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parasite-core · 1 year ago

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253 OC questions

@scarlet-the-girl tagging you in case you'd like to read some Ileark characterization answers.

Part One: The Basics

1. What is your name? Ileark Keita

2. Do you have any nicknames? If you do, who gave it to you and why? When our little group had amnesia I was nicknamed ‘Star’ for my Desna worship. When I was younger my parents called me their little butterfly. I do not have any particular nickname used on a regular basis.

3. How old are you now? 28

4. When were you born? I do not know the precise day I was born, but my parents found me on Lamashtan 20, and that is what I have celebrated as my birthday my entire life. (AN: Golarian’s equivalent of October 20th)

5. Where do you call home now? It has been a long time since I have had a home of my own. My…birth mother… had made it very difficult to stay in one place for long. People get hurt when I linger. So the open road is the only home I have known for much of my life.

6. To what social class do you belong? My parents are the head of the local Desnan church in our village. It was a small village, there wasn’t much in the way of extravagant luxury, but we were well off. We had everything we needed to get by and to be happy, at the very least. Not everybody can claim that.

7. What is your eye color? I have heterochromia—one of the more visual marks of me being a changeling. My left eye is a blue-green, and my right eye is a purple that is nearly magenta. I’ve heard that one purple eye is common amongst changelings whose mother is a night hag, so I suppose I fit that mold.

8. What is your hair color? Black, but I have dyed parts of it purple and pink. It is a bit of self-expression that is unaffected by if I am a human or a changeling.

9. Do you have any distinguishing facial features? I’d say my eyes are probably the most striking feature people tend to notice.

10. Do you have any birthmarks? Where are they? Not a birthmark per-say. I have vitiligo on my hands, chest, and back. The pattern on my hands happen to form a butterfly—Desna’s holy symbol. I once believed that this mark meant I was left for my parents by a servitor of Desna, for their belief and prayers. I…have come to learn otherwise.

11. Do you have any scars? How did you get them? I have recently gotten a nasty scar on my stomach from a ghost swordswoman who eviscerated and nearly killed me. I very much owe Berin my life for that one.

12. Do you have any tattoos or other markings? How and why did you get them? I got some traditional Garundi tattoos on my chest when I traveled the Mwangi Expanse. I may be a changeling, but I still feel a connection to the Garundi people. My parents are the ones who raised me, and I mean I still look Garundi even if I have a hag’s blood in my veins.

13. Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses? Nothing of note. I mean I have the same physical weaknesses as any other person. Being stabbed or lit on fire would certainly not be good for my health.

Well…as far as diseases go, there is on. But if I talked about it, you would get it as well. So it would be best if you don’t think about it.

14. Are you right or left handed? I am ambidextrous, although I was naturally left handed.

15. What does your voice sound like? I have a bit of an accent, and a slightly lighter voice than you’d expect from a taller man like myself.

16. How do you dress most of the time? I wear my favorite coat the majority of the time. It has armor padding sewn into it, so it is both good looking and functional. It has the Stair of Stars constellation on the back, which is said to lead to Desna’s domain.

17. How do you dress up? Igil made some very fine clothing for me, which I wear on formal occasions. It is a dark dusky purple suit with a pale blue undershirt, and heeled boots.

18. How do you dress down? I do not really have a less formal outfit than my travel gear. I have had to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice for much of my life, and have had reason to want to feel protected at all times. So I do not often go without my coat.

19. What do you wear when you go to sleep? A loose tank top and boxers.

20. Do you wear any jewelry? I have had pierced ears for much of my life. I have taken a shine to other forms of jewelry during my recent ventures. I have a few nice rings and an amulet. I do not like choker necklaces or bracelets. They make me feel constricted.

21. What words and/or phrases do you use frequently? I have not rightfully considered it. I do make a point to wish good luck on those I genuinely wish good fortune to.

22. Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics? I tap my claws on nearby surfaces when I am feeling anxious or impatient.

23. Do you have any bad habits? If so, what are they and how do you plan to get rid of them? Nothing comes to mind. Some might say my being fastidious and over-preparing, and making lists, would be ‘high-strung’ and a flaw. I do not see it that way and am not trying to ‘improve’ it.

24. Do you have a lifelong dream or aspiration? My greatest aspirations were to become a Spherewalker, and to find a way to escape my birth mother. I have accomplished the first, but the second seems more impossible than ever.

25. Do you own a car (or other form of transportation)? Why or why not? Describe it. No, I go where my feet take me. And occasionally magic.

26. What is your current state of mind? I am…concerned. That I am better at hurting people than at healing. That doing damage is in my blood, and perhaps I cannot escape it, no matter how hard I try and how far I run.

Part Two: Family

27. How close are you to your family? I love my parents, although I have not seen them in many many years. It has not been safe to return home. I have to keep my birth mother’s eyes away from them.

As for the being who birthed me, I think my stance is very clear. I want nothing to do with her, and would be quite happy if she would leave me alone permanently.

28. Do you have a spouse or significant other? Describe them. No. My life has not given me opportunity to get to know people on that level. And even if it did, I do not know if I would. I am happy for Berin and Stefan, and people like them, but I have difficulty picturing myself in their shoes. I think I crave freedom more than romance.

29. Have you started your own family? Describe them if you do. If not, do you want to? Why or why not? I have not, for all the reasons listed previously.

30. Who was your Father and what was he like? My father is a cleric of Desna. He is a good man. I believe he taught me to be a good man as well.

31. Who was your Mother and what was she like? My mother—the mother who raised me—is a kindhearted woman. She helped to sooth my fears when my changeling heritage began to surface. I know that she would always be there for me if she could.

The being who birthed me is an evil creature. Alazhra, the goddess of night hags and nightmares. This is why I have been unable to outrun her—because it turns out she can be anywhere and everywhere without even trying. She chased me to distant edges of Golarian, across two continents, I never found rest. She chased me right into the hands of my other tormentor, Haserton Lowls. And since I have discovered her true identity, she has made it clear that she will not quit haunting me until I give up, accept her power, shed my changeling form, and become a night hag.

It goes without saying I will never allow that to happen.

32. Who are you closest to in your family? I feel my mother and I have an especially close bond. I love both my parents, obviously. But I know my mother would be there for me no matter what. And that is part of the reason I need to remain far away from home. I believe without a shadow of a doubt that Alazhra would use my mother against me.

33. Is there someone in your family you wish you were closer to? Not really. I never knew my grandparents, and I don’t have much in the way of aunts, uncles, or cousins.

34. What was your parent’s marriage like? They are happily married, and together care for the local Desnan temple. They taught me everything about Desnan prayer and rituals, and travelling the Great Dreamer’s path.

35. Did they remain married? If not, how did that affect you? When did they split? They are happily married, and safely at home last I checked.

36. Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like? I do not. My parents were never able to have biological children. Which is why they considered it such a blessing when I was left on their doorstep.

37. What is the worst thing one of your siblings ever did to you? n/a

38. What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done to one of your siblings? n/a

39. When’s the last time you saw a member of your family? Where are they now? It has been…far too long. I was about 12 when I had to leave home. So 16 years.

I’ve been running for more than half my life…

40. Did you meet any other family members? (Aunts Uncles, etc) Describe them. n/a

Part Three: Friends and Relationships with Others

41. In general, how do you treat other people that you have just met? I like to believe I am a polite person, who generally treats people I have just met with respect. That is, unless I have reason not to. Like many of the rather vile people we have dealt with in our recent ventures. Berin can be the one to extend kindness to those who have walked the path of cruelty. I feel many of these people already made their choices, and we are merely the consequence of their actions.

42. Does your treatment of people change depending on how well you know them and if so how? Well, of course I am going to be less careful in my speech to those I’m comfortable with.

43. Who is the most important person in your life and why? Besides my parents, probably Igil. We are something of kindred spirits despite our vastly different backgrounds. Alazhra has a special interest in him as well. And Igil stood up for me against her, and renounced her after decades of worshipping her. And even before that, Igil risked his safety and freed me from the shackles Lowls used to control me for some three years. I…am deeply grateful to him. He has become my brother, perhaps not in blood, but in action.

44. Who is the person you respect the most and why? Probably Berin. He is quite the amazing person. He sees the potential for good in everyone. He is both a powerful warrior and an amazing healer. He has saved my life and the lives of our friends on multiple occasions. I am honored to have a friend like him.

45. Who are your friends? Describe them. Igil, Berin, and Jolene. I have already went into my thoughts on Berin and Igil. Jolene is…difficult. She is headstrong and reckless, and doesn’t generally take criticism well. She is also powerful, protective, and utterly loyal to her cause. I do not believe I have met a person more multi-faceted than Jo. Which…given her nature is such that she was created from seven other-worldly beings, I suppose ‘multi-faceted’ is likely the most accurate description of Jo, in many ways.

46. Do you have a best friend? Describe them. See Igil above.

47. Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help? My first instinct is my mother, followed by either Berin or Igil depending on the circumstances.

48. Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who and why? All three of my close friends. Each has saved my life at one point or another.

49. If you died or went missing, who would miss you? My parents and my three close friends. Other than them…I was merely a passing stranger in most people’s lives.

50. Who is the person you despise the most, and why? Haserton Lowls. A vile man who is enthralled by at least one, if not two, Outer Gods. He stole three years of my life, keeping me shackled and compliant. I was forced to do vile things on his behalf. And then he nearly destroyed my mind, sacrificing the minds of myself, Igil, Berin, and Jo in order to gain what he needed for the ritual to his twisted gods. We were each in a braindead state for a period of time, until we were awoken with no memories. We eventually regained what we’d lost, but I will never forgive him for what he’d done. My companions agree.

51. Do you tend to argue with people or avoid conflict? I can be argumentative when I feel I need to be. Jolene in particular can cause me to raise my heckles at times.

52. Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations? No, I do not feel I am much of a leader. I am better in an adviser role. I am rather good at organizing and planning.

53. Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not? Yes and no. I enjoy having people around. It is much easier to keep my mood up when I’m surrounded by others. One of my favorite parts of travelling is meeting people from all walks of life. However, being around a lot of people has also been risky for much of my life. It’s hard not to be anxious that my mere presence will bring misfortune on people, when Alazhra is haunting my shadow. She has mostly left this new little group I’ve become a part of alone—other than her dealings with Igil. But I do not know if that will last forever.

54. Do you care what others think of you? I try not to. My mother taught me to be proud of who I am, regardless of what people say. I try to live by that. But sometimes it’s hard. I want to be seen as a light in the dark—starlight in a midnight sky. I want to be known for the beauty and magic Desna represents. The windswept wanderer, a kind stranger under a starry night sky, an agent of luck and fate. That is what I want to be—what I want others to see in me. But…I fear I am failing. I fear that I cause harm where I want to sooth. And that others will see that—and see in me where my blood is from—and they will only see that darkness.

55. What habit do others have that annoys you the most? Acting carelessly, in such a way that others get hurt. Jolene was guilty of this many times when we were in the early months of our travels, and her hardheaded nature tends to generally grind on my nerves anyways.

56. What is the most important quality you look for in a friend? Kindness. Anyone I would consider a friend would be a kind person. Yes, even Igil. One of the first things he did when we met without our memories was to put a ghostly child’s spirit to rest. And when we met before that—before we lost our memories—he had put himself at risk so that Berin and I could go free. Even if it didn’t turn out how he intended, I think he is kind despite himself.

57. What do you most value in your friends? In Igil it is the loyalty he has shown to myself and the others. In Berin it is the conviction to always try to do the right thing, to help people, to trust people. In Jo…well as much as it drives me insane, her hardheaded nature comes in handy sometimes with the kinds of people we end up running against in this journey.

