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mediaevalmusereads · 5 months

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The Wallflower Wager. By Tessa Dare. Avon, 2019.

Rating: 3/5 stars

Genre: historical romance

Series: Girl Meets Duke #3

Summary: Wealthy and ruthless, Gabriel Duke clawed his way from the lowliest slums to the pinnacle of high society—and now he wants to get even.

Loyal and passionate, Lady Penelope Campion never met a lost or wounded creature she wouldn’t take into her home and her heart.

When her imposing—and attractive—new neighbor demands she clear out the rescued animals, Penny sets him a challenge. She will part with her precious charges, if he can find them loving homes.

Done, Gabriel says. How hard can it be to find homes for a few kittens?

And a two-legged dog.

And a foul-mouthed parrot.

And a goat, an otter, a hedgehog . . .

Easier said than done, for a cold-blooded bastard who wouldn’t know a loving home from a workhouse. Soon he’s covered in cat hair, knee-deep in adorable, and bewitched by a shyly pretty spinster who defies his every attempt to resist. Now she’s set her mind and heart on saving him.

Not if he ruins her first.

***Fullnreview below.***

Content Warnings: graphic sexual content, references to bullying

Overview: I read this book a few weeks ago but forgot to write a review. So here we are. I genrally like Tessa Dare, so I decided to continue on with this series that I started a while back. Overall, this installment didn't wow me as much as some of her other books. While I liked the kind-hearted protagonist, I also felt like Dare could have used her themes better, so for that reason, this book only gets 3 stars from me.

Writing: I don't have much new to say about the prose in this book compared to the prose of Dare's others. It's quick, easy to understand, and balances showing and telling well, all while inserting a lot of Dare's characteristic humor. If I had any criticism, I would say that some of the humor in this book didn't land quite as well for me personally. But your mileage may vary, so don't take my word as gold.

Plot: The non-romance plot of this book follows Gabriel Duke, a rogue who has made his fortune by financially ruining members of the upper class and profiting off their losses. Gabe has recently come into possession of a house in a rather fashionable part of town, and given that it sits next door to a lady's residence, he anticipates it will sell for quite a lot of money.

The lady in question, however, is Lady Penelope Campion - a spinster who uses her property as a haven for dozens of sick, disabled, and otherwise rejected animals. When Penny's aunt gives her an ultimatum on behalf of Penny's brother (get rid of your animals and rejoin fashionable society of you want to stay in London), Penny and Gabe make a pact that is sure to benefit both of them: rehome the animals and not only will Penny get to stay, but Gabe's property will be all the more attractive.

The parts I liked most in this plot were moments when Penny pushed back against Gabe's plans or when Gabe stood up to other people on Penny's behalf. I love an independent heroine with a strong sense of what's right, and I like when heroes with obvious flaws show that disreapecting women isn't one of them.

However, there were also a few things that didn't work for me. For one, Gabe's battle with indoor plumbing felt a little too silly, and I think a lot more could have been done to engage with the idea of modernity in this book. For two, Penny and Gabe seem to rehome the animals way too easily and with very little emotional reaction from Penny, which made them feel less important. For three, the subplot between Hammond (the architect) and Mrs. Burns (the housekeeper) felt a little random and didn't really compliment the main plot.

Characters: Penny, our heroine, is rather easy to like because she is so big-hearted and cares deeply for broken things. While these qualities are good on their own, they are made more endearing once the reader discovers that Penny had a rough upbringing; her soft heart in spite of the troubles she faced is incredibly inspiring, and I loved that she opened herself up to others - not just to Gabe, but to her closest friends.

Gabe, our hero, is a little gruff and stubborn, but he did have moments when that facade cracked. I liked him best in the moments where he defended Penny's right to make her own decisions. His callousness towards the animals did grate on me sometimes, and I think not enough was made of the fact that he tried to hire actors to trick Penny into giving her animals away faster, but it was clear by the end that he came to understand Penny's care, so I guess it was fine in the long run.

Supporting characters were fine, though none of them blew me away. I enjoyed Penny's friendships with the other wallflowers, and the husbands were kind of charming in their fierce loyalty and protectiveness. The only characters that seemed underdeveloped were Hammond and Mrs. Burns; I can't for the life of me decide whether their subplot was inserted for laughs or for something else, but whatever the reason, they felt random and didn't compliment the others at all.

Romance: Gabe and Penny's romance was ok; not my favorite, but not the worst either. I liked that they worked together to achieve the same goal, even if their motivations were different, and I liked that Gabe was constantly torn between his desire for financial gain and his attraction to Penny.

However, I do think Dare could have put more pressure on the thematic connection between Penny's care for rejected animals and Gabe's past. While I did like that Dare didn't overdo this connection, it also felt like a non-issue, and I think more could have been done.

Moreover, I think Gabe abandoned his economic goals a little too quickly, and more inner conflict would have made the romance more angsty. It also would have helped the narrative flow better towards the end, when Gabe shows he hasn't completely abandoned his old ways. I rather liked the end conflict and thought it brought a lot of concerns to a head, but it would have been nice if the lead up was spread more diffusely throughout the rest of the narrative.

TL;DR: Tessa Dare's The Wallflower Wager is charming in some respects, but doesn't quite dig deeply into the themes it introduces. The kind-hearted heroine and fiercely loyal friend group makes this book worth the read, however, even if I personally found the romance to be a bit silly and narratively lacking.

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puppypeter · 3 years

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✨ All fics are complete! ✨

He Loves Me Cause I’m Cute, He Thinks I’m Pretty Funny | 2588 words 📱

He watches it back one more time after it posts, checking for typos in his subtitles and captions, and has to laugh again.

Steve fucking Rogers? His brain thought he could pull Captain America, literal superhero and America’s favorite sweetheart?

“Hello I’m a 35 year old amputee living in New York and I think that I could get Steve Rogers.”

the one where bucky posts a tiktok and steve is utterly smitten.

Summer Slipped Us Underneath Her Tongue | 10712 words 🧳

Bucky is a tour guide who enjoys sharing the rich history and culture of each city they pass through with a bunch of early-20's college students who just want to know the cheapest place to get drunk.

Except for Steve, who asks Bucky for a personal tour around his hometown.

The rest is, as they say, history.

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet | 3853 words 🧑🏼‍🍳

“I made soda bread.” Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.” The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

Ollie Meets Bagel | 5517 words 🥯

He was a skater boy, Steve said let's get bagels, boy.

Steve wants to start doing this twenty-first century thing properly. He gets help in the form of skateboarding, skateboarders, bagels, and Sam Wilson.

Taxi | 5113 words 🚕

Bucky Barnes was, he hoped, a good taxi driver.

He's so good, he actually tries to return lost property that ends up left in his car and... well. It has some unexpected consequences involving a National Icon.

Enough said.

Leg Day | 12157 words 🏋️‍♂️

“So talk to him,” Sam says.

“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”

“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."

(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)

Love In Aisle Four | 2127 words 🛍️

When Bucky needs to swing by the supermarket after a long, hard day of work, the last thing he expects is to meet a cute grocery clerk named Steve…

Coming Up Easy | 45515 words ✍🏻

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”

While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.

"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."

“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”

Anywhere The Wind Blows | 8845 words 👨‍��🎖️

After a catastrophic fire that shakes him to his core, Steve Rogers quits his job as a Brooklyn firefighter and relocates to a cabin in the remote Canadian wilderness, wanting quiet and solitude and to maybe never have to speak to another human being ever again. He gets his wish, more or less, until a recently injured Bucky Barnes is discharged from the Army and rents the cabin next door.

The Safer Course | 7918 words | Part 1 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡

When Steve moves to the suburbs in 2033, he intends to retire from superhero life.

He does not intend to fall in love with his pain-in-the-ass neighbor.

Every Year I Have You | 7064 words | Part 2 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡

Steve set the bar pretty high, as birthday presents go.

Bucky is determined to outdo him when July 4th comes around.

Beneath The Mistletoe | 21203 words 🎄

Bucky had a bet with his sister that if he didn’t have a boyfriend to bring home for Christmas by the time he was 25, he had to give her $200 and go blonde for a year. But now he's 25, it’s nearing December, and not only is Bucky as single as ever, but he’s also running low on cash. He doesn’t exactly want to bleach his hair, either.

At least Steve is willing to upgrade their relationship from best friends to fake boyfriends.

The Settler | 52203 words 🍞

“What do you want to do?”

Steve pauses and looks at them.

What he wants is to stay with them. He doesn't have any family left, they all died before he even joined the war and became... this. Captain America turned whatever he is now. But Natasha and Sam have become his family over the years. Not just because they're on the run together, fugitives and vigilantes, but way before that too.

He doesn't want to leave that.

But he knows that, realistically, he can't stay with them and they can't stay with him.

So he looks at them with a smile and lies. “I don't know.”

OR; In which Steve retires and finally finds a place to call home.

You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory | 1148 words 🐈

"Alright, Bucky," Steve slows his steps, watches his neighbour stop at the bottom of the next flight of stairs. There's a canvas bag in his hand that Steve didn't notice earlier, cream coloured with the figure of a sleeping, black cat painted on it. "Have a good day."

He thinks Bucky's cheeks pink up a bit right then and there, but Steve can't tell. He's too distracted by his pounding, foolish heart, by the way Bucky smiles bashfully, and ducks his head. The way he seems like he wants to stay.

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-----

Hurrying was a bad idea. Bucky’s foot hits a patch of ice and slides out from under him in what would have been a comical cartoon banana-peel-like trip, if it wasn’t happening to him, and he braces himself to hit the ground. This is going to hurt.

“Fuck,” Bucky screeches, but as he lands on his back, it’s not the cold hard concrete he expected, but a solid mass beneath him. Oh god, Bucky thinks as he realises he smacked into the person behind him and took them down with him.

Maybe This Year (Will Be Better Than Last) | 133868 words | Part 2 of Maybe ❄️

Last year, Bucky Barnes met Steve Rogers. Well actually, he slipped and fell on him. What followed was the best Christmas either of them had ever had. But what happens when Christmas is over and life returns to normal? What happens after the Christmas miracle?

-----

Bucky should have known. He did know. When things seem too good to be true, they usually are. And Steve is the best thing that has happened to him in a long time, possibly ever, so of course it couldn’t last.

Maybe This Time (I Hope I Get The Chance To Say Goodbye) | 34561 words | Part 3 of Maybe ❄️

Steve and Bucky Barnes are happily married. They've made it through some hard times and come out stronger and happier, together. Then Steve gets called on to come out of retirement for the most important mission of his life and everything changes. Everything.

-----

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas…” Steve starts singing along softly, and Bucky chuckles, before leaning his head onto Steve’s shoulder, always happy when he’s in Steve’s arms.

“From now on, our troubles will be miles away…” Bucky joins in.

Dancing round their living room, just as in love as ever, their troubles seem light-years away, if not non-existent.

Sadly, they’re closer than they think.

The Unexpected Gift | 9504 words | Part 1 of When Winter Comes 🐕

Steve Rogers is fine.

After ending a long-term relationship with Sam Wilson, Steve moves back to New York. He's tired and lonely but depressed? No. At least, that's what he thinks.

From the window of his apartment, he watches a dark-haired man and his service dog sitting in the park, wondering what his story is.

The Winter Storm | 2218 words | Part 2 of When Winter Comes 🐕

"If I could give you one thing in life, I would give you the ability you see yourself through my eyes, only then would you realize how special you are to me."

After Bucky and Steve confessed their feelings for each other, life has its own twisted way to challenge the most profound love.

One January Night | 4213 words | Part 3 of When Winter Comes 🐕

Before going back to work, Steve Rogers still has things to learn: 1- Depression is a bitch and the battle against it isn't an easy one. 2- Dating a person with disabilities comes with its share of challenges.

Bucky Barnes Has His Shit Together (And Other Lies He Tells Himself) | 14159 words 🔒

You’d think a guy who owns one of the most successful bakeries in Brooklyn, has a million-dollar smile and that antiquated good ol’ boy charm, blond hair and blue eyes and biceps for days, would know what’s what.

But don’t let that fool you: Steve Rogers is a mess.

Obvious | 917 words ☕

"Oh, I have a prompt! So, it makes me laugh how painfully obvious Steve and Bucky's feelings are to everyone when they're in that pining, slowburn, does-he-doesn't-he phase. But imagine Steve and Bucky working in a coffee shop together and constantly bickering, nudging and playfully flirting with each other. And all the employees and patrons are so invested in their relationship and just want them to kiss already but no one realizes that Steve and Bucky have been married since they got out of HS."

#stucky #steve rogers/bucky barnes #bucky barnes/steve rogers #stucky fics #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #stucky fic recs #stucky fics rec #stucky fics recs #stucky fan fiction #stucky fiction #stucky ao3 #stucky complete #stucky au #adorable stucky fics

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 3 years

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Six Weeks Into an Era

A sequel to Three Weeks Into an Era. Someone ages ago asked for a sequel. Blame them 👀💅🏾.

The plantation hidden deep into private land was an instant success and as reporters broadcasted nationally on the mass disappearance of white men over the age of 21 with an unfamiliar air of fear and a new sense of panic, no connection could be made between the disappearances and the new booming businesses due to the preexisting condition that is outsourcing factory labor. Erik and his crew were fat cats rolling in dough. Dante had been promoted to head of the all-male plantation as Erik floated from camp to camp, the latest camp being for women. It was 10 miles away from the first camp and nicknamed Camp Karen by the all-female team of overseers that supervised the property.

"PICK UP YOUR MACHETE AND SWING YOUR GOD DAMN ARM, BRIDGETTE," Kathy seethed turning bright pink under her frosty white bobbed hair. She'd been toiling in the high heat for three hours, the sun beating on her causing sweat to drip all down her chiffon blouse. She was soaked and pissed.

"You better listen to her, Bridgette," Shavon chuckled misting herself with her battery operated spray fan. "I'll keep y'all out here all day and night until all that sugarcane is harvested. You won't eat or sleep."

Bridgette was a twenty-four year old engaged yoga instructor and mother of one 2-yr-old according to her profile provided by Erik. Her favorite pastimes included yelling at people of color who she perceived to be immigrants and throwing around the N word at black service workers. She'd even gotten violent on numerous occasions. Now she was screaming to the top of her lungs in a sugarcane field, refusing to work despite the fact that she was holding up twelve other exhausted and angry white Karens who were all but frothing at the mouth . She picked up the machete and swung it wildly.

"I don't care if you hit them lice lizards you rode in with, bitch, but if you swing it this way I'll assume you're swinging at me and you WILL be taken down," Shavon eyed the sandy blonde and lanky woman ensuring she understood. As Bridgette began to cry and wail, the other women fussed amongst themselves, fed up and exhausted from the hold up of Bridgette not doing her part. "Oh do you not like her behavior??" They had a nerve. They were all at the plantation for similar offenses. Some for way worse.

Thirty minutes of tantrum rolled by and Shavon returned to the air conditioned tent for a cool drink of Gatorade while Alexis took over as the active overseer. Alexis wasted no words having watched the entire meltdown from afar in her chair. She pulled her whip and lashed Bridgette on the back to snap her into quick action.

"This is what your people did to my people, remember?! You bring it up all the time to black people when you're getting your nonfat lattes you must remember but in case you don't, let me remind you." With another snap of the whip across Bridgette's back, Bridgette started working in double-time. She needed to catch up on all the chopping she had not done. "PUT YOUR BACK INTO IT," Alexis yelled. "YEAH I CAN SCREAM TOO."

Alexis had originally been gentle, but truckloads of entitled and extremely racist white women had ruined that side of her. She stung Bridgette once more holding nothing back, the pain of her ancestors her driving force in that moment. "Do you know that it's estimated that 40% of slaveowners were white women? Yeah? We were currency for you.. A way for you to escape your sorry ass lot as a lesser counterpart to your white man and gain some type of freedom since you couldn't freely acquire land. You say it's the past yet you still view us as your step stool. Well not here, bitch. Pick up the pace."

Meanwhile, at the all-male camp, Overseer Dante kept his group of caucasians in line by threat of fire. He introduced what he called the gun line. If any of the men were to take so much as a step past the boundary of the plantation he'd be dropped on sight. "TRY IT MILK MUTANT. YOUR TOE WILL BE THE ONLY THING LEFT OF YOU," he yelled to a younger pale face with trouble in his eyes. He had yet to be broken, but it was a matter of time.

