddenly bringing me back down to earth.

"There was never any you and me. I'm sorry, but you never stood a chance." I tell her, not wanting to waste a second longer on her or her possessive madness, turning and sinking into the arms of the one who I wanted all along. She was only ever a distraction. I don't even care if she's moved away when I look up at his face and smile, stroking his cheek and feeling his lips press a kiss against my head. I know there's only three words I need to speak to him right now as well, but they aren't the ones you're probably thinking of.

"Take me home," I tell him, watching him smile and nod. I quickly go and say goodbye to Sasha and Miley, and when they see me holding hands with Angel, they both splutter the exact same words.

“What in the hell?”

“I’ll explain all another time. Have a great night, both of you.” They nod a little dumbly, exchanging looks with one another before wishing us both goodnight, and with that, I leave the club, my troubles and Katya behind, walking out into the rainy early morning with the most gorgeous man I've ever met.

"Stop, I want to be clichéd and overly romantic for a minute and kiss you in the rain," Angel says as soon as we're outside and away from the front of the club. I burst into giggles first, before I'm silenced by the cool set of lips pressing to mine. I then stand there happily and kiss him, getting absolutely soaked to the skin as the rain hammers down all around us. I don't care, because I've never been as happy as I am right now.

"Okay, think I'm done for now," he tells me, blowing off a drip of rain that runs down his nose, making me giggle again.

"Come on, Mr Romantic. Let's get a cab.”

"Have you ever travelled at vampire speed before?" he asks, halting me when I go to walk forwards.

“No, I haven’t.”

"Well jump on my back and you get to, much cheaper and quicker than a cab, too.” He turns and bends, and after resisting the urge to smack that gorgeous butt, I jump on his back and hold on tightly, before whoosh! I'm being propelled through the streets faster than I can see, until we come to a stop right outside my house. Jumping down, I run for the door, letting us inside.

We just stand there in the hallway for a few moments, staring at one another, both smiling before we laugh, soft and happy, sinking into one another. "I can't believe what you said in the club to Katya, that you love me. Wow. That was truly the last thing I expected.”

"Well, I do, and that's why I couldn't spend another moment away from you. I've been truly miserable without you around, Edie. I love you, and I don't care if you don't love me yet, I just want you to know that's how I feel about you," he explains, before kissing me.

"I have to be honest and say I really don't know if its love that I feel yet, but it's very close. I've tried not to let myself feel anything, but it's been too hard. I've missed you so much. Everything in my head is so muddled, and I want to say it, I just... I don’t... and I have an issue with...” I flounder, Angel shaking his head.

“Then don’t say it yet, it’s fine. Tell me when you know for certain, and for that, believe me, I’m willing to wait.”

I beam, stroking his neck with my nails. “You are?”

“Mmhmm.” We fall into another kiss, and I swear, the happiness inside of me right now is threatening to burst completely. He's in my arms again, and that feeling is so soothing to me I never want it to stop.

"Not that I don't like your place, but do you want to grab a set of dry clothes and come back to mine?”

“Well, I wanted to take a bath and stuff,” I admit, Angel frowning puzzledly.

“You can take one at mine, in the big tub that easily fits two people, so you get me in there with you, too," he suggests. I think I like that idea.

"Just one thing, in case you have any ideas on it, I'm not having sex with you right away. I never do with people I really like," I tell him, watching him frown in an amused way.

"Who said anything about sex? I only mentioned taking a bath," he teases. Feeling a little embarrassed at my presumption, I laugh it off and give him another kiss before going to fetch a change of clothes, and then leaving my place and getting absolutely soaked all over again as we head over to his. No one is home when we get there, and after making me a green tea (apparently Ursula has human friends she keeps things like that on hand for) we head upstairs and he runs the bath while I strip off.

"What shall I do with my wet clothes?" I ask, not wanting to put them down anywhere and then leave a puddle. When he comes back out of the bathroom, he just stands there staring at me in my underwear for a few moments, a smile curling his mouth.

"Sorry, I was just thinking what a lucky vampire I am. There's a big basket down the other end of the hallway, go put them in there and our housekeeper will wash them in the morning for you," he says, still smiling as his eyes wander all over me.

"A lucky vampire who can keep his hands to himself, thank you," I tell him after turning to take my clothes out and then feeling him suddenly move behind me, his hands stroking my sides slowly as his mouth kisses the side of my neck.

"I'll keep my dick to myself, but maybe not my hands.” I give him a swift kick in the leg and then keep on moving, turning around to wink at his scowling face. "You're no fun." He adds, just as I'm leaving the room.

"But I will be, you just have to wait for it.” My sweetly delivered statement upon return is met by more scowling, confidently stripping naked in front of him and then walking past to the bathroom. "Behave." I warn, when I feel him move to right behind me in an instant.

"Just following suit is all," he tells me, putting his arms around me and pulling me back against him, making me feel his nakedness pressed to mine. Oh yeah, he feels just as good as he looks. Five minutes later and I have that nakedness still pressed to me as I lean back against him in the bath, enjoying the heat of the water and the feel of his fingertips running up and down my arms.

"I can't believe it was only an hour ago I was sinking shots of tequila at the bar and thinking of ways to escape from Katya, and now I'm lying in a bathtub with you. What a crazy night," I exclaim with amusement.

"I thought you didn't drink when you were dancing, and as I seem to remember you don't drink tequila, either. It must have been bad,” he observes, kissing the side of my neck affectionately.

I turn to him, widening my eyes. He laughs in an instant. “Oh, it was bad! I mean, you witnessed half of it!”

He snorts, his face darkening a fraction. “I still can’t believe she called you a whore. She’s so lucky that her spine remains intact for that shit.” Why do I get the feeling that he isn’t joking, either? Oh yeah. Vampire. They don’t play.

“And as for the tequila, that’s Ahmed’s fault. He’s given me a taste for it.”

He smirks, running a hand through his hair. “I used to drink that shit like water when I was a human, fuck. I’m honestly surprised I didn’t give myself cirrhosis of the liver,” he then confesses, turning his head to kiss my cheek. “I’m so fucking happy, just being here like this with you.”

“Mmm, ditto,” I hum, my nails trailing over the patterns of each of his tattoos. We enjoy the silence for a few minutes, before Angel suddenly speaks again.

“Don’t be surprised if you find me wanting to do nothing more than sit and talk to you for hours on end, by the way, find out everything there is to know about you, and in turn tell you anything you wish to know about me. I might love you, but I still don't know you as well as I should.” Picking up a bar of soap from the side of the tub, he lathers it on a sponge before starting to wash my arms and shoulders.

"What, you want my entire life story or something?" I say in jest, as he gently pushes me forward and begins to wash my back.

"Yes, if you wouldn't mind," he requests, pausing to soap up the sponge again.

"Right now?"

"I repeat. Yes, if you wouldn't mind.” He's smiling widely when I turn to look at him. I return it before resting back against him once more.

"You know, I've never done this, sat and told someone the story of my life. I suppose I should start right at the beginning. I was born on April 8th, 2073 down in Bullhead City, where my mother was originally from. She went into labour while visiting my grandparents. I don't remember my grandmother, because she died when I was one, and I only have a few memories of my grandfather, who passed when I was eight. They were the only family I had. I don't count my father's side since I pretty much know he's not my real one. As you know, that's why he started beating my mom and my mom beating me, because I wasn't his. I strongly suspect that, at least. Anyway, I never much liked school so quite simply a lot of the time I'd never go," I begin to explain.

"What did you do when you were meant to be at school?" he interrupts to ask.

"Remember I told you I have a hobby taking old things and making them like new again? Well, that's what I did. I was eight when I began skipping school, and I was so independent. I was probably too independent for an eight-year-old, in fact. I taught myself how to ride a bike at eight, for example, after I'd smartened up the rusty old bike I found dumped in the garden of a boarded-up house on my old street. I didn't know how to get the rust off, so one morning I wheeled it four miles to the nearest garage and asked one of the mechanics how to clean it up. He let me wheel it in and provided me with wire wool and a little area away from the cars to scrub the rust off. He then helped me spray paint it, and after filling the tyres with air, it was good to go.”

"What else?" he asks at once.

"Not much else, the fixing up of old things was the main thing I did with my time until I hit my teen years. I also used to just go back home when I knew no one would be there. My dad would be at work and my mom usually out drinking at an old bar called Rochelle's after midday, so I went home until someone came home and then I crept out of my window, returning at the time I was meant to. When I was a teenager, I'd hardly ever come home. I'd stay with Sasha, and her parents wouldn't mind. They knew my mom was a drunk, it was fairly common knowledge.

“She turned up to the school totally hammered enough times, but they didn't know she beat me. When I reached sixteen, I'd try my luck in bars, I'd pick people's pockets to get the cash, I used to be good enough to take the wallet from a pocket, remove the notes quickly and slide it back in. I watched a lot of those shows that explain how illusions are done, how conmen work, which are one and the same really, illusionists and conmen if you ask me. Anyway, I'd do it while talking to people right to their face, I was that good. I got caught in the end though, because I beat the shit out of the person I was trying to rob when they cottoned on," I gabble, suddenly stopping. "Am I talking too much?"

"No, of course you're not. I like this, listening to you speak of your life. I only want to know more," Angel replies, tightening his arms around me and kissing the top of my head. I've never known such affection from a lover before. He's different to the rest in numerous ways, though. "Can I ask you a question relating to your parents?"

"Yes, of course you can," I reply, squeezing his fingers when his hands come up out of the water to hold mine.

"Have you ever wondered who your real father is, or even tried to search for him?"

"I've thought about it, but she was so sexually active that it really could have been anyone. I heard about an incident years after it happened that's testament to that, one where she took a guy into the bathroom at Rochelle's and fucked him, and then did the same with another four hours later. She'd spread her legs for anyone who bought her drinks. So no, trying to work out who my father is when we go on information like that would be like searching for a needle in a haystack," I snort, making him laugh.

“Yeah, it seems that way,” he agrees. “What was her name?"

"Linda. Linda Loretta Bailey. May she rot in pieces forevermore," I sigh with anger, feeling him soothing me by letting go of my hands and stroking my arms, kissing the side of my head. “Because of her, I don’t think I’ve ever truly been in love with anyone, or let them love me. That’s what I was trying to explain to you earlier, but I got all muddled. It’s scary to articulate, because you’re the first I ever have explained it to. I want you to love me, and I want to love you, but...” I feel myself starting to unravel a little, Angel tightening his arms around me.

"Shhh, querida. Don't let her make you angry. She did that enough when she was alive. All in your own time. I know you adore me, and that’s enough for now," he reassures me gently, while I relax happily into his embrace again, my anger fading to nothing once more. "That's better." He adds, kissing my cheek a few times.

“What does querida mean?”

“It’s a Spanish term of affection, sweetheart, beloved, it’s multiple choice,” he explains, kissing my head as his hands begin stroking me again. He’s so affectionate! And yes, I am totally swooning as I bask in it.

After about another half an hour we finally emerge from the tub, drying off and then heading to bed, where I lie there in his arms and talk more about my life, and then ask about his. When I woke up this morning next to Katya, I wished it was Angel curled up around me. I'd have never guessed he'd be the one I'd be lying next to just twenty hours later, or the one I could finally call mine either.

#angel reyes #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes smut #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes fic #vampire!angel reyes #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc smut #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic

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pencilofawesomeness · 1 year

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ah... could i inquire about that fma fic you've got in your wip list there?

I assume you mean Everything (to me)?

Well fun fact that one is partially posted. You can find what I got so far here. (The unfortunate part is that I haven't touched it since 2020. I haven't forgotten about it though, trust me. Things just got, uh, hairy back there and then Fairy Tail consumed me.)

Anyway it's a canon divergence where Greed accidentally adopts a five-year-old Roy Mustang (instead of Roy ending up with his aunt at this time) and then all of the consequences thereof. My plan is to bring it to the present and then add a little epilogue for canon events. Essentially baby Roy with some preloaded Mustang-style baggage but also still a baby who unwittingly speedruns Greed through this whole caring business.

Because that kid becomes his.

I'll post a snippet I already posted because the wip part is very spoilerly for when I eventually get back to this sucker. This was one of my favorite things to write it was so silly.