Part Four: Growing Up (Childhood)

58. Where were you born? I do not know, and I get a feeling I don’t want to know. I was found by my parents on their doorstep when I was an infant.

59. Where did you grow up? A small village in Ustalav. At least for all of what I would consider my childhood, given what happened.

60. How would you describe your childhood in general? Idealistic. I love my family and my community. I loved learning Desna’s teachings. I loved playing with other kids my age, occasionally getting into trouble going places we shouldn’t. I…deeply miss that life sometimes. My travels have been fulfilling in their own way. But I earned the title of Spherewalker out of necessity as much as out of love for what it represents. As a child I thought I would spend my entire life in that village. I thought I would follow in my parents’ footsteps as a priest in Desna’s temple. Remembering it now is…bittersweet.

61. What is your earliest memory? Hard to say. I could say which ones weren’t my earliest memories—the time when I was coming into my changeling nature, and when I started to see a shadow creeping in the corner of my vision. But everything before that kind of blends together. Not that I can’t remember things from then, it’s just that it’s hard for me to say which order things happened in because it was all just a part of regular life back then.

62. What is your fondest childhood memory? it is a little thing. But being at home while my mother was baking. I was trying to learn to make butterflies out of paper. I never really got the hang of it—my hands were too clumsy and I never folded the paper quite right. But my mother praised my diligence in keeping at it, and gave me the first slice of the pie she was baking. It is a simple memory. It is a good memory.

63. What is your worst childhood memory? When I first saw Alazhra, as an indistinct shadow lurking just outside the farmland. I hadn’t fully realized my nature yet, it was only just starting to become apparent. And I knew—I knew—without a shadow of a doubt when I saw that figure that she was what had birthed me. Do you have any idea how terrifying it is, as a child, to think you are turning into a monster? I…was fortunate that my parents are the people they are. They accepted me, they gave no room for even a shadow of a doubt that they would still love me and that I was still their son, no matter what.

64. As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up? For much of my childhood, I was learning from my parents how to become a cleric of Desna and to eventually take up their position in the temple. I never once thought my life would lead anywhere different—until things took a turn for the worst.

65. As a child, what were your favorite activities? I loved playing in nature. There were woods near the village, which we were not supposed to go too deep into because it was dangerous. But I loved the woods, almost as much as I loved the fields in spring when the butterflies would flutter from flower to flower.

66. As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display? I was a studious and curious child. And even back then I loved to explore new places—even if it was only a path in the woods I’d never seen before. There was always a surprise waiting, like coming upon a small brook, or a beautiful picnic spot.

67. As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like? I was well liked, I think. Given that my parents were well liked and respected in the village, I was generally treated well by other children. That’s not to say I was never bullied or made the butt of a joke. Children will be children, of course.

As for my friends…Dreamer help me, it’s been so long I hardly remember. I was…quite young. I remember playing with a number of girls and boys in town. But…for the life of me I cannot remember their names, much less their faces. They would be very different people nearly two decades later. As am I, of course.

68. As a child, what was your favorite toy? I liked marbles. They were shiny, and sometimes they would have swirls on the inside, or tiny objects within. I had one I cherished that had tiny butterflies on it. I thought of it as a good luck charm, since it had Desna’s butterflies in it.

69. As a child, what was your favorite game to play? Hide and seek. I was very good at hiding.

Part Five: Growing Up (Teen/Young Adult)

70. How much schooling have you had? I was in a public school for a short time, but most little villages like that don’t school beyond a certain age. After that I was apprenticed to my parents, and they continued my studies in between the lessons of our faith.

71. Did you enjoy school? I believe I did, yes. I think I did find it a little stifling to sit in one place for so long, but I enjoyed learning. Especially geography and history. Even if I had no intention of travelling back then, it was fun to imagine what distant foreign lands must be like.

72. Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities? I learned the basics of being a cleric, and of survival in the wilderness, from my parents. Most everything else I use on a frequent basis was self-taught after I left home.

73. While growing up, did you have any role models other than your parents? Describe them. Unless you want to call the goddess Desna a role model, I didn’t really. Most of the adults in the village were farmers or ranchers. They were good, hardworking people, but they did not really provide me with an example of who I wanted to be. That came wholly from my parents and my beliefs.

74. While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family? I was very close to my parents. I knew (or at least believed) they loved me more than any other child’s parents, given how they had once believed they would never have a child. We had our differences sometimes, of course—as I said before, children will be children. But for the most part, I believed wholeheartedly that I was a beloved gift from the Great Dreamer for my parents’ dedication.

75. How old were you when you went on your first date? Describe the date. That is…a bit embarrassing. Understand, I was only twelve when I left home. And from then on I was always on the move. So I didn’t exactly have time to get crushes and have the crash course on dating most teenagers did. I…had plenty of physical relationships as I got older. But I’ve never really done romance. I honestly do not know if I would or not if I hadn’t been moving around so much. All that I know is in the circumstances of my life, I have never felt any romantic desires.

76. What is your favorite memory from your teen years? I was somewhere cold—I do not remember exactly, I think it was maybe Irrisen? There was a celebration of the solstice, and I had arrived in town just in time for the celebrations. I remember dancing with a beautiful woman around a fire, and laughing together. It was the most fun I’d had with someone my own age in a long time.

77. What is your worst memory from your teen years? Staying in a village and hearing a commotion outside near the gates. And knowing—knowing—in my heart that it was what was following me, and I’d put people in danger again by lingering too long.

78. When and with whom was your first kiss? A girl back home. I remember she was very pretty, and that it was kind of a spur of the moment thing. Some of the others had started being interested in that sort of thing, and we both didn’t get what was so great about it. So it was just an experiment for both of us, really.

79. Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity? That…um…I will confirm I have had sex before, but the details are for me to know.

80. Describe any influences in your past that led you to do the things you do today. My birth mother ruined my life, forcing me to leave my only home and travel endlessly, never stopping to rest for long. For 13 years. Then I thought I’d found a way to free myself from her. A bell, an artifact touched by Desna herself, said to be able to banish any evil nearby when it was rung. I travelled across the continent, and managed to make it there in time for the bell tolling.

For all of a day I was free. But then, that shadow out of the corner of my eye returned. I knew then that what was following me was no ordinary hag, to come back from a divine artifact banishing her.

What truly led me to where I was today was when, after that, my spirit was crushed. I realized that this was going to be the rest of my life. Running from some unnaturally powerful hag’s call. And I decided…I wasn’t going to give her what she wanted. I was going to disappear into the desert surrounding the belltower. At least then, I could be certain I would never break under the pressure and give her what she wanted. And maybe I could finally find rest in Desna’s domain.

That was my intention. It is not what happened, obviously. In the desert I was attacked by creatures I now know to be Denizens of Leng. They captured me, they placed a collar and shackles on me to keep me from fleeing even with the magic at my disposal, and they whisked me far away. There I met Berin, who had been captured while protecting his husband and a group of innocents. And it was from there that we were both sold to the vile man known as Haserton Lowls. He kept us for 3 years, using a drug to break Berin, and the magical bondage to control me. In the end, right before I was going to escape with Berin in tow, Lowls took us into a dream realm and sacrificed our minds for his unholy rituals.

So in answer: the biggest influences on me being where I am today are the hag goddess who shadowed me my entire life, and a cruel evil man who benefitted off of my suffering. I am still trying to escape the first, while I am seeing to end the later for his crimes—not just against myself and Berin, but against countless others as well.

Part Six: Past Influences

81. What do you consider the most important event of your life so far? It would have to be Alazhra not being affected by the bell as other beings would be. If I had never gone there, I never would have walked straight into the waiting clutches of the Denizens of Leng and Lowls.

82. Who has had the most influence on you? I believe my mother—my real mother not Alazhra. She taught me to focus on the person behind what might appear monstrous to others. She let me know, no matter what anyone else said or did, that I always had a place back home. She gave me the confidence to travel, and meet people of all walks of life. And to not let being a changeling slow me down. I…admit I have some worries over my bloodline. It is hard not to be afraid of what lurks inside of me, just waiting for a moment of weakness, a moment Alazhra could then leverage and draw out that darkness. I know my mother would not want me to think about myself like that…and I try not to. I really do. It’s just…hard.

83. What do you consider your greatest achievement? Becoming a Spherewalker. There is more to it than just traveling wherever, whenever. I had to make a pilgrimage to two Desnan holy sites thousands of miles apart. I had to learn how to travel—not just walking from place to place, but how to read the stars, or follow tracks in the dirt and dust. How to find water in dry places, and how to find or make shelter from the elements. Spherewalkers aren’t just wanderers, we are professional travelers. Only those who know how to take the unpredictability of life on the road, prepare for what you can and survive what you cannot, and truly put your life in Desna’s hands, will ever claim the title.

84. What is your greatest regret? Accidentally killing Igil. It was…I know that he does not blame me. But I blame me. Once again I caused harm when all I wanted was to heal him from a horrific corruption from beyond the stars.

85. What is the most evil thing you have ever done? I…would like to believe nothing I have done in the past would be evil. The most vindictive thing I’ve ever done was kill the slaver gnoll Biting Lash and many of her minions without a shred of mercy. I stand by that decision, even if it’s just more proof that I am better at destroying than healing. In this case, healing wasn’t what we needed. Biting Lash’s death will be balm enough until we finally track down Lowls.

86. Do you have a criminal record of any kind? Well…it was not by choice. Lowls had all for of us do horrible things to the people in Thrushmoor while we were under his thumb. And that included a few things that got us thrown in jail for various amounts of time. I don’t know which cage was worse, the deceptive skin-deep luxury of Lowls’ manor, or the jailcell that was exactly what it claimed to be.

87. When was the time you were the most frightened? The first time I was truly face-to-face with Alazhra. The first time I was in her presence and knew her for who and what she was. It was right after Igil renounced her. She pulled us all into her domain, a musty old cabin in Abbadon where we were seated around a table where she was at the head. I could not bring myself to look at her. Even if I hadn’t been utterly terrified and reeling from Igil’s revelation to me that Alazhra was my blood mother, I would not have been able to look at her. Something about her gives me a chilling feeling in the back of my mind that looking at her face would have horrific consequences.

88. What is the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to you? The thing is, when you travel alone you are not often faced with embarrassing situations, as there is no one there to cause the embarrassment. That being said, I have certainly felt the fool on occasion, when I arrive to a new place and am faced with customs and ways of life I am not immediately aware of. I have made my share of fo pauxs, blundering into social barriers I did not know existed.

89. If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why? I do not know. Nothing I did before being stolen away would have changed my end fate. Except, perhaps, not walking into the desert. But at that point I had honestly lost hope so deeply I don’t think continuing the way I had been would have been sustainable. I would say killing Igil, but it did heal him. If the other option was curing him not working, then loathe as I am to say it, I would not change the end result no matter how much I regret it.

90. What is your best memory? It would probably be one of the times I came to a town on the day of a celebration. I try to make it back to civilization whenever there is a holiday. People are usually joyful and welcoming during holidays. Especially during holidays that involve food and dance. The Ritual of Stardust is a personal favorite of mine. It is a Desnan holiday on the solstices, in which followers of the Great Dreamer gather around bonfires, and we sing and tell stories until late into the night. Traditionally, sand or powdered gems are thrown into the fire, making it glow with beautiful colors.

91. What is your worst memory? Accidentally killing Igil.

92. When and where were you the happiest? I would not say I have not been happy in my years of travel. But I was most consistently happy when I was home, before Alazhra forced me to flee from her stalking shadow.