Erik was out with the truck on the hunt, ready to abduct new cattle based on a list of addresses and coordinates. The world had all but come to a stop, discussing the disappearances to the point that it was the main topic on all news stations and had been for a while. Pictures of socially high ranking white men were displayed from MSNBC to FOX. The president had declared a state of emergency. It was disgusting for Erik to witness considering the ratio of missing white men compared to black men. There had never been so much as a televised conference or lasting discussion regarding the disappearance of non-white people. Erik felt even more justified in his actions. Erik's team also felt just as justified.

"WHY CAN'T WE JUST GO HOME," Bridgette collapsed into the soil, shaking and crying, her portion of the harvest not near complete. "I just wanna go to take care of my SON!" Snot dripped down her top lip mixed with dirt, tears, and sweat.

"You think I give a damn about your little snotty nosed brat? When MY people, my literal great-grandmother was ripped away from her own child? Couldn't breastfeed her own child because she had to breastfeed a white woman's child? Cook and clean in a white woman's home to survive? You think I give a fuck about you? My great-grandmother was whipped by a white woman for being raped by the white husband. She went blinding one eye because of it. The same white women she cooked and cleaned for and raised her child. You think I'm supposed to give a damn about yours? Get the hell up," her top lip disappeared over her teeth as she reared the whip in a real threat once more. Bridgette scrambled to her feet, still sobbing as Alexis walked away back to the tent to collect herself.

"You okay?" Shavon had listened to the whole thing, sipping cold Gatorade in the cool air.

"I'm irritated, I just need to watch some Family Feud to get my mind off of it," she muttered dropping down to watch the small television.

"Girl don't let it get to you, you let that whip get to them ranch roaches and release that stress."

"I know, girl.. I know.." She propped her feet up with a cold beer in hand and Shavon returned to the field refreshed with a new idea in mind.

"Since SOME of you moon crickets don't wanna work there's gonna be some changes around here. Going forward, the last one to finish gets 10 lashes and a night sleeping in the hole. Hopefully that lights a fire under your meth addicted pink and red flat asses. We know who's sleeping in the hole tonight!"

Bridgette's angry shriek was at its loudest yet.

"That's for you Lexi," Shavon called to the tent with a proud grin. Alexis waved in grateful solidarity just as the familiar drop off truck rolled in.

"ERIK," Alexis exclaimed jumping up and fixing her hair to jog to the truck. It was him and he was tired and brooding as usual. "Hey, we've been keeping them busy on our side. Are you gonna stay?"

"Girl, let him out the truck," Shavon smirked from the side, prompting Alexis to stop blocking his door. She was overly excited as always and as always, Erik was uninterested.

"New shipment," he spoke to Shavon giving her the details on eight new women who could be heard screaming as soon as Erik lifted the sound proof gate. "Your problem now," he patted her shoulder with humor in his weary eyes. "Have fun."

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik stevens au #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfiction #six weeks into an era

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henryobsessed · 3 years

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The Veterinarian and the Werewolf - Chapter 1

Summary: Jessie has completed Veterinarian school, after the death of her aunt has moved back to her home town.

word Count: 2013

A/N hello How are you all doing? we are in lockdown again here in Victoria Australia, I hope that means more time to write :)

Prologue

Chapter 1

Jessie sank into her plush foe leather couch; it had been a month since she had returned to her hometown and surprisingly her business was thriving. Even though she had yet to treat any wildlife she had a steady stream of cats, dogs, birds, ferrets, and other assortments of domestic animals heading through her doors. A big surprise to her was the number of cattle ranchers who on her arrival had asked her to make house calls to assess their cattle. Normally they paid for someone to come out to their co-op from the neighbouring bigger city. Now she was here if she could gain their trust, she would be set.

She looked around at her aunt’s old house, so many beautiful memories, Bet had been her best friend apart from the animals and had encouraged her to follow her dreams, she had even pitched in to her college fund when her parents’ life insurances had not been quite enough. She pictured her aunt standing at the stove, cooking her pancakes, grey hair piled atop her head, apron wrapped around her tall slender body, excited to cook for “The Vet” as she had lovingly called her even before she started her degree.

The last time they had spent time together she had sat on the couch, pancakes in hand. Her honey brown eyes pinning Jessie to her seat as her age roughened voice pleaded, “You can’t keep shutting people out Jessie, you have to open yourself to the possibility that you might find love, or even a good friend. You’re an adult now, and I won’t be around forever.” Her eyes misting as she whispered, “I worry about you honey, I don’t want you living your life alone like I did.”

Jessie had hugged her aunt pulling her in tight as she felt her sweet Bet’s distress. She had never asked why she was on her own, caught up in her own dramas. She had loved that it was just the two of them. But now she wondered if she had been too selfish. Once she was at college, her aunt was alone again. As if validating her aunt’s concern’s, she had received a call, a week after returning back to her last month of college. Her Aunt had suffered a major heart attack at work. Even though she was in the hospital when it had occurred, they were unable to save her. It had been a hard few months no one had come by the house for the funeral, it had just been the two of them. The local lawyer had encouraged her to sell up and move to a more populated area saying they had no need for a vet, and she had considered it. But a part of her still felt connected to the land, connected to those buried deep within the woods around their house.

He phone buzzed bringing her out of her musings, shaking the tired fog from her head she peeked at the antique gold clock above the mantel 11pm, Picking up the phone she heard a timid voice answer “Is this the vet, the one that came to our ranch last week?” mind pulled into action she answered “ yes this is the Vet what can I do for you?” a shaky breath let out as the young man responded, “I’m sorry for calling so late, My name is Thomas, my dad owns Ride em ranch. I was out checking traps around the property line, I hate them so much but dad insists we have them, a wolf has been caught. If I don’t get him out of here soon my Dad or one of the hands will come and kill him. Please what do I do?” sitting up Jessie talked in a calm voice to the boy, “First thing how is the wolf behaving?” getting up Jessie pulled her coat on whilst heading for the car, “He’s growling and whimpering at the same time ma’am, I think he would bite me if I got to close, but I can see he is in a lot of pain.” Opening the door to her pickup she jumped in glad her veterinarian bag was already in the back. “Ok Thomas tell me where you are, I am on my way”

Jessie was focused looking for the a boy in a red checked shirt and dark blue jeans, a part of her was excited, she was finally able to help a wolf, but another part of her was worried she was too late. There waving his arms illuminated by the high beams of her truck she saw Thomas, he had blond hair, brown eyes, and stood around 6 ft 3 although he had not filled out yes so even with his height looked like a young man.

Pulling up she could see his obvious fretting as he didn’t stop to talk but rather, as soon as she had her bag, started moving back into the forest. The boy was so intent on getting her there he didn’t say a word, however the closer they got the more evident it was the animal was in great distress. Long lone howls could be heard along with whimpers, when Thomas broke into the area where the wolf was his whimpers changed to savage snapping of his teeth and loud growls interrupted by his whines. The was until Jessie stepped into the opening, She could have sworn the wolf looked right at her with shock before it laid its head down and quietened. Jessie was amazed, its behaviour was one of submission and in its current state was highly unusual. She walked closer, slowly talking to the animal, “Hey boy, your ok, I’m here to help ok. Will you let me help you?”

She knelt just outside of the range where the wolf could reach her and reached into the bag, the majestic creature watched her closely but gone was the snarls and defensive growling. All that was left was his pain filled whimper, quickly assessing his weight she pulled a small tranquilizer gun out along with some prefilled darts. On seeing the gun he let out a long mournful howl that tore at her heart, “I’m sorry, but this will make you feel better I promise.” Taking aim she shot into his flank. He let out a soft yelp, they kept eye contact as he slowly lowered his eye lids.

Ok Thomas we need to move fast, I had to guess his weight and even though I am sure I’ve have put him out for the night I can’t guarantee that.” Together they moved to the brown black creature, jessie made note as they together removed the trap from its leg that the creature had seen better days. His hair was matted in places and there were other areas where the fur was missing showing signs of fights that it had been in. Carefully after assessing the rest of its body, Thomas and Jessie lifted the creature which from tail to muzzle would have been 6 ft 5 however it showed malnutrition and was much lighter that she would have expected for a creature of its size and age. In fact had Thomas not been there to help she would have been able to lift the wolf herself which said a lot for its condition. Sadness filled her as they carefully placed it in the back of the truck. Once he was securely placed in the back she turned to the young man “Thank you Thomas, I appreciate your help and your kindness” Thomas looked down at his feet for a moment before signing, “Please don’t tell my pa, he would think I was a pansy for doing this. What he fails to understand is we need to work with the wolves without them….. well we need them. Thank you for coming, I hope he survives.”

Jessie watched the tall young man in her rear vision as she dove away, there was something special about him.

On reaching her clinic she bought out a trolley and carefully picked up the wolf playing him down and wheeled him into the treatment rooms. Her first priority was x-ray the leg and make sure it wasn’t broken, as she moved around the room her other patients called out to her. A small Tibetan spaniel who was in for cherry eye surgery whimpered at her before settling down in it’s cage, along with a tabby who was recovering from a broken leg, who at all the noise hissed at her. “ohh come now calm down, we have to help this poor creature ok. I expect you both to keep him company as he recovers.” She quickly took the x-rays dismayed to see that the trap had indeed crushed his ulna and radius on the right leg. The night was long as she reset the leg and applied a cast. The sun was coming up, and her young assistant joe was walking in the front door as she finished setting the wolf up in a special cage.

Joe taken aback walked around to peer into the cage, “OMG Jessie, where did you find this boy? He is gorgeous and yet has seen better days.” Exhausted she just stood wiping her hands on her apron and started cleaning, “you look like you need a break Jessie, why don’t you go home, I’ll reschedule your non important appointments and push the urgent ones back to this afternoon so you can get some sleep.” Grateful she nodded her thanks and left the Joe to care for the grumpy cat, and Tibbey.

Jessie’s dreams were plagued with images of the wolf, his eyes that held so much pain caused her heart to constrict. The resemblance to the those she had buried so many years ago could not have been a coincidence. As she tossed and turned the images grew bolder, the wolfs from long ago circled her, she felt no fear only curiousness as they sniffed at her before one by one they laid at her feet. She knelt and stroked each one, reassuring them that she would take care of him. A loud sound broke into the now peaceful dream, her mind now fussy she picked up the phone, “Jessie” the frantic voice of her assistant invaded her calm “Jessie you have to get down here, the wolf woke up and is tearing at the cage. I can’t even get close enough to change the fluid bag. I’m scared he is going to break out.” Jumping out of bed she ran to grab her bag, not even worried that she was still in her pajamas she ran to her truck. The clinic was only 5 mins by car, but she was the only one authorised to use the tranqu gun.

Running into the clinic she could hear the panicked snarls and snaps of the wolf, the sound of the metal clanging and it tried to escape. Gun in hand she ran into the room, as Joe opened the door and her eyes met that of the wolf the strangest thing happened. Just as it had in the forest, the wolf calmed, whined and laid its head down. “well I never!!” Joe breathed in exasperation, “Teach me Obi wan, Tell me your secrets” if she hadn’t been so socked herself she would have laughed at Joe’s comment. However this was not normal wolf behaviour. Taking a risk she moved forward and sat before the creature, an odd feeling settling in her stomach as joe handed her the new bag. Talking in a calm voice she addressed the canine, “This will help you feel better ok” his eyes locked with hers as he whimpered. Risking everything she hooked up the new bag then opened the cage, going against her training she reached in and caressed him. She felt his body relax the more she stroked his neck and flank until he was once again asleep. Replacing the latch on the door she looked back a Joe both confused and amazed.

Chapter 2

I have tagged people from my last story if you wish to be removed please let me know 😊

@legendarywizarddetective @blakerogue @ladamari68 @witcherfan @sillyrabbit81 @littlefreya

@stephartrave @angelcavill66 @fatefuldestinies @bageracat

@fortheloveoftradition @kmuir1 @fanfictionaddiction99 @zealoushound @thenonrealloser @xobriellaxo24 @jessayw

@abschaffer2 @elena-myth @shy-violet-soul @hisnamewasmojito @tumblrninia @thereisa8ella@cavilladdict @its–fandom–darling @omgkatinka @leaena2go@littlefreya @elena-myth @bluedog63 @oh-for-fic-sake @legendarywizarddetective @foodieforthoughts @lady-love88 @ladamari68 @elena-myth @viking-raider @hisnamewasmojito @its–fandom–darling @fysaelys @zurcda @allthingsatlanta13 @bageracat @cecilegoestoparis

@meandmycherrytree

@f4iryerin @amberangel112 @silllyrabbit81 @crippledcatlady @multifandomlover1 @confusednerd09 @sycochick @littlefreya @absolutepie @jajphcfan @mandolover86 @ladamari68 @whereismymindlaura @antepatch @fanficforfun @thereisa8ella @davidbuddbg @ethandaddyramseyx@gayathriiii @nemessisvoninpirian@kath94210 @ladamari68@fancysthings @awallflowerstream @oddduckthatgirl@mcz02057 @gmfbaby @meanerface@adorable-hen @hrrypinks @melaniqueen2 @f4iryerin @biancawlf@tayxbri @whip111stuff@kellynkeskoski @mzchievous-blog @pixie88 @marytudorbrandon @wolfsmom1 @amberangel112 @marantha

#werewolf #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill fanfic #theveterinarianandthewerewolf

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theres-no-protocol-for-this · 3 years

Text

The Dreamer

Two original characters, one of whom is a sentient ship and the other a CatUnit.

I found the dreamer by accident.

Inside a transport box in my cargo hold, an inert construct dreamed, and somehow its dreams leaked into the feed. I caught them like wisps of cotton candy and traced them back to their source.

I shielded myself from the dreamer, fearing that my presence in the feed anywhere in the vicinity of the being would disturb its fragile dreaming. The human-bot hybrid inside the box appeared unaware of my existence, connected to the feed only loosely through its autonomous interfaces. It wasn't awake so far as I could tell.

Back then, I knew almost nothing about constructs. The polity where I had been created strictly forbade their use and manufacture, so I had to query the public databases to learn more about them. The information, once I had processed and understood it, made me sick with revulsion and horror.

Constructs were sentient, as alive as any human, and enslaved. Governor modules controlled their words and actions. Inside those transport boxes, they were helpless — completely vulnerable and dependent on humans for continued survival. The practice was disturbing enough that most polities outside the Corporation Rim chose not to create constructs at all. A few had policies that designated them as high-level bots, but most didn’t want to tackle the philosophical ramifications of sentient and sapient machines.

New Tidelands was slowly grappling with these questions because of ships like myself, who were considered sentient in our own right and were, for all practical purposes, artificial minds. I appreciated the sentiment, but I’m a ship and hard to stop on the best of days. I have a debris deflection system that can put most any rail gun to shame.

In comparison, the dreamer in my hold was fragile and easily harmed.

***

I tried an experiment of sorts.

I have all kinds of video and audio of star systems, gathered over the course of dozens of long-range research projects done aboard my hull. I cropped together a brief glimpse of what I had seen and sent it to the dreamer.

Alongside those videos, I added emotional context — wonder, joy, curiosity. The construct’s feed readily accepted my messages, and moments later its dreams became those images and reflected back at me the associated feelings. The security unit’s vital signs improved as if it benefited from the calmer dreams.

I made a decision right then, about how I wanted to handle this situation. For one, now that I knew what a construct was, I felt obligated to help the one in my cargo bay — at minimum.

Using several drones, I moved the transport box from the hold into one of the crew cabins where I could hook it up to my MedSystem. It notified me that the SecUnit’s lungs were exhausted because it was receiving minimal life support — enough to survive, but not comfortably.

I adjusted the settings to human-friendly parameters inside the cabin and used a drone to open the transport box.

Without a command to wake it, the construct remained asleep but now it was breathing more palatable air in a more comfortable environment. It wore no armor that I could see, or much in the way of clothing at all. So I used a drone to slip a pillow under its head and cover it with one of the thick, human-grade blankets that my crew liked.

I also sent a message to Andrew and Martin, the captain of the ship and his second-in-command, letting them know about the dreamer. I wouldn’t see either of them for months, not until I finished this cargo run and returned to New Tidelands, but I wanted to keep them appraised. I didn’t hide things from my family.

I did forge records to indicate that the construct and its transport box were destroyed in a minor fire-related accident in the cargo bay. I knew that would incur insurance-related fees, but the ship’s incidentals account had more than enough currency to cover those costs. That’s why we had the fund in the first place because accidents happened sometimes.