“Why aren’t you ever at breakfast?” The kid practically accosted him in the hallway, finger pointed like it was some sort of terrible accusation. It was funny, actually. “Ha! Observant little squirt, aren’t ya?” Good to know. “I don’t eat.” Roy tilted his head again, eyebrows drawing up. “But I’ve seen you eat.” “I don’t need to eat,” Greed elaborated. He liked to eat, sometimes, but other times it was a waste of time and resources. He had collected plenty of money over the years, sure, but this was still a growing business and things weren’t as luxurious as he wanted. It pained him, but Greed was patient. “Why not?” Oi, he was full of questions, wasn’t he? It certainly wasn’t the first time that the little thing had pestered him, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. Greed didn’t mind that much though, because for all of his questions, he could tell they were innocent—no ulterior motives, just the thirst for knowledge. It was something he could relate to. Besides, it was kind of fun to answer questions and know that the kid wasn’t capable of using that information against him—that kind of cunning seemed to be learned. Unless you were jumpstarted with it… “I’m a homunculus.” The kid blinked at him. “Hu..human…clue-less?” “No. Ho-mun-cu-lus.” “Ho-mun-cu-lus.” The kid mouthed the word a few more times, seeming more perturbed by sounding it out than reacting to what he was. Most people freaked out. It was refreshing. “Is that a type of shark?” “Eh?” Greed was trying to figure out what the fuck he just asked him, completely bewildered by the turn in conversation. A shark? What the fuck was that!? “A shark,” Roy continued, as if it was completely normal. “They got pointy teeth, like you!” “Uh…” This was about his teeth?! “Okay?” “They live underwater, but Bido is a lizard and he still does human stuff, so I figured you do too?” Roy gasped suddenly. “Can you breathe underwater?!”

#wip meme #ask game #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #everything to me #admittedly i got hardcore distracted by htryds #that other fic about a quasi immortal antagonist-shaped inhuman adopting children #I have a type I am aware #everything to me was my first real practice figuring out how to write a kid #I feel suuuper bad about the cliffhanger I left this one on #and I really love the fic #but some life stuff happened while I was writing it and I gotta wiggle my way back in #also I just get distracted really easily #it's a problem

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creolesasuke · 2 years

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AUTHORS, fuck not books maybe i can't even read

Since I also got your last message (I'm assuming that's you anyways) that asked for book recs I'll give both authors and books that I think you should read from them. Note that I will be including some...umm....Questionable writers here since there are some whose work I still feel can be incredibly relevant and powerful, but I'll nevertheless still add disclaimers so that you can avoid them if you'd prefer. I hope I don't have to say that reading and engaging with an author's work critically is not an endorsement of their politics. But ANYWAYS:

Toni Morrison: Toni Morrison writes with such power, grace, and wisdom that it's hard to imagine anyone disliking her work. What's interesting to me about her is that even though she's from Ohio, her novels have such southern gothic sensibilities that I sometime consider her a southern writer. But I think was makes her distinct from say Faulkner, O'Connor, and other southern writers is her optimism, very different from the southern modernist's tendency towards cynicism. Sula, Song of Solomon, The Bluest Eyes (huge cw for csa and abuse), and Beloved (a book about the generational trauma of U.S. slavery so once again read with caution) are my personal favorites.

Virginia Woolf: Reading To the Lighthouse was a transformative experience for 17 y/o me. I had never read a novel that so perfectly captured existential longing and ennui. And after reading Mrs. Dalloway, I soon regarded Woolf as my favorite writer. Until I learned she was a huge anti-semite and racist. Yet I unfortunately can't discount the massive impact she had on me as a writer, and for that reason I have to mention her.

James Baldwin: I love James Baldwin even though I can only read his novels only once and never again bc they make me want to die. Giovanni's Room is literally the saddest novel I've ever read. James Baldwin was famously a bit MESSY she was a MESSY GIRL, but I still love this man so much honestly. Even though thinking about Giovanni's Room makes me pass out

Alice Walker: I've only read The Color Purple, and I probably will not read more of her since she's a raging anti-semite, but even so I can't deny how much this book affected me the first time I read it. It's funny bc The Color Purple film is such a staple of Black American culture and yet so few people know that in the book the main character is explicitly a lesbian. The novel is epistolary, being entirely composed of letter between Celie and her sister Nettie, and this depiction of black sisterhood is one of most authentic and endearing in literature. Cw for csa, racism, misogyny, lesbophobia, abuse.

Zora Neale Hurston: the mother of African American literature. Curiously enough, she was relatively unknown until 1975 when Alice Walker published an essay on her in Ms. magazine. Their Eyes Were Watching God is a landmark work of black southern fiction.

Suzan-Lori Parks: Postmodernism has become less and less appealing to me as I grow older, but something about how Parks deconstructs the black experience (boy do I hate that term) and presents history as like a collage of fragmentary signs and symbols keeps drawing me back. She can be so opaque and cryptic and yet it never comes across as pretentious or contrived. The America Play and Topdop/Underdog are my favorites. A lot of her plays depict racism but almost in a comedic way. If you aren't a fan of dark humor/shock humor then steer clear.

Derek Walcott: Omeros is the only thing I've read but it's still one of my favorite long poems of all time. I don't know much about him as a person but I love love love his use of language. One of the most inventive writers on this list.

William Faulkner: William Faulkner was just about every genre of bigot you could imagine but because of that he presents one of the most authentic depictions of the southern experience you'll ever read. As I Lay Dying and The Sound and the Fury are my favorites, but I'm planning on reading Absalom, Absalom next so who knows. His short story A Rose for Emily changed my life. Cw for just about every act of violence imaginable, especially antiblack racism.

Tennessee Williams: A gay neurotic mess of a man whose plays essentially introduced the southern gothic style to American theater. Also a huge racist. The Glass Menagerie perfectly encapsulates the feeling of being gay and misunderstood understood in the south, even if the main character isn't explicitly gay. A Streetcar Named Desire probably needs no introduction, though I once again must warn you that there is an (infamous) rape scene (it's not explicitly shown but heavily implied). An extremely disturbing, almost expressionist depiction of masculinity vs. femininity

James Joyce: My favorite writer (unfortunately). I really cannot explain to you why I love this man so other than him being Irish and Make Pretty Word. Read A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and Dubliners before Ulysses. In A Portrait of the Artist there's technically a brief mention of statutory rape between the narrator and a sex worker but it's very brief and written in a highly metaphoric manner. I don't know much about him as a person other than him being a drunk and chronically ill. Perpetual virgin also. So catholic it'll make your bones ache.

Gabriel García Márquez: One Hundred Years of Solitude sophomore year of high school was another formative literary experience, and was actually the first Latin American work of literature I'd ever read. To this day whenever I try my hand at writer I always veer towards magical realism, so influential this book was. A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings is my favorite short story. I'm currently trying to read El Amor en los tiempos del cólera and El Colonel no tiene quien le escriba in the original Spanish. Failing spectacularly ❤️

Clarice Lispector: BASED. BASED. Lispector was a Ukrainian Jewish woman whose family fled to Brazil during WWI, and thus a lot of her novels relate to her experiences as a Jewish woman. The Passion According to G.H. is almost a feminist reimagining of The Metamorphosis by Kafka and it absolutely will haunt you for the rest of your life. Extremely high on my list of favorite writers, alongside Joyce, Woolf, Morrison, and Shakespeare, and that's only after having read one of her books. Incredible woman.

Jean Genet: I'm still reading Notre-Dame-Des-Fleurs but, and I normally don't do this, learning about Jean Genet personal history has intrigued me almost more than the novel itself. He was just such a fascinating man and from what I can tell was a massive ally to black people. I haven't finished the novel yet but from what I've read he has a very interesting conception of gender and sexuality, although I'm literally only like 10 pages in. He almost reminds me a bit of John Waters in that his writing explores transgressive sexual and gender, but different from Waters is Genet's aestheticism. He's a very lyrical writer. I don't know if I recommend him so much as I'm interested in seeing that y'all think about him.

#long post #anonyme #i purposefully didn't include earlier writers since that would make this post even longer #BUT if for whatever reason y'all want to know my opinions on pre-modern lit lemme know

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lavendoodles · 5 months

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Stupid stuff I'd like to draw or animate : a big list

So, back in 2019, I fell in love with a notes app called ColorNote. It's not particularly fancy, It just lets me set up lists, calendar events, I can organize my notes by color, and synchronize my data on my account. So I've been writing a lot on this app, from worldbuilding notes to spontaneous drawing ideas, ranging from quick descriptions to dialogue bits ; that list keeps growing to this day, and I've barely ticked off a quarter of it. So, for the first things I'd post here, I thought it'd be neat to show that list to the public for extra motivation. Here goes...

STUFF I'D LIKE TO DRAW

topless OC asking their tired roommate if they've seen their bra

character with lots of body hair!

me, casually drawing in a hot summer night, immediately engaging a merciless fight against a overly-friendly mosquito

multiple people wearing skirts of various lengths, lined up for a mugshot

my OCs reacting to the mistletoe tradition

caffeiiiine

a character based on the word 'toxic' : a mysterious person surrounded in green smoke or bubbles. this is the only thing I've ticked off; an OC is born from this silly prompt. I'll definitely show her someday!

"If I could breathe fire, I'd have burned down several buildings by now."

"STOP EVERYTHING AND TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF" "Sure. You look like you could use some rest too!" "...*wheeeeeeeeze*"

Me or any perfectionnist OC : "If it doesn't look perfect on the first try, I'm throwing everything away and I'll never do anything ever again." Brain, trying to make sense of this : "...bitch???"

an OC taking a biiiig stretch, forgetting they're wearing wired headphones. The wires fall on their head.

my "Green Hair Squad" (a bunch of OCs who accidentally all have green hair and are friends) speedshopping for New Year's Eve

a muscular, feminine man, stepping out of his hot pink limousine, looking charismatic and not in the mood for any of your bullshit

"We could've had something great, but BAM, *slams table* fucking CAPITALISM"

Ellen drawing little roses on Casee (both part of the Green Hair Squad) with colored makeup pencils. Casee can't stop giggling.

an OC solely showing a grand total of two expressions: no smile, or a l l s m i l e s. No in-betweens.

draw more characters with compatible vibes, vibing together (I already have plenty of ideas)

the Bubbly Sapphic and the Grumpy Sapphic characters wearing eachother's clothes

two characters sharing a meal/smoke under a tree on a rainy day (inspired by a pleasant moment with a friend)

three characters taking a nap

"I am perfectly capable of looking friendly without smiling."

"FUCK YOUR BELL PEPPERS" : a silly idea to add to my crappy portfolio

my OCs at their lowest point in terms of motivation (gee, reminds me of someone)

"I HATE DECEMBER" an OC complaining about december, but cheered up by their friends

STUFF I'D LIKE TO ANIMATE (i think i'm seeing way too big, way too soon,,,, I've animated like three things in my whole lifetime)

Two OCs on a musical I suppose (I'm not a musical nerd, sadly, but they're fun to listen to from time to time)

Two OCs sharing a dance on 'Violente Valse' by Caravan Palace

Magical Girl transformations on songs I like

an OC fighting against their glitched alter-ego on this remix of ECHO

an OC casting a spell (i guess i wanted to practice visual effects? magic is cool anyway)

"YES!" (expression study i suppose)

someone kissing their friend/lover/significant other on the cheek (aww)

Walk, stomping their feet on dirty ground...

The most intense game of musical chairs you've ever seen

A duo of badass OCs fighting together on 'Best Friend' by Saweetie and Doja Cat (why not, I like the beat)

"The floor is lava" so it's a bunch of my OCs showing off their parkour skills (may not be canon to their characters, but come on, this is fun)

"Feel Good Inc." by Gorillaz but it's my OC's showing off their fighting skills on that sick rap part (my imagination goes wiiiild at that specific part)

'Audio, Video, Disco (Medley)' by Justice : basically a sort of montage showcasing my universe in the POV of multiple characters

An animation on the chorus of 'XS' by Rina Sawayama (I have ideas, I'm just afraid they won't meet my expectations on the first fucking try)

"...But my legs were toooo long" (I really want to make an OC animation on this marvel of a song. I don't care if the meme is long gone)

That's everything. Now I need to teach myself some discipline and patience, because there is NO WAY I'll finish this list in a year.