Part Seven: Beliefs and Opinions

93. Are you optimistic or pessimistic? To be honest I would consider myself a realist. There’s no point in fatalism, but I prefer not to pretend things are better than they really are, either.

94. What is your greatest fear? Alazhra getting what she wants.

95. Have you told anyone your fear before? Not in so many words, but I think it kind of goes without saying.

96. Who would be the one person you’d never tell your fear? I would say Alazhra herself, but she is a nightmare goddess, I think she is likely quite good at locating and playing on people’s fears.

97. What are your religious views? I am a follower of the Great Dreamer, Desna. We believe that freedom is one of the greatest treasures of life. The freedom to make your own choices and the freedom to go anywhere in the world with your own two feet. Desnans also believe in the power of luck, and of knowing when to leave things to chance or fate, and when to takes steps to make your own luck.

98. What are your political views? I do not t trust most politicians. People with power over other people tend to eventually abuse that privilege. Ideally, politics would be handled by the people who are affected by them. I believe it is wrong for a small elite to hold power over those whose lives they do not even know.

99. What are your views on sex? I’m not entirely sure what you mean by ‘views’ on sex. Like how positively I view it? It is certainly not bad. It can be a fun distraction, but given my circumstances it’s never really been anything but that.

100. Are you able to kill? Yes. Sometimes better than I’d like.

101. Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable? Killing in self defense is acceptable, but not always ideal. Killing those who would abuse and control others if left alive is acceptable. Killing for revenge is a grey area, but I will not claim I have never done-so, nor that I do not plan to do so again in the near future. Killing innocents is unacceptable, as is killing a person who had put their trust in you—such as a friend or family member.

102. In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do? Enslave another human being.

103. Do you believe in the existence of soulmates and/or true love? I do not know. Seeing Berin and Stefan it is hard to say such a thing does not exist. They have clearly found it for themselves. Perhaps it is simply my own difficulties with the idea of romance that makes me feel disconnected from the idea of soulmates or true love. The most true love I have ever found has been for family or for friends.

104. What do you believe makes a successful life? Seeing as much of the world as you can. Meeting people from all walks of life and incorporating what you learn from them into your own life. A life without the vibrancy other people brings to it would be a wasted life.

105. How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings? (Meaning do you hide your true self from others and in what way?) I am generally fairly honest. I can be diplomatic if I need to not show a distaste for someone. But otherwise, I am mostly very honest about my thoughts and feelings. No one can meet you where you are if you will not even show them where that is.

106. Do you have any biases or prejudices? Doesn’t everyone? I try very hard to keep an open mind and to understand peoples’ differences, but I am only mortal, I am sure I trip up as often as anyone else.

107. Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why? I believe for most things there is some circumstance that would cause one to act against what they would normally. For instance, I would never kill one of my friends. Except, what if something has caused them to lose their mind and death would be a mercy? What if something caused them to do a great deal of harm, and only killing them would stop it and save who knows how many others? What if they were infected by an outer being and doing harm to them was the only way to save their lives, but it ran the risk of killing them?

…One of those examples was a very real occurrence, and even though I deeply regret it, I did the only thing I could do given the circumstances.

108. Who or what, if anything, would you die for? (or go to extremes for?) My friends, my parents (my real parents, the ones who raised me), keeping the world safe from outer beings…and at one time, trying to escape Alazhra’s clutches.

109. What is your best feature, in your opinion? I suppose that I am open-minded and willing to learn from people from all walks of life.

110. What do you think of drugs and alcohol? Are there any types that people should never do? Why or why not? It is none of my business what another person puts in their own body. People find different ways to enjoy themselves or to cope with hardships. It is not my place to say which of those are good and which are bad. I would say children probably should be kept from such substances, at least until they are old enough to make an informed decision about the consequences that might come of it. And obviously forcing it onto someone else, by trickery or by force, is entirely unacceptable.

111. What is your idea of perfect happiness? Having the freedom to go where you wish and do what you wish, to see the beauty of the world and its people. To do so at your own pace, with nothing forcing you to move on until your are ready, but also nothing holding you to one place if you don’t wish to remain.

112. What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery? Having your freedom taken away—be it by another person’s hand, your life circumstances, or running from something you cannot escape. Having your choices taken away or minimized until there is only one path forward is like a walking death.

Part Eight: Likes and Dislikes

113. What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes? I occasionally enjoy a card game, or a game of chance. I like looking at art, but I have never had the time to learn an art for myself.

114. What is your most treasured possession? Two—a blessed keepsake given to me by a band of monster hunters I had travelled with for a short time, and the nice outfit Igil made me. In both cases, it was a gift from friends. Those have been few and far between since I left home. They mean a lot to me.

115. What is your favorite color? Why? Purple. It is close to Desna’s holy color, but I feel purple has more of a pop than blue.

116. What is your least favorite color? Why? I couldn’t say, there is no color that particularly repulses me. Matched with other colors that complement it, virtually every color can be beautiful in some manner.

117. What is your favorite food? Why? I met a woman from Tian Xia who made some delicious battered shrimp. Tempura, I believe it was?

118. What is your least favorite food? Why? Having been fed the rations of a noble’s slave, there is little else I think is as disgusting. In part because even if it tasted good (it did not), we had no choice in the matter, and eating their food was demeaning all on its own.

119. What is your favorite sound? Why? Rain pattering through a forest canopy.

120. What is your least favorite sound? Why? Claws scratching across certain surfaces make the worse ear-piercing noise. I try to be mindful of it.

121. What is your favorite smell/scent? Why? Pumpkin—especially pumpkin pie. It reminds me of home, it reminds me of my mother, and it was one of the only things I remembered when I awoke with total amnesia.

122. What is your least favorite smell/scent? Why? The usual things no one likes. Rot—be it spoiled food or decaying creatures.

123. What, if anything, do you like to read? I like travel journals, or stories of lands so distant that even I may only ever dream of reaching them.

124. What is your idea of good entertainment? Games of chance or skill. Swapping stories with new acquaintances. I think I would like the theatre as well, but I have never been. I like the idea of people playing out stories.

125. How do you spend a typical Saturday night? What is a Saturday? Do you mean Starday? To be honest, my days don’t tend to have a pattern based on the week or weekend. Certainly, when I arrive to a new place on Sunday, I know it because people are often tending to religious matters or resting. The other days tend to blend together a bit. Not that I am not doing anything interesting, but that days of the week have little meaning when you’re not around other people for weeks on end.

126. What makes you laugh? Things that are funny. Igil seems to be the butt of the joke fairly often.

127. What makes you laugh out loud, hysterically? It was not funny in hindsight, now that we know how we lost our memories. But when we first got back to Thrushmoor, and a man Igil had wronged shoved him into the water, I lost it.

128. What makes you cry? Hearing tales of particularly grim hardships. Anger, sometimes.

129. What makes you cry, hysterically? That has not happened often enough for me to say there is a pattern. I definitely cried the hardest I can remember when I began coming into being a changeling, and I was frantically trying to grind down my claws to look like human nails again. I was young, and I was scared.

130. What, if anything, shocks or offends you? Half of what comes out to Jolene’s mouth.

131. What would you do if you couldn’t sleep and had to find something to amuse yourself? I would go outside and stargaze. Try to find constellations, perhaps the Stair of Stars.

132. How do you deal with stress? Worrying more.

Seriously? I do not know. I just get through it.

133. Are you spontaneous or do you always need to have a plan? I prefer to plan. The way I look at it, when you have a plan you stack luck in your favor instead of against you. Going out on…let’s say a hike in the mountains, if you do not plan you are relying entirely on having good luck to get your through. But luck can be good or bad, and when you go out without a plan you increase the likelihood of having bad luck instead. If you go out with a plan, however, you may still get bad luck, but it will be less devastating, and your good luck will be more rewarding.

134. What are your pet peeves? Acting without a plan, especially if it puts others at risk.

135. Where do you go when you’re angry or depressed? Anywhere I want. If I am in a hilly area though, going to the top of a hill and watching the clouds or stargazing can be a very calming activity.

136. What do you do when you’re bored? Explore, find new people to talk to, learn something new, observe animals in nature. There are many ways to alleviate boredom.

137. What type of music do you like? Favorite bands or musicians? I am not very adept at band names, but there is usually a bard or two to be found in inns that travelers often frequent. I generally enjoy their performances.

138-143 & 148 were too modern day Earth based for Ileark to accurately answer.

144. What is your favorite book? Why? I would have difficulty choosing a favorite. I particularly like stories of distant places, history, and travel journals, but they tend to all bland together after a while, I do not have a particular favorite, maybe just favorite parts.

145. What is your least favorite book? Why? The same as above, with the caveat that unholy texts to evil gods are my least favorite by default.

146. Who is your favorite author/writer? Why? See 144

147. Who is your least favorite author/writer? Why? see 145

149. What annoys you more than anything else?

150. What time of day is your favorite? Why? Late at night, when everything is quiet, and the stars are shining. It is a good time for reflection, and to remember the gifts Desna has given us.

151. What time of day is your least favorite? Why? When I first wake up. It is much harder to appreciate the beauty of the world when you just want to curl up and go back to sleep. Even the sun feels harsher when you first wake up.

152. What kind of weather is your favorite? Why? Did I not already answer this one? I enjoy when there’s a light rain, especially if I am under a forest canopy or in an inn, where I can enjoy listening to the pitter-patter of the droplets.

153. What kind of weather is your least favorite? Why? Have you ever been in a desert at any hour of the day? That. The bright oppressive heat during the daylight hours, and the bitter freezing cold of the night hours. I do not like extremes of temperature.

154. What is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen? It’s the little things. Beams of sunlight shining through the clouds after a storm. A field of flowers, with butterflies and bees floating about from flower to flower. The rainbow shimmering in the mist at the bottom of a waterfall. The world, in its totality, is beautiful.

155. What is the most awful thing you have ever seen? The end result of remaining in one place too long. When Alazhra would come calling. She could kill farm animals, bring disease to the people and blight to crops. Anything that would hurt the people around me.

156. What is your favorite drink? Why? I tried this mango juice while in Garund. It tasted…bright. Like someone distilled a perfect summer day into a drink.

157. What is your least favorite drink? Why? Aside from any obvious answers of inedible or spoiled things, coffee. And tea to a lesser extent. Caffeine makes me anxious. More anxious than usual.

158. What is your favorite animal? Why? Butterflies seem a give away. So, songbirds. Nightingales.

159. What is your least favorite animal? Why? Hyenas. They remind me too much of my time in Okano.

160. What sorts of things embarrass you? Getting flustered, not being able to word what I am trying to say properly.

Part Nine: Self Image

161. Describe a normal day for you. I have not had a ‘normal’ day in many years. But for a long time my routine was to simply travel, wherever my heart desired. I would generally camp out, so as to not put anyone in danger. I cooked my own meals. And I walked or flew. A lot.

162. How do you feel when your routine is disrupted? I very much dislike it when somebody throws a wrench into my plans. It is frustrating, and I may dig in my heels a little if I feel the change is unwarranted. But ultimately that is life. You plan for what you can, and luck or fate will throw things at you, whether you are prepared or not.

163. What is your greatest strength as a person? I am determined. When I know what I want (or do not want as the case often is), I do not waiver about it.

164. What is your greatest weakness? There are many things that scare me. Many of them come from within. I do not trust myself as much as I should.

165. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? That is obvious. I would be an actual human foundling, with no ties to Alazhra.