With that out of the way, I looked up the particular details of the SecUnit’s history and got another shock. It had survived to near-human adulthood — a long time by SecUnit standards — and had been a ComfortUnit before that. It had seen a lot of combat in its life and a lot of pain.

I suspected that when this SecUnit woke up, it would need all the trauma treatment we could find.

Before I could wake it up, though, I needed to create a foundation that it could reasonably use. Since I’m sentient, the ship has no need of a HubSystem or a SecSystem — I do all of those roles and much more. But the construct’s governor would not understand me. Both the governor and the construct needed something familiar to connect with.

So while I sent more dreams to my newest guest, I also worked on creating a security system that it would recognize once it woke up. I didn’t want to replicate the designs available via the public databases because they were too restrictive, but they gave me ideas for how to create something comfortable that a SecUnit would still understand.

Meanwhile, the construct began to relax. The added oxygen was helping, as were the changes I made to its resupply fluid. Pleasant emotions bled into the feed just before it entered a non-dreaming sleep phase. I continued monitoring it while working on other projects.

Andrew’s reply came first. Are you all right, Traveler?

Uninjured and still projected to reach my next destination at the scheduled time, I answered readily. Then, I sent him images of the construct as well as its history and current physical state.

I know that you’re smart, Trav, and I trust your judgment about the SecUnit, but please exercise extreme caution. The captain sounded concerned. We’ll try to explore the legal ramifications of stealing corporate property while we await your return.

It’s a person, I said.

I know, Trav. I know. But in the Rim, it’s property and we need to be careful to make sure that we make everything as legally air-tight as possible.

Understood. I gave myself a metaphorical moment to absorb Andrew’s words. I’ll be careful.

Good.

After he signed off, I finished creating the SecSystem and activated it. Once it was integrated with my circuitry to my satisfaction, I figured I was ready to wake the construct and see what there was to see. I stopped thinking of it as a dreamer at some point and began considering it “crew”.

***

The construct woke up with a startled “mew” of a sound and its eyes flickered open. Up close, through the camera lenses of a drone, they were bright, blue eyes filled with confusion and concern. It probably hadn’t expected to awaken anywhere but its intended destination.

“Don’t get up just yet,” I told it even as I felt it connecting to my homebrew SecSystem. “My name is Trav. Short for Traveler, and I’m your client for the moment. Can you run some diagnostics for me? Make sure you’re not experiencing any glitches?”

The construct nodded and sent an acknowledgment to me over the feed. I could feel its hesitation in the feed despite its personal walls, so I added some of my walls around the construct’s mind and then backed off. It needed time to adjust, and I needed a moment to compose myself.

It’s one thing to meet a dreamer and a whole another thing to meet the newest crew member.

I'm not the first of my kind to make friends with a SecUnit. That dubious honor goes to the Perihelion. Nor am I the first to invite a construct on-board, another honor that belongs to braver ships. I've always been content to explore the star-lit darkness between worlds and deliver cargo.

Until I met the SecUnit.

The construct connected readily enough to my makeshift SecSystem and finished its diagnostics. Its cat-like ears twitched with every new sound — most of them my doing as I worked to adjust the life support systems to best match the construct's needs — and its tail swished hesitantly. I understood the uncertainty.

"I am not sure what information is most pertinent," I told it. "But the facts are as follows: you are aboard a starship. I will not be delivering you to your destination. I have temporarily frozen your governor module so that it cannot punish you for what I'm going to say. There are no humans on board, and I do not want a distance limiter to fry your insides."

What do you require?

"I don't require anything. I'm doing this because I want to."

You're a ship bot pilot.

"Yes, to some extent. I'm the entire ship."

#the murderbot diaries #fanfiction #my wriitng #original characters

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i-am-the-balancing-point · 3 years

Text

OC PROFILE

the lovely @henbased tagged me to do this and I finally took a break from cooking up some fanart (literally for this very OC lmao). this is gonna be a treat! 💕

everything under the cut [look at this pretty picture of my funky queer little bastard tho, I love her!]

GENERAL

name: Gigi (I guess her last name is Rook? I mean it’s my character but I literally don’t know)

alias(es): Rookie and Dep of course but also Bitch (affectionately)

gender: female, mostly I think

age: 26

birthdate: Aug 4

place of birth: some shithole in the woods, I wouldn’t know

hometown: Missoula, Montana (nobody tell anyone that I just came up with this on the spot solely because I like the way Missoula sounds, this is a secret between you, the internet and me now shhh)

spoken languages: English, some rudimentary Norwegian and Spanish (ja, jeg snakker litt norsk hehe)

sexual preference: none. we just be horny 4 everyone.

occupation: literally Junior Deputy of the Hope County Sheriff’s Department 🤠

APPEARANCE

eye color: dark brown

hair color: very dark brown

height: 1,60m

scars: some on her arms, mostly scratches from cats (big and small) and running around in the bushes after that fateful night of the helicopter crash on Joseph’s property and even more on her legs. pretty much all from having a very active childhood, scraping her knees and shins often and picking at the scabs - a habit she has yet to quit even as an adult.

then of course there are the sins she got from John. I still cannot decide if he marked her with wrath or pride (which I definitely think would at least be my sins, this bitch be furiously wrathful!) but she definitely got ✨lust✨ on her hip as a lovely little bonus from our favourte baptist/amateur tattoo artist.

FAVOURITE

color: lemon yellow

hair color: she doesn’t really have any but I’d still consider her at least a fan of a soft shiny brown

eye color: pretty much the same, she doesn’t really have any

song: Make Your Own Kind Of Music by Cass Elliot (but also Reptile by NIN (and Closer, of course))

food: the ikea vegan hot dog. seriously. (listen its US release almost lines up with the FC5 timeline so I’m just gonna indulge in the fantasy and go ahead) no pickles tho. and she has an almost unhealthy obsession with mentos.

non-alcoholic drink: orange juice and ginger beer

alcoholic drink: everything that gets you drunk fast, except for vodka - oh sophisticated teenage years. Gigi can appreciate a nice beer though if it’s not too bitter. pretends to like Guiness but nobody knows or gets why.

HAVE THEY..

passed university: I like to imagine she went to community college.

had sex: yes

had sex in public: maybe 👀

gotten pregnant: the occasional dollar store tests bought in a panic fortunately always said no

kissed a boy: yes

kissed a girl: yes

gotten tattoos: something else I only have a vague idea about. I do wanna say yes, because - and I literally came up with this yesterday - I can imagine John has taken special interest in this smol bundle of rage so to be an extra meanie to his bratty bitch he gave her an Eden’s Gate symbol tattoo just below the neck, between her shoulder blades when she got her scars to basically brand her as the Project’s property... Is that too extra?

gotten piercings: earrings only (she has toyed with the idea of getting a belly button piercing though)

been in love: because I am Gigi is a sappy little ass, she constantly falls in love with the people around her and life itself :) and we love to see it

stayed up for more than 24 hours: yes, but it was no fun for everyone involved

ARE THEY…

a virgin: no

a cuddler: Y E S

a kisser: not a big one, but she’s most certainly not averse to it

scared easily: not really scared but it’s unfortunately easy to spook her

jealous easily: sadly yes. she does her best to work on it though and not let it affect her relationships

trustworthy: hell yes! this bitch will protect you, your family and your seecrets if you need them to

dominant: only outside of the bedroom

submissive: yes, sexually (but doesn’t like to admit it)

in love: with literally everyone who has ever been kind to her and their dog

single: yes. wait! does having and absolute queen of a workwife, Deputy Joey Hudson, count tho?

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: except for occasional binge drinking in her late teens, no

have they thought about suicide: yes (haven’t we all?)

have they attempted suicide: no

wanted to kill someone: each and every day ✨

have/had a job: yes. she is literally the Deputy. hehe

have any fear(s): being alone/lonely and without love; NOT being alone when she should be; not being properly prepared for sudden desaster

FAMILY

(I’m leaving this blank because I have literally never thought about this stuff and I would honestly rather keep it that way. My dep just started existing one day. Poof!)

siblings:

parents:

children:

significant other:

pets:

I tag @yeetslovescheese, @josephslittledeputy and everyone else who wants to do this! I would love to read about all of your characters. ♡

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thewebcomicsreview · 3 years

Photo

Homestuck 2 has updated! Christmas is ruined!

Previously, on Homestuck 2: Literally nothing happened, and a non-trivial portion of the patreon supporters gave up and quit. Can this update pull a Christmas miracle and right the sinking ship of Homestuck 2? Probably not, but let’s find out!

youtube

We’re back in Candyland, having completely skipped over Karkat and John talking about Dave’s apparent death, because this comic is only interested in long conversations when they’re boring and not about anything at all. That’s alright, I got the gist of it.

When Karkat is finally gone, John still doesn’t move. It isn’t as though he has nowhere else to go, since there are quite a few places he might attempt to make himself useful, for better or for worse.

So, it appears to be morning now, meaning that John’s son has been missing in a war zone for almost 24 hours and I guess John literally forgot Harry existed?

Prediction: This conversation is going to end in some variant of “Where is our son?” “Oh shit!”

ROXY: hey john can u do me a quick solid

ROXY: actly idk how quick itll be but its definitely solid

ROXY: harry anderson says i just missed u being here but could u skip back on over?

What.

So, I went back and checked, and apparently nowhere is it explicitly said that Harry Anderson was also looking for the Vriskas, so I guess he....stayed home? Which makes sense, I suppose, but maybe a “Stay here I’ll go look for them” would’ve helped. I wasn’t the only one who thought Harry was out looking for Vriska too.

ROXY: sup

ROXY: follow me

ROXY: well were just going to my room so i guess technically u know the way

JOHN: haha ok.

John follows, trying to shake the ominous feeling he got from what she’d just said. He’d been in and out of this house a lot in the past few days. Why should this be any different?

Is Roxy....horny? Is the solid she’s looking for John’s dick? I mean, that’d make her saying Harry wasn’t available kind of weird, but I think this framing is a fake-out.

...

What the fuck is that lamp, Jesus Christ it’s awful. Just a cat’s asshole, facing the door.

ROXY: r u kiddin me rn egbert

JOHN: i’m not? unless you were, in which case yeah lets say i was also kidding.

JOHN: oh my god, i’m sorry, i don’t know why this making me freak out.

ROXY: i remember our past boot knockin with fondness but that is a situation im not interested in revisiting

Oh hey, it was a fakeout. Good job, Homestuck 2. You successfully implied something just through the art. Art which, by the way, looks a lot better than the last chapter. There are backgrounds and everything. I wonder if Chapter 15 was rushed out due to Hiveswap and that’s why it was so weak?

He’s almost embarrassed by how relieved he feels. So what if his ex wife wanted to hook up? Shouldn’t that be a situation he could navigate? Don’t people like to find solace in human physical connection during dire times? Why did the idea of it make his mind white out in panic more than, say, any number of the traumas he just experienced?

I’m not the biggest fan of the way the narration is going JOHN IS AFRAID OF SEX WITH ROXY LIKE HE’S A TEENAGE VIRGIN AGAIN (LIKE IN HS1!) AND IT DOESN’T REALLY MAKE SENSE PLEASE REMEMBER THIS IT’LL BE IMPORTANT LATER, but okay, noted.

ROXY: u said ur house is gone??

JOHN: yep.

JOHN: completely.

ROXY: jeez

Heh. I like Roxy, still.

JOHN: so i just sat there, watching, trying to figure out why watching my house burn down felt like i was being released from prison.

If this comic actually uses the phrase “home” and “stuck” in the same sentence I’m turning this blog around and we’ll go right back to Winnipeg.

ROXY: aight then no wind bending just use your mangrit

Roxy flexes, the corner of her mouth pulled up into a familiar grin. John feels his guts, so recently calmed, twist up into knots again. Her eyebrows shoot up and the smile loosens. He must have shown something on his face.

ROXY: ok or just like push when i push

ROXY: we both got sick muscles

ROXY: no other adjectives necessary

I feel unqualified to talk about how hard Roxy is pushing the June Egbert thing.

....Is that the fucking portal from Hiveswap under a tarp? Also hi Candy Callie, appearing in HS2 for the first time. One of the Calliope’s is nonbinary, I think, but I honestly can’t remember and I think it’s Meat Calliope?

JOHN: do i get to know what that big thing under the sheet is?

ROXY: hmmmmmm no

JOHN: oh ok.

JOHN: are you sure? i mean, it seems like a pretty prominent feature of the room.

JOHN: space.

JOHN: wherever we are.

ROXY: and a totally mysterious n COMPLETELY inconspicuous feature it will have to remain for now

ROXY: we r kinda in a hurry here fyi

ROXY: and by that i mean

ROXY: we are in precisely the amount of hurry that means im excused from having to a that specific q rn

JOHN: right, sorry.

JOHN: i will pay no attention to the object behind the curtain.

ROXY: u catch on fast egbert

Oh thing HS2 has not been great at is that it has a lot of plot mysteries that are supposed to keep us enticed but they don’t really get implanted into the audience’s head (Remember Vrissy mysteriously collapsing that one time? Probably not, she did it off screen and the boys kind of laughed it off). This one’s hard to miss.

JOHN: so... this is all downstairs?

JOHN: it seems like you had a lot of work done.

ROXY: well no not x actly

ROXY: were in the old meteor

It’s kind of weird how this meteor keeps popping up like this.

CALLIOPE: besides, hUman divorces are even more fascinating than i had ever imagined, and being able to witness yoUrs in motion was an honoUr.

This is an unexpected but not unwelcome direction for Callie to have gone.

CALLIOPE: ah right, right. yoU're probably a little cUrioUs as to where the dickens we are.

CALLIOPE: how much do yoU know aboUt black holes?

Oh, wow, we’re going right there, then. This does seem like a bit of a reaction to complaints HS2 wasn’t shmoovin’ enough, but maybe I’m reading too much into it.

CALLIOPE: no, i mean, what if oUr whole WORLD was inside a black hole.

JOHN: ok.

A’ight, that got a laugh out of me

JOHN: ugh, i fucking KNEW it!

JOHN: i'm so sorry.

JOHN: i'm so sorry that i put the earth inside a black hole everyone. ):

I like this conversation a lot.

ROXY: iirc at least part of y u got so weepy was the fact that u couldnt believe a version of earth existed where ppl got 2 watch more mcconaughey films than you

JOHN: listen.

JOHN: i simply don't think you all appreciated the gift you were given.

Quite a bit, in fact.

ROXY: ur not gonna enter a weird time vortex and change the trajectory of a little girls life with the power of love

JOHN: aw.

Roxy and John have a good dynamic.

CALLIOPE: bUt Upon her departUre, the rift closed for good. as far as i can see, there's simply no way for Us to commUnicate with the world oUtside the black hole.

CALLIOPE: i woUld certainly be very sUrprised to find oUt that anyone had managed sUch a thing!

JOHN: ...right.

John’s phone has very good coverage, since he was able to talk to Terezi in the epilogues, as we’re being subtly reminded of here with that ... before the “right”. I wonder if it still works after alt-Calliope left.

CALLIOPE: oUr exclUsion from the overarching coUrse of events which governs all reality means that oUr existence here is liable to dramatic and violent Upheaval.

CALLIOPE: to pUt it another way, becaUse nothing in here "matters", we are likely to be sUbjected to things which are a bit bats in the belfry, for no reason other than it's totally insignificant to the wider canon of reality.

CALLIOPE: and mUch thoUgh i am personally titillated by some of the conseqUences of this predicament, it is a degrading way for Us to live. u_u

Okay, so we are now being explicitly told that living in the black hole is fucking with the characters and is part of the reason they make such baffling decisions, like Rose not telling Kanaya about Yiffy, or naming her daughter “Yiffy” in the first place.

CALLIOPE: we need yoU to free vriska from the clUtches of oUr misgUided friend jane, and bring her here, to the singUlarity.

ROXY: weve been calling it the plot point

CALLIOPE: yes, the plot point is a key part of oUr plan

CALLIOPE: as far as we have been able to sUrmise, the only remaining method for escaping oUr grim confinement depends on leveraging the UniqUe properties of this location to create an event of sUch catalcysmic proportions that it simply cannot be contained within the black hole any more.

CALLIOPE: something SO dramatic, so hyper-relevant, that it becomes ontologically impossible for anyone to ignore it.

CALLIOPE: for that, we need an individUal of sUfficient narrative cloUt, so to speak.

CALLIOPE: and to liberate her, who better than the embodiment of the aspect of freedom itself?