#lavender's stupid stuff i'd like to draw of animate #ssiltdoa #this acronym is NASTY. I need to come up with a better title

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cloudselkie · 2 years

Text

Finding Your Identity as a Witch - Tips For Building Your Foundation

Tip 1: "Witch Type" labels are fun, but limiting

Labels help us categorize things, but we as witches do not need to categorize ourselves by our tools or aesthetics, else we might accidentally trap ourselves in a very limited practice without meaning to. I think it is the natural progression to grow out of this as one grows as a witch, but I think it's also good to say upfront to the beginner that if no label fits, it's OKAY. Most "witch type" labels fall away eventually anyway.

Tip 2: Let the things that interest you guide you

Inspiration and direction comes from many places. Make a list of your interests, no matter how diverse or seemingly disconnected with witchcraft. Keeping a list of your interests is great to help you identify your craft. You can add to the list at any time. If you ever feel stuck or directionless in your craft, look back to your list - it's what makes you...YOU!

Tip 3: The building blocks of your craft are your skills + knowledge

Identify some natural skills you have and start there for your craft. That doesn't just mean psychic skills or natural aptitude in magic. This can be knitting, drawing, sewing, cooking, singing, dancing, writing, etc. Apply what knowledge you gain through studying the craft to the skills you already have, and then branch out from there. Add new skills to the old as you learn, just like building a house.

Tip 4: Religion can (but does not have to) be a part of your craft's identity

Religion can inform quite a bit of what you want your craft to be. Or it can be totally devoid of religion, if that's what you want.

Tip 5: Study Different Systems of Magic

Magic works different ways depending on what system you subscribe to. Witchcraft tends to base much of its systems on sympathetic magic, but you can also incorporate elements of planetary, folk, ceremonial, or other systems. Or find that you'd rather be a ceremonial magician than a witch. Be well-versed in the systems of magic out there so you can fine-tune your personal one.

#witchcraft #witch types #witch #witchblr #magic #beginner witch #beginner witchcraft

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parkersbliss · 3 years

Text

Fourteen | K. Brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x female reader

warnings: blood, death, angst, torture(?), crooked kingdom spoilers

wc; 2.5K

synopsis: some things are better left unsaid. you learned that the hard way.

prompts: 003: I’ll never love you 010: I just want the pain to stop 017: “Just tell me that you love me! Please…”

a/n: I uh… sorry in advance? I just read a heartbreaking story before this so now there’s this

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

Decisions, decisions.

They weren’t easy to make, but they had to be.

It was one or nothing.

Make a choice, or you get neither.

Perhaps, not making a choice is better in this case, but you already know what the decision is.

It’s clear in your mind, and though you don’t want it to be, you’re not naive.

The world was cruel. It didn’t care for mercy.

Mercy was a luxury in Ketterdam. It was a luxury no one could afford.

Most things were unaffordable in Ketterdam, but you stayed anyway. You could leave, could’ve. Past tense. It was too late now.

And yet, you didn’t.

You stayed for the boy in the coat with a troubled past. You stayed for the hope.

Of course, you paid the price now. Mercy was expensive enough, but hope… hope simply didn’t exist. Surviving Ketterdam was a matter of kill or be killed, which is not an exaggeration. Knives are at your throat every day, and if you don’t make the choice to grab them and put them in the enemy's eyes, then you don’t survive to see the next blood bath.

For some people, that might be a relief, but others had unfinished business. The people in Ketterdam were driven by two things: money and revenge.

Both sweet and hard to retrieve, but to some, it was worth it. Every casualty was worth it if it meant getting what they wanted.

“Be ruthless, and don’t let anyone tell you what you can and can’t do.”

Even now, you could still hear his voice in your head. At the time, it was good advice. You hadn’t expected it to be used against you.

“You should have no attachment to anything, and especially anyone. You have to be willing to let them go.”

That should’ve been the first sign. You had regarded his words with a grain of salt. You didn’t realize the meaning behind them because you thought he could learn to grow out of it. He didn’t really mean that.

Everyone says things they don’t mean in an attempt to seem stronger.

Everyone was lying.

Lies, lies, lies.

Oh, how everyone lied.

Just like how Kaz lied. He did that a lot, but never in a way that would hurt any of his crows. At least, you had thought.

“It’s a simple plan,” Kaz said, laying out the blueprints on the table. “Jesper, you will come in from this entrance, Inej and (Y/N), the roof, and I will come through the back.”

It was just the three of you.

Matthias… you didn’t speak of him. It was too sensitive of a topic. Well, it had been for Nina, at least, but then she left to return home to Ravka.

And there wasn’t a need to not speak of it, but you had all gotten used to it. Some things were better left unsaid.

Wylan was out on business, though he didn’t speak of what. Inej was often gone to traversing the seas. When she returned home, Kaz always planned the biggest heists. She was the best one here.

Jesper was still Jesper, young as ever, but that’s the plus of being Grisha. Most days, he was with Wylan, salvaging what time they had left.

Though it was plenty.

Which left you with Kaz a lot of the time. It wasn’t a bad thing, but spending too much time with someone is dangerous.

But you were drawn to him like that of a moth to the flame. Maybe it was an effort to try and fix his broken parts because you couldn’t fix your own.

You would learn soon enough Kaz didn’t want to be fixed. There was only one person that could do that.

It wasn’t you.

It never would be.

“What about the guards?” Jesper inquired, leaning against the polished wood.

“Two shots is all you’ll need. He doesn’t keep it heavily guarded,” Kaz replied.

“What if there are more?” You asked. “I doubt Black doesn’t have a few personal.”

Kaz glances at you, raising an eyebrow. “There won’t be more,” he spat. “Don’t question me.”

You wince at his tone, mumbling a sorry under your breath and letting your gaze slide to your boots.

“Jesper takes out the guards, I’ll take out any extra, and Inej and (Y/N) will head straight for the safe room. Then, Jesper will stand guard while I keep Black at bay with a deal he can’t refuse. Inej will pull the fire alarm, and then we run.”

“Will we have enough time between here and the exit?” Inej asked, using her finger to trace the space between the safe room and the central doorway. “I don’t think it’ll work, Kaz. You won’t have enough time.”

Kaz doesn’t lash out at her. His eyes linger on her face, drawing all the features he already knows in his mind. He’d memorized them before she left so that he could see her in his dreams. He did not want to forget her.

“You’re right,” He said softly, like a hushed whisper between them. An intimate moment that you shouldn’t be a witness to. “Is there a window nearby?”

“There’s one here.”

“Can you get out that way?”

You don’t bother to call him out when he only asks Inej when it’s the two of you that need to escape.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll count in my head. You have exactly 130 seconds to get in and out.”

“Understood.”

Kaz nods, satisfied, and rolls up the blueprints and tucks them under his arm. “Be here at midnight, sharp. I’m looking at you, Jesper.”

The said boy winks, “Wouldn’t miss it, boss.”

“You would,” Inej quipped.

“Well, guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Jesper.”

“Fine. Midnight sharp.”

Kaz exits the room after that, Inej trailing after him and Jesper swings his revolvers around, instantly drawn to a gambling crowd.

That would occupy him until midnight.

You stand at the empty table, feeling just that. It was lonely.

What used to be six felt more like three, someday two. If you were lucky, four.

“Kaz,” You muttered. “When was the last time you slept?”

He shrugs. “Am I supposed to keep track?”

“Yes.”

He exhales, gripping his desk before meeting your eyes. His face softens. “I don’t know.”

“Kaz-”

He holds a hand up. “I know, I know. Coffee isn’t sufficient enough to keep me awake.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “If you know, why do you still do it?”

“It’s addictive,” he hums.

“Addiction is bad.”

“Is it?” Kaz inquired, grabbing a stack of Kruge off his desk and flipping through it. “Addiction drives us all. It’s the root of every being.”

“So what?” You snorted. “Your addiction is coffee?”

Kaz falls back into his leather seat. “Greed is my addiction. I supposed coffee as well. What’s yours?”

“You,” You breathe out. The answer had slipped from your lips with such ease. You didn't even notice.

Kaz freezes, his pen staggers in the middle of a signature.

“To be like you,” You add for good measure.

“That’s impossible.”

“So is living off coffee.”

“Then it seems we are both at an impasse.”

“It would seem so.”

Kaz’s gaze lingers on you, making your heart pound madly in your chest. “Then let’s come to an agreement.”

“What do you propose?”

“I will attempt to get a good night’s sleep if you try to be yourself.” He sticks his hand out for you to shake. You grab it, making sure it’s quick, but when you try to pull back, Kaz grips it and pulls you towards him.

“And for the record, you are my addiction as well.”

“Me?”

“To be more like you.”

He lets go after that, and you’re unsure if he’s mocking you or if he’s serious.

“Have a goodnight, (Y/N).”

“You too, Kaz.”

Jesper isn’t late. He makes it on time. Courtesy of Kaz grabbing the collar of his shirt and dragging him away from the gambler’s table.

“Do we need to review?” Kaz asked.

You all shake your heads.

“Good because I wasn’t going to.”

Kaz turns sharply on his heels and walks into the Ketterdam night. It’s no different from the day, in fact, the night is more lively. It was better for thieves and mischief. The shadows were in their favor here. The people part for the basted of the barrel; it’s common knowledge to them. They don’t think twice about it; they just move.

It makes for a quick walk to the Mercher’s house.

Jesper takes the front, Kaz the back, and Inej throws you a rope to get onto the roof. Her footsteps are silent as she looks for a way in. She finds a latch on one of the windows and calls you over.

You were always better at picking locks than her. She was better on her feet, and though Kaz tried to teach her, he had gotten fair luckier with you.

In a few clicks, the latch pops open and Inej dives in. You wait for her to clear it before dropping in. You’re not as stealthy as the wraith.

Inej was one of a kind.

You land with a soft thump, both of you waiting five seconds before making any kind of movement. Inej cracks open the door, a stream of light filling the room.

It’s empty. There's nothing except cold, bare walls and a plush rug in the center.

It doesn’t appear to be in use.

Oddly enough, it looks like it’s waiting for someone or something.

Inej taps your shoulder, using your head to gesture to the hallway. You follow after her, staying pressed up against the walls just in case.

But there’s no one; the house is eerily quiet. There are no servants, no guards, and no wife or children. You didn’t know much about Black, other than the fact that he was a wealthy merchant. He mostly kept to himself. Sometimes you’d see him at The Crow Club. He was a cold and calculated man, every move he made was planned out ten in advance.

You could tell by the way he played his cards.

“It should be right about here,” Inej said, opening the door.

At the same thing you can hear Kaz’s voice, slight panic evident. “What did you-,”

As you open the door, your legs are being kicked in, and you drop to the floor next to Inej. Two guards from behind you are quick to bound your hands together as you both push against them.

Black tuts, laughing at the fear on Kaz’s face.

Poor Jesper was knocked out on the floor at his feet.

“Did you really think you could outsmart me?” Black asked, “The power is getting to your head.”

Kaz doesn’t say anything, but his nostrils flare in anger.

“Take them,” Black dismissed, clearly speaking to the guards. “Put… Brekker in a room with the girl, not the Suli one. And put the Zemeni boy and her together.”

The guards nod, roughly seizing you all. Inej shouts in protest, trying to hit them, but she’s unsuccessful.

Kaz grunts when they lay his hands on him, but he obeys because he knows it’ll be worse if he doesn’t. They throw you and Kaz into the room you dropped into earlier. They put you back to back, and you know it’s for Kaz because he hisses every time your hand's brush.

You try not to move as much as possible because it pains you each time you hear it.

Black strolls in a moment later, leaning against the door. He wears a satisfied smirk when you and Kaz glare at him.

“Confess.”

“What?” Kaz said with a snarl.

Black holds a knife between two fingers, spinning it. “Confess something. Your deepest, darkest secret, and maybe you’ll make it out with all your limbs. The Suli girl was quick to do so, and naturally, I’m curious what you two have to offer.”

“What did she say?” Kaz asked.

“Well, maybe if yours is just as good, I’ll tell you.”

“What if it’s not interesting?”

Black pretends to think about it for a moment before throwing the knife at you. You scream when it lands itself in your leg.

Kaz flinches, hard, screwing his eyes shut.

“That,” Black taunts. “So, confession time.”

When neither of you says anything, he grabs another knife. It’s only then that you notice their Inej’s. He had at least twelve more.

“I-,” Kaz starts, but he chokes on his words. They never make it out of his mouth and Black raises his dagger.