166. Are you generally introverted or extroverted? I am an extrovert, but an extrovert on the quieter end of the spectrum. Being around people is one of my favorite things, and it energizes me. I don’t do well when I am alone for too long. But I prefer to listen to what these other people have to say than to be the center of attention myself.

167. Are you generally organized or messy? I am impeccably organized.

168. Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at. travel magic, nudging the threads of fate, and reading what kind of people those I meet are.

169. Name three things you consider yourself to be very bad at. Healing magic, climbing (this is why I just fly if the option is available), and speaking in a way that is persuasive (it is frustrating trying to get my thoughts across to people sometimes, especially if I already know what needs to be done and how, and others are digging their heels in.)

170. What are your reasons for being an adventurer or heroic? Are your real reasons different than the ones you tell other people in public? If so, detail both reasons. I had no choice. I was a traveler because of the circumstances of my life. I did help people here and there, but I wouldn’t say I was a hero. Now? I once again had no choice. My mind was stolen from me by a cruel man, and the journey to regain my memories uncovered a far darker conspiracy. One that must be stopped at any cost, or the world is doomed to be handed over to an Elder God on a silver platter. I am honest about these motivations. I didn’t choose this life, but I am happy to be able to help in some way.

171. What three words best describe your personality? Fastidious, realistic, hopeful (yes I am aware those last two may seem a contradiction. But I believe that sometimes you must have hope that things will be better, even if you know that the current reality is grim.)

172. What three words would others probably use to describe you? Aloof, ethereal, and lively (A/N: courtesy of Jo’s player)

173. What about you is heroic? The fact that I am literally on a journey to try to save the world from at least one Elder God?

174. Are you a better lead or follower? Why? I prefer to follow, and to organize. I am one of those people who make it possible for a leader to lead.

175. What is your responsibility to the world? Why? I simply must leave the world better than it was when I came. Whether that is helping a stranger, or stopping an evil god’s cult, it is all the same in the end. It’s all helping people to continue living their lives in peace.

176. What do you like about yourself? I am honest, I will not let evil deeds go unimpeded. I will always fight for mine and others’ freedom.

177. What don’t you like about yourself? My bloodline. The darker side of my powers. The fact I cannot seem to heal worth a damn.

178. What do you find most relaxing? (not stress relief, but something that actually calms you down.) Focusing on my breathing. And finding time to watch the stars or clouds helps to clear my head a little.

179. What talent would you most like to have? I envy Berin’s healing powers and his determination to protect others. I think I see many things in Berin that I would like to reflect.

Part Ten: Occupation & Finance

180. What is your occupation? (If you don’t have one, where does your money come from?) I help people where I can, and people are usually generous and share a meal or a few coins for a traveler who has shown them kindness. I think I can safely say I have been very lucky in the sorts of people I have met on the road and in towns. I do not help asking for a reward, but there are many kind souls who will invite you to break bread with them regardless.

181. Do you like your job? I enjoy travelling. And I enjoy helping people when I see they are in need. So, yes, I suppose I do.

182. What is your boss/employer like? Erm…if anyone were my boss it would be Desna, but that is a very unusual way to think about a goddess. Even though she literally gave me a job proposition…

183. What are your co-workers like? The closest thing I have to coworkers are my friends, and I have already talked about them at length.

184. Do you get along with your co-workers? See above.

185. Which co-workers don’t you get along with and why? Jolene is the one I get along with the least. I do not hate her by any means, but our personalities clash. She is probably not someone I would have chosen to work so closely with if circumstances hadn’t pushed us together. I see the merit in her way of doing things (at least more so than when we first met), but she is still incredibly frustrating sometimes.

186. What is something you had to learn that you hated? Hm. You know, I can’t actually think of any learning opportunity I’ve had that I resented. I like learning new things, even if I do poorly at them.

187. Do you tend to save or spend your money? Why? What is the point of coins if you are just going to hoard them like a dragon? Life goes by fast, it is best to enjoy things in the moment. If that means spending more money on rounds at the tavern in exchange for some stories, or buying a beautiful piece of jewelry, then it is money well spent.

188. If you were to gain an obscenely large sum of money, what would you do with it? Use some of it and share some of it. I do not even live in one place, nor do I intend to now even if I escaped Alazhra. So I would keep enough to facilitate my travels from the rest of my days, and then give the rest to those I meet during my journey. There are so many people who even a handful of gold would change their lives completely. Who am I to keep that from them?

Part Eleven: Drug & Alcohol

189. Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If yes, why? Do you want to quit? I have tried many things. I don’t regularly use drugs, but I will not lie that I’ve been introduced to some very interesting ones in different parts of the world. I think my favorite was a hallucinogen from Garund. As for drinking, I will drink in celebration or to socialize with others. If I could never drink wine again, I would miss it, but it would not overly affect me in the long run.

190. How old were you when you had your first drink? Did you like it? Why or why not? I think I tried some wine when I was fairly young, but I did not like it back then, and avoided it for a long while. But the best place to swap stories with fellow travelers is inevitably the local taverns, so I quickly learned my likes and dislikes.

191. How old were you when you first got drunk? What was the experience like? Desna help me. It was humiliating is what it was. I was a young teen, a few months into my travels. I had just decided that if I wanted to get to know people at the tavern, I would have to do as they did and drink something. So I asked the barkeep for a suggestion, and she introduced me to some fruity drink, I forget exactly what kind it was. It tasted good, a lot better than I’d been expecting. And…because it tasted good, I kind of forgot that it was alcoholic partway through the night. I wasn’t accustomed to alcohol either, so it hit me like a runaway carriage.

192. Do you drink on a regular basis? Regular enough. If I find myself in a new town I am sure to check out the taverns and try to find a local favorite.

193. What kind of alcohol do you prefer? Wine, preferably one that isn’t too dry.

194. Have you ever tried any kind of “mood altering” substance? Which ones? Describe the experience. I’ve done a few different drugs in my travels. The hallucinogen I tried in Garund was called Ice Tears. It causes you to see people from your past and future—whether it is one of the drug’s hallucinations or an actual vision is highly contested. I…have a difficult time saying. I remember seeing people. I think I saw my mother. And I saw other people. I almost want to say I saw Igil, but I might just be mixing current memories with what little I remember from the height of the drug’s effects.

Part Twelve: Sex & Intimacy

195. Have you ever been in love? What happened? No, as I have alluded to above, I have a complex relationship to the very concept of romance. I do not think I will find someone anytime soon, if ever. That is not as sad as it sounds—being on my own means I can travel wherever I wish, at whatever pace suits me. There is a certain freedom in lacking a partner.

196. Have you ever had your heart broken? Not particularly, no.

197. Would you consider yourself straight, gay, bi, or something else? Why? I would be pansexual. Gender has never particularly mattered to me.

198. Who was the first person you had sex with? When did it happen? Describe the experience. Er…that is a bit personal. Just between us? He was a young Varisian man, a half-elf with some drow ancestry. He was beautiful. He was a fellow traveler, and we swapped stories at the bar. We really hit it off, and he didn’t seem to mind that we would have to part ways afterwards. He had places to go, and I had to keep moving for everyone’s safety. It was…nice. A little awkward, we were both young and although he had more experience than me that was not saying much. But at the end of the day, it was a good experience.

199. Have you ever had a same-sex experience? Describe the experience. See above.

200. What is your deepest, most well-hidden sexual fantasy? Would you ever try it? Ok now *that* is extremely personal. (A/N: bondage, especially being tied up with ropes)

201-202 are more detailed sex questions I as the writer do not feel comfortable getting into.

203. Do you currently have a lover? Describe them, what you are attracted to, and what the relationship is like. I do not. All of my lovers have, by necessity, been flings that lasted a night or two. I assure you, I made certain they understood that before we slept together. I am not interested in being one of those cads who travels around and leaves a trail of broken hearts behind them. If any of those I had a night with expected more, that is entirely on them for thinking I was not being genuine in what I told them up front.

204. What is the perfect romantic date? I do not know. I have never really dated—nothing beyond the superficial meetings I mentioned above. I don’t really know what a good romantic date would even be. Anything I can think of is something you could just as easily do with a friend, it seems somewhat excessive to make it into a big deal.

205. Describe your perfect partner. I…have been partial to half-elves and elves in the past. There is a good reason for those in humanoid society to believe all elves are beautiful. Because as far as I’ve met, they really are disproportionately gorgeous. And both are rather long lived so…they tend to have a lot of experience.

206. Do you ever want to get married? When do you see this happening? Not particularly. As I said above, not having a partner is freeing. I won’t be breaking any hearts if I agree to Desna’s offer to travel beyond the stars, facing the cults of Elder Gods in her name. Obviously I will miss my friends deeply, but there is less of an obligation to always be available to friends.

207. Do you want children? Why or why not? Not particularly, for the same reason above. It would be impossible to live the life I have with a child. And…on another level, I fear what Alazhra might do to another child bearing even a few drops of her blood.

208. What is more important, sex or intimacy? Why? It is going to sound shallow that I only really focus on the sex. But again, I have always known I would have to leave these people in a day or two and likely never see them again. I do not want to give them the wrong idea.

209. What was your most recent romantic relationship like? Who was it with? n/a

210. What’s the worst thing you’ve done to someone you love? I accidentally killed Igil. I am pretty sure that is the worst you can do to someone you care for. Even if he laughs about it now.

Part Thirteen: Morality

211. What one act in your past are you most ashamed of? Giving up, and walking into the desert with the intention to not come out the other side. I was…in a bad place. I had been running for so long. When my last strand of hope snapped, I could only despair. I believed I would never be able to stop running, and that cutting my life short rather than being worn down by the constant shadow and call of a hag would be the right thing to do. I think, now, that I was wrong to try to throw my life away. Even if I have to run for the rest of my life, I will touch the lives of so many others. I can make a difference in the world, even if I can never really be apart of the lives of the people in it.

212. What one act in your past are you most proud of? Holding out against Alazhra, no matter how much she tries to break me. I might be ashamed that I did not see the bigger picture when I tried to end my life, but I am also proud that I am willing to go that far to not be a pawn in her game.

213. Have you ever been in a physical fight before? Over what, with who, and who won? Too many for me to give a number of times. My claws are not just for show.

214. What do you feel most strongly about? Freedom. People having the freedom to make their own choices, to live in a manner that will make them happy.

215. What do you pretend to feel strongly about, just to impress people? I cannot say this is something I have done? I do not see the point of pretending you have a passion for something you do not.

216. What trait do you find most admirable and how often do you find it? Loyalty, and a desire to protect or heal.

217. Is there anything you think should not be incorporated into the media or arts? (i.e., sex, violence, etc). What and why or why not? No, absolutely not. While Shelyn is not my patron Goddess, she is very close to Desna. Art is about expressing what it on the inside. Good art will speak to a truth within the artist. You cannot sensor that. Art is an expression of freedom, and making it anything less undermines the purpose of the arts.

218. Do you think the future is hopeful? Why or why not? I…would like the future to be hopeful. I am hopeful, that perhaps if I take Desna up on her offer to travel the stars, I will finally be protected from Alazhra. But…I fear what is coming between then and now.

219. Do you think redemption is possible? Why or why not? I do. I have seen it with my own eyes. Igil was a worshipper of Alazhra, and had plenty of blood on his hands. But kindness and camaraderie helped to bring him to a place in life where he could stand up to Alazhra and reject her.

However…I am not the one to lead others to redemption. That is Berin’s charge as a Sarenrite. I…feel that true redemption is a rare thing. There are far too many people in the world who are cruel and evil and have no desire to be anything but. Those are the people I will protect others from, while Berin brings those who might change into the light.