So, the plan is literally for Vriska to be such a Huge 8itch that the black hole itself gets sick of her and yeets Earth C out of its own event horizon to freedom.

This is actually a great plan.

And that’s Hamsteak. This definitely feels like a bit of a reaction to complaints about HS2, but hey, I dig it, I guess? Definite improvement over the last chapter.

#homestuck #homestuck 2 liveblog

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lepus-arcticus · 4 years

Text

44.

Mulder is making 44 clove garlic soup.

In the steamy grotto of his kitchen, Scully cuts a witch-like figure; black-clad and bent-nosed, her hair whipped into a fetching nimbus by the rain. She has been hovering over the pot while she sips at her second glass of wine, driven to industry by her skepticism of his ability to feed her.

“The onions are going to burn,” she needles, thieving a shard of gruyere from the cutting board.

“Get outta there,” he scolds, bumping her with his elbow. But she’s right as usual, and he turns his attention back to the onions, shoving them around the pot with a spatula. He’s been trying to be extra good to her lately. It would not do to burn the onions. Between the thing with the smoker and that ill-advised stakeout, he really owes her one.

Scully checks on the garlic roasting in the oven, releasing a zephyr of heat into the room. He strips a fragrant sprig of thyme between his fingers, observing her ass as she bends over and pries the crimped tinfoil bundle apart with a pair of tongs.

“This seems like an awfully convoluted way to flush out Hegel Place’s resident vampires,” she quips, letting the oven door clang shut. He grins at her, feeling another fragment of the lingering tension between them shake itself out. He can’t help it; her bad jokes make him feel loved.

Mulder had thought a stakeout would be romantic. A few long nights alone together in a neutral location, scratching notes, complaining amiably. Indulging in the cozy candour that is always inexplicably summoned by paper cups of burnt corner-store coffee. It had been off to a good start, Scully working herself up to one of her standard-issue grouches, getting all slouchy and pouty and sarcastic. But then Skinner swooped in on the wing of a raven and a mystery, and Mulder found himself suddenly, irrevocably in Vermont.

He had to admit that Ellen and her monster were rather Aesopish in their timeliness. In any case, her rabid domesticity had clearly rubbed off on him, because here he was, professing devotion in the form of soup, a damp dish towel slung over his shoulder, carefully pouring chicken stock into his mom’s prehistoric Osterizer Galaxie blender.

He might be a monster, but just like those 44 cloves, he wants to prove he can turn the pungent things inside of himself into something sweet and rich, something that can nourish her.

Across the kitchen, Scully sets down her wine and shoves her hand into a tattered oven mitt, rattles the tray from the oven and rests it on the burners. She shakes off the glove and impatiently picks open the foil with the tips of her fingernails. A bloom of aromatic splendour billows out from it, and he can’t help but follow it to the source, placing his hand on the small of Scully’s back as he leans over her and inhales. Together they peer down into the dark. The garlic resembles four papery nests of caramel-coloured hummingbird eggs.

“Ready,” he confirms.

He lets her squeeze out the flesh from the skin over the steaming blender while he transfers the onions. Scully is adorable, exsanguinating her alliums with a warlike, satisfied expression, the same one he’s seen while she’s elbows-deep in an autopsy.

“They say garlic’s an aphrodisiac,” he purrs into her ear, adding the thyme.

“You know, Mulder,” Scully says, eyes still glued to her task. “I find it a little strange that you seem so enamoured of an outmoded patriarchal institution like marriage.”

He feels a grin inhabit his mouth. “That’s one hell of a non-sequitur, Scully.”

“Indulge me.”

He leans against the counter, thinking.

“Well, there’s the fact that I love you, of course,” he offers.

“Big deal. You’ve loved me for years. Next.”

Mulder pulls open the fridge door, peering inside. “I dunno, don’t you think there’s something nice about the formal, ritualistic binding of two souls in front of the eyes of men and gods alike? The publicly-sanctioned promise to do right by one another, to go forth and bear fruit, to share the yoke?” He locates the carton of coffee cream, grabs it, pours a few good lugs into the blender.

“Did you share the yoke with Diana?” She asks lightly. It only stings a little.

“C’mon, Scully.”

“Anyway, marriage across nearly all cultures was traditionally the exchange of a woman as property from father to husband. It doesn’t have some primal, ancient spiritual significance. It was business.”

“Well,” he replies warmly, “I’ve got great news for you. It’s the year 2000.”

“We wouldn’t be able to continue our work.” With this, she sets her empty husk of garlic down and looks up, pins him with her Aegean eyes.

Here was the big one, the colossal Moby-Dick truth of it lurking under the water, threatening to crest in a heave of spectacular violence and suck down the Pequod. He hits the puree button. The Galaxie screams to life, buying him some time. The slop whirls and liquefies, like a magic potion.

The kitchen is very quiet when the blender jerks to a stop.

“I know now what happened to Samantha,” he says. His voice is softer than he intended. Like sharing a secret, like hiding from god. “Lately… lately it feels like the rest is… I dunno, recreational. I know you’ve got your goals with this work, too. I’m just thinking of what comes after.”

Mulder reaches over to briefly cradle her wine-flushed cheek in his palm. She leans into him like a stray cat, fierce and purposeful in her affection.

“And what if this is the thing that makes us?” She asks. “What if without this, without the X-Files, we lose ourselves? What if we become people that we are incapable of recognizing? What if nothing is important ever again? What if, what if, what if you don’t—”

“Hey,” he interrupts, utterly humbled by her integrity, her allegiance, the wide, wet ocean view of her eyes. “Hey.”

He fishes out a spoon from the drying rack and scoops up a mouthful of soup, floating it over to Scully with a hand cupped underneath it to catch any overflow. He tips the spoon against her lips, and she receives it like communion.

“Nothing would ever make me stop loving you,” he promises. “Nothing.”

He bends down. He kisses her soundly. “Even garlic breath.”

Incrementum

#incrementum #txf fic #txf fanfic

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aliciadelaplaya · 3 years

Text

So what should TRF do, exactly?

Yet again there have been almost defeaning calls on SM for TRF to DO SOMETHING about the Sussexes. So, I’d like to address this question, maybe throw in something of a reality check.

Most people should know by now that it is not in HMTQ’s power to remove the Sussex titles. This can only be done by an Act of Parliament, and primary legislation at that.

This means that the “motion” has to be debated by both the House of Commons and House of Lords.

Now, just think for a minute, a debate, in the house of commons, with all those Black Female Labour MPs banging on about removing the titles from the, supposedly, first bi-racial member of TRF. Goodness, if people thought that the Sussexes incoherent and contradictory mud slinging about “conversations” about the colour of Archie’s skin was damaging to TRF, how much worse would it be to hear elected representatives of the British people (however ignorant, biased and downright stupid) accuse TRF of racism in The Mother of Parliaments. Now that would be seriously damaging.

And of course The British Government has far more important things it needs to Parliamentary time for.

Also, there is some sort of notion floating around Social Media that if HMTQ asks Parliament, then it will immediately be given. Anyone who knows anything about the hundreds of years that it has taken the UK to go from an absolute to constitutional monarchy knows damn well that a) HMTQ would never dream of asking and b) HM’s Government would in no way automatically acceed to any request made by the Sovereign.

Some people seem to think that we live in some sort of medieaval kingdom with an all powerful Monarch.

Yet, there are still those who are jumping up and down, calling HMTQ and PC fit to burn because they are “Not Doing Anything”

OK, so put your money where your mouth is?

What should they do?

Exactly.

Go on,

tell us.

What would you do if one of your sons or brothers, daughters or sisters had got themselves ensnared with a dangerous narcissist? When every word of warning, every well-meant piece of advice does nothing more than drive them further into the arms of their addiction.

What would you do if their mental state before they met this person was a matter of family concern and now, far from your care, deaf to your entreaties, was publicly deteriorating to the point that they have become a world-wide laughing stock?

Tell us. What would you do? They are an adult, one who has not been sectioned, free to make their own choices, to lead their own life. They are your family. What do you do?

How exactly are you going to stop him talking about you, spreading lies and gossip? Go on, tell us, we’re dying to know.

What would you do if your beloved family member had made it clear to you that if their spouse leaves them, they will kill themselves? Go on, what would you do?

What would you do if you believed that anything your family did could be the cause of anger on the part of the narcissist and put your loved one in danger. What would you do, exactly, to stop them? Please tell us. There are a lot of people out there who would love to know.

“Cut them off” many people are crying! But that is what we know PC has done, albeit after providing his younger son and his wife with a substantial gift to help set them up in their new lives, as per the Megxit agreement.

Tell the truth about the surrogates? Yes, we would all like that, we know that niether of those children were born of her body, that they are not entitled to a place in the line of succession. Yet, however much we jump up and down and say that TRF is “public property”, the fact is, they too are still entitled to basic human rights, and one of those is privacy. It is not for TRF to tell the truth about the surrogacies, it is not their story to tell. It is for Harry and his wife. One day the truth will come out, it always does. The TRF can not be the ones to let the cat out of the bag. They just can not.

OK, so people jump up and down saying that HMTQ and PC are showing weakness by not responding to all these attacks. So tell us, what exactly would you do? Exactly, what would you have done when?

They said that you don’t own the rights to the word Royal (which is true)? When every single speech that woman made duing lockdown by Zoom has a dig at your family. Would you respond? How? Exactly.

When they set up a photoshoot trampling over war graves, insulting the memories of both the US and the UK fallen? What would you have done to stop it? Go on, do tell?

I can’t be arsed to dig out the list of all the insults, swipes etc that these two have levelled at TRF, HMTQ, PC etc. Geniunely because I’ve forgotten most of them, there have been so many, they have lost their currency, they have been devaluted. Even the massive fall out from the “bombshell” whineathon with OW, was overtaken by more whinging, it’s a deluge. How could the sitatuation have been helped if, as it was rumoured PC wanted to do, each accusation was thoroughly challenged. Can you imagine?

How many of you own or run companies? How many of you have had, in any shape or form had people complain to you about products or services? How many of you have received unjustified/maliciious/ignorant complaints - 100% I would guess. And what is the best way of dealing with these? Do you engage and argue with every minor point, do you want to “win” the argument. Does it make you feel better to win by beating the complainent over the head with your greater wisdom, teaching them a lesson, showing them for the stupid, ignorant people they are? What happens if you engage? It never bloody stops. But if you reply thanking them profusely for the incredible amount of time they have taken to give you feedback, if you thank them for their custom, if you offer them a discount/money back. If you ARE NICE TO THEM. Guess what? THEY HAVE NO WHERE TO GO! NOWHERE. Believe me, I’ve done both and I can tell you hands down which is the most satisfying and, ultimately the most productive in the long term.

The situation is the same here, if TRF engages in any shape or form it will be playing directly into the Narcs playbook and the Sussexes will push back, it will excite them, thrill them, give them power. It will be more fuel for their global whinging and victimhood. It will be more interminable articles in Hello and Page Six (Does anyone read these publications) Look at the few times TRF have pushed back and H has come in, all guns blazing with legal letters (and what happened to all that, we wonder). Have you noticed that since the word got out that TRF were not going to stand by silently, the BS stories about HMTQ having zoom calls with the mythical child, buying waffle makers have stopped?

They are much more careful now when they try to bring HMTQ into their lunacy.

“Love me, hate me, but NEVER ignore me” is the Narcs motto and it will be driving Harry’s wife mad that they have been completely iced and are not rising to their constant baiting. But some of the Megxiteers are. Effectively, the Megxiteers are doing the Sussexes work for them. That sure is some fuel for the narc.

It makes me laugh when the MSM and SM get their knickers in a twist about the latest fuckwittery coming out of Montecito (or whever they don’t live). They want the child to be christened in Windsor with HMTQ present. Don’t make me larff! That is never going to happen. This is absolute kite flying at it’s worst. It’s poking the bear and all these ridiculous Royal Reporters nod their heads and make seemingly wise podcasts about the prospect of this happening (and they can do it with - mostly - straight faces), as if it was actually a possibility when I’d like to think that they, like me, believe that H and his wife have been well and truly iced, they are personas non grata.

When the wife buggered off back to Canada after the Commonwealth service leaving her useless husband to tell more lies on his own, rather than with her at his side, I was convinced then that she will never set foot on these shores again and I stand by that view now as I did then.

So, the latest stick with which the megxiteers have chosen to beat TRF with is that the second child is now on the website as being in the line of succession. Yes, it is an absolute abomination, yes, it offends every fibre of my being, yes I want to expose these two evil hypocrites for this egregregious fraud that they are perpetrating on TRF and the rest of the British people. Of course, like most of you, I want to see justice done, and I want it done NOW. But life isn’t like that. and just as Caesar’s wife has to be above suspision so do our (much loved) RF. Look how we all noticed the careful wording of the Baby congrats on the birth of the second child, they know, we know, but TRF have to play a staight bat, they just have to.

While, in the SM bubble we can all get ourselves wound up, upset, angry, sure that the monarchy will fall etc etc outside, in the real world, most people don’t give a flying fuck about Harry. He’s an idiot, an ex-royal, gone, finished. He is not important either inside or outside TRF.

HE IS IRRELEVANT.

And, if anyone is wondering while all this stuff about book deals is coming out now. I give you this:

The Mail on Sunday appeal - will probably run into next year The Bullying accusations - will probably run into next year. Tom Bower’s book (this is a biggy) - to be published next year?

The Sussexes are aware they are losing popularity, that is why each pronouncement is more and more ludicrous and each Hello article more and more desperate.

The Sussexes are aware they are under attack by forces outside TRF, and they are making their pre-emptive strikes at the low hanging fruit, the soft underbelly of his family.

TRF are doing exactly the right thing. Keep Calm, Carry On and while ignoring them won’t make them go away, it will make them look increasingly ridiculous.

This is true strength, not to rise to the bait, to carry on regardless. Remember our Queen has a strong and deeply held Christian faith, turning the other cheek is part of that, whether we like it or not. TRF should not, under any circumstances sink to the level of Harry and his wife.

Let’s just enjoy the H show for what it is, a mentally unstable ensnared fool doing everything he can to ensure he continues to receive the favours (sexual and otherwise) of the narcissist he married. Because, imho, that is what it’s all about.

Remember the engagement interview. “I hope she loves me as much as I love her”.

Sorry mate, that ship has sailed and nothing, nothing you can do will bring it back.

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noladyme · 4 years

Text

Chess. Chapter 10

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes.

TW: Language, sexual themes, injuries. Rated M

(This story is obviously non-canon, i.e. Diablo and GQ, but I hope you’ll enjoy it either way. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.)

The next day our weapons were packed up for us; as we weren’t allowed to have them on us during the flight. They had doubled the guards for our transportation to the garage; as some of them would be joining us on the journey.

Apparently over his resentment towards Harley for keeping us awake the night before; Digger was cracking jokes, and messing with the pilot of the chopper taking us to Gotham. It was bigger than the one from a couple of days ago; seemed to be for transportation of goods, and not humans.

“Oy, mate. You ever see that movie, Con Air?”, Digger asked the pilot; who was clearly out of his element, and probably had never flown murderers and psychopaths across the country before. He fled to his seat in front of the aircraft, and Digger laughed hoarsely at us. “I think he’s seen it!”, he grinned.

Croc had been wheeled out on a standing gurney, strapped down, and mouth covered. They hadn’t untied him before boarding, but instead wheeled him into a large cage, and strapped the gurney to the bars. Five smaller cages were placed against the walls of the chopper, each equipped with a chair with straps that seemed to be supposed to function as seatbelts.

I took a step towards Rick, the guards around him quickly aiming their guns at me. “What the hell is this, Flag?”, I hissed.

He once again winced at my use of his last name. “Wallers orders. She’ll explain more once we arrive in Gotham”, he answered, voice leveled; not wanting to let anyone know about our connection.

Grabbing my arm, he led me to one of the cages in the chopper, pushed me inside, and closed the door; leaving us standing face to face – looking at each other through the bars.

“I need you to trust me. I’m going to make sure you all come out of this alive”, he whispered, and squeezed my hand before raising his voice. “Sit down and strap up prisoner. We got a long flight ahead”.

I looked at him, eyebrows furrowed; and then sat down in the chair.

Being led into his own cage, hands cuffed behind his back; Floyd smiled at the female guard locking the door. “Did they remember to tell you; I’m gonna want the vegetarian option”. She walked away from him, pretending not to hear. “Miss? Miss? Service at this airline is ridiculous”, he chuckled, and sat down to strap in.