“I’m in love with Kaz,” You blurt.

The said boy stiffens against you.

Black lowers his dagger. “Now that is juicy.”

“I’ve been in love with him since we were fourteen," You whisper, letting your head fall. It was good to get it off your chest, but you'd prefer to not have a knife sticking out of you when doing so.

“Brekker?” Black inquired. “Reply?”

Kaz doesn’t say anything.

Black rolls his eyes, tossing another knife at you, and a muffled sob leaves your lips.

“I’ll keep going.”

“Kaz, say something, pl-”

Another one, this time your stomach. You cry out, thankful that at least they’re keeping the blood from rushing out.

“These things are so fun,” Black said. “Where ever did she get them?”

More knives are thrown your way each minute Kaz doesn’t say anything. You feel like a pin doll, except alive and with knives sticking out of you.

Many knives because Kaz couldn’t open his damn mouth.

“I just want the pain to stop,” You sob, unknowingly letting your head fall on his shoulder. You’re exhausted, your body is exhausted as it fights the intrusion. It’s a losing battle. “Kaz, please.”

“I can’t.”

“Just tell me that you love me, please!” You’re begging at this point. You just want to hear those words, even when you know they aren’t true. You knew they weren’t true the moment the third knife landed itself.

“Give the girl what she wants, Brekker. Or the other one gets it.”

“I’ll never love you,” Kaz said, milliseconds after Black had threatened Inej. Somehow, that hurts more than the fourteen knives sticking out of you.

“Don’t touch her,” Kaz shouts when Black backs out of the room.

“You love her, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

Black smiles. “Well, today is your lucky day. That was her confession as well. Since you two are so cute together, I’ll let you leave. All limbs intact.”

“What?” Kaz asked.

Black walks over to you, grabbing the knife from your stomach and pulling it out roughly as you cry.

“Oh yes,” He said, “You two - three - I forgot about the Zemeni boy,” He cuts Kaz’s ties. He’s quick to be on his feet and away from the contact.

“You can leave, you can live out the rest of your lives happily.”

“Three?”

Blood rushes from your open wound. He had nicked an artery when drawing it out. You were somehow thankful for that because at least death came quicker.

It came in fourteen agonizing seconds.

It came knowing that Kaz never loved you. He never cared. And he would sacrifice anything and anyone for Inej.

You were just the first.

Addiction will kill you. You just proved it right.

“My bad,” Black apologizes. “You and the Suli girl can love each other for as long as the saints may deem, but just know, you made that choice.”

“I didn’t choose anything.”

“You did, Brekker. I’ll leave the guilty conscience to you, Dirtyhands.”

The name stings Kaz more than it usually did.

“You chose Inej,” Black said simply. “And you’ll pay the price. And do send me an invite to the wedding.”

Black is gone before Kaz can do anything, and when he looks to you.

You’re already dead.

And he wonders what the lasts words you heard were.

If it was up to him, he would’ve said: I love you too.

— END —

🏷 Kaz taglist: @kaqua

want to be added? click here!

#side note!!#kaz is NOT in love with you #he just wanted to say that to make reader happy #:(((#f in chat lads #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x reader #soc kaz #kaz brekker #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker one shot #kaz brekker angst #kaz brekker fic #soc #six of crows #crooked kingdom #shadow and bone #sab

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earnestly-endlessly · 3 years

Note

kind of an odd request — do you have fics where erik is grumpy with everyone else but a ray of sunshine with charles?

Hi anon, thank you for the ask. First and foremost, I'm so sorry for how long this took me but I've been searching for all the fics that come to mind that fit your request. Second, this is not an odd request because I love this trope so much. I mean, it's basically canon that he's grumpy with everyone except for his Charles, right? Anyway, I might add to this list later on, but I can't sit on this any longer and hope that you have found some fics that you enjoy!!

Fic Recs Where Erik is grumpy with everyone but a ray of sunshine with Charles

Twice as Blind – Darksknight

Summary: Erik is probably the biggest asshole on the face of the earth, and because of this, he'll probably die alone. Charles is a complete flirt and playboy and, probably, will never commit to anyone ever.

(The lesson here is that when you have two friends who are BOTH secretly seeing someone, well, it's probable that they're seeing each other.)

In the moonlight, on a joy ride – scarlettblush

Summary: Librarian AU. Charles is the young librarian and Erik is the college student who is completely besotted with him.

The Proper Care of Actors – Clear_Liqueur, Clocks, Etherei, afrocurl

Summary: Erik is an A-list action star who is notoriously difficult to work with, until the day he gets cast alongside Charles Xavier, rom-com darling who can charm the pants off movie audiences the world over and apparently even one Erik Lehnsherr. The paparazzi catch them out and about soon enough, and their real-life Hollywood movie romance becomes instant tabloid fodder.

Rumor Mill – ikeracity

Summary: Erik is the grumpiest, most foul tempered worker at Stark industries. His grumpiness is the stuff of legends.

So it's obviously the talk of the office when Erik is being made to go to the company party and he's bringing his husband. There's rumors flying round about how much of a masochist or equally antisocial bastard Erik's husband must be to put up with him. Others think he must be a meek mouse perhaps bullied by Erik.

What they weren't expecting was the confident, charming, adorable and unbelievably nice Charles that turns up on Erik's arm. What they certainly weren't expecting was how much Erik obviously adores his husband and how happy he is to let others see this.

Work/Life Balance – pocky_slash

Summary: Alex is pretty sure his weird, anti-social boss is a robot. Right up until the guy's adorable husband shows up. His adorable husband who happens to be a famous actor. His adorable husband who happens to be the very same famous actor who was the source of many of Alex's teenage fantasies.

Terrifying Domesticity – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is the most dangerous and notorious mafia boss around for miles, and yet the strangest things terrify him.

For example: his children, and his very pregnant mate.

Of kittens and teacups and love – Ren

Summary: Modern AU in which Charles and Erik are flatmates. Charles studies psychology and likes tea and chess and keeps bringing home stray kittens, and Erik lets him because he's maybe perhaps a little bit sort of in love with him.

Fools Rush In – LoveSupreme

Summary: Erik owns a cafe on the edge of campus and accidentally starts maybe-stalking a Biology Professor there.

Growing Pains – ikeracity

Summary: Twelve-year-old Erik Lehnsherr is an angry, closed-off foster kid with trust issues and a bad temper. Ten-year-old Charles Xavier is a lonely kid in boarding school who just wants a friend.

Logan pretends he doesn't think they're both fucking adorable.

Series

Home Together (The Finding Our Way Remix) – significantowl

Summary: Erik is not the sort of person other students strike up conversations with. His expression, his posture, every part of his manner say: Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to talk to you. But none of that stops the boy ahead of him in line with the collapsible white cane, and nothing can stop Erik from falling for him, like it or not.

Melted Ice Cream and Macaroni Art – pocky_slash

Summary: Everybody likes Charles. Nobody likes Erik. And that's really the source of Erik's doubts. Also, there's ice cream and a baby. Part of ‘the Daycare’ verse.

Walling in or Walling Out – stlkrchck

Summary: Erik stifles a sigh. Of course this is Mr. C. F. Xavier. Of course.

For the prompt: Charles and Raven are throwing a holiday party. Erik is the grumpy neighbor who is annoyed by how loud they are being. So he goes to complain, and Charles makes it up to him.

(Wise Men Say) Only Fools Rush In – wildelybroken

Summary: After reading a fic where Erik and Charles are super sluts, meet at what is presumably Raven and Emma's engagement party, and end up sleeping together, I made the following comment and just inspired myself.

"They start casually texting each other throughout the day, maybe while they’re bored or frustrated at work, and start out meeting up and sleeping together semi-frequently. And eventually they accidentally start dating without noticing it at first, not until Raven and Emma get them alone and are like “wtf you two super sluts are actually dating??” And at first they deny, but then they’re both like “holy shit, we are!” And they meet back at one of their places and they don’t have to say anything, they just look at each other and come together immediately, kissing passionately and ~making love~. In the middle of it they realise that’s what they’ve been doing for a long time now and they confess their love to each other and they live happily ever after because they deserve all the good in the world."

For Charles – Shigai

Summary: Tired of being told he has to find his 'heart', classical piano graduate Erik Lehnsherr decides to travel to Italy and drink from the famous Italian passion for music. While searching for it, he meets Charles Xavier, a graduate in Fine Arts who is basically travelling around the world perfectioning his technique, and who will turn his world upside down.

Together they will discover that, sometimes, what you thought you didn't need is what you needed the most.

Erik Hates People – Anonymous

Summary: Erik hates people- it's his rule, a way of living.

Sugar – humanitys_cutest

Summary: Erik glances at the clock for what feels like the tenth time in less than half the minutes. It feels like he's been in some meeting or other since the day started almost 10 hours ago, and he's had just about enough of listening to these pompous old men discuss what would be the best design for his building like they know anything about it. He tries as subtly as possible to massage his temples to assuage the building migraine, but he knows it's no use.

He just wants to go home.

Everyone Likes Charles – Rosawyn

Summary: '“Everyone who's met him likes him.” Cain's grin was even stupider than before. “Once you meet him, you'll see.”

It was almost like a challenge then. And damn. Erik hated saying no to a challenge.'

Still Going Strong – JackyJango

Summary: Speaking of forty-eight, Erik hates it. Hates it even more that others are aware of it. While he’s pragmatic enough to know and accept that aging is inexorable, the increase in number gives the people around him the freedom to pounce at him with questions, opinions and advice he'd fought to keep at bay all year.

Besides, Erik believes that youth is a state of mind, not a phase in one’s life.

You have a child’s mind in a man’s body, Charles constantly tells him.

But despite his age, Erik is healthy. He works out daily. His muscles are steel and he can dead-lift four hundred pounds. He can break bones without breaking a sweat. Most importantly, he can still carry Charles to the bedroom and fuck him senseless. And as long as Erik can do that, he’s perfectly happy.

All I know is pouring rain and everything has changed – hllfire

Summary: Charles meets Erik, the man he had heard about many times from his sister and some friends, on a rainy Sunday morning. The stories about Erik paint him as a distant and intimidating man, but Charles finds out that maybe the stories had been wrong.

How to Successfully Ruin Your Life – humanveil

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Charles Xavier accepts a job at his local café, expecting nothing more than a fun, new pastime. What he gets is a mysterious customer and a schoolboy crush.

Stolen – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is a miserable, grumpy, cantankerous bastard, and he has every fucking right to be. He drew the short end of the stick when he got the Underworld as his domain, and there isn't very much fun to be had in judging and governing dead souls who would rather be anywhere else but with Erik in the depths of Hell.

So when he meets Charles, brilliant and lovely Charles who is more popularly known amongst the mortals as Persephone, and feels the promise of something wonderful that could make his eternally doomed existence infinitely more bearable... you can bet all your drachmas Erik's not going to let Charles go any fucking time soon.

Erik Lehnsherr's Guide to Saving the Universe By Meeting Your Soul-Mate and Falling in Love in Less than 72 Hours – magneto, pangea

Summary:Army Pilot Erik Lehnsherr is just trying to enjoy his day off when a mostly naked person crashes through the roof of his car. Even more alarming, the strange falling naked person—who goes by Charles Xavier when he's not speaking an ancient dead language—brings tidings of the apparent potential end of the world, and begs Erik to help him put a stop to it.

Well. His mother has been nagging at him to go out and meet new people.

The Theory of Partnership Dynamics – Pangea

Summary: “Detective Lehnsherr, how wonderful to see you out on the job!” The fed in the front greets him as they draw nearer. He’s shorter than the other two by a full head, and he’s beaming at Lehnsherr as if completely undeterred by Lehnsherr’s paint-peeling scowl.

“What do the feds want?” Lehnsherr asks bluntly.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” the fed answers cheerfully. Then his gaze lands on Alex, and, impossibly, his grin gets even brighter. “Did you get a new partner?"

“No,” Lehnsherr says through his teeth while at the same time Alex says, “Yes.”