220. Is there something you think is absolutely unforgivable? What is it? Enslaving another intelligent being. Stifling their freedom, binding them, forcing them to do as you command or face punishment or death. It is one of the cruelest things you can do to another person. And unlike things like killing, where there are circumstances in which it is understandable, there is no circumstance in which slavery is not vile and evil.

221. Is it okay for men to cry? Yes? Obviously?

222. Is it okay for you to cry? It…can be. I try not to in front of others. Not because I am ashamed, but because I do not wish to burden them with my emotional baggage.

223. What do you think is wrong with most people, overall? I do not thing there is one affliction most people have. Many are greedy. Some place themselves above others—be they nobles or slavers, it’s all the same mindset that others are somehow lesser. Some are cowardly, and would sell out even their dearest friend for a chance to save their own skin. But I do not think these things are intrinsically a part of being mortal. It is merely a failing of those particular people.

224. What is the worst thing you could ever do to someone you hated? …Make them hurt. When we went up against Biting Lash, I wanted her to suffer for the years she’d stolen from me. I did not make it quick. I burned her within an inch of her life with a Harm spell. And then I snuffed out what was left of her life. And I hope when Pharasma judges her, she goes to the most painful depths of the Nine Hells.

And Lowls deserves worse, still.

225. Do you have feelings that disturb you? What and why? See above. The fact I can do that without a moment of hesitation to someone who has deeply wronged me. It is terrifying. Even though I wholeheartedly believe Biting Lash deserves every moment of what she got, that darkness makes me cringe. I fear where such thoughts and actions could lead. I fear, more than anything, that letting go would feel just as satisfying as snuffing out Biting Lash’s life.

226. On what occasions do you lie? When it is necessary for the greater good. For example, lying to a guard is less harmful than allowing ourselves to be barred entrance to a place in which dark rituals are underway.

227. Do you think it is okay to lie? I prefer not to, but when it is necessary I do not beat myself up over it. Desna does not demand that her follows always tell the truth—especially not mindlessly telling the truth when lying could save lives.

Part Fourteen: Supernatural Awareness

228. Tell the story of how you became what you are or first learned of your own abilities. …I was young. About 10 or 11 I think? It started with seeing a shadowy figure lurking in the woods just outside of town, or at the edge of a field of crops. Every time I saw her, something bad seemed to happen in the village not long after. And then I began changing. My eyesight became sharp in the dark, able to see every little detail even on the most moonless night. Far more noticeably, however, was that my nails grew into claws. I was scared. I was just a child. I tried grinding down my claws so they would look like nails again, but they would always grow back by the next day. Eventually my mother caught me. And even though I thought I was turning into a monster, she comforted me, and reassured me that I was always her son, no matter what. She was the one who first had the idea to paint my claws, so they would look a little more like painted nails. She said they were beautiful. I will always remember that. That was when I quit being repulsed by what I was, even if I was still terrified of what I must have come from.

229. What do you think now of being supernatural? Is it cool or have you been screwed? Being a changeling has its benefits, admittedly. Seeing in the dark allows me to travel at any time of the day or night I desire. And I have defended myself and others with only my claws and a little magic on a number of occasions. It has its downsides, of course. Alazhra and her call being chief among them.

230. Do you have a mentor? Describe them and how you became their student. I do not.

231. Do you have any magical items? Where did you get them? My Blessed Keepsake was given to me by a group of Varisian monster hunters I travelled with for a short time. It has a night hag’s claw in it. Even if it never kept Alazhra away, since she is so much more than an ordinary night hag, it still made me feel a little safer on lonely nights to hold it close. My Amulet of Mighty Fists was taken off of an enemy. I had my starknife and armored coat enchanted at a local shop in…it might have been Thrushmoor but I am uncertain. I have been collecting Pearls of Power—some obtained in battle and some bought. I intend to eventually make a bracelet out of them, for ease of access. My friends and I all have a Dusty Prism Ioun Stone, although I forget where exactly we picked them up. I also got a Scarlet and Blue Ioun Stone, inspired by the one Igil previously had. I also have a bag of holding, which has a very evil tome stashed within it. We found it in a tower within a twisted corrupt city affected by a being I cannot risk even describing.

232. Think of a major event that happened during your training/initiation. Describe the experience. During one Swallowtail Festival, my parents entrusted with me the cage of butterflies we would be releasing. I was so excited, and I followed my parents around like a duckling. Unfortunately, I was paying more attention to them and the cage than on where I was walking. I tripped, and fell, and the cage popped open, releasing all of the butterflies early. I felt horrible, but my mother assured me that this was merely a turn of fate. If the butterflies were released early, that is what was meant to be.

233. What is something you had to learn during your training that you hated? Why did you hate it? As I said before, there is little I have ever learned that I did not enjoy. Even if I did not excel at it, it was worth learning.

234. What is something you had to learn during your training that you loved? Why did you love it? I was a bit of a natural at learning Desna’s domains. Not many of her followers can affect the strings of fate. A little nudge of their own luck, sure, but to change the fate of anyone around them? That is a rare ability. And, of course, there was the ability to make your body slide through the folds of space. To teleport.

Part Fifteen: Goals and Future

235. What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime? If I can take Desna up on her offer after this venture and be able to travel the stars for all eternity, that is the greatest dream I can imagine.

236. Where do you see yourself in five years? Hopefully? Somewhere deep in the Outer Spheres, following Desna’s will. Possibly? Dead because I tried to stop an Elder God from manifesting in this reality.

237. If you could choose, how would you want to die? Painlessly. I don’t want my final moments to be in agony. To slip away while dreaming is the most ideal death I can imagine. To be engulfed by Desna’s domain, and then to join her in Elysium.

238. If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left. Go home and see my parents one last time. Say goodbye to my friends, and tell them not to do anything stupid to try to bring me back. And then sit under the stars one last time, and hopefully pass in peace.

239. What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death? For my devotion to Desna. Saving the world is all well and good, but I do not feel that encompasses who I really am. I would rather history remember me as a Desnan than as a hero.

Part Sixteen: Misc.

240. If you could, what advice would you, the hero, give to the villain? Or If you could, why would you, the villain want the hero to be at your side or part of your team? Maybe don’t be a dumbass and mess with Elder Gods who will get into your head and warp you until you think summoning one into this world is a good idea? Oh, too late. Or you know, don’t be an asshole and keep slaves. Oops, you already did that too.

I have nothing to say to Lowls. Except that whatever punishment awaits beyond the Boneyard for you, it is a fraction of what you deserve.

241. What was the worst injury you’ve ever received? How did it happen? A ghost warrior eviscerated me with a sword. I was literally holding my innards in while I tried to heal myself. It was beyond excruciating.

242. How ticklish are you? Where are you ticklish? I am. I am not going to give you where because if Jo sees this she will take advantage of it.

243. What would you wish for if you ever found a genie? Is it 3 wishes? 1) I would wish that I was not in any way associated with Alazhra. 2) I would wish that my parents are provided for, for the rest of their days, so that they can live comfortably in their old age. 3) Assuming I cannot just kill Lowls outright, I would wish for myself and my friends to be teleported straight to him so we could kill him ourselves. Seems more satisfying than just wishing him to death, too.

244. If your house burned down, what one thing would you want to save? I assume you mean objects and not people, because obviously if my home burnt down I would make sure my parents could get out safely first. Other than that…probably our family shrine to Desna.

245. Describe yourself sitting in your favorite spot. I would be seated on a hill at midnight. I would be far from any towns, and the full beauty of the starry night sky would stretch far off to the horizon.

246. How do you go to sleep and how do you wake up? (position, routine, etc) When I am camping, I sleep on a bedroll in a tent. Otherwise, I’ll sleep on a bed at an inn. I typically stay up late, and given the luxury of time I would sleep in. I generally sleep on my back.

247. What is a dream (during sleep) that you have often? I do not typically have recurring dreams. I do try to remember my dreams, though. Dreams are one of Desna’s gift to mortals, and I try to enjoy the experience when I can. Unfortunately, with dreams come nightmares. That is Alazhra’s domain. And I have had some…gruesome nightmares, especially recently.

248. What is a day dream that you have often? Returning home. Seeing my mother and father again. Telling them that everything is OK now, and that I can visit home as frequently as we like.

249. If you were to die and come back as any person or thing, what or who would you want to be? My first instinct is to say ‘a human’, as I’d like to live the peaceful normal life that Alazhra stole from me. But if I could be reincarnated as anything, I think it would be lovely to be a migratory bird. Flying from place to place simply because it is in my nature. It sounds nice.

250. What is your motto? Oh, do we have mottos now? I did not come prepared. Do people actually have mottos or is that just a thing in fiction?

251. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be and why? To be honest, although I did not start traveling of my own accord, I cannot imagine being happy settled down anywhere anymore. I don’t want to live anywhere, I want to live everywhere. Go where the wind and Desna’s will guide me.

252. What time period do you wish you could have lived in? Why? (This is not a chance to change history.) What appeals to you about this era? It would be very interesting to live in Arodin’s time. The world must have been quite different, with Cheliax not owned by devils, and the ascended not yet gods.

253. If you could go back to any point in history and change something, what would it be? To be honest, I do not know. History led to the world being how it is today. There are so many acts of evil that COULD be stopped by someone with foreknowledge, but what might it lead to? What if those who were inspired to do good because they saw such evil manifest end up following a different path, and the world loses a force of good because of it? I am not a Pharasman, I do not believe in balancing the scales. Taking away one evil and one good from the world is still the loss of something good.

#my ocs #pathfinder #Ileark Keita #oc questions

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floorsyinteriordesign · 13 days ago

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Luxury vs. Budget Interiors: Finding the Right Balance in Kolkata

Creating the perfect interior design for your home is about more than just choosing colors and furniture. It's about finding the right balance between luxury and budget – a common challenge faced by homeowners in Kolkata. Whether you are moving into a new apartment in Newtown or renovating your ancestral home in South Kolkata, making smart design decisions within your budget is essential.

In this article, we will explore how you can achieve a luxurious look while staying budget-conscious. We’ll break down the costs, discuss practical tips, and help you make informed choices so you don’t have to compromise on aesthetics or functionality.

Understanding the Difference Between Luxury and Budget Interiors

Before you decide your interior strategy, it's important to understand what defines luxury vs. budget design.

Luxury Interiors

Luxury interiors are all about premium materials, personalized design, high-end furniture, and sophisticated lighting. From Italian marble flooring to smart home systems and custom cabinetry, luxury design ensures exclusivity, comfort, and elegance. These designs usually come with a higher price tag but also offer long-lasting quality and resale value.

Budget Interiors

Budget interiors, on the other hand, focus on cost-effective solutions. They involve smart space planning, multipurpose furniture, affordable yet stylish décor, and off-the-shelf fittings. With clever planning, a budget interior can still look modern and elegant without draining your savings.

Also, check our article: Modern Indian Bathroom Designs to Inspire Your Next Makeover

Factors That Influence Your Interior Design Budget in Kolkata

Kolkata has a diverse real estate landscape—from small apartments in Garia to luxurious villas in Rajarhat. Some of the major factors that affect your interior design cost include:

Size of the space: Bigger spaces need more materials, more furniture, and more labor.

Choice of materials: High-end materials like natural wood or imported tiles will cost more than laminates or ceramic.

Type of design: A minimalist design may cost less than a traditional or Bohemian style with heavy furnishings.

Labor charges: Skilled labor in Kolkata is more affordable than in other metros but can still vary by area and expertise.

Customization: Custom-made furniture, lighting, and storage are costlier than readymade options.