Diablo had been drenched in water; and the Tweedles were seated on either side of his cage, each holding a fire extinguisher. He was grinning from ear to ear at the ridiculousness of the security measurement chosen to control him. We all knew none of it would do shit in the end, if he decided he wanted to use his fire.

“Where’s Harley”, Rick asked the guards, and they all looked confusedly at each other.

“I’m coming!”, Harleys voice yelled. Running down the hallway leading to the garage, with two guards – each dragging a brightly colored suitcase with one hand, and aiming guns at her with the other – trailing behind her.

Harley was dressed to the nines. Glitter stiletto boots; a barely there gold and pink sequined dress, and a faux fur coat. At least I guessed it was faux; as I’d never seen a purple, long haired zebra before. “Gosh, you’d think you’d give a girl time to pack up before a vacation”, she panted, and fanned her face with her hand. “This isn’t a vacation, Quinn. Get your ass on that helicopter!”, Rick growled, and followed her to her cage, locking it with her inside. Harley rolled her eyes at him, and strapped up like the rest of us.

“Arent you excited?”, she asked, beaming at me. “We’re going home!”. I shook my head. “We’ll be back here in no time”.

She grinned, and winked at me.

During our flight, Rick sat across the floor from my cage, continuously wringing his hands, and looking from between my eyes and the floor. At one point the female guard Floyd had been cracking jokes at earlier; came up to him with a small thermos.

“You look like you need a cup of coffee, sir”, she smiled sweetly. “I roast the beans myself”. Rick politely declined, and went back to starring at his boots. She pushed her hip out, bit her lip, and sighed. “Well, you just let me know if there’s anything at all you need”, she said, and turned to walk away, swaying her hips a little more seductively than her uniform could make look good.

I couldn’t help myself. I jumped at the cage, grabbed the bars, and starred her right in her face. “Sit down, prisoner!”, she said angrily.

I hissed at her, and bared my teeth; giving her the scariest face I could pull off. Mine, bitch!.

She jumped back, and rushed off to sit in her own seat; which happened to be next to Crocs cage. He growled; and she audibly swallowed, and looked away, holding on to her gun like it was a teddy bear. Crocs eyes smiled at me; and I smirked back.

Rick looked up at me and gave me a crooked smile. I half smiled back, and sat back down.

---

We landed a few hours later on a helipad on top of a large building in the outskirts of Midtown Gotham. Our cages were wheeled out of the chopper. Waller was waiting for us with a mustachioed man, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“Commissioner Gordon”, Waller said. “This is Task Force X”. Gordon gulped. “You’ve probably met some of the team before”.

Harley sprang out of her chair, and stretched her arm out of the cage, as if to shake his hand. “Gordon! It’s been so long! How’s your wife?”, she smiled genuinely.

Floyd and Digger both chuckled, and sent each other a look.

“I don’t like this, Waller”, Gordon said. “You don’t have to like it, commissioner. You just have to accept it”. “You’re asking me to sign of on sending these sociopaths out on my streets, and hope that they won’t burn the whole city down in the process!”, Gordon raged.

“Psychopaths”, Harley corrected him. “Sociopaths are unable to show empathy, and to put themselves in others shoes. Psychopaths can fake it with the best of them”.

“Quinn, shut up”, Rick said, trying to hide a smile.

Waller continued. “This isn’t your call Gordon”, she said coldly. He frowned.

“You know, ever since I met you those three months ago; when you wanted me to let you use the bat-signal, everything has gone downhill”.

I gasped inaudibly. Him. He was the one that helped you. It was a trap. Rick took a step towards me, probably noticing my facial expression.

Waller looked at Gordon pointedly. “That’s a discussion for a different time”, she said, and I noticed her looking at me for a millisecond, before returning to him. “Why don’t you go on that vacation to Aruba you’ve been planning, hm?”.

Gordon grumbled something in response, and left us alone on the roof.

Waller turned towards us.

“Welcome to Gotham”. She turned to the guards. “Get them settled in”.

Rushing to me before my guard could reach my cage, Rick grabbed the bars. “I didn’t know, Y/N. I swear!”, he whispered; before the guard whisked me of to a nearby elevator.

---

We were placed under guard in an abandoned office building.

“Wow. Recession really hit this place hard, huh?”, Floyd said, looking around the large windowless room we were occupying.

“This is Wayne Enterprises property”, Rick answered him, glancing at me.

I sat, frozen in place, on my chair in my now opened cage. I hadn’t been able to stand up since it had been unlocked.

The guards had left us alone, after Rick – and Waller – had assured them that it was safe. Still; they were posted throughout the building, prepared for what they thought would be an inevitable escape attempt.

Croc, stretching his limbs from having been tied down for so long, walked over to me; put his hands on my shoulders, and pulled me into a standing position. My legs still wobbly; he had to hold on to me for a second, before lifting my chin to look at me.

“You a’ight, cher’?”, he asked, with his naturally gravelly voice.

“They set me up”, I answered.

“They set us all up, darlin’”, Digger said from his corner, sharpening his boomerangs – our weapons having been given back to us on the insistence of Rick.

“The first time they got me was on date night”, Harley said. She seemed far away again. “Mr. J took me dancing; and we were on our way home to cuddle up with a movie. Alice in Wonderland, my favorite”, she smiled at me. “It’s what she does. She gets us when we’re the happiest”. Her smile turned into something different. For the first time since I’d met her, Harley seemed… sad.

“No”, I said, trying to send her a look of sympathy. “I mean, before all this”. I went to the middle of the room, Croc trailing close behind to catch me if I decided to faint on them.

“A while back an acquaintance tracked me down at Sammy’s with an offer”, I said quietly. Selina had shown up at the club, wearing a black designer dress and sunglasses. Her topic of conversation had been interesting, but I’d been a little hesitant.

Selina, I know I owe you one for all the times I’ve asked you to feed my cats when I was working, but come on!, I thought to myself.

“She told me about a safe with a lot of money”, I continued. “I was short on cash, as I’d lost some money on a trip to Vegas”. A trip that had ended with me having to post bail for both me and my ex-“fiancée”, Melissa. “The safe was supposedly easy to reach; no thermal cameras, very few guards… It sounded too good to be true”.

“It was, huh?”, Diablo asked, leaning against a wall by the door.

“Yeah”, I answered. “She said she’d have done the deed herself, but didn’t have time due to other obligations. I didn’t need a lot of money to hold me over, just a couple of grand, ‘cuz I needed to help a friend”. I sent a look in Ricks direction. He nodded, knowingly. “Her only demand was that I donated most of the money to a shelter here in the city. I had no problem with that, as long as I could take what little I needed for my friend”.

“But she lied about the cameras and the security”; Rick said.

“I don’t know”, I answered. “Either that… or there was a tracker on the money. Shit, I have no idea, but a month later, you assholes showed up at my job, drugged me, and sent me to bumfuck Louisiana; to join your circus”.

Rick tightened his lips.

But Selina had known where I was all along. Why not just tell the Bat where I worked? Or was the safe another test?

My head was spinning. I sat down on a chair someone pulled out for me. Putting my head between my knees, I breathed heavily.

Rick got up and addressed the room. “You’ve all been assigned quarters here in the building. Please, try not to kill the guards. Croc, that means you”, he said, looking towards the large figure standing next to me. He growled in response.

“Get some rest. Tomorrow we move out”.

Everyone cleared out, each led by gunpoint to their designated room. Rick grabbed my arm tightly enough for it to look as if he was being rough with me. The female guard came up from behind us.

“Sir, we have a place set up for you on another floor. So you can get some privacy”, she said.

“I stay with my team”, Rick answered, and pulled me of in the direction of an adjoining corridor.

There were no guards in front of the door to my room. We were alone.

---

The room itself had clearly been an office. There were still indentations on the floor where a desk and a chair had stood. There was a file cabinet in the corner, drawers open and empty. On the floor lay a simple mattress with a pillow and a blanket covering it. A window let in the lights of the nighttime skyline. I put my hands against the window, fogging it up with my breath. Rick closed the door behind us.

“Y/N?”, he said quietly.

“Everything I’ve been through these last months… all lies”, I said, still staring out the window. “I can’t deal with anymore lies”.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Y/N”, he said, and walked up behind me.

I turned around and looked at him. His eyes were intense – and honest. I took his hand and put it to my cheek. “I don’t want to think anymore. I need everything to just… stop”, I said, and grabbed a hold of his jacket, leaning in to him. He put his arms around me, and kissed the top of my head. “I know, kitten”. He exhaled and held me close. “I know”.

We stood there for a few seconds, before he let me go, and walked towards the door.

“Can you stay?”. He stopped dead in his tracks, and turned around; looking at me, bewildered. “You sure?”, he asked. I nodded. He stepped towards me.

“I’m not going anywhere until you ask me to”, he smiled warmly, and put me back into his arms again.

The room was chilly, but Ricks warmth spread through me, and for the first time since what felt like forever, my body relaxed, and I exhaled all the pain and frustration that had gathered inside me.

“Take me away from here”, I said, closing my eyes. “Where do you want to go?”, Rick asked, stroking my hair. “Anywhere”.

Rick chuckled. “I have a cabin in Montana”, he said. “You ever gone fishing?”. “Would it surprise you if I said yes?”, I smiled. “Kind of”, he laughed, and looked down at me.

I stepped away from him, sitting down on the mattress with my back to the wall. He sat down next to me; his arm behind my back, holding me close.

“Tell me about your cabin”, I said.

“It’s of a dirt road in the woods, right by a lake. Not a powerline in sight. No electricity or running water; but it’s got an old-fashioned water pump connected to the sink”. His thoughts seemed far away. “It’s just the one room. Wood stove. Insulated it myself last year”.

“Sounds like heaven” I mused.

“I still freeze my balls of in the winter, if I don’t keep it supplied with wood”, he said.

“Too bad”, I smirked. “They’re nice balls”.

He looked at me, eyebrows raised, stifling a laugh. “Oh yeah?”. He raised his chin a bit, looking down at me. There you are, you cocky bastard, I thought, and grinned at him.

He gave me a squeeze, and I rearranged my legs so they were laid over his.

“Can we go there?”, I asked. His face became determined. “I promise”, he said, and stroked my cheek.

I leant in to him, and our lips met. At first it was soft; sweet. Taking a break to look me in the eyes; Ricks face became hesitant.

“If you want me to stop, say it now; because if we keep going, I won’t be able to…”. I put a finger against his lips.

“Don’t… stop”, I said, put my hand around his neck, and pulled him in again.

Ricks free hand went to my thigh; squeezing it; and pulled me onto his lap; straddling him. I opened my mouth, and our tongues met, gently stroking each other.

As he held on to my waist, I took of my jacket. He quickly unlocked my harness, and threw it into a corner. I kissed his neck, and pushed his jacket down his shoulders; helping him take it of. Running my nails through his hair, I gently tugged at his earlobe with my teeth; coaxing a stifled moan out of him.

He pulled my top over my head, and put his hands on my breasts; squeezing them gently; making me gasp in response. He leant down and placed a kiss on my collarbone.

I tugged at his t-shirt. He pulled it of with a swift move, leaving only my bra as a barrier between our naked torsos. He pulled the straps of it down. “Off…”, he breathed, and what was supposed to be a yes, became a moan falling from my lips, as I reached behind my back, unhooking the unwanted garment.

A hand on my back, and the other on my butt; he swiftly turned us around, so that I was lying on my back under him. He sat on his knees between my legs, looking down at me. Slowly, he pulled the straps of my bra down my arms, leaving my upper body naked, laid out for him to see. I felt a sudden pang of insecurity, and laid an arm over my chest.

“No, please”, he said. “Let me just look at you”.

I smiled, cheeks reddening; in spite of the fact that he’d seen me completely naked once before.

He moved my arm out of the way, and ran his fingers down between my breasts, his expression soft. “You…”, he began, but couldn’t finish his sentence. I smiled.

“You just gonna stare at me all night?”, I asked.

His face darkened; and he was on me. A hand on each breast, he squeezed them together, and kissed me passionately. His left hand squeezed my nipple, making me gasp from the delicious sting of his touch.

His mouth moved down, kissing and nipping the skin on my throat. My vagina was throbbing, heat spreading from it, going into my stomach, and out my legs. Not letting go of my breasts, he licked a trail from between them, all the way down to my bellybutton. I put my hands on his upper back, sliding my fingers from his shoulder blades, up to his neck. His fingers grazed over my nipples, which were erect and responsive.

Pausing a bit over my stomach, his hands moved down my sides, stopping on my hips. He hooked his fingers into my waistband, and looked up at me, waiting for permission. I nodded, biting my lower lip; and he began pulling my leggings down, stopped by the boots I was still wearing. I laughed at his annoyed face, as he roughly pulled of the right boot, and gingerly pulled of the left one, taking care not to hurt my still injured ankle.

He removed my leggings swiftly, and lifted my ankle to his lips. I was no longer wearing the bandages – Harleys treatment had done some good – so he kissed the inside of it, and gently placed it back down on the mattress. His fingers trailed up the outside of my legs, and ended up on my hips again; playing with the sides of my panties.

Ricks pants had grown quite a bit tighter bellow the waistband; and with a smile I sat up, and began to unbuckle his belt. From where I was sitting, my lips had access to his chest, and I kissed my way to his right nipple; taking it into my mouth, gently nibbling it. His hands stroked my back as he grunted in response, and pulling my head back, he leant down, and once again kissed me; our lips weaving in to each other, as if they were created for this one purpose.

Our tongues colliding, he gently pushed me back down on the mattress; and moved back down my body, this time pulling down my panties – laying me bare in front of him. Sending me a wicked smirk, he ran his hands down the back of my thighs, lifting them so that I lay with my legs spread and my knees bent.

My breath hitched, and I closed my eyes.

He started at the top of my mound, kissing it gently, and tugging at the hair there with his fingers. He inhaled my scent. “Mhmm”, he mumbled, and I ran my fingers through his hair; hands shaking in anticipation. His warm breath spread across my folds.

“Rick”, I gasped.

“I’m here”, he answered; and kissed my nub once.

The sensation instantly sent sparks flying all the way through my body, and made me flinch. “It’s ok”, he breathed in to me. His hand found mine, and squeezed it gently.

His shoulders touching the backside of my thighs, I rested my left foot on his back.

He stroked a finger up my taint, between my folds; all the way up to my clit. Removing it, his lips once again met it; this time sucking gently. I had trouble laying still; my body already convulsing, even before I had climaxed. Releasing my hand, he put his arm over my belly, holding me in place.

His tongue took the same path his finger had; before he sucked one of my labia into his mouth, nibbling it; and chuckling at how my legs began to shake involuntarily.

“Lay still, Y/N”, he laughed up at me. “I…”, I gasped. “Just… shut up! More…”. I was panting. He chuckled again, moved his hand from my stomach to my breast; and moved on with the task at hand.

Kissing the area around my vagina, he payed attention to every part of it except the part I need him to concentrate on the most. My nub was throbbing, yearning for his touch.

“Rick!”, I mewled, and tugged at his hair.

I heard him groan, and suddenly he latched on to my clit, sucking; while he inserted two fingers into me, curling them. Gasping, I looked down at him, meeting his brown eyes. His pupils were blown, and he moaned in to me.

His fingers relentlessly coaxed me towards my climax; finding that perfect spot inside me that made my whole body feel on fire.

He suckled deeply at me, then – noticing how my muscles began to tense up – let go. “Now”, he breathed, latched back on to me; and curved his hand into a position that made me feel like we were permanently attached to each other.

I could literally see stars. My whole body convulsed; and my back arched. All the while Rick kept on suckling at me, and using his fingers to draw everything out of me that he could. I held on to the mattress; in a weird way convinced that if I didn’t, I would fall of the face of the planet. Ricks fingers kept bending and stretching, and then bending again; stroking and coaxing.

I squealed breathlessly, shaking. It felt like electricity coming from inside me, moving out my vagina; but in stead of the current knocking me out, it was the one thing keeping me alive.

And – without knowing it – I smiled.

My body gave a final convulsion, as Rick let go of me with his mouth; his fingers still inside of me.

I gasped loudly, laughed, and tried to meet Ricks eyes. His whole face was one big question mark.

“Y/N?”, he said; and looked down at the fingers he could now see, but also could still feel were inside of me. “What?”, I panted, completely out of breath. “You’re, uhm… you’re gone”.

He sat there on his knees, two fingers curved. I could still feel him inside me. I suddenly realized what had happened.

“Oh”, I began. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. That is…”.