#fic recs #cherik fic recs #cherik #asks #earnestly answers #I'm sure there are waaaay more fics out there #might add more later

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scarecrowmilkfog · 3 years

Text

♡My Prison Pen Pal♡

Helmut Zemo x reader

Word count: 1,802

Warnings: swearing, mentions of prison and crimes and slight angst to do with his family

A/N: its finally here! I havent writen a fic in a long time so hopefully you guys like this! I tried to avoid using idioms and things like that but message me if you need anything explained or reworded as I know most people aren't native English speakers

@sorcerersofnyc

♡♡♡

His first letter came during the series finale of your favourite show. A rather inconvenient moment, you thought, so it stayed on the welcome mat until you passed through the hall on your way to bed. Picking it up, you figured you'd skim the first few lines then finish it and write a reply before work. Instead, you found yourself writing and rewriting a reply through the night. Somehow this man had managed to enthrall you with only a letter. Maybe it was the way he wrote as if he was some elegant poet whose sonnets would one day be hailed as classics. How he managed to be open and expressive, exuding a welcoming aura, and yet still seeming mysterious. Or perhaps it was simply fated by the stars that Helmut Zemo would capture your heart.

You waited anxiously for his second letter to arrive. After sending the first, you hadn't cared whether you got a response, the whole thing seemed like a bad idea to you. But your mother was insistent that you needed to meet new people and this way you wouldn't need to worry about awkward face to face conversations. Sending the first letter felt like any other chore you do in the day, done with much effort and resignment but forgotten within minutes. But the second? It felt like the most important thing you'd done in a long time. You'd even bought a first class stamp (not that it makes a difference).

You wanted to know more about this intriguing man. No, supervillain. Charged with international terrorism. Jesus christ what the fuck was wrong with you? Were you really falling in love with a supervillain after one letter? But he didn't seem evil to you. He wrote eloquently, somehow his simple and brief description of his day (he'd started reading a new psychology book, you'd have to send him some recommendations) sounded fascinating in his words.

Over time, you started to notice small things about Helmut. The way he crossed his t's, how he signed his name, but mainly that there was a romanticism to his writing. From the way he described his home, his wife, his son to his recipes for Sokovian dishes with small notes and doodles (your favourite was his shepherd's pie recipe where he helpfully noted his mother's assertion that you should always add more than you think you need). It was becoming clear to you that he wasn't the stoic and vengeful baron you expected but rather a soft, lonely and endearingly weird man who you couldn't imagine plotting to destroy the Avengers. Whilst it was his mystery that first captivated you, it was his sweet and sometimes awkward personality that convinced you to keep writing.

It took a while for Helmut to tell you about his family. You had heard on the news back when he first arrested about his motive, so you were interested to hear his perspective on his crimes. But that wasn't what you got. Instead, he told you about when he and his father used to play football when he was young and how they would play a match every time he visited, with Helmut playing against his father and son, who always wanted to play with grandfather. He told you of the songs his wife used to sing, how her voice was always loud and shaky and after years of singing somewhere over the rainbow she would still forget the lyrics and invent her own. He told you how his son was the best pianist he had ever heard. How he could play the greatest rendition of amazing grace and that he had just learnt the theme from swan lake. That he had been excited to practice it on his grandfathers grand piano the day Ultron attacked.

There was something so human about this man. His love for his family, his loss and grief, his plan to avenge his family, it was all so tragic and yet here he was sending you drawings of the flowers from his garden growing up. You wanted to hug him and yet sometimes you felt he wouldn't need it, wouldn't want it. You were wrong.

Helmut Zemo missed his family. He told you so in one of his most recent letters. He missed holding his son, brushing his wife's hair, going for long drives, waking up at 2am to comfort his son, early morning trips to the shops, cleaning up after dinner, helping with homework. Everything he listed seemed so trivial, so meaningless in the grand scheme of life and yet the memories meant so much to him.

You realised then you had never pitied him before. Not that he wasn't deserving of it, just that he didn't seem to need it. But overtime you realised that what Helmut had really needed wasn't revenge or to make a world free from superhumans, it was someone to talk to. Someone to trust. Someone who would understand his pain and not judge it. Perhaps, you thought to yourself, you could be that person.

Fuck.

You couldn't think of how to cope with this. No one you knew had ever mentioned falling in love with a criminal through letters. And as hard as you tried you hadn't been able to find a single romcom with this plot line. You couldn't tell him. You imagined with his seemingly fragile state of mind receiving from basically a stranger professing their love would at best cause him to ghost you. Especially after he confided in you, shared his thoughts and memories.

So instead you continued as normal. You sent him pressed flowers and pictures of your favourite places. Eventually, he asked what looked like, and you spent an hour trying to decide whether you should send a picture of yourself or to just vaguely describe your features. After deciding to send a picture of yourself on holiday a few months before the blip, you found yourself wondering what he'd do with it. Would he throw it away as soon as he got the letter or would he keep it, tuck it away in some book to look at whilst thinking of you?

You also found yourself wondering what he looked like in the real world. You had found pictures of him online, but they didn't feel real. He was never rarely happy. The pictures pre Ultron were clearly taken by paparazzi, so you weren't surprised he rarely looked anything other than annoyed. There were a few though, ones with his wife and son, where he clearly hadn't noticed, and some from when he was much younger and seemed to enjoy the attention. Then were those taken after his arrest.

And so you continued to wonder he looked like. How he looked in the morning, with flowers in his hair or in summer with the sun lighting his face. You wondered what his hair looked like wet, if he ever scrunched his nose in disgust. You wondered what his smile was like.

Over time, you told him more about yourself. The stress of returning home after the blip to no job, no house and your friends 5 years older. Your ex was married with kids and your sister had moved abroad. It was as if you blinked and your whole life had changed. You mentioned how it was your mum who had suggested getting a pen pal, so you could talk to someone new, who was living a different life to you, although she had meant someone in a different country not jail. Since coming back you'd been isolated and stressed with starting a new job, recovering lost information and personal belongings and moving house, so you had thought it might be good to speak to someone who didn't know you, who couldn't judge you. You told Helmut how it had been good, how writing to him had helped you, how he had helped you more than he could ever know.

No, that sounded creepy. How you appreciated his letters.

Too formal. How you hadn't expected to become his friend, but you were glad to be able to say you were.

Helmut was comforting. You knew in your head that your meeting on Friday was nothing to worry about but seeing him say it felt so reassuring. Each one of his letters made you feel relaxed, feel safe. You wanted to make him feel the same. So, as a way to repay his kindness you had told him that no matter what happened, he could always trust you. And it was true. You couldn't imagine a world where you wouldn't do anything for Helmut and although you knew he would never need it, you still wanted him to know you would always care about him, even if no one else did.

Writing to him had become as easy as talking to someone you'd known all your life. You had fallen into an easy routine, you knew when to expect his letters and you knew when you'd send a reply. The routine felt so natural that you even knew what the envelope would look like, always the same off-white with a square edged flap. The address was always the same too. Except on his last letter. Which was strange.

At first, you thought Helmut had been moved to a different prison but after frantically typing the address into Google Maps you realised it was not a prison. Fuck you had no idea what it was, but it wasn't a prison. It also wasn't in Germany.

You sat still, staring at the unopened letter for a few minutes.

You looked up at the door. You thought you heard someone knock. The post had already come and you weren't expecting people. Hell, there wasn't anyone other than your parents who would visit anyway and they would have called first. Now you were sat still, staring at the front door.

"I know you're in there, the lights are on."

It was as if you were a marionette, being moved by some strange force that was slowly pulling you out of your seat and towards the door. You didn't even register that you moved until you felt the door handle on your fingertips. The cold metal caused you to stop, as if broken out of a trance. There was a sudden realisation that if you opened the door your life would never be the same. It was sickening, a mixture of dread and excitement; it reminded you of the moment before a roller coaster drops. You repeated that thought in your head. "Your life would never be the same". Your life hadn't been the same in almost a year. What would be the harm in one more big change. So you did it. You opened the door.

His smile was beautiful.

#zemo x reader #helmut x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #tfatws

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onebizarrekai · 3 years

Text

v3′s art is comically terrible for a professionally distributed game in a series: a compilation

in this not-essay I will list all of the mistakes and problems I have spotted in v3′s art. don’t worry, it’s entirely for fun and I’m doing this on a whim, so please feel free to not take this seriously but also it’s hilarious and embarrassing how ridiculous this is like what happened did they speedrun the whole production or what

see, there are some things you can take as meta like “they made it bad on purpose to allude to the downfall of tv shows that have been on air for much too long” but I have a very strong feeling this is not the case due to the nature of some of these errors

disclaimer, the more I study this art, the more I fear that the artists were underpaid and underslept, so if this is in fact the case, I am so sorry to all of them but also I’m going to make fun of the art anyway

anyway let’s get started!

if you study this image for longer than 5 seconds, you will see that kaede is the only one fully shaded and keebo is literally just his normal sprite pasted into the image. every other character is just an ordinary ref, hence most of them facing the exact same direction with neutral expressions on their faces. it looks like a bad edit, and is probably one of the worst pieces of art in the game. it kind of gets better from here on, but my roasting will not.

with that out of the way, here’s the problem that officially bothers me the most and clarifies my viewpoint of “this is not meta and an actual lack of company communication”

this freaking cg, which seems normal at a glance, but some wiseass was like “oh, kaede is a girl, so obviously she’s going to be shorter than the Male Protagonist™” ah, that’s funny. because if you look at the character bios, kaede is, in fact, one inch taller than shuichi and not like 6 inches shorter as she is shown here.

also shuichi’s shoulder is disproportionate and horrendous and he looks vaguely like a jojo character, but I wasn’t even thinking about that until right now.

thanks guys, 50% of the fandom who has never bothered to check these bios thinks that kaede is like 5′3 (did the developers really put so little thought into her to the point where drawing her correctly in the game didn’t even matter??)

also I would like to point out that, even though this isn’t related to the art itself, yes, a character kaede’s size being only 117 lbs is unfeasible, but this applies to literally every character in danganronpa ever and it’s not new news that it’s unrealistic

update: someone in the tags informed me that in versions of the game that use centimeters, like the japanese version, kaede is actually shorter than shuichi, which just adds another thing to the list of weird decisions the localization team made for no reason. that said, after confirming this, kaede is 167 cm in the original, while shuichi is 171 cm, which are approximately 5′6 and 5′7 respectively, but one inch is still nowhere near as drastic as it is depicted above. (in spite of this, I would rather depict kaede as slightly taller, so I’m probably going to keep doing that.)

the journey continues!

bro if you want kaede to have shoulder length hair then stick to it to begin with

you can pretend this is at an angle all you want but they definitely committed the shorter kaede sin a second time

wait a goddamn second.

DO YOU SEE THIS

no………… it wasn’t kaede who shrank. it was shuichi who got taller

speaking of which, can we talk about how shady the perspective is in this elevator pic? look at shuichi and kokichi in comparison to kaede. kokichi, who is canonically 7 inches (edit: or 5, if you’re loyal to the original) shorter than kaede, looks taller than kaede. he’s growing too. what steroids are these gays taking

running into the room, electric boogaloo: I don’t think tsumugi is supposed to be the same height as kokichi

gonta… gonta you’re lookin a bit like a jojo character there

I love how kaito’s head looks kind of like it was pasted onto his body. why is he the same size as shuichi? shouldn’t he be high school bully size or something? his torso is teensy

ah yes, white angie.