How to Combine Luxury and Budget in Your Interior Design

Finding a middle path between luxury and budget is possible if you plan smartly. Here are practical ways to get a rich look on a limited budget:

1. Choose Where to Splurge

Not every part of your home needs to be ultra-luxurious. You can choose key areas like the living room or master bedroom for premium finishes and go for budget options in secondary spaces.

2. Use Statement Pieces

One eye-catching piece—like a chandelier, a designer sofa, or a large artwork—can elevate the whole room. It creates a luxurious vibe without needing to redo the entire space.

3. Mix High and Low

Combine expensive materials with budget ones. For example, use high-end wallpaper on a feature wall and simple paint on the rest. Or mix branded fixtures in the bathroom with budget-friendly tiles.

4. Go Modular

Modular kitchen and storage units are budget-friendly and functional. They also give a clean, sleek look that’s close to luxury finishes.

5. Lighting is Everything

Layered lighting (ambient, task, accent) can drastically change the ambiance. Even affordable lighting fixtures can mimic the elegance of expensive ones.

6. Invest in Good Flooring

While luxury homes often use marble or wood, today’s high-quality vitrified tiles or laminate flooring are both stylish and affordable.

7. Color Palette Tricks

Soft neutrals like white, beige, and grey give a spacious and premium feel to your home. Pair it with rich textures for added luxury.

8. Minimalism is Cost-Effective and Stylish

A clean and clutter-free design not only costs less but also appears more elegant. Stick to the essentials and prioritize functionality.

Interior Design Trends in Kolkata for 2025

Kolkata is a city where heritage meets modernity. Today’s interior designs in the city are a blend of traditional Bengali elements and global trends.

Vastu-compliant designs are increasingly popular among homeowners in areas like Salt Lake and Behala.

Sustainable materials are being used in eco-conscious homes in Newtown and Rajarhat.

Modular and smart homes are in demand in modern apartments across EM Bypass and Kankurgachi.

Whether you live in a compact flat or a sprawling bungalow, adapting these trends within your budget is possible with expert help.

Why Choose Floorsy – Interior Designer in Kolkata?

At Floorsy, we understand that every client has different tastes and budgets. As a reputed interior designer in Kolkata, our approach is to deliver smart and stunning interiors that balance luxury and affordability.

With experience in both premium and budget projects across Rajarhat, Salt Lake, and South Kolkata, our team can help you:

Choose the right materials within your budget

Plan space smartly for functionality and beauty

Customize furniture and storage

Stay on track with timelines and budget

We combine creativity with practical thinking—because good interior design shouldn’t be a luxury, it should be accessible.

Suggested Read: How to Choose the Best Interior Designer in Kolkata

Best Interior Designing Company in Kolkata– Our Service Areas:

We are proud to offer our services in multiple key areas in and around Kolkata. Looking for the Best interior designing company in [Location]? We’ve got you covered:

interior Designers in EM Bypass

interior Designers in Garia

Interior Designers in Kasba

interior Designers in Tollygunge

Interior Designers in Gariahat

Interior Designers in Ballygunge

Interior Designers in Newtown

Interior Designers in Rajarhat

Interior Designers in Salt Lake

Interior Designers In Behala

Whether you're based near high-end societies like PS One10, Urban Green, or Rare Earth, or looking to renovate your existing flat, Floorsy is your trusted partner.

Final Thoughts

Designing a home in Kolkata is an exciting journey. You don’t have to go all-in with a luxury budget to have a stylish home. With the right planning, expert advice, and clear priorities, you can achieve a design that feels premium without overspending.

Whether you’re leaning towards luxury or trying to keep things budget-friendly, partnering with a reliable interior designer in Kolkata like Floorsy ensures quality, creativity, and peace of mind.

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acornstamps · 23 days ago

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Personalized Self-Inking Wedding Monogram Rubber Stamp

When it comes to planning a wedding, every detail matters — from the invitations and thank-you notes to the décor and favors. One unique and stylish way to add a personalized flair to your wedding is with a Personalized Self-Inking Wedding Monogram Rubber Stamp. This simple yet elegant tool allows couples to leave their unique mark on a wide range of wedding materials, creating a cohesive and memorable aesthetic.

What is a Self-Inking Wedding Monogram Stamp?

A self-inking monogram stamp is a customized rubber stamp that comes with an internal ink pad. With every press, it delivers a clean, consistent impression of your personalized design — no need for messy ink pads. These stamps are often designed with the couple’s initials, names, wedding date, or a combination of those elements in a beautifully styled monogram.

Why Choose a Personalized Wedding Monogram Stamp?

1. Elegant Customization: A monogram stamp adds a sophisticated touch to your wedding stationery. Whether you’re sealing envelopes, stamping gift bags, or creating your own thank-you cards, a personalized stamp ensures everything looks polished and cohesive.

2. Cost-Effective: Instead of investing in expensive custom prints for every item, a monogram stamp lets you DIY many aspects of your wedding décor and paper goods, saving money without sacrificing elegance.

3. Time-Saving and Convenient: The self-inking feature means you can stamp hundreds of pieces quickly and easily without re-inking. It’s perfect for large guest lists or extensive wedding preparation.

4. Versatile Uses: Your wedding monogram stamp isn’t limited to invitations. Use it on napkins, place cards, favor tags, programs, thank-you notes, and even on photo booth props. It’s a versatile tool that adds a personal touch to nearly every part of your celebration.

Design Options

Personalized wedding monogram stamps come in a variety of styles to match any theme — from rustic and vintage to modern and minimalist. Popular choices include:

Classic Initials: A simple design featuring the couple’s initials in an elegant font.

Name and Date: The couple’s first names and wedding date framed in a decorative border.

Floral Motifs: A romantic design with floral accents surrounding the monogram.

Rustic Woodland: For nature-inspired weddings, stamps may feature leaves, branches, or woodcut-style designs.

A Keepsake Beyond the Wedding

Beyond the big day, your monogram stamp becomes a meaningful keepsake. It can be used for anniversaries, holiday cards, or even personalized stationery. It’s a lasting reminder of your wedding and the unique identity you’ve created together.

Final Thoughts

A Personalized Self-Inking Wedding Monogram Rubber Stamp is a small investment that delivers big returns. With its combination of elegance, functionality, and personal charm, it’s a must-have for any couple looking to add a thoughtful, handmade touch to their wedding celebration. Whether you're planning a grand affair or an intimate gathering, a custom monogram stamp is a beautiful way to make your love story truly your own.

#WeddingPlanning #WeddingDetails #WeddingInspo #WeddingIdeas #BrideToBe #EngagedLife #WeddingVibes

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lilbunnies121 · 3 months ago

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The Value of Selecting Appropriate Infant Wear

When it comes to outfitting your toddler, comfort and quality are crucial. A child's first few months of life are sensitive, so their well-being relies upon the proper child garments. Cotton and other soft materials are perfect as they let the infant breathe and avoid aggravating his delicate skin. Furthermore, easily put-on and removable clothing is handy for parents and children, particularly during diaper changes. A decent choice of infant clothing stores from reliable baby clothes retailers guarantees that your kid is fashionable and comfortable.

Examining the Range of Baby Bibs

Babies drool even when teething, and an amazing pair of baby bibs can assist in keeping their clothing dry and tidy. Not only are these bibs purposeful, but they are also available in various colours and patterns to liven your toddler's apparel. Designed from tender, absorbent substances like cotton or terry material, infant bibs might also prevent drool from seeping via the little one's garb. Many include adorable patterns or customized stitching for additional flare, and they also come in designs that let feeding time go mess-free.

The Part Infant Clothing Stores Play in Your Parenting Path

Helping parents negotiate the vast universe of baby fashion mostly depends on the clothes retailers for infants. From onesies to pyjamas and coats, these retailers provide a large selection of baby clothes that will help parents choose suitable attire for every level of development of their kid. Excellent stores will also offer premium materials, thus guaranteeing that your baby's skin remains safe and comfy. Shopping from a reputable baby clothes shop lets parents choose essential items without wasting too much time looking through options or making dubious selections.

Baby Bibs: More Than a Simple Accessory for Function

Although baby bibs are usually valuable objects, they may also be a fashionable and enjoyable accent to your kid's attire. The variety of styles nowadays guarantees that these bibs express your baby's individuality or compliment their attire, transcending their mere functionality. Parents may pick bibs with Velcro or snaps for simple fastening and removal. Some baby bibs even have lovely phrases, animals, or figures for picture sessions or vacations. These bibs provide your infant with a lively accent and guard against messiness.

How Should One Select the Best Baby Clothing?

Parents choosing infant clothing should weigh comfort and utility. Made of smooth, breathable fabrics like natural cotton, your infant's most fantastic clothes will help hold it warm in colder seasons and excellent in hotter ones. One can also look for garments with elastic waistbands and flexible openings to make dressing more trustworthy and on hand. Always also look for clothes free of abrasive fasteners or tags that could aggravate the baby's skin. Choosing baby clothing with both fashion and utility guarantees your child feels comfortable and looks great.

Why You Should Make Quality Baby Bib Investments

Though little objects in your baby's wardrobe, baby bibs are essential for maintaining the cleanliness of your baby's clothes. Early in your baby's life, drooling, spilt food, and other messes are regular events. Investing in great bibs involves selecting something soft, absorbent, and durable on your baby's skin. Excellent baby bibs are machine-washed and used often without losing their softness or efficacy. Since you usually won't buy new bibs, this purchase will save you money. Moreover, quality bibs shield your baby's clothing and provide extra comfort.

Conclusion

Choosing the ideal clothes for your infant is an enjoyable endeavour. From cute baby bibs to practical onesies, the correct selections guarantee that your kid is comfortable and fashionable. Shopping at reputable baby clothes retailers ensures you choose the most fantastic designs and fabrics for your child's requirements. Combining comfort, style, and utility will make your baby's clothing adorable and valuable. Visit lilbunnies.com for a fantastic assortment of baby bibs and baby clothes to have all you need to dress your baby with love and attention.

Look at our site for additional details.

newborn baby dresses

newborn baby clothes

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dreamhomediaries01 · 5 months ago

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Furniture Shopping for Kids: A Price Breakdown by U.S. State

Furniture shopping for kids can be both exciting and challenging. As parents and caregivers, you want to create a space that’s functional, stylish, and most importantly, safe for your little ones. However, with so many options available in the market, it can be difficult to determine where to start, especially when it comes to pricing. Understanding the cost of children's bedroom furniture across different states in the United States can help you make more informed decisions while ensuring you get the best value for your money.

In this article, we’ll break down the prices of children's bedroom furniture in various states and explore some key factors that affect these costs. Whether you’re looking for a cozy toddler bed, a bunk bed for siblings, or a stylish dresser, knowing the price trends in different regions can save you time and money.

Factors That Affect Children’s Bedroom Furniture Prices

Before diving into the price breakdown by state, it's essential to understand what factors influence the cost of children's bedroom furniture. Several elements contribute to the price variation you might encounter when shopping for kids’ furniture.

Material Quality: The material used in the construction of children’s furniture plays a significant role in its price. Furniture made from solid wood or high-quality materials like oak or maple tends to be more expensive than pieces made from cheaper materials like particleboard or MDF (medium-density fiberboard). Solid wood furniture is more durable, which is why it often comes with a higher price tag.

Brand: The brand of furniture can also influence the price. Well-known brands with a reputation for quality and safety, such as Pottery Barn Kids or Restoration Hardware, typically cost more than lesser-known or generic brands. However, these brands may offer additional design features and higher-quality construction, which some parents are willing to pay for.