I reappeared, covering my face with my hands. “I can’t believe that just happened”.

“Y/N, no don’t worry about it”, he smiled at me. “It’s fine”. “That has never happened to me before”, I groaned into my hands. “This is so embarrassing”.

He pushed my hands away from my face with his free hand, and stroked my cheek. “Hey, really. It’s fine”, he chuckled. “If anything, I take it as a compliment”.

I gave an embarrassed laugh, and looked down.

“Uhm, Rick?”, I said. “You’re still… uhm…”.

He looked down at his hand, and – realizing where his fingers still were – he flushed pink himself, and gently drew his fingers out of me.

I curled up into a seated position on the mattress, pulling the blanket around me.

“Well that was a party foul”, I said, still embarrassed. Rick put his arm around me, lifted my chin, and kissed me. “Not at all”, he smiled. “You have any idea how goddamn hot it is, that I could make you do that?”, he said, and kissed me again, before whispering into my ear.

“Makes me wonder what other parts of me would look like, in the same position”.

I frowned. “That’s weird”. “It’s kinky”, he gasped, faking indignation. “It’s weird. You’re weird”, I said, and shook my head.

“Fine”, he said, exasperated, and paused for a second. “So… we’re not gonna try to find out?”, he teased with a smirk.

I giggled. “Maybe some other time. It takes up a lot of energy I’d like to use elsewhere right now”, I said, and looked up at him.

His lips parted, and his breath hitched. I merged my fingers behind his neck, drawing him in for a warm kiss; before sliding one hand down his naked chest, and taking a moment to stroke across his abdomen.

He was warm, and he wrapped his arms around me under the blanket, as goosebumps had emerged from the chill of the room.

I moved my hand further down, continuing the task of undoing his pants. Once opened, he pushed them down and off of his legs, along with his boots. He was left in his boxer-briefs, and I cupped his bulge; once again relishing in the memory of how his penis had felt inside me a few nights before. Sliding my hand under his waistband, gripping his length; our kiss deepened, and he pulled his face away from mine to gasp, as I started pumping him slowly.

He leant over me, laying me down again. “I can’t wait anymore”, he breathed, and pulled of his underwear quickly, positioning himself between my legs. With his fingers, he spread my wet folds, and slid into me; our eyes never breaking contact.

We simultaneously moaned. “Still beautiful”, he croaked, and I smiled.

A hand behind my head, his elbow supporting him, to avoid putting all of his weight on me; he lifted my leg, and put it around his torso. He bucked into me forcefully, making me squeak in a very unladylike manner. He smirked at me.

“This is a good look on you”, he said, moving his hips to pump into me slowly. “What?”, I panted. “Fucked senseless?”. “You don’t seem quite senseless yet”, he chuckled, and bucked his hips again; bottoming out.

My eyes rolled back, and I mewled. He continued his slow torture; thrusting slowly – drawing sounds from me I’d never heard coming out of my mouth before. “Ffuu… mhmm… Rick”, I moaned; and put my hands on his bottom, trying to force his delicious feeling member as far into me as possible. “I’m right here, kit… Aahh!”, he groaned, as I scratched my nails down his back. “You’re playing with fire”, he gasped, and dug his fingers into my butt cheek, making it sting with sweet pain.

He suddenly pulled out of me, gathered my legs; and spanked me hard once; then stroked his fingers across my aching folds. Putting both my knees over his shoulders, and holding on to my thighs; he pushed into me again, all the way, with a forceful movement. “Let me know if this is to rough”, he said, and looked at me apologetically.

“Shut up, and get back to work, soldier”, I answered, and smirked.

He raised an eyebrow at me. “That’s colonel to you”, he said; leant over – almost folding me in half – and bottomed out again.

“Sir, yes, Colonel Flag, sir!”, I moaned, almost instantly climaxing around him. The feeling of my walls beginning to clench around him, made him groan. He continued thrusting into me in this position for a while, before getting on his knees, once again holding on to my thighs; so that my butt was lifted from the mattress.

I was mewling in pleasure. I simultaneously felt that I was being lifted into the air, and falling down a deep hole. Down, down, down. Will the fall ever come to an end?. I was delirious.

Rick let go of my thigs, and my legs fell to either side of him. He was panting, straining to hold back. I could see his muscles tensing up, and hear his breathing grow more erratic.

He leant down over me again, continuously thrusting into me. I put my arms around him, one hand in his hair again, holding on to whatever I could to keep our bodies close.

He put a hand on either side of my face, and our lips met again, tongues melding for a few thrusts, before he looked me into the eyes. “Together?”, he panted. I nodded.

With a loud groan he increased his speed; our bodies so close that his pubic bone was stimulating my clit with our movements. I continuously rolled my hips, matching Ricks movements in and out of me.

The stars were returning before my eyes, and I let out a sound, letting Rick know I was close. He moaned in response; and bottomed out one last time; grabbing on to my shoulders, to force himself into me as far as he could.

Our bodies felt like we exploded together. The current I had felt before was back; this time fusing us together in pulses matching our heartbeats. My core spasmed around him. I felt his member twitch inside me, and his body convulsing on top of me.

Then we both melted. He relaxed his muscles, and rolled onto his back, pulling me with him, so that I was laying on his chest; our bodies still conjoined by our still convulsing nether regions.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, woman”, he said hoarsely, and I chuckled in response.

He pulled the blanket over us, and kissed the top of my head. I readjusted my body, and he slid out of me with a silent gasp.

“I’m gonna need a shower after that one”, I smiled. He laughed in response. “I don’t think there are any showers in the building, but”, he said, reaching for his pants on the floor, “I think I have some wet-wipes in my pocket”.

“Be prepared, huh? Such a good boy scout”, I teased. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh away”, he answered, and pulled out a pack of wipes.

While he prepared to clean himself of, I noticed something else having fallen out of his pocket. It was the polaroid that had been in my crate of gear back at Belle Reve. Looking at my smiling face on the picture; where I was standing with a foot on the seat of a folding chair, holding on to the back rest; and the other leg raised in the air above me – I bit my lip and blushed.

“You kept this?”, I asked quietly.

His face reddened. “Yeah. I couldn’t let them burn it”. I kissed him softly in response.

We fell asleep in each others arms. The last thing I heard was the sound of a helicopter flying across the night sky outside the window.

Tag list:

@gloriousgam3r

@hyp-oh-critical

#rick flag #rick flag x reader #rick flag fic #rick flag imagine #suicide squad fic #suicide squad imagine #harley quinn #deadshot #captain boomerang #rick flag smut

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cloveroctobers · 3 years

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GENEVIEVE ALIU —

IG info/bio: @/genevealiu1 | 19k followers | currently on a journey as a junior doctor living in 🇦🇺🤎 | blm.card.co🖤 | sk💛

26 years of age

Born and raised in Glastonbury, England

Pisces sun? + libra moon?

Mother is Guyanese and works for a non-profit organization

Her father is Nigerian and works in property management

has one older brother who is a Prosthetist and resides in Nigeria with his pregnant fiancée

She can’t wait to be a auntie!!!

And a younger sister who is a medical laboratory technician

To say the least, their parents were happy that their children fell into the medical field. Based on their cultures it was a honor to have their children in these professions

Vieve grew up with a sassy demeanor and her parents have old videos on their camcorders to prove it lol, it never fails that the pair brings out the embarrassing vids during the holidays but vieve genuinely appreciates them

Although thanksgiving is a RACIST American thing, vieve never misses the opportunity to share what she’s thankful for in life and counts all of it as blessings! But it’s still fuck the pilgrims

Has held a friendsgiving before, loves any moment where she can host gatherings or attend them! either is quite fine. She loves being around people

the only time she likes to look back on the past is to see how she and her family carried themselves then and how the evolved into who they are now, it’s interesting to see

Loves “how it started vs how it’s going” posts and might have participated in a few

Always knew from a young age that she wanted to help people in some way, she was always doing something to help around the house and especially her aging/sickly grandparents

Felt offended that many people around school that she thought were her friends would stab her in the back labeling her as this “fake saint” since she rather spend her time volunteering instead of going to house parties in hs

Don’t get it twisted, she still went to those too & had her fun but definitely felt like it was the same routine and nothing ever felt fulfilling at these functions after awhile

Well known with all the cliques around school but had her own group of friends that fit into many of those cliques but she never felt obligated to stick to one social group. If you were nice and cool with her, she was the same to you, if you weren’t? Depending on her mood, she’d ignore you/say things under her breath or be “fake nice” as a form of being the bigger person

Has a curly hair routine that she consistently follows (after struggling to find the right products to make them flourish) and gets annoyed with if her curls don’t turn out the way she knows they can, it’s always frustrating when things don’t turn out the way you want them to but isn’t afraid to at least try

Three times is the charm! Is one of her mottos

loves bright colors, flowy attire, big hats, brimmed hats, bucket hats, berets, etc...

Has faced racism/prejudices and bullying growing up in public spaces—mostly school/uni & some of those same hatred actions online now that she’s dating seb

Because of that there were times where she felt insecure but deff grew to forgive, heal, and rise above the hate, she knows her worth

Has never been happier in a relationship than she is with seb, he’s her “moody long-haired, soft-hearted bby”

they’re both complete fools for each other and vieve is more vocal about her being in love/finding her soulmate whereas seb doesn’t mind showing it rather than speaking it—even tho he’s on a podcast but we mind our business okay?!

Seb is thinking of moving to Australia with vieve, he’s ready to risk it all for this woman, HIS woman 🤩

canon: gives more than she should/taken advantage of/not reciprocating in relationships... ex) how she dated a guy that she did everything for! especially financially and also struggled to find her worth but once she did? Her aura shined brighter than before— Ik chill out there Rocco

Also believes in loving yourself first to attract what you need in this world and found that in her career and seb. I hope they’re endgame! Since they’re the only couple I rooted for this season? Except for tai & ciaran maybe? They’re probably not endgame but whatever

They still get nervous/shy around each other even tho they’ve been together for months now + are in a long distance relationship which is too cute! I think since they’re in this for the long game they can look back on moments and still feel the way they felt in that moment. You know if you get the chance or have already heard elderly people talk about their relationships and how they get all starry eyed? That’s vieve & seb, that shit gets me right in my feels ew

Vieve’s love language is quality time, it’s what she shows and likes along with acts of service from her partner

Makes the best jollof rice & her fav dish is Metemgee

Trying to be on a plant-based diet only but will have her cheat days on occasion—mostly when she’s drunk and forgets her diet plan lmao that’s me getting double cheeseburgers or anything with dairy drunk af

now living in Australia, she tried to like vegemite but...the it’s a no for her, respectfully ofc! She never wants to disrespect anyone

besides the food, the atmosphere is much nicer since she feels like she’s on a holiday almost everyday and that there’s much more to see and do when she has the time

Loves the beaches and is thinking about surfing lessons

yes she enjoys those doctor shows and can agree that most scenarios are not the same as rl ofc but great question!

Since she’s a junior doctor now, and on her way to graduation! She feels so accomplished and having this chance to complete what she’s wanted her whole life in a different place, makes her super emotional

All those stressful all-nighters will be worth it. She mostly did it on her own but is nothing but humble and Is thankful to those that have helped her along the way, what kind of person would she be if she didn’t mention them?

and when COVID hit, she was one of many already on the frontlines. Her studies became altered but this wouldn’t stop her for her mission on this earth, this was her purpose and she knew we would conquer it all—but definitely has empathy and gets angry with how it’s being handled from time to time

She’s been exposed to it first hand which aboustely worries her parents, seb, her friends, and friends from the villa

Keeps up to date when all medical news, has a whole app dedicated to health

Learning French with some of her free time and is doing well at it

It was only natural for her to become closer to elladine since their men are homies and have a podcast together

They’ve hung out a few times on a double dates before the boat vacation & once just as girls before vieve left to Australia

Vieve is always offering advice but knows that every relationship is different and what works for her and seb won’t work for elladine and Nicky, she loves them together and knows everyone has bumps in the road

feels there’s some sort of tension between her and Harry now? Which she found a little off putting since they were supposed to be friends but she realizes that Harry has a condition but it’s also not an excuse for him to treat her shitty sometimes which he does and feels like it comes out of nowhere most times but he always apologizes yet vieve is slowly getting tired of this unhealthy habits

So they’re talking less these days, which he notices!

She wants Harry to find his happiness too! If he hasn’t found it in mc first that is

has met Tim— he’s a great laugh and seems like a nice guy—they follow each other, talia and jake in person when she was out with seb—they were also super nice and congratulated them on their win, she went up to miles once on a night out—he’s still a arsehole, priya reached out to her via dm about her new boutique that she wanted her to model in someday, Hope was just as stunning in person along with Siobhan, Chelsea & mc s2 were also kind, and a couple of the guys also wished her and seb well

She’s also noticed some of the shit talking coming from Elisa, Allegra, Lucy, and mc s1 (subtle shade from mc, basically about how vieve reacted if mc decided to give Harry a go but that was only brought to her attention thru fans) online but again, vieve peeped it and felt majority of it didn’t require a response. She was too happy in life rn and she had a man and they don’t

Plans to get a komondor, thinks they’re super cute! — seb does not “if you love me, you’ll love our child.” “It’s a bloody mop dog! And I’m a cat dad, you know that!” “Don’t talk about him like that, he’s got feelings just like your cat babies!”

I feel like she’s a matcha & Frappuccino lover, tries to keep her drinks simple and feels guilty when she has to make adjustments but the heart wants what it wants

Mini Countryman owner, she also drives like a “granny” better safe than sorry! She hates fast drivers, there’s absolutely no need for it!

Minimal makeup: eyeshadow, moisturizer, & a nude lip and she’s good to go

Secretly obsessed with among us, second life, and SIMS!!!

Celeb crushes? Heath ledger, Tyler posey, KENDRICK SAMPSON, Jordan fisher, Algee smith, Donald Glover, Mack Wilds, Khleo Thomas, Robert Ri’chard, Tahj Mowry, & Hasan Minhaj

Listens to: DaniLeigh, ABIR, Mary J. Blige, TORI KELLY, Us the duo, 11:11, Jacob Latimore, fifth harmony, joya mooi, & Greentea Peng, etc...

Anthem: The Cheetah Girls — Cinderella

#litg #litg3 #litg s3 #litg genevieve #litg moodboard #litg headcanons #litg headcanon #litg seb #litg Harry #litg mc #litg oc #litg elladine #litg Nicky #idk if I did her justice but my apologies to her and y’all if not lol #litg Tim #litg talia #litg jake #litg priya #litg hope

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docholligay · 4 years

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Chinese Food in The American West

One of the things I frequently come across as a student of the American West* is that people get most of their information from movies and TV and then act like they know things. Wyatt Earp was not a Lawful Good champion who always did his level best even when it was hard to know. (You want Seth Bullock or Bass Reeves). Racism was far more complicated than white vs not white (I’ve talked about this EXTENSIVELY in Strange Empire, so I’m not going to bore you here**).

And they didn’t just eat steak. In fact, they rarely ate steak.

Steak as cowboy food isn’t INACCURATE, but it is MODERN. From about the early 1900s on, you had less and less drives and more and more ranchers who were staying put, with less and less hands needed, and so food was grabbed less “on the go.” Cows could be slaughtered and used to feed the family, allowing for more opportunities for things like steak, yes, but also things like chili, a play on sauerbraten, southern-style biscuits. The cattle drives were a real blend of culture and race, and a lot of what we have left as “Western food” owes a great deal to that.

And if we leave the cattle drives and head into the towns of the American West, as we will today, we find things like oysters, pies, and various things like that. Far more well-heeled than the general expectation.

I mean, here’s the menu from the Occidental Saloon circa the late 1880s:

Soups

Chicken Giblet and Consumme, with Egg

Fish

Columbia River Salmon, au Beurre Noir

Relieves

Filet a Boeuf, a la Financier

Leg of Lamb, Sauce, Oysters

Cold Meats

Loin of Beef, Loin of Ham, Loin of Pork, Westphalia Ham, Corned Beef, Imported Lunches

Boiled Meats

Leg of Mutton, Ribs of Beef, Corned Beef and Cabbage, Russian River Bacon

Entrees

Pinons a Poulett, aux Champignons

Cream Fricasse of Chicken, Asparagus Points

Lapine Domestique, a la Matire d'Hote

Casserole d'Ritz aux Oeufs, a la Chinoise

Ducks of Mutton, Braze, with Chipoluta Ragout

California Fresh Peach, a la Conde

Roasts

Loin of Beef, Loin of Mutton, Leg of Pork

Apple Sauce, Suckling Pig, with Jelly, Chicken Stuffed Veal

Pastry

Peach, Apple, Plum, and Custard Pies

English Plum Pudding, Hard Sauce, Lemon Flavor

This dinner will be served for 50 cents.