I love this cg but why is shuichi’s right hand so much bigger than his left hand

I also love how this cg looks like they literally took pictures of trees and pasted them into the background, especially on the left. the shadows are so weird, especially closer to the ceiling, it’s difficult for me to believe they didn’t do exactly that.

return of Enlarged shuichi

puberty update: kokichi is now taller than shuichi in spite of shuichi never missing leg day. what crimes will he commit

I have to mention it, guys. this has to be one of the worst danganronpa cgs. kokichi’s facial proportions look atrocious. look at the way his face sticks out like his jaw is in the wrong place. his scarf is a pasted texture. that’s it. this moment was so iconic but the cg just looks so… so… off. like something is terribly wrong, but you can’t put your finger on it.

you know what? let’s get into that ‘pasted texture’ thing.

let’s imagine you’re an artist working on a professional game. you’re assigned to draw cgs of kokichi ouma, who has a checkered scarf from hell. sure, it will be terrible to draw, but you only have to draw it once at a time! plus, perspective is pretty important, right? can you be bothered? nah, actually. let’s just copy paste a checkered pattern into the cg, because I’m sure nobody will notice. it’ll blend right in with the other cgs that someone actually put effort into drawing his scarf in, right?

no. the answer is no and I very much noticed. this genuinely looks terrible and I would understand taking a shortcut like that in fanart or even an indie game but this is a full price pc and console distributed game

(an addition: look at kokichi’s TINY HANDS in that last one)

meanwhile, they straight up forgot to color in kokichi’s scarf in this cg.

dude. I forgot about whatever the hell this cg was. anyway look at keebo please just look at him

lovin kaito’s baby arms

real talk, maybe you could argue that he’s missing muscle because he’s deathly sick, but most of his cgs don’t line up with this, and his arms just look disproportionate to his torso size (granted this is a consistent problem across all danganronpa games and a lot of characters have this weird problem, like hajime, but also kaito is bigger than hajime so I kind of have higher expectations of him) maybe it’s his stupid goatee and the way he reminds me of yasuhiro?? it creates this illusion that he’s older than he is and so I keep expecting him to look more like an adult

oh, also rantaro is missing some of his accessories in that video he made–you know the one–but I don’t wanna go back and screenshot it

also you may have noticed that I’m skipping all of the monokub cgs because I literally do not care about them and I’m not even bothering to check and see if they have artistic mistakes in them

JIMMY NEUTRON???

hey um uh kaito you seem to be missing your neck

hey guys do you like my pregame fanart

so, that done, the sprites are also pretty terrible at times. they’re not as interesting to go through, however, and downloading the full sprite sets for every character and studying every single one of them will drive me insane, so I’ll just sum some of the ones I noticed up. I made things for kaede and shuichi before deciding I wasn’t going to get into it, so here are these.

that said, other mistakes include kokichi missing his purple highlights in all of the sprites encompassing a specific pose, stray pixels all over the place on everyone, and everyone also has heavily inconsistent shading, but literally all I think about is how pregame shuichi is unshaded and two of kaede’s pregame sprites have glaring outfit change mistakes in them

anyway, thank you for taking the time to read my ridiculous ramble. in all seriousness, there’s this looming presence of some lack of communication in the development team, like with all the art and design inconsistencies, pieces and sprites that look rushed, stray pixels, and missing basic proportional stuff. these are the kinds of things that you supposedly have to pretty much have in the bag in order to get jobs in professional businesses, so it’s really weird to me that this game suffers from so many of these problems. it’s like they tried to make the art so much more crisp than the other games, but it fell on its face as they realized it was going to take longer to draw everything and they started to rush. it’s weird, because the coloring itself looks normal–it’s just sloppily drawn, and the proportions are a mess once put into the context of perspective. many of the cgs look like they were drawn by different people, and I’m still not over the fact that half of kokichi’s cgs have his scarf pasted in as a texture.

the moral of the story is that if you’re selling a game at full price that also happens to be in a series that has had 3 very good games in it already the stakes should probably be higher than this. v3 has been out for more than 3 years and it’s still $40 (did it cost more than that before? I sure hope not), and the overarching quality of the game is just not as high as the other games. I’m not saying that the other games don’t have any problems with their art at all, they’re just not as glaringly obvious and every artistic choice in those games feels intentional.

regardless, I had a blast roasting the art at 2am, so maybe you got a kick out of all this chaos.

#god I keep telling myself I'm gonna stop rambling about v3 #v3 spoilers #drv3 spoilers #ndrv3 #random stuff #but making this… it sounded so fun #danganronpa

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marvelatthetwilight · 3 years

Text

Good to be home.

A/N: Just a quick one while I sort out some follow up pieces.

You had missed your brother immensely in the 5 years since you had been home. You were 7 when your mom left, and your dad moved you both back to La Push hoping that being back at the reservation would help you both, growing up as part of a community. Your dad gradually grew distant, starting to drink more and more. Sometimes he could be gone for days at a time, leaving the two of you to fend for yourselves. You relied on each other for everything. It was a shock when, at 13, your dad decided you should go back to Tacoma and stay with your grandparents, claiming that he couldn’t care for two teenagers, and that your brother was “easier” to deal with.

And so, the two of you were separated. Partners in crime, peas in a pod, best friends, ripped apart.

When your grandparents passed away, you finally had the money and the means to move back to La Push, reuniting you and your brother Paul once again.

~~~

“Y/N Lahote as I live and breathe!” Jared Cameron came bounding over to your car as you pulled up to the address Paul sent you.

“Paul has NOT stopped talking about you coming home, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so excited” Jared smiled as he opened up the passenger door and helped you with your bags.

“Jared, you look so grown up! You used to be so weedy! What happened?” You stared incredulously at him, he had grown at least a foot since you last saw him, had filled out and become muscular, nothing like the Jared you were expecting to see.

“Ha! If you think that’s something, just wait until you see your brother.”

You followed him into the house which you understood to be Emily and Sam’s. They had offered to let you stay with them whilst Paul was still finishing his house he was building for himself and Rachel.

As you entered the kitchen you were greeted with a hug from Emily, you recognised her from the photos Paul had sent you over the years. Emily was closely followed by Kim, and then Rachel, who you had spoken to on the phone almost everyday since you had planned to return home.

“Y/N! We are all SO excited to see you! Paul and I have so many plans for us!” Rachel jumped with joy, excited to spend time with her new “sister”.

“So where is my brother? I was expecting him outside waiting considering the amount he has been bothering me with questions about my arrival this week” Rachel looks over at Emily before saying; “he’s out doing some errands with Embry and Sam, they will be back soon, let’s get you settled!”

They gesture for Jared to help with your bags, and he picks them up with ease before leading the way to the guest room.

“This is going to be so hard keeping everything from Y/N if she is staying here, it’s going to be right under her nose. The boys aren’t subtle at all.” Emily whispers to Rachel.

“I know but that’s why we are in charge of keeping her busy! At least until Paul’s house is ready, then it’ll be easier.” Rachel replies as she starts walking towards the guest room, not realising that you had hung back to ask Emily a question away from Jared, unintentionally hearing their conversation.

~~~

An hour later you are in the kitchen at Emily’s dining table, bonding with the girls over your love of cooking, discussing your favourite bands. But you couldn’t stop thinking about what you had overheard. What were they keeping from you?

At that moment, Paul appeared at the door, an enormous smile on his face.

“Y/N!!!!!!!” He ran towards you, lifting you from your seat, into a bear hug. Oh how you had missed his hugs. Although you don’t remember them being this warm.

“I can’t even begin to explain how excited I am that you’re here, I have so many plans, we can go to the beach, go for a hike, I can show you the house, you can choose how to decorate your room..”

“Maybe give Y/N a chance to process what you’re saying before you keep going there Paul. I’m Sam, it’s so good to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much about you” Sam holds out his hand for you to shake, you choosing to ignore that and pulling him in for a hug instead. Woah, it’s not just Paul who feels like he’s burning up. They’re like heaters.

“Obviously I have to hug the man who’s helped my brother out so much. Thank you for everything you’ve done.” Sam smiles at this, before turning his attention to Emily, pulling her in for a hug and peppering her face with kisses.

“...thanks for running off Paul, Sam can you please explain to this idiot that just because he’s one of the fastest wolves in the pack doesn’t mean he needs to run at full speed all the time?!...oh...erm...” everyone’s heads turn to face the two new people who have appeared at the door, seemingly unaware of your presence until it was too late.

Paul’s face turns red with anger, you recognise this quickly from the stories he had told you over the years. Rachel is quickly to his side, arms around his waist, forcing his eyes to her own, speaking to him softly and calming him down.

You look again to the two men still standing in the doorway.

“Erm...hi. I’m Quil, and this idiot is Embry. Sorry, we forgot you were coming today Y/N, please ignore Embry, we have a running joke with Emily calling us all wolves because we act like a pack and we eat her out of house and home”. He laughs unnaturally at this, glancing at the others who join in, catching on that this should be funny.

You smile tightly at him, something is definitely up here. Then you turn your attention to the guy you now know to be Embry. You vaguely remember Embry and Quil from school, friends of Jacob Black’s, you were in the same year but not friends, but you don’t remember him looking like this. Why are all of Paul’s friends so muscly and tall? You definitely didn’t remember Embry being this handsome, he definitely would have stood out more. It’s like Sam has a type for his friends, another thing to add to your list of suspicions, as well as this bizarre reference to wolves. What is going on?

You realise that Embry is staring at you, his eyes are unfocused and he looks like he has completely zoned out. You cough slightly, drawing him out of his trance, attention back to you. His eyes are soft and warm, his face breaks out into a huge smile as he reaches out his hand.

“Hi, it’s so good to see you again Y/N, we’ve heard so much about your time away, erm, I’m Embry.”

You take his hand in yours, he’s so warm, why are they all so warm?

“I remember you Embry. You, Jake and Quil were like the three musketeers, always together!”

Embry smiles at the fact you remember him, and nods his head at your statement.

“We still are, don’t know what I would do without them!”

A growl sounds out from across the room, a quick cough coming from Sam stops the growl suddenly. You turn to see Paul, still with Rachel wrapped around his waist trying to calm him, shooting daggers at Embry.

“Oh this is great! I am SO looking forward to you getting out of this one Embry!” Jared laughs and claps Embry on the back.

“Paul, Embry, outside now” Sam states sternly, the two men quickly following him out of the house. You follow them with your eyes until they disappear into the tree line.

Everyone looks awkwardly at each other, before Emily suggests you help her with dinner. You agree, nodding, hoping that someone at some point will explain to you what the hell is going on.

~~~

The guys finally return an hour later, both Paul and Embry smiling as they playfully push each other walking back towards the house.

“Paul’s let him off far too lightly. I wanted Embry to at least come back with some bites...” Jared stops as Kim nudges him in the ribs.

“Can we speak to you outside Y/N?” Paul says, giving you a look and motioning outside.

You follow him out, and they both walk a bit away from the house towards the open space behind them.

~~~

You now find yourself standing next to Embry, a giant grey wolf standing in front of you.

Apparently, they really are all wolves, and you vaguely remember stories like this when you lived in La Push when you were younger. You just assumed they were nonsense, just silly stories to keep people in line with the threat of wolves and cold ones.

But they were all true. So this is what everyone was keeping from you? But, if they were going to tell you anyway, why was this all a big secret?

You turn to Embry, to see him watching your face carefully. His cheeks flush when he realises he has been staring again.

“So, this is why everyone has been acting strange around me all day?” Paul’s wolf nods and Embry speaks up.

“Yes. We weren’t allowed to say anything about it, so it had to be a secret. But...something changed that means we can now tell you.” He looks embarrassed again, and Paul huffs like he is unhappy about what has been said.

Embry flashes him a look, and Paul stalks away back to the tree line he emerged from minutes earlier.

“Can we sit? I feel like we should be sitting for this.”

You nod, still suspicious and then you both make your way to a small bench close to the house.

“So...one of the perks, I suppose, of our wolves is that we imprint. Erm...and imprinting is basically our way of finding our soul mate. It’s like a pull, we don’t want to be away from them but ultimately, we just want them to be happy. ...It’s not always romantic soul mates, it can just be a friendship...whatever the imprint wants from us basically” he shuffles in his seat, glancing at the floor, scuffing his foot in the dirt.

“Ok...so that’s what Paul and Rachel are, imprints, that’s why she was able to calm him?”

Embry nods.

“And Jared and Kim, Sam and Emily? They’re imprints too?”

Embry nods again.

“So...why are you telling me this? What has changed for me to now know your secret?”

Embry’s face flushes at this question. He was hoping you would have caught on and he wouldn’t need to actually tell you.

“Y/N...” Embry looks up, looking deeply into your eyes, willing you to understand.

“Oh...” you whispered, he was saying that you were his imprint. You thought about this carefully. Embry. “You’re saying that I’m your imprint?”

Embry nods a final time. Hesitant about your reaction.

“But we can be whatever you want us to be, it doesn’t need to be anything else.” He looks away again, hoping that you want what he wants, but not wanting to push you into something you aren’t comfortable with.

You can admit to yourself that you do feel a pull towards him, more than just a friendship you think.

“Erm...maybe we take it slow? But, I think...I want...”

You look up at him, his eyes full of love and something clicks inside you. You lean forward, closing the space between you. He looks shocked but he closes the space again until your lips are inches apart. He waits for you to take the final move.

Your lips touch briefly, and your body tingles at the touch, a shiver running through you as you move apart and the contact is lost. Wow.