Design and Features: The design and features of the furniture are another crucial factor that impacts the price. For example, a simple twin bed without storage will cost less than a bed with built-in drawers or a lofted bunk bed with additional storage and workspace. Customizable options, such as changing the color of the furniture or adding unique accents, can also increase the price.

Location: The state or city where you are shopping can have a significant impact on the cost of children’s bedroom furniture. Urban areas with higher living costs tend to have higher furniture prices due to factors such as rent, labor costs, and overhead expenses for furniture retailers. Conversely, suburban or rural areas may offer more affordable options.

Shipping and Delivery Costs: Shipping fees can add to the overall price, especially if you're purchasing from a store that doesn't offer free delivery. Furniture retailers that provide free or discounted delivery within a specific region or state can help reduce additional costs.

Price Breakdown by U.S. State

The cost of children's bedroom furniture varies widely across the United States, influenced by factors such as regional demand, store availability, and local economic conditions. Below is a breakdown of children's bedroom furniture prices by region:

Northeast

In the Northeast, states such as New York, New Jersey, and Massachusetts often have higher furniture prices due to the high cost of living in metropolitan areas. On average, children's bedroom furniture in this region can range from $300 to $1,200 for a basic bedroom set, depending on the materials, design, and brand.

In New York City, for instance, parents can expect to pay higher prices for premium brands or designer furniture. However, outside the city, in suburban areas like Long Island or parts of New Jersey, prices may be more affordable, with basic sets starting around $250.

Example Pricing (Northeast):

Basic twin bed set: $250 - $450

Full bedroom set (bed, dresser, nightstand): $500 - $1,200

Midwest

The Midwest region, including states like Illinois, Michigan, and Ohio, tends to have more affordable furniture prices compared to the Northeast. The average price for children's bedroom furniture in the Midwest ranges from $200 to $1,000.

In cities like Chicago, the cost of living is relatively high, and you might find that furniture prices align with those in larger urban centers. However, smaller towns in states like Michigan and Ohio can offer lower prices for quality furniture.

Example Pricing (Midwest):

Basic twin bed set: $200 - $400

Full bedroom set: $400 - $900

South

The South is known for its diverse range of prices when it comes to children's furniture. In states such as Texas, Florida, and Georgia, you’ll find both budget-friendly options and high-end designer pieces. On average, you can expect to pay anywhere from $200 to $1,200 for a children's bedroom set, with some states offering more competitive prices due to lower living costs.

In Texas, for example, you might find high-quality, affordable children’s bedroom furniture in cities like Dallas and Houston, where a wide range of stores offer discounts and promotions year-round. Meanwhile, furniture prices in Florida can be higher in popular cities like Miami, but more reasonable in areas like Tampa.

Example Pricing (South):

Basic twin bed set: $200 - $500

Full bedroom set: $400 - $1,000

West

The Western United States is home to some of the priciest areas for furniture shopping, particularly in states like California, Washington, and Oregon. In cities such as Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Seattle, prices for children's bedroom furniture can range from $350 to $1,500, with premium brands and designer pieces pushing the upper end of the spectrum.

However, in smaller cities or rural areas of the West, you may be able to find furniture at more affordable prices. Shipping costs can also vary significantly depending on your location, especially for families living in remote areas or rural parts of states like Montana or Wyoming.

Example Pricing (West):

Basic twin bed set: $350 - $600

Full bedroom set: $600 - $1,500

Children's Bedroom Furniture Price in United States

Across the United States, children's bedroom furniture prices can vary based on the region and the store you choose. From basic budget-friendly sets to luxurious designer pieces, there's something for every budget and style preference.

If you're looking for affordable yet stylish and functional options, you may want to explore online retailers or local furniture stores offering discounts and promotions. Shopping during major sales events, such as Black Friday or end-of-season clearance sales, can also help you score great deals on children's bedroom furniture.

Factors to Consider When Shopping for Children’s Furniture

In addition to price, there are several other factors to keep in mind when shopping for children's bedroom furniture:

Safety: Ensure that the furniture you choose meets safety standards, especially when it comes to bed frames, cribs, and other pieces that may involve sharp edges or heavy materials. Many brands now offer furniture designed with safety features such as rounded edges and non-toxic finishes.

Durability: Children’s furniture needs to withstand the wear and tear of daily use. Look for high-quality materials and solid construction to ensure the furniture will last as your child grows.

Storage: Kids’ rooms often require extra storage space for toys, books, and clothes. Consider furniture pieces that offer built-in storage, such as beds with drawers or desks with shelving.

Design and Style: Children's bedroom furniture should reflect their personality and interests, but it’s also important to choose pieces that can grow with them. Opt for neutral colors or timeless designs that can transition from a toddler’s room to a teenager’s space.

Children’s Bedroom Furniture Prices in United States

When shopping for children's bedroom furniture in the United States, prices can vary significantly depending on the region and store. However, understanding price trends and shopping during sales can help you find affordable and high-quality options. Whether you’re in the Northeast, Midwest, South, or West, there are plenty of choices to suit your budget and style.

Conclusion

In conclusion, when it comes to purchasing children's bedroom furniture, prices can vary depending on where you live, the brand you choose, and the features you prioritize. However, if you're looking for the best deals on children's bedroom furniture, Five Star Furniture Store is one of the best places to find affordable prices without sacrificing quality. Whether you're looking for a budget-friendly set or a more luxurious option, Five Star Furniture Store offers some of the lowest children's bedroom furniture prices in United States, making it a top choice for savvy shoppers looking to furnish their child’s room on a budget.

#five star furniture #childrens furniture #modern furniture

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sannylity · 2 years ago

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Here’s a part 2 to the Assassin x Civilian AU. But this time in Charlie’s perspective :D

I wasn’t expecting this AU to be doing do well, but thank you for the kind words! And once again, I am giving full permission for this to be used for art, fanfics, etc. Just tag me and give a small credit, I’d want to see and share it :)

—

Charlie is a trained killer.

And so was the father that came before him.

His father was actually the one who had trained him. Out of his seven siblings, he saw the most potential in Charlie.

At the age of ten, he was taught how to yield a knife. At twelve, he fired his first bullet to his first kill. At fifteen, he was effective enough to take contracts. Now at twenty four, he’s practically unstoppable.

Which is probably why he was hired to take down an entire function, a gala of some sort, with elites and politicians who may or may have not made the world just a bit more cruel. Either way, Charlie does as what he does best.

Charlie likes to hide in plain sight. No disguises. No masks. Nothing but a pair of glasses on his face. He took advantage of the fact that he is plain-looking, that he is just a random guy you’d normally come across a nearby street.

At this function, he simply appeared in a suit and only a course of action in his mind.

Unfortunately, not everything goes according to plan. Because there are some things Charlie can’t control. And one of them is a random man who isn’t on the guest list.

Immediately, Charlie is suspicious. Maybe he is someone hired to kill him. Maybe he is there to stop him and his plans. Maybe he is there as bait. All these hypotheticals, until Charlie decided to engage and confront him himself.

“You’re not from here, are you?”

The stranger has also been staring at this painting three glasses of wine ago.

He turns, wide-eyed and nervous. Caught.

He laughs. “Is it obvious?”

And his voice, filled with anxious conviction. His words heavily accented. Charlie could easily tell he’s not supposed to be here, yet he somehow found his way anyway.

That alone, intrigues Charlie, more than any contract and any negotiations he partook in. The man’s reason clicks in his head right away.

He’s only here for free wine.

“Maybe a little. You’ve been staring at this painting for the past fifteen minutes. I’m trying to figure out what’s so interesting about it.” Well, Charlie can spare a few minutes of conversation with someone he isn’t there to kill at least.

“You are watching me?” The stranger asks.

Charlie has to. He has to keep track of every guest and every person in the room.

“I’ve never seen you before.” He answered. Because it was easier to admit that the stranger is more interesting to look at than what his purpose was. “I would’ve recognized you if I had.”

The stranger catches on quickly, and he, too, gives in to the flirting. “Really?”

Which is probably why the deadly assassin like him, just casually dropped his name right after, with an extended hand and all.

“I’m Charlie.”

“Mariana.” The other man introduces.

They stare at each other and their handshake lingers for a second much longer.

There are some things Charlie can’t control. Meeting Mariana becomes second to his plan being compromised. Laughing and flirting with him becomes third. Kissing him on the balcony becomes fourth.

He had to forcibly yank himself away with his heart pounding in his ears and emotions mirroring in each other’s dilated eyes.

Charlie is a trained killer. No bullet to the head or a dagger to the heart has fazed him. Not violence nor death could make him flinch. But the thought of Mariana getting involved and becoming collateral in his life is enough to set something inside him on fire.

“You should go home.” He says firmly. “Don’t stay here any longer. Go home.”

Charlie wants to pull him back, kiss him again and ease the visible rejection forming in Mariana’s eyes. But there’s still a room full of people he has to kill.

Maybe when this contract is over and done with, he’ll come back to him.

Until then, Charlie has a job to do.

#slimeriana #slimecicle #el mariana #qsmp #qsmp shipping #qsmp fanfiction #qsmp au

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liquid-luck-00 · 5 years ago