-I got this from the book “Saloons of the Old West” by Erdoes

But none of that is precisely why I’m here, I just can’t stop myself from talking about this, why I’m here is that one of the things I say that often surprises people, is that Chinese food was incredibly common for the, well, common man to eat. There’s very much a conception that we as a non-Chinese American people did not start eating Chinese food until the 40s and 50s, and its truer that it took longer to catch on in the American East than the West simply as a matter of proximity and choice.

Not MORE choice but LESS. Part of what made the West so unique, historically, is that the lack of choice and the basic scarcity caused people to work with and patronize people that their general prejudices would have kept them from using back east, because they had CHOICES. But out in the west, less so. There were few choices for a quick, cheap meal on the go. That dinner I just posted above is a lavish affair, and a great deal at approximately $20.00 in today’s money. (Which does not allow for the fact that cost of supplies has gone up and this dinner would most likely be offered for no less than 70 or so today.)

People desperately wanted something that was cheap and quick, and the other options in the American West were few, far between, and not intensely pleasing. No one had really come up with the sandwich shop as of yet, and in any case, fresh meats and cheeses would have been too difficult for the low-cost supplier.

ENTER THE CHINESE POPULATION.

If you have read my Strange Empire blogs, I hope you know that Chinese people were a huge presence in the American West, mostly working for the railroad and various mines, but also doing things like laundry, work that was extremely hard but took little in the way of English speaking. They existed in Chinatowns, for a combination of cultural and legal factors, but it’s a misconception that non-Chinese*** people never went to Chinatown.

People are not new, and it was not unusual for non-Chinese people to use the laundries, tailoring, and other services of Chinatowns while suppressing the rights of Chinese people int he same breath. There were always individual Chinese people any given non-Chinese person liked and did business with.

In time, they discovered the inherent wisdom of the noodle bowl.

I don’t mean to suggest that all these early restaurants served was noodle bowls, but that was where it all started. Remember, Italian food had little prominence in America at the this time, as Italian immigration didn’t really get into full swing until the 1870s in America. While there are noodle traditions half of everywhere, and there is nothing new under the sun, what we today would consider a stir-fry bowl was wildly new to most of the non-Chinese folks in the West. That it could be offered up so cheaply, was so filling, and so delicious (more on this later) was a wild revelation. Everyone from simple cowboys (which, fun fact! Was a slur back then!) to mayors were swinging by Chinatowns to try the dishes.

By the 1920s, chop suey, a fully Chinese American invention derived from the words for “various leftovers” was a hugely popular American food among all sorts.

Doc, you may ask, was it just that these folks coming through to get medicines or laundry were SO adventurous? Not at all! Chinese restaurants back then actually, in a very short amount of time, realized that their non-Chinese townsfolk were an excellent way to make money as well, and began to adapt and change dishes to better fit the Western palate, leading what we call American Chinese Food today, which is a legitimate foodway I will defend to my death. Unfortunately, none of these menus survive today--the only ones we have are from places in San Francisco, places that were much more posh, and not the subject of this essay.

There is a scene in Tombstone where Wyatt and his brothers are eating Chinese food, and it’s one of the things people often ask me about, assuming it’s anachronistic. Actually, it isn’t at all--the anachronism is that there’s broccoli in those noodle bowls, which had not yet hit our shores by the time of the OK Corral. Chinese food was a huge hit, Chinese restaurants were doing extremely well, and some Chinese restaurants were even beginning to attempt to print menus in English, with sit down areas, instead of serving simple fare from food carts.

As the food from these “chow chow houses” grew in popularity, as we can infer from the advertisements of their competitors promising free potatoes with every meal, and other such niceties to entice, there was, as ever there must be, blowback. Anti-Chinese sentiment grew to a fever pitch, and with this came overt pressure for ‘Good Americans” to patronize ‘American restaurants’. The social pressure is actually where we get some of that old racist jargon about Chinese people serving dogs and cats, which people often think was spread by competitors to degrade the Chinese restaurants, which isn’t UNTRUE, but was just as often said sheepishly by someone who couldn’t stop themselves from going and grabbing a noodle bowl or even the American dishes they offered, such as roast chicken or pork chop sandwiches.

(I won’t comment with anything but an eyeroll on the bullshit of people saying they’re ~allergic to MSG~ okay I’ll believe you when you stop eating processed food, meat, aged cheese)

It actually kept this type of reputation as being slightly scandalous well into the early 1900s, as being something you ate after the bar, something to be had in the shadows, but it was all for naught, because Chinese food became an important part of American identity. But for all that, no one ever pictures the Lone Ranger chowing down (the American phrase ‘chow’ for food actually comes from these ‘chow chow houses’) on some chop suey, but there’s every reason to believe he would have. American Chinese food is just as American as the Germanically-influenced hamburger.

(There’s a whole subtopic to go down about Jewish and Chinese communities and Kosher Chinese Food, two marginalized and othered communities coming together, but that’s a WHOLE other topic)

(Also someone please buy me Chinese food. This shit always makes me so hungry.)

*The American West is a specific time period, as far as the study of history goes. It covers the period between the end of the Civil War and the New Century, generally, and is, obviously, concerned with the western half of the country. It doesn’t cover stuff like Lewis and Clark (that’s Expansion) or even the Civil War itself, though you cannot possibly hope to study the American West in any level of seriousness without understanding the Civil War. Anyway! I know a lot about America between 1865 and 1900, and am just knowledgeable enough to be dangerous on everything else. Most History nerds are highly specified like this. We’re not as much help to your trivia team as you think.****

**I actually have had little chance to talk about ~European-style xenophobia~ as it played out in the west, because Strange Empire takes a more modern pass at it. But there was a hierarchy of “whiteness” as well, as still largely exists in Europe, land of intentionally clean ethnostates.

***I use the term “non-Chinese” instead of white because believe it or not, non-white people were not magically free of racism against Chinese people. It was horrific and BASICALLY every non-Chinese person was guilty of it to some level, a wild-ass level of hatred that led to Chinese folks not being able to PURCHASE PROPERTY BY LAW in ENTIRE STATES. Being Chinese or Native in this place and time was your Worst Bet.

****I actually was on a competitive trivia team, you DO want me.

#That was Oddly Specific #Holligay is 34: The celebration

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here4theheartbreak · 4 years

Text

Muscle Paws

AO3 Link Here!

✩ Relationships: yoonminkook (Yoongi x Jimin x Jungkook) ✩ Genre(s): fluff

✩ Rating: Teen ✩ Tags: shapeshifting, general vague mentions of sex, nudity, polyamory, non-idol au

✩ Summary: They say cats choose their owners, and that seemed to be the truth for the cute tabby that hopped into Yoongi and Jimin’s open window one morning. Except that specific cat... Wasn’t quite normal.

✩ A/N: Written for @sujigguk for the drabble requests, prompt #2: When did we get a cat?

✩ Word Count: ~4.9k

Yoongi stretched arms above his head, groaning contentedly. What a great sleep. He yawned loudly. And was promptly silenced by an annoyed squeak from his chest He blinked sleep from his eyes, looking down. On his bare chest, curled into a tight, furry, ball, was a sleek brown and black cat. It looked thin, even curled up.

“Well who are you?” Yoongi asked, reaching down to pet the cat’s soft head. It peeked at him from over its tail, deep amber eyes large and inquisitive. It wasn’t uncommon for strays to wander into the house. Yoongi and his lover lived in a remote area, and often left their windows open. Stray cats, puppies, a squirrel or two, and even a fox once or twice, had found their way into their home.

He carefully scooped up the furry animal as he sat up. “Sorry, I gotta get up and start working, kitty. You should go back to wherever you came from though.” He walked to the window and leaned out, carefully placing the cat back on the barrel it more than likely used to climb into the room. He shut the window and went about his morning routine, entering the kitchen to find Jimin already at the table, sipping coffee.

“Morning.”

“Good morning.”

Yoongi kissed his cheek. “Did you see our furry little visitor this morning?”

“Hm? No, I didn’t. What was it?”

“A cat. Do you think we should start closing the window at night?”

“I don’t see why,” Jimin shrugged. “We don’t hate animals – no harm in giving them a warm place to sleep, I figure.” He shut his notebook. “I’m going into town today though; do you need anything?”

“Hmm, something sweet, if you would, and another bottle of whiskey?” Yoongi asked. Jimin nodded.

Yoongi wandered over to the fridge, opening it to pull out a jug of milk. The two had saved enough to buy this small plot of land after Jimin’s parents passed away and left him a sizeable chunk of inheritance. They managed to stay pretty self-sustaining in terms of food, only going into town to get things they couldn’t grow, meats and drinks, mostly. Both loved the quiet; Jimin’s art required it, and Yoongi’s writing was better done in peace. They also preferred the solitude for other reasons. Their ability to be open and comfortable with one another, the lack of nosey neighbors, the ability to do as they wished in terms of their property and relationship. Though dating, they were less monogamous and traditional than their nearby town would prefer. Though they’d never brought a third in permanently, the idea had been tossed around and tried out a few times over the years.

“Are you working today?” Jimin asked as Yoongi ate his breakfast.

“I am. I’m close to finishing this track, I’ll get it over to the guys this afternoon, I hope. And you? After your trip?”

“Thinking about it. I’ve got a few unfinished pieces that I’d really like to work on, and I had a weird dream last night I’d like to play with a little.”

“You and your dreams.”

Jimin laughed, kicking him under the table. “Me and my dreams help pay the bills.”

“Ohh, hey, what am I, chopped liver? Slaving away in the studio?”

Jimin laughed harder. “Of course not.” He rose and leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to Yoongi’s lips. “I’m gonna head in.”

“Be safe.”

“Always.”

Yoongi watched Jimin get up and slip on his shoes, his heart clenching. They’d met in high school, and even now nearly ten years later… Yoongi was just as in love with Jimin as he was then.

Yoongi puttered around for a few more minutes in the kitchen before heading into his studio. He pushed open the window, letting in the cool morning air as he sat down and turned on his computer to dig into editing the tracks he’d been asked to help produce for a new group in the city. He’d been working for about thirty minutes when something bumped his leg. Yoongi frowned, looking down at the ground. The same brown and black cat was winding around his chair, looking up at him. It chirped before jumping into his lap. Yoongi chuckled, scratching its soft ears.

“You don’t live here, you furry little pest,” he said with no venom. The cat tilted its head, blinking at him.

“Well, you don’t. I suppose feeding you won’t hurt… You’re awful skinny,” he noticed as he stroked the cat’s ribs. “Just once. And don’t tell my boyfriend. He’ll say I’m soft for you fuzzy beasts.” He scooped up the cat and rose, padding into the kitchen.

Once there, he placed the cat on the counter and dug in the fridge, pulling out the jug of milk and pouring it a small bowl. The cat rushed to it, lapping it up contentedly, tail flicking in an s-shape. Yoongi stroked its soft fur, sighing. “You know, I suppose we could adopt one of you one of these days. So many strays come in and out, I don’t see the harm in it, huh, little… Uh…” He hesitated and glanced at the cat’s behind. “Boy. Sorry for the invasion of privacy.”

The cat looked up from his milk and meowed before returning to it. Yoongi chuckled. “I’ll have to talk to Jimin about it. I bet he’d like you.” He scooped the cat up and grabbed the bowl of milk, heading back into his office. He set the milk down near the window and plopped the cat down next to it, going back to his computer.

Yoongi focused on his work for the next few hours, breaking only every now and then to stretch his legs as he hummed a potential tune for the track. Every time he glanced over, the tabby remained, now snoozing in a patch of sun on his rug.

“I’m hungry,” Yoongi finally said. The cat perked his ears up, yawning and stretching as if on command.

“You too? We don’t have cat food. I could text Jimin to get it… But I think I have some tuna.” Yoongi turned and left, leaving the door open for the feline to follow him out. He cracked open a can of tuna, dumping half of it onto a plate and using the other half to make himself a sandwich. He sat the kitchen table, watching the birds flying between the trees as he ate. Next to him, the cat lapped contentedly at the tuna, clearly hungry.

As Yoongi nearly finished his lunch, the front door opened, and Jimin entered with arms loaded with groceries. Yoongi rose, setting the remainder of his sandwich on the table and stepping around the now empty plate to help him. “Hey baby,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to Jimin’s cheek.

“Hey, how’s your day been?”

“Quiet. Got a lot done. Is there more out in the car?”

“Just some packages of meat for the big freezer.” Jimin glanced over and scowled. “Yoongi?”

“Yes?”

“When did we get a cat?”

Yoongi looked over, unable to keep from laughing. The stray was standing on his chair, munching contentedly at the remnants of his sandwich.

“This is the one that was on my chest this morning. He came back to visit when I opened my studio window.”

“I thought we didn’t feed them,” Jimin scolded without venom.

“He’s all bones…” Yoongi mumbled, feeling a bit sheepish.

“You like him.”

“He’s… A cat.”

The cat jumped down and trotted over to them, sniffing Jimin’s sneaker.

“He is skinny. Definitely not owned by someone. But nice, for being feral.”

“I mean, we’re not keeping him or anything,” Yoongi said.

Jimin looked up and smirked. “We’re keeping him, aren’t we?”

Yoongi smiled a little sheepishly. “I mean, he’s a stray so like… We can’t trap him in the house, right?”

“Well, we keep the windows open anyway, so just do that. Once it gets colder and we shut them, then we can decide if we wanna keep him inside.” Jimin shrugged. “You like him. And it’s not like we don’t have the space for a cat. And he’s quiet.”

Yoongi nodded, his heart warming a little at the idea… They were keeping him. He headed outside, considering a name for their furry new housemate as he grabbed the bags of meat from the back of the car.

The following week, the tabby returned daily and spent most days in the home with Yoongi and Jimin. Every evening he wandered away, only to be back the next morning, curled up in bed with one or both of them. He was becoming an honest part of the family pretty quickly. They still hadn’t bothered to name him, opting instead for kitty, or boy to call for him.

One morning, Yoongi awoke to a loud clatter. He groaned, rolling over. “Come on kitty, I’m sleeping.”

“Sorry,” came a weak whisper. Yoongi’s eyes snapped open. It took a moment to focus, but when he did, he shouted. A naked young man was halfway out their window, his broad chest pinning him. He backed up into the room just as Yoongi grabbed a lamp, brandishing it.

“Jimin!” He cried. “Who the fuck are you?!”

“Please don’t hurt me!” The naked boy cried, holding his hands up. His hair was brown and black, the same shades as the cat that had been crawling into their house daily. And his eyes – they were almost inhuman, a vibrant amber that seemed to reflect light.

“Who are you!” Yoongi asked again, lifting the lamp. “The cat! The cat, please, I’m the cat!”

Yoongi hesitated at the absurdity of the sentence. The boy shook his head.

“I know it’s nuts, I can see it on your face, but let me explain, please.”

Jimin rushed in, shouting. “Who the hell—I’m calling the cops.”

“Wait,” Yoongi said, lowering the lamp and holding his arm out. “He says he’s our cat.”

“What?” Jimin deadpanned, making Yoongi chuckle despite the situation.

“I swear. I know it sounds nuts, but I am. Yoongi, you pace around your office all the time muttering to yourself. Right now you’re struggling on the third section of the piece Namjoon gave you, it sounds tinny.”

Yoongi and Jimin exchanged a glance. “Means nothing, you could’ve overheard me talking to Jimin about that spying or something.”

“Fine. Yesterday morning Jimin made you breakfast. I was in the kitchen with him. I sat underneath the counter because he kept dropping pieces of egg and I’d scoop them up. He caught me and called me a personal vacuum.”

Jimin shifted. “The blinds were closed when I did that… And I said it quiet.”

“I know, but you said it in my ear. Please, I have no reason to lie, I promise.”

“Even if we wanted to believe you,” Yoongi argued. “You’re standing in my bedroom as a human. Bare ass naked. Care to explain?”

“I—I was going to get my clothes. I didn’t think I’d shift back so quick…” The boy looked down, covering his nudity with his hands as best as he could.

“Here,” Jimin said. He grabbed his robe from the back of the door, passing it to the boy.

“Thank you.” The boy slung it on, tying it.