“I definitely want to be more than friends Embry.” You whisper to him, leaning your forehead against his, your lips still close.

“I am going to make you the happiest girl in the entire world Y/N Lahote.” You smile and kiss him again.

I could get used to this, you thought.

It’s so good to be home.

A/N: so this wasn’t as short as I thought haha. Got caught up!

Taglist:

@volturidoll13 @clearwater-hoe @like-rain-or-confetti @teampaul @fatiguing-thoughts @wallwriterstuff

#embry call x reader #embry call imagine #embry call #paul lahote #jared cameron #paul lahote x reader #twilight #twilight imagines #twilight x reader #Paul Lahote x sister

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ladykalila · 4 years

Text

✨ How To Wake Witchblr ✨

We’ve all seen the hashtag #wakingwitchblr or the term itself at one point. Still, I found that there’s a lack of info on what you can actually do to make witchblr more active.

So I took it upon myself to create a list of things that anyone can do to revive our amazing community! Enjoy !

1) Don’t Like, Reblog instead 📣

There’s nothing inherently wrong with liking a post, it’s just that due to how Tumblr works, liking a post does virtually nothing. Reblogging, however, lets that post be seen by more and more people. The surefire way to revive witchblr is by reblogging as many witchy posts as you can.

But what if some posts just doesn’t fit into your blog’s theme, even though you want to support it? Well, you have a couple options:

Reblog anyway. Diversifying your posts actually makes your blog more interesting. You can always tag it as ‘off-topic’ if the different theme bothers you that much.

Create a reblog/spam account! I have one and it is so simple. The post may not gain as much traction compared to if you RB-ed in your main blog, but trust me when I say a single reblog goes a long way.

Share it on other social media. See that arrow-like button down there? Click it and you can share the post anywhere. Send it to your witchy discord servers or your insta groupchat !

2) Get off the 'Top’ page. Go to ‘Recent’ 💌

AKA reblog from lesser-known bloggers.

Not only will you support fellow witches creating content, this also give you a chance to talk to them and find your place within Witchblr! Which brings me to my next point...

3) Interact with The Community 💬

If I’m a witch who wants to move away from Tumblr, there will be only one thing that can stop me, and that’s the friends and connections that I’ve made here.

Join online covens and discord servers, ask your witchstagram and witchtok friends for their tumblr url, and just have fun together.

Interacting with other witches, making friends, even just giving compliments or advices. This is what makes us a community. It’s what makes us stay here. If we don’t interact with each other, than we’re just a bunch of people who likes the same thing without any connection. That’s not witchblr.

4) Diversify Your Tags 🎪

There is a kind of... exclusivity, when you look through the hashtags of witchy posts. Witches only ever tag with “witchblr”, “witchcraft”, and “magick”.

This creates an accurate, non-spammy post, but it is also a post that will only show up on other witches’ dashboard and no one else’s. The community will never grow in this way because there will be no new people finding the community. It’s just an echo chamber.

Instead, diversify your tags. I’m not telling you to tag your ritual oil with ‘cars for sale’, but if you made a travel altar yourself, there’s nothing wrong in tagging it #crafting, #diy, #handmade, etc.

Non-witches will then find the post and potentially become interested in the community, thus making it grow.

5) Make Original Content 🔮

Original content is the backbone of any community, and witchblr is dying because we’re not producing any. So if you want to revive witchblr, make content of your own.

No, it doesn’t have to be well thought-out. Heck, it doesn’t even have to be good. Original content can be anything! It can be you posting about a witchy thing that happened. It can be your drawing, or a picture you took. It could even be memes???

Or it could be a ‘how to wake witchblr’ post that you wrote because you have a script due 3 weeks ago and somehow this is your idea of procrastination

The point is: just click that ‘Make a Post’ button, and make a freaking post !

6) Share This, and Add Your Own Tips! 🖤

Now that you know these, it’s time to let other people know too ! I put a lot of thoughts into this post, but I have to admit that these tips will only work if everyone in the community is doing it.

If you have other tips or ways to make Witchblr more active, feel free to reblog with your own addition too.

I love this community, and if you’re reading this post I’m sure you do as well. It’s not gonna happen overnight, but I know that we can be as active as we used to be. We’ve got the heart, we just need the action.

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justreadingfics · 4 years

Text

It’s a Deal (Chapter 7)

Chapter Summary: How you and Bucky feel about the presence of your ex-boyfriend.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 4.3k

Warnings:+18 only, mention to smut, overdrinking, embarrassing behavior due alcohol consumption, Natasha knows stuff, ex-boyfriend, minor jealousy, minor angst, floof, Bucky has a somewhat creep confession, but give him a break, he’s never been in love.

A/N: Another smutless one, I hope you don’t mind. Thank you to my sweet Les for having my back. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.

Tag list for this story is closed.

Previously:

Your shoulder brushes against him as you walk past Bucky and he turns his body around, following you with his gaze. He takes a long sip of his drink and places a hand inside his pocket, watching as you approach your ex-boyfriend.

He tries hard to bury deep down inside him the tug on his chest.

“Oh, fuck…”

Natasha’s curse makes him turn to her and he realizes she’s been watching him, with a dumbfounded expression he’s not used to see on her face.

“What?”

She scoffs and shakes her head, seeming in an estate of disbelief, “This whole time I’d been worried with the wrong person.”

No point. Bucky sees absolutely no point in trying to make it like there isn’t turmoil twisting inside of him. Not for Natasha, anyway, it would be to no avail. Also, he’s pretty sure there’s a kicked puppy look on his face to make it harder for him to put on any kind of façade.

“Fuck,” he sighs and run his hand harshly over his face, “What the hell is this, Natasha?” He whines, failing at trying to not sound as helpless as he does.

“You tell me, buddy.” She points at him with her glass of vodka, tilting her head with interest.

“Shit,” he exhales, looking down, before his face snaps up at her, “I’m … just weird, I’m not myself these days.” Bucky bites his lower lip as if trying to somehow refrain from spilling the words, but he just can’t, he’s dying to let it all out. He steps closer to her and lowers his voice as much as he can with the loud music beating around them, “I’ve spent almost every day of the last month with her. I have absolutely no desire to see or think of another woman and I have to restrain myself constantly, cause if I had it my way I would call her every five minutes to check in on her, and… and when I’m thinking about her - which is all the time, I fucking swear - I wonder if she’s thinking of me, and now? I mean, right now? I feel like snatching the blade right now on my ankle and shooting it right on that fella’s throat.” Finally taking a breath after his rambling, he points in your direction, before turning to see you right when you’re letting out a small laugh at something the punk has said.

“Wow…” Natasha lets out a whistle.

“A few days ago,” he turns back to his friend, “I snuck into her closet to find out the name of her perfume. And you know what I did next? I bought a large bottle for myself, like a fucking creep,” sheer frustration plasters on his tone.

“Oh my…,” Natasha snorts at the same time a mix of incredulity and amusement shines on her eyes, “That’s definitely creepy and it’s even worse than I imagined. The almighty Bucky Barnes, the I’m a whore and proud,” she thickens her voice playfully, moving her arms in a mimicking way, “The I don’t do romance and attachments king is a tiny lost puppy with big blue heart eyes, aww,” she inclines her head as if she’s thinking of him as exactly how she’s just described him.

Bucky tries but he can’t actually find the amusement in all of that. The fact one single woman is making him feel that way is entirely new, unpredictable and… scary as hell. He has no clue where to go from there.

Natasha seems to swiftly catch on his little inner self torment and, after letting out a deep sigh, she puts on a small smile and shakes her head, “Don’t worry Bucky, it’s probably a crush. A big one. But only a crush,” she places her hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze, “Y/n is one of my best friends and I know how delightful it is to be beside her. Maybe you’re just infatuated…”

“Maybe…” he exhales and shrugs, “I wouldn’t know… all I know is I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Not that I remember…. but I’m pretty sure I would.” He looks at you again while you’re still talking to the Eddie guy.

“They have history,” Natasha says in a kind voice, following your gaze.

“I know.”

“He was her first and only boyfriend.”

“I know.”

“She thought she was going to marry him.”

“Damn Nat…” he breathes out his frustration, dropping his head for a moment, before raising his downcast gaze at her again, “Yeah, I know that, too.”

“But you’re Bucky fucking Barnes,” she snaps in a more cheerful voice shaking his arm with a enthusiastic force, “Don’t forget that, buddy,” she shoots him a warning glare, “Also, I’ve never seen a brighter smile on that woman than when she’s talking about you,” she beams.

Bucky’s heart jumps and a quick breathy smile surges on his lips before he takes in a shuddering breath, “I’m not sure what I should do, though.”

“Well, figure it out,” she lets go of his arm and taps on it, “My advice for the night if you should accept it is let it flow,” she shrugs. “Go on with your thing and see what happens. Just try not to hurt you or her on your way, though,” Nat warns.

“I’m not even sure I-Wait,” he frowns after his gaze is drawn to the spot where you are again, “Did that fucker just leave her alone?”

He instantly struts towards you, ignoring Nat’s snicker.

~~~

“Hey,” you smile, gulping down the nervousness down your throat as you approach your ex-boyfriend. The one you haven’t seen ever since he broke up with you months ago.

“Hey,” he offers you a tight but kind smile back.

You halt on your way, the awkwardness building up a barrier on your way as you’re not sure what to do next. Should you give him your hand to shake? Hug him? Do nothing at all? Not once before you had thought that moment would play out between you and Eddie.

But he seems a bit more resolved than you and shrugs, leaning forward and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “Congratulations again,” he says, still holding you, “You’re the best and most hard working person I know, you deserve it.”

The small smile in your lips grows wider and you accept the compliment, relieved that the awkwardness seems to be tamed. While you’re so close to him after all that time, you notice he’s wearing the same perfume he’s been wearing for years, the one which would make you sneeze all the time, but you never really said anything.

“Thank you,” you lean back, sniffing discreetly to suppress the sneeze threatening to come out, “I’m happy you could make it,” you add. The fact he’s arrived all by himself grasps your interest, considering how everyone around you would tell you he was probably seeing someone else… however, if he did have someone, he wouldn’t bring them to your party, would he?

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it,” he says with a gentle tone, but the formality is still there, you notice.

You two engage in some small conversation and you can’t help but to take him in and realize that, just like the perfume, Eddie looks exactly the same with everything else. The same hairstyle, same grey t-shirt you gifted him on your last Christmas together, the same constant half smile while he talks… he still speaks quietly, letting out just a few small words, which has always forced you to be the one to push on the conversations…

It’s… familiar… even comfortable, you dare say. But if you’re going to be honest with your own feelings, ever since he walked away, you thought you would be yearning to feel that familiarity again, that it would lead you to a sense of… home.

Why it isn’t quite like that, though?

“You look different,” he says as the subjects of small talk seem to come to an ending point.

You put your previous thoughts aside for later consideration.

“Oh…Different good or bad?” you ask, tilting your head with a small pull in the corner of your lips.

“I don’t know... just…different, I guess,” he frowns and quickly puts on that half smile of his.

“Oh, well… it’s been a while…“

“Yeah… I guess you’re right,” he says, regarding you with a wondering look in his eyes that makes you shift on your knees, “Listen,” he clears his throat, “I was wondering if we could meet to talk one of these days.”

“Oh,” you draw in a breath. Talking to him, having a real conversation, is something you’ve been wanting to do for a long time. It still feels like you don’t fully understand why you’re broken-up. Regardless the time it’s passed, you still feel attached to him somehow, like, no matter how exciting and new, you’re now living someone else’s life and not the one you had planned for you years ago.

“I mean,” he adds before you can give him a proper answer, “We still need to figure out what to do about the condo.”

The words are like cold water thrown at your face. There you are, thinking he wanted to talk about your relationship, but what’s really on his mind is the condo you’ve bought together. Swiftly, you work on putting a small smile on your face, “Yeah… sure, you’re right,” you nod.

“Hey! Eddie!”

Both of you look towards the female voice and your eyes fall upon a beautiful young woman you recognize as one of the members of SHIELD’s tech team. You’ve worked with her on a joined project of the two organizations before. Chloe… you believe her name is Chloe.

She’s waving at Eddie excitedly, calling him over the little group she’s with. She doesn’t seem to notice you’re standing next to him until her gaze meets yours. The wide grin on her face drops into a quick cringe before she nods in a respectful manner and shifts her look away, whispering something at one of the guys in the group.

When you set your attention back on Eddie, you tighten your lips just as you notice how the bone on his throat bobs right before his flustered eyes meet yours again.

“I-I, ahm, gotta go,” he runs his hand on the nape of his neck, “Can I call you later?”

“Yeah, sure.” Your voice comes out calm and controlled.

“It was good to see you,” he says, before placing his hand on your shoulder, “Congratulations again.”

After you give him a small nod as a thank you, keeping the tight smile on your face matching his, he walks away towards the group and the woman. The one your friends kept warning you about, apparently, given how uncomfortable he seemed to be in front of you after you saw her. As soon as he gets there, you see the two of them talking in hushed words. He keeps a safe distance from her, but his hand on her arm is where your gaze sticks on.

You don’t have the slightest idea of what’s happening with your feelings right now. Minutes ago you were realizing the familiarity of Eddie wasn’t what you expected it to be anymore, but now, seeing him so close to someone else… a beautiful woman, to be more specific, with her long black straightened hair and fancy blue dress holding each one of her beautiful curves…It just crushes you. A lump grows in your throat and while your gaze flicks around, you feel small… lost… picturing ways you could flee away from your own party at the same time ten years of your life flash in your mind.

The cold, yet gentle touch of metal in your elbow is what takes you out of your own head, “Hey, everything alright?” says the silky and soothing voice.

Your gaze meets Bucky’s while he stares at you with concerned eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes of his…There’s already a bit less turbulence inside your chest and mind. You think nothing of it, though.

“Yeah, yeah…” you smile, “He, ahm… Some friends called him. He had to go.”

Bucky just lets out a hum – which sounds more like a groan – staring over your shoulder to where the little group stands.

“He said he wants to talk…“ you start, and don’t see when Bucky’s breath hatches catches on his throat, his eyes back on you, “About the condo,” you press your lips, “He said he’ll call me.”

While your gaze gets lost ahead, you have no idea that the sadness in them pinches deep inside Bucky’s chest. If you could read Bucky’s mind at that moment, you would find out that the fact your reencounter with your ex-boyfriend hadn’t ended up in some sort of hope for reconciliation hasn’t left him sad at all, but the lost look in your eyes… makes him wanna hold you in his arms and never let go. Not before punching a douche in the face, of course.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart,” he wraps his arm around your shoulder, side hugging and pulling you closer to him, “You’re the fucking boss now and, look around, ” he gestures with his glass of whiskey to the crowded and jazzing place, ”You have a damn Stark party just for you. We’re all here to celebrate the badass motherfucker you are. You’re not just going to let anything ruin your night, will you?” The corner of his eyes crinkle as he grins at you.

You let out a small laugh, the heaviness inside you slowly slipping out of your body as you allow yourself to synchronize with Bucky’s vibe. You can always trust the upbeat way he presents the world to you to lift whatever mood of yours up. You look down at your empty glass and shrugs, “I might need a refill, though…or two,” you shoot him a warning look.

Bucky’s smile stretches even wider and he lets go of your shoulders to offer his arm, nodding towards the bar, “Shall we?”

You gladly accept his suggestion by wrapping your hand around his elbow and walking with him, not even noticing that Eddie’s gaze follows you with piqued interest.