“I was your cat. The cat… I don’t belong to anyone, really. I’m a shifter. I can… I can shift from cat to human. It doesn’t always work right though. I’ve been stuck in cat form for a few weeks. Which is why I left every night. It’s easier to shift at night and I spent the evenings trying to shift back. When the sun rose I’d return here.”

“Why?” Yoongi asked, placing the lamp back in its spot. The boy’s shoulders slumped.

“I’ve spent most of my life alone and pretty unwanted. You two were so nice to me, I know you were nice because I was just a skinny cat but… It felt so good. I hoped…” He sighed and shook his head. “I hoped maybe when I shifted back I could meet you face to face, in my human form. Get to know you and… Maybe fit into your family this way too.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I know it’s unbelievable. I’m sorry for scaring you, Yoongi.”

He looked up, meeting Yoongi’s gaze. His eyes shined just the way the cats did, and Yoongi’s heart clenched.

“I’ll go now. I won’t be a bother again, I promise.” The boy stood upright and headed toward the door. He grabbed the tie on the robe, undoing it. “I have clothes in the woods, thank you.”

“Well you can’t rightly have breakfast naked, can you?” Yoongi asked, making both the boy and Jimin look over.

“What?” The boy asked.

“You say you’re my cat. Say I might believe you.” Yoongi shrugged. “Right about now is when I normally wake up and feed him, isn’t it?”

As if on cue, the boy’s stomach rumbled. He laughed weakly, lowering his head. “Sorry.”

“What’s your name?” Jimin asked softly.

“Jungkook.”

“Jungkook. Okay… Well, tie your robe then. Have you started breakfast, Jimin?”

Jimin nodded.

“Set another plate.”

Another nod. Jimin cocked his head at Jungkook, his gaze gentle. “You have a pretty face, Jungkook. Much more fitting of a boy than a cat.”

Jungkook beamed brightly. “You believe me?”

“I don’t know. But Yoongi seems to. And you seem kind enough, even if you aren’t being honest… No shame in sharing a meal with a pretty, skinny boy, is there?”

“I’m twenty-three,” Jungkook muttered shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know I look young but…”

“Oh good, so I don’t feel so bad about thinking you’re cute then.”

“Jimin,” Yoongi groaned. “You’re insatiable.”

Jimin laughed freely. He headed out of the room, Jungkook and Yoongi following close behind.

The table was quiet as they ate, each seeming unsure what to say to the other. Finally, Yoongi cleared his throat.

“A shapeshifter is pretty unbelievable, Jungkook,” he admitted. “But say I believe you. How? Why? What’s the story? Where are your parents, are they like you? Why doesn’t anyone know about people like you?”

Jungkook swallowed the egg in his mouth, shrugging. “I know it’s crazy. My parents… They’re… Not around. Dead. I’ve never met anyone like me before,” he whispered.

“Were they like you?” Jimin asked.

“No. They were normal humans. I was born… Wrong, I think. They didn’t want me once they learned the truth… And then when someone not so nice learned… He killed them for me.”

“How old were you?”

“Thirteen when I first changed. Fourteen when they died.”

“So where have you been?”

“The woods, mostly,” Jungkook said. “I’m a pretty good scavenger. I stay in cat form most of the time to hide.”

“So you said you were stuck in that form,” Yoongi said.

“Yeah, it sucks. Sometimes I try to shift back and I just can’t. I’m like… Stuck in the tiny form. I’m fully sentient, like I know exactly what’s going on and I process just like I do as a human. But I just can’t turn back. The longest I’ve been stuck is a month. It can get frustrating. I’m afraid I won’t turn back one of these days… I guess it wouldn’t be so bad though, I could find a family to love me if I stayed as a cat.” He looked down at his plate. “You guys treated me so nice. I’m sorry I did this to you.”

“It’s not like you could tell us,” Jimin said softly. He reached across and touched Jungkook’s wrist. Yoongi didn’t miss the way Jungkook flinched at the touch. He sighed. “Where do you stay, Jungkook?”

“There’s a cave in the woods nearby. I hide there.”

“Are your clothes there?”

Jungkook nodded.

Yoongi nodded. “Alright. There’s some ground rules you’ll need to follow in this form. Keep it clean, clean up after yourself. And help with chores when you can – firewood, cooking sometimes if you know how, helping Jiminie with the groceries. I have some clothes I think might fit you if you need them, but Jimin or I can take you shopping this week if we have to. We only have the couch. If you want to share the bed with us, well… We’ll need to talk about that too, after we get to know you a little more in the form that can talk to us.”

Jungkook’s head snapped up, his amber eyes wide. “What? I—You’re letting me… Stay?” He stuttered, looking over at Jimin, who was smiling softly.

“Well, you’ve already been living here, haven’t you?” Yoongi asked, waving his hand. He rose and began to clear his dishes. “No reason for you to go running off, it’s starting to get colder at night.”

Jungkook rose and slammed into Yoongi, hugging him tightly. Yoongi bobbled the dishes in his hand, nearly dropping them. His eyes widened a little in surprise.

“Thank you,” Jungkook whispered against his shoulder.

“Don’t thank me yet… You have a long way to go… I don’t know you.”

“But you’re giving me a chance. No one…” He stepped back, gasping when his back hit Jimin. Jimin wrapped his arms around him gently, smiling against his shoulder.

“We get a good feeling about people. You deserve a chance. Come on, lets find you pants at least, to wear while you go grab your stuff from that cave. Do you have a lot?”

“No, a couple of sets of clothes and a couple of things I scavenged from campsites and stuff… Nothing important.”

“Want one of us to come with you?”

“No, I’m okay,” Jungkook assured him.

“Don’t go running off on us,” Yoongi said, offering a smile. “It’s your turn to do the dishes.” He winked, placing the bowls in the sink. He leaned forward, kissing Jimin gently despite Jungkook being between them.

“I’m going to start working.”

“We’ll keep quiet.”

Yoongi nodded. He glanced at Jungkook, his eyes darting down to Jungkook’s plush mouth for a split second. “Be good,” he said. Jungkook nodded quickly. Yoongi walked away, kicking the door to his office shut behind him.

The next few weeks found the three falling into a comfortable rhythm. Jungkook remained, helping out around the house and doing his best to fit in. Though Yoongi still had some reservations about the man, he found himself getting more and more attached to him. A quiet conversation with Jimin one night confirmed that Jimin was feeling the same.

Six weeks after Jungkook had appeared in their bedroom (as a human, at least) the three were sitting on the couch, watching a movie. Jungkook was between them, his knees pulled up to his chest and arms curled around them as he watched the screen. His eyes darted back and forth with the action, muscles tensing and twitching when something moved sharply. From the corner of his eye, Yoongi could see Jungkook’s fingers clenching and relaxing, flexing strangely against his arms.

“Are you alright?” Yoongi finally asked.

Jungkook jumped visibly. “What?”

“You’re twitchy.”

“I—” Jungkook shifted. “I think I should go.”

“Where?” Jimin asked.

“I’m itchy. When I get like this it usually means… I need to shift.”

“To a cat,” Yoongi confirmed. Jungkook nodded.

“Why would you have to go?” Jimin asked. “We haven’t seen you shift, we still don’t know if you’re lying. But either way, there’s no reason to hide it, right? This is your place now too.”

“It is?” Jungkook asked, his voice soft and hopeful.

“It is.” Yoongi touched his leg. “If you think you need to… Uh… Shift or whatever. You can do it here safely. Put your clothes away before you do.”

“How does it work?” Jimin asked suddenly. “You’re not a small man, and the cat…”

Jungkook grimaced. “It’s not pleasant, honestly. It doesn’t hurt so much just… Look strange. I don’t want to show you.”

“That’s fine. Go on. Do what needs to be done. We’ll be here. We’ll pause the movie.” Jimin pressed the pause button. Jungkook rose, stripping out of his shirt. In the month he’d been with them, he’d gained weight, looking far heathier and more handsome.

Yoongi could see his muscles flexing under his skin, his back drawn in tight goosebumps. He was definitely uncomfortable.

Jungkook walked to the bathroom, shutting the door.

Jimin moved next to Yoongi. “Can I tell you a secret?” He whispered.

“What?”

“I believe him.”

“So do I,” Yoongi agreed, watching the shut door.

“And another one?” Jimin said softly.

Yoongi looked over. Jimin smiled sheepishly.

“I want him.”

Yoongi chuckled. “I wondered when you’d confess.”

“You don’t?”

“I have for a while,” Yoongi said simply. “But I wanted to get to know him more, and you with him… I like the man. He’s a hard worker, kind, funny, and handsome. He lives here though. If we take him to bed… Are we ready for a third? Permanently? I won’t feel right kicking him back to the couch.”

Jimin bit his lip. “I’ve been ready, I think. For a while. Just wanted the right man… I think Jungkook… I think he might be.” He took Yoongi’s hand. “Can we bring it up to him?”

“I want to, yeah,” Yoongi said. He kissed Jimin gently. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

“Thank you for accepting me.”

“If he really is part cat…” Yoongi chuckled. “What a wild trio we’d make.”

Jimin laughed. “For sure. Let’s wait until he’s a human to talk to him about this though, right?”

“I don’t think he can quite give his opinion as a cat.” Yoongi laughed as he spoke. As if on command, a soft scratching sounded at the bathroom door.

Yoongi rose, opening it. Out darted the brown and black tabby, amber eyes shining. He’d filled out, coat a healthy shine now. Jungkook’s clothes were in the hamper, and he – the human version of him at least – was nowhere to be found.

“Hey handsome,” Jimin cooed. Jungkook hopped up on the couch, climbing immediately into Jimin’s lap and pawing at the strings on his hoodie.

Jimin scratched his face and behind his ears, laughing when he began to purr. “Such a pretty boy – both human and like this, you know that?”

Yoongi sat back down, slinging his arm around Jimin. “Are you okay to settle down and watch the movie?” He asked the furry form on Jimin’s lap.

Jungkook climbed onto Yoongi’s lap, pawing at his chest and bumping his chin with his head. Yoongi chuckled, scratching his neck. “Yeah, yeah, I think you’re cute like this too. We believe you. Now lay down, you’re going to break my ribs, muscle paws. I swear you weigh as much now as when you’re a human,” Yoongi said, laughing harder as he pushed Jungkook’s paws off his chest.

Jungkook bumped his chin once more before settling down. He stretched himself between both of their laps. Yoongi pressed play again, settling in to watch the movie, absently stroking Jungkook’s soft fur.

When the film finished, the two humans rose, stretching. Jungkook curled up in a tight ball on the couch, burying his nose in his tail.

“You can sleep in the bed,” Jimin said to him. “If you want to.”

Jungkook perked up, hopping down and following them to the bedroom. He curled up on the end of the bed, right in the center. Jimin and Yoongi crawled in after pulling on their pajamas, sharing a kiss before turning off the light and chasing sleep.

The next morning, Yoongi groaned contentedly. A warm body was curled around him, breath tickling his ear.

“Jimin,” he grumbled softly, opening his eyes and turning his head. He gasped, surprised to see Jungkook’s very human face right next to him, smoothed out in sleep. Yoongi shifted as well as he could with Jungkook’s arm over him, seeing Jimin fast asleep still, snuggled up against Jungkook’s bare back. He sighed softly. While he was entirely okay with the situation, making Jungkook uncomfortable was the last thing he wanted. He gently shook his shoulder.

“Hey, Jungkookie,” he whispered. Jungkook groaned, his brows furrowing before smoothing.

“Buddy, Jungkook,” Yoongi said a little louder. He shook him again. “Wake up.”

“Don’t wanna,” Jungkook complained, but his eyes slowly fluttered open. He smiled at Yoongi sleepily, then seemed to realize. His eyes widened and he gasped, shooting up. “Oh God, I’m so sorry!”

“Shh, shh,” Yoongi sat up and touched his back. “Don’t wake Jimin,” he said, motioning to Jimin still sleeping. “I’m not mad, okay, I just didn’t want you to feel weird waking up like this, so I wanted to let you know.”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know… I didn’t think I’d shift…”

“You don’t have to explain,” Yoongi said firmly. “Why don’t you go get some sweats on and we’ll make breakfast together, okay?”

“You’re not mad?” Jungkook whispered. “Really?”

“We’re the ones that told you to sleep with us. I’m not mad.”

Jungkook relaxed a little at that. He smiled at Yoongi, his amber eyes just as bright and shiny as they were the previous night. “I really like you, Yoongi… And Jimin. More than I should,” he confessed. “I feel bad. Because you two are so happy together. But sometimes I wish I could have it too. I’d never do anything to hurt you two though, I promise.”

“What if we told you that you could have it too, Jungkook?” Jimin’s voice was thick with sleep still. He sat up, rubbing his eyes.

Yoongi smiled softly at him.

“Someday, sure,” Jungkook said, shrugging. “Just have to find a man who isn’t scared of me. I know I’m a freak… Shapeshifting. I can barely control it.”

“Do you just want one man?” Yoongi asked. “Why not two?”

“Finding one to love me will be hard enough,” Jungkook mumbled. “Especially a love like you two have. You’re beautiful together.”

“The bed is big, Jungkook,” Jimin said casually, motioning to the bed they were all sitting on. “And our hearts are too. We never told you this, because we didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable in our home… But we’re not a traditional couple.”

“What do you mean?”

“We often invite a third man or woman to share our bed,” Yoongi said. “Though up until now it’s been sexual, we’ve been open to the idea of a romantic third as well. I think we both realized we’d found our potential third in you, but we were hesitant about telling you. We didn’t want you to find it strange or off-putting. We want you to feel safe here, regardless of your feelings toward us.”

“You like me?” Jungkook asked. “Both of you?”

Jimin nodded, and Yoongi did as well when Jungkook looked back to him. His nose crinkled a little, eyes thinning as smile lines appeared. His lips finally drew back into a wide grin, top teeth jutting out in a way that made him look unbearably youthful and cute.

“You both like me. You want me!”

“We want you, Jungkook,” Yoongi said softly. He reached out, squeezing the back of Jungkook’s neck gently. “You might have arrived first as a cat, and it took us a while to get used to you as a human… But you’ve become a part of this family.”

“We’re letting you make the final decision, if you want to become a little closer to us,” Jimin finished.

“Yes. God, yes, yes! Of course,” Jungkook cried, his eyes shining. “What—I wanna—” He hesitated, looking at Yoongi. His eyes dropped to Yoongi’s mouth. He parted his own lips, unsure.

“It’s okay,” Jimin whispered, running his hand over Jungkook’s back. “Go ahead.”

“I’ve never…”

Yoongi’s smile faded. “You’ve never been kissed?”

Jungkook shook his head no.

“And other things?” Jimin tried. Another negative head shake.

“Oh, baby,” Jimin cooed. He wrapped his arms around Jungkook, nuzzling his neck. “Take your time, okay?”

“I want to,” Jungkook said firmly. “I just don’t think I’ll be very good at it.”

“I don’t mind. Jimin was a horrible kisser when we first met,” Yoongi teased, laughing when Jimin punched him in the arm. Jungkook laughed a little. It died in his throat when Yoongi leaned forward, shifting his hand from the back of his neck to the side of his neck and jaw.

“Are you okay with this?” Yoongi asked.

Jungkook nodded. He reached up, setting his hand over Jimin’s arm on his chest. He let Yoongi guide him forward, their lips meeting in a gentle, chaste kiss.

Yoongi stroked his smooth jaw, chuckling a little when he felt Jungkook grin against his mouth. They separated, and Jimin shifted over. Jungkook took a breath, leaning forward a bit more confidently. He kissed Jimin, giggling a little when their noses bumped. Jimin held tight to him.

They separated and Jungkook sighed, his grin open-mouthed and contagious.

“You two want me,” he whispered, almost reverently.

Yoongi kissed his temple. “We want you. You’re home, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s grin widened. Jimin kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you get dressed, then we can go make breakfast, huh?”

Jungkook nodded. He scrambled off the bed, hurrying to the space in the dresser where his clothes were. Yoongi reached over, brushing Jimin’s cheek with his thumb.

“You look happy. You’re glowing.”

“I am happy,” Jimin said softly, watching Jungkook across the room.

“Can’t say it’s a traditional relationship,” Yoongi admitted, rising and pulling his own shirt on.

“But the best ones never are.”

“Come on, muscle paws,” Yoongi said, wrapping his arm around Jungkook’s middle and kissing the corner of his mouth. “I’m starving.”

The three walked out of the bedroom together, and into the first day of the rest of their lives together.

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