~~~

Quite a few more drinks later and after listening to Tony’s very nice and very Tony speech on his toast to honor you, you’re already fully invested in your party again. Bucky stays by your side most of the time, but you also come across with a lot of your friends from work and a few others, who are all more than happy to put you high on a pedestal for your promotion and party with you. It stings a bit when Camilla, your friend from work, tells you she heard Eddie and Chole are really together, but two or three more drinks after, you end up hitting the dance floor with a few friends by your side, not even seeing when Eddie leaves the party early, right before Chloe.

You’re happy to see that Amanda, one of Bucky’s friends you met that night in the club, has made it to the party, but you’re already too tipsy and it slips from your attention when she comments on how Bucky has been quite distant from her and the other girls for almost a month now.

If you’re going to be honest, you end up not truly noticing a lot of stuff since you’ve been drinking a great deal more than you’re used to, probably due the drill of having a kickass party thrown for you mixed with the unexpected sight of Eddie with a potential new girl - after months without seeing him. As the alcohol does its thing in your senses, you don’t notice the way Bucky looks at you, the way he holds you a little bit stronger when you’re dancing together, how he glares at the guys who tries to approach you or the fact he only leaves your side when he knows you’re comfortable and safe.

All you see and feel now is the music and the lights as you sway your hips to the beats. The party is almost coming to an end, but there’s still a small crowd of people enjoying their last moments there. The alcohol, the music and your friends, more precisely Camilla, Olivia, Amanda and Nat – the last two in the middle of a flirting contest you fail to notice, as well – are the ones around you. The buzz clouds your mind in a delicious way until your back bumps into a hard wall. Your weakened knees give in but before you hit the floor the wall wraps around you and holds you still.

Oh, you know that hard wall of muscles… You know it pretty well.

“Hey, there.” A foolish smile plasters on your lips at the same time the back of your head leans against the wall so you can see his face. His gorgeous and ungodly sexy face, “Your face is sexy,” you decide it is a very good idea to tell him that now.

“That right?” Bucky smirks, holding your gaze.

“Oh, yeah,” you clumsily turn around to face him, prompting him to grab you tighter since you stumble a bit on your toes. You curl the hand holding your glass around his neck, “And you’re big, too,” you don’t even notice but you’re a slurring mess as you speak and look to see your running hand down his broad chest, roughly probing his muscles, “Very, very big,” you exaggerate a sultry tone, the alcohol erasing any kind of subtleness or refinement in you or the notion that there are people around you, while your hand explores further down his body to say it’s not just about his muscles you’re talking about.

“Sweetheart.” Not making a big fuss about it, he gently grabs your wrist over his lower stomach to place it around his neck along with the other one, ”I’m very flattered to hear that, you’re one very nice piece of ass yourself, too,” he engages with you, keeping the playful tone.

You let out a girlish giggle, turning your face towards your friends, the trio now whispering and laughing among themselves as they watch the both of you, “He said I have a nice ass,” you shout, not realizing how loud you actually are as you lift and shake your hips, making your friends laugh harder and causing you to trip on your toes once again. But of course Bucky catches you before you fall.

“How many drinks, so far, huh?” Bucky chuckles, keeping the hold of his arms and eyes on you.

“Three or four,” you answer with nonchalance, bringing the glass to your lips as you hold yourself on his neck, only to pout when you notice it’s empty.

Your friends scoff at your lie behind you, “You can add at least ten more to that count, sweetheart,” Natasha shouts from behind you, punctuating the word sweetheart with a teasing pull on her mouth.

You make a dismissive face only Bucky can see, “Nonsense, check out what I can do,“ You step back from Bucky with the intention to put on a yoga pose you’re sure will convince your friends of how ok and steady you are and as soon as you lift your leg, you trip again and this time Bucky is not fast enough to catch you before your ass hit the floor.

The four of them rush to help you out as tears fall down from your eyes at how much you’re laughing, holding your glass up. It’s Bucky who ends up picking you up, though.

He and your friends shower you with questions to check if you’re ok but it all falls like a blur sound to your years.

“Ok, I guess it was a bit more than three or five,” ignoring the curious eyes around your group, you laugh making an ok sign with your hands before your stomach churns and you grimace, placing your hand over it, “Oh…” your face drops.

“Alright, come one, let’s go,” Bucky supports you with his hands and urges you to walk with him.

“Where are you taking me?” You frown, sounding almost offended as he takes your glass from you and hands it to Natasha, gently pulling you along.

“My place… let’s freshen up, come on,” Bucky patiently says, nodding at the girls to say goodbye, who just nod back, knowing you would be in good hands.

“Ooooo, bye girls, we’re going to his place to freshen up,” you wink exaggeratedly and make air quotations with your fingers, addressing your friends as you clumsily walk away with Bucky.

~~~

“Bridal style,” you loudly announce stretching your hands and legs to the air as soon as he steps inside his living room with you in his arms.

Bucky can’t help but laugh as a snorting giggle follows your words. If he had his way he would’ve carried you from the party, but he didn’t want to attract even more attention to your state. So, on the second trip on your own feet inside the elevator he picked you up. It would be easier that way.

Bucky carefully puts you standing on the floor and, as soon as he’s convinced you can stand on your feet without stumbling or falling, he turns to shut the door, only to have you jumping on him as soon as he faces you.

“Hey, hey,” he manages to say softly, placing his hands on your hips as you shower his mouth and face with sloppy kisses which taste strongly like fancy champagne.

“What? Let’s freshen up,” you answer in a log slur, dragging your lips on anything of him you can reach.

Bucky laughs, pushing you away with a gentle yet steady touch, looking deep into your eyes, “That’s not what I meant… not when you had so much to drink, sweetheart.” He flicks his thumb on your chin.

It takes a moment or two, but realization – and disappointment- finally dawns on your face, “Oh… you meant freshen up for real…” You shut your eyes and tap your hand on your forehead.

Bucky thinks you’re too damn cute for your own good.

You focus on him again, “Are you sure, though?” You insist, shoving a finger in your mouth and tilting your hips, putting on before him the unsexist pose Bucky has ever seen.

Yet, it’s the most adorable thing and his annoying heart swells inside his chest for you as you keep your attempts of seducing him, “Yeah, I’m sure,” he nods unrelentingly, holding back a laugh and waiting to see the follow up of your shenanigans.

“But I’m horny and I wanted to suck your big dick,” you pout, crossing your arms and thumping your foot against the floor.

Bucky takes in a deep breath. He is only human and can’t help that his poor cock twitches at your bratty whine. But your glossy half open eyes and dragged voice reminds him he’s the only one sober enough to make decisions in the room and therefore, his buddy down there needs to chill, “I’ll be more than happy to allow you to do so,” he’s amused when your face light up, “But not tonight, sweetheart,” he puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you towards the kitchen, not without spotting the dirty look you give him.

“You’re no fun,” you complain, barely able to put one foot in front of the other before you stop and swirl around, trusting on his strong hold to not let you fall wearing a devilish little smirk on your face.

Bucky cocks an eyebrow, waiting for whatever mischievous pearl will come out of your lips now.

“What if…” you start before a hiccup interrupts you, “I show you my boobies?” You offer, leaning over and pressing your breasts together through your dress, “You looove my boobies,” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively even if your eyelids can’t even remain wide open.

“I do love your boobies,” Bucky can’t deny, not hiding his amusement.

Apparently, that’s all you need to hear before you throw yourself on him again. Bucky swiftly catches you with a huff, but you can’t do much more than circle your arms around his neck and rest your head on him.

“Love your muscles,” you mumble quietly against him, “There are so many of them.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Bucky tries, “As much as I love your boobies and you love my muscles, now it’s not the time. Now it’s time to get you some water, maybe a sandwich, huh? Then I can prepare you a shower and you can rest a bit and… Y/N?” Bucky calls when you’re too quiet- not even making a sex innuendo when he mentions a shower.

He listens a not so soft snore as a response and looks down to see you completely dozed, with your mouth agape against his chest. He sighs… still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, goddammit.

“Guess we can skip right to the resting, then,” he whispers through a fond smile.

Taking you in his arms he walks towards his bedroom and places you on his bed. You only stir a bit when he gently removes your shimmery and apparently uncomfortable dress and unties your heels. He dresses you in a t-shirt of his so you can rest comfortably. He manages to make you drink a little bit of water, to which you whine graciously enough, and, after covering you with a thin blanket – because he knows you’re never really that cold at night, no matter the temperature in the room – he moves to get up and maybe take a shower for himself.

“Bucky,” you mumble and, without opening your eyes, you move yourself to nuzzle against his metal hand sprawled on the mattress, “You’re not going to leave me, are you?”

Bucky is absolutely sure you have no idea of what that question really means to him, how it falls upon the rising tangle of feelings inside him… which is all for you. Wonderful and beautiful and special you, who came unannounced and stirred up something in him he never thought possible. Something he just doesn’t know what to do with.

Moving meticulously slowly not to pull his hand and wake you up again now that you’re deep back into slumber, he lays down beside you. For your question… he doesn’t say anything. Simply because he doesn’t know the right answer yet.

~~~

To be continued.

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