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Habits

Bio!Dad Bruce

Day 4: Habits

@biodad-bruce-month

First ~~~ Previous ~~~ Next

~~~~~~~~~~

The bat boys went out of their way to make Marinette feel included into the family. However she seemed to always get lost in the manor. Little did they know that she was using the horse miraculous to travel to and from Paris and still hasn't had enough practice with Kaalki.

Yet when they do happen to find her she seems to always be lost in thought while sketching or designing.

They had noticed early on that they could still hold a conversation with her and she would respond and remember the conversation.

---

Marinette hadn't been at the manor for two days when the first incident occurred.

It was Jason who first caught her completely focused and to say it was a shock was an understatement. He had walked into the living room, trying to find her and Tim to play Mecha strike, so when he saw she was designing and Tim was sitting on the other couch reading.

"Hey Replacement, Bluebell who wants to play UMS III?" Jason asked the room.

"I'll play," Tim responded looking up from his book. Both boys then looked at Mari, who seemingly didn't hear them. Tim got up and walked over to her along with him. While

Marinette seemed to be hyper focused on her design that she didn't respond when Jason asked her again. So Jason decided it would be smart to tap her on the shoulder to get her attention. That was a bad idea. . He had snapped her out of her thoughts, but as he did she glared at them.

"Holy Fuck" Jason screamed as he backed away from her.

"What is wrong with you. You break my concentration and then scream. Like seriously Jason." She was holding her head covering her ears while glaring at him.

That was when Tim seemed to find his voice again. "Well if genetics hadn't proved you were Bruce's daughter, you giving Jason his signature glare would prove it."

"Well I guess that explains a few thing now" she hummed.

"That is all you get out of this?" Jason asks.

"What else was to get out of this?" she asked tilting her head, "so what did you guys want anyways?" she went back to her sunny personality.

---

The second incident occurred later that same day but with only Dick. He had gone to find her for dinner, so he went to her room. He had heard from both Jason and Tim that she could pull out the Bruce 'Batman' Glare so he did the smart choice of first knocking on the door.

"Come in" was her only response.

She was sitting at the desk staring at one of her sketchbooks. Her chin was resting on her arm her nose was scrunched and eyebrows furrowed concentrating on the image in front of her.

It wasn't the Batman Glare but she looked just like Bruce when he was in deep concentration.

"Dinner is almost ready" he answered after entering the room.

"Dick thank goodness" She snapped her head up and looked at him with her full attention. "I can’t decide on a color for this blazer. It would look nice in an emerald or in a sapphire blue. I know I want to use gold as an accent around the main part that is black stitched with holographic music notes but I don't know maybe"

"Mari" he interrupted her. God she even over thinks like Bruce, that was why he had stopped her. "Breathe please. Now is this for a certain person or no one in particular?" He asked breaking her slight panic.

"It is for a commission so a certain person." she answered calming down.

"So would the person's hair or eyes clash with those colors" Thank god Barbara always dragged him shopping and complains how certain colors clashed with her hair.

"Neither would clash necessarily, but the sapphire blue would complement his hair and skin tone better" she finished writing something in on the page.

"Okay now that, that is settled why don't we go down for dinner Little B" Dick gave her a smile.

"Little B?"

"Little Bruce" be elaborated, really be meant little bat, but she doesn't know that yet so he improvised.

"Why?"

"The way you scrunch your nose and eyebrows when concentrating is just like him. That and completely overthinking and over analyzing things is just like him"

"It's a habit I've been trying to break" she answers sheepishly.

"Don't, just ask yourself questions to not get sided tracked, it is one of the best qualities a person can have" he answered honestly. "God only knows Bruce wouldn't come up with half of what makes up WE if he didn't overanalyze every little thing" she seemed to cheer up a bit at this and he is glad he could help his little sister.

---

The third incident happened with Tim to say he was surprised when he saw her awake in the kitchen at 3 in the morning as he came back from patrol was shocking.

Honestly the only people awake at that hour were either the Bats, criminals, or him well him or even Bruce who would still be working. But here she is completely awake making, wait is that.

"Is that coffee?" He ended up asking out loud.

She turned to face him "Yes. Want some?"

"Please!!" he practically begged.

"Fair warning this is my special blend, I haven't found anyone else who could handle it" she warned him, but he took it as a challenge.

"Try me" and she did, she set a cup down in front of him and also poured herself one. After the first sip he realized it was strong, much stronger than his usual, and that usually had an entire cup of espresso. "That is good. You are making this again if you don't give me the recipe" she giggled.

"Let's see if you can handle a cup and make it to breakfast." she countered and she left to her room.

When morning came he was still wired in fact he was practically bouncing in his seat while having breakfast and everyone was staring at him. Granted he was usually a zombie in the morning so this was new, actually functioning properly that is.

"You okay there Timmy" Dick asked him, and that was confusing.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" Tim asked.

"Now your beginning to scare us. Wait did you actually sleep, Replacement?" Jason asked him.

"I don't think he did Jason" everyone turned and stared at Marinette. "Half a cup" she said staring at him.

"Care to explain Bluebell."

"So turns out I'm not the only one awake late. Someone" she stared at Tim, "caught me making coffee last night, drank a single cup and still seems to be wired" she shrugged "so half a cup next time Tim"

"Wait, he is the most awake he has ever been in the, almost six years I've known him, and he hasn't slept." Damian stated bored. "what did you put in the coffee?"

"Nothing much, but if you know how to roast the beans right anything is possible" she rose the mug she was holding. That was when they all noticed the mug in her hand.

Out of concern, he is guessing, Dick and Jason moved to take the mug from her. They turned around to face each other with a smirk and they saw that they were both holding identical mugs to the one in, wait Marinette still has a mug.

"Enjoy the cocoa" she smiled as she took a sip from her cup.

"You really are Bruce's daughter if you can pull that with little to no sleep." Tim replied. Her only response was a head tilt. "I swear not sleeping and still being able to function absurdly well is genetic. You, Damian, and Bruce are alike in that."

---

The fourth incident happened and was witnessed by Damian. He was sure that he would be able to have the gym to himself as everyone was out on patrol but he was mistaken.

There was Marinette a headset on, with her hands wrapped moving between punching a bag and a sequence of movements. He watched her until she seemed to finish her set. She looked up and when she noticed him he walked towards her. She wasn't being her usual bubbly self, in fact it looked to him that she was upset.

"I didn't think anyone else would be in here" he stated."

"Oh, really" she answered lowering her headset ”I won't be a bother and did you want to take the punching bag." she said a slight frown on her lips. Okay he may not be the best at dealing with emotions, but he was extremely good at perceiving them on others.

"Something is bothering you, isn't it?" he was blunt sure but he wasn't expecting her to freeze and look around before taking a breath and schooling her features.

"No, everything is fine"

"It. As if I would believe that"

"Really now why don't..."

"Either you talk or we spar" he cut her off. He was expecting her to speak not take off her headset completely, set it down, and take a stance. The two began to spar and after almost two hours they were both lying on the mat exhausted.

"Thanks Damian, I needed a good spar"

"Any time you need, ask" he got up and began walking back to his room.

If he didn't already know she was a Wayne then that would prove it. Only a Wayne would rather not face their emotions and would rather fight.

His sister was his and he would be damned if he didn't at least help her. Albeit it he wasn't the most mushy of the family but she already was the most bearable of his sibling. Maybe he'll teach her to sword fight, then maybe someone would be an actual challenge for him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list:

@mochinek0 @justafanwarrior @abrx2002 @ranger-gothamite @fantasiame @moonystars14 @mochegato @bigbeautifulandfullofsugar @maribat-is-lifeblood @iglowinggemma28 @miraculous-ninja @talutah0 @vixen-uchiha @danielslilangel @witchsblackfox @pawsitivelymiraculous @lizziejay @marinettepotterandplagg @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @dast218 @sassakitty @miyla-lokidottir @lilkymilky @tazanna-blythe @tired-butterfly @lozzybowe @smolplantmum @queencommonsense @loopingtangent @chez-pezeater @paintedhope7 @technicallyburninggarden

#bio! dadbrucewaynemonth2020 #bio!dad bruce wayne #b ! dbwm2020 #bruce wayne #maribat #marinette dupen chang #miraculus ladybug #dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #miraculous x dc #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne

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clansayeed · 5 years ago

Text

Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 30: The Last Act part 1

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

TAG LIST: @googlesentmehere, @cess02, @hellyeah90sbaby

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Now that they're back on the surface, everyone struggles with the things they learned down below. Things they learned about Gaius and the First, things they learned about each other, and the ones they learned about themselves. But the worst is yet to come.

[READ IT ON AO3]

“That’s enough. Give it here.”

“No,” she shakes her head adamantly; the sudden dizziness tries to argue right back at her, “no I just needed to sit. I can do a little more.”

“I’m certain you can —”

“— then keep —”

“— but you need to rest.”

Her voice cracks in a whimper. “I will, I promise I will — but —”

“Enough,” Cadence snaps, stern only because he has to be; because this isn’t the first time Nadya’s tried to give more blood than her body can function properly without, “I won’t hear any more of it. You’re still weak, and this is a good amount… should last us the next day or so while you rest up.”

At least they’re both well aware of who exactly he’s talking to; and just how not-over-with this conversation actually is. They’ve had ample time to talk (read: argue) while he draws her blood with a steady, never-wavering focus. He knows she’ll argue this until she passes out from the blood loss. Just like she knows he’s only disagreeing with her because he feels like he has to. To get back on everyone else’s good sides.

Though… what did those look like, again? She’s starting to forget. Probably because she hasn’t seen them in a long long time.

Even if he’s still radiating frustrated vibes Cadence stays professional; every bit the real medical doctor as he eases the needle from the inside of her elbow and quickly staunches the last few drops with cotton. All of it methodical, perfectly normal blood-donating stuff. Until, that is, her vampire medic catches his thumb between sharpened teeth and nips the smallest of cuts. Just a drop is all it takes; one little red line swiped over the puncture mark and presto vanish-o.

A rueful smile tugs against her unwilling lips. She’s the farthest thing from a making-jokes mood but any time it happens they’re always in Lily’s voice. It’s such a comfort right now — they have no idea.

Cadence transfers her blood from the bowl to an empty blood bag; that gets traded out for the one from yesterday in one hand and the funnel on the drying rack by the sink in the other.

“Can I come with this time?”

Nadya’s caught him off-guard; faltering steps and his shoulders squaring off like he has an answer on the tip of his tongue, only to remember that he’s a good man.

“Just… don’t tell the others.”

Crossing her finger over her heart, she nods. “Promise.”

He makes her hang back five steps from the door while he opens it and makes sure the coast is clear. A stupid precaution in her eyes; if there really was a Feral vampire on the other side she doubts a door would be enough to hold the thing back. Her friends only have her best interests at heart, though, and she knows it. It’s just… fear makes people do weird things.

It can make them act out; be cruel… or unleash a vengeful bloodthirsty warlord on the woman who took away a century of his life.

Finally Cadence steps inside. He holds the door open and she ducks under his arm to squeeze through.

“Hey Lil’.”

She has the same first thought every time: she looks like she could be sleeping. Only Lily doesn’t sleep on her back, she sleeps like a dragon in a hoard of pillow-treasure. So this must be some other girl, is always the next idea. But that’s wrong too.

This is Lily; here and real and colder than the chilly bedroom when Nadya sits on the bedside and takes one hand in hers. And no matter how much this sucks it’s better than the alternative. Nadya knows they’re doing all they can here; like driving in an endless fog.

Cadence makes quick work of propping Lily’s mouth open with the funnel and getting this over with as fast as possible. Nadya would do the same — but because that’s just plain disgusting. Her friends keep these trips short and quick because they’re all still so weak. They can only resist open, fresh-ish blood for so long.

Together they watch, and wait; and Nadya never looks away from Lily’s closed eyelids. Part of her hopes and wishes they might twitch — or better, fly open. The rest isn’t sure what exactly would open those eyes. That’s the part that keeps her quiet.

Minutes that feel like hours that feel like years later, when there’s nothing left in the bag but veins made by the plastic, the vampire takes out the funnel and gives Nadya a generous bit of space for her patience.

Nadya moves closer; leaning and tugging out a wadded fistful of tissues because there’s something so wrong about seeing her blood dribbling from Lily’s lips. “I know you didn’t wanna get blood on this jacket,” she teases, “but frankly the fact that you still have standards after wearing it underground is a ‘you’ problem.”

Her lower lip wobbles. Keeps her from saying anything more — and Nadya has so much more to say. She only wishes she could punch the words out of her stupid stuck throat.

“You just keep getting better.” There are still times where Nadya wakes up fresh from living-nightmares of Lily’s body convulsing, drenched in sweat, black disease creeping up through her body and spreading like a mold. And while they have no real guess as to whether or not Nadya’s blood is reversing the corruption, they don’t know that it’s not. They do know that it hasn’t spread any further.

That’s more than enough reason to keep trying.

A few more tissues dab away little wet spots Nadya almost thinks are sweat on her brow. But then one falls on her hand. And another. And another. So she wipes her eyes instead.

“Just keep getting better — and when we get home I promise I won’t complain about your gamefest junk food trash for a whole month. Or…” because she can feel the judgment—really she can, “like not to your face anyway.”

She doesn’t expect a response, nor does she get one. Life isn’t that easy. “Love you,” Nadya says instead, someone has to have the last word, and with one last kiss to her forehead and and Cadence leave Lily alone in the cold and the dark.

Cadence, perceptively, gives Nadya her space back in the kitchen. He busies himself with the fridge door and cabinet and then there’s a glass of apple juice in front of her that Nadya would definitely prefer to be wine. She takes it with a nonverbal shrug of thanks.

“Ahem.”

“Hm?”

“Drink.”

Don’t think — drink.

Nadya flinches at the memory. Involuntary, no doubt about it; but Cadence sees it clear as day. Doesn’t see much point in hiding the hurt that flashes dark over his eyes.

She feels bad enough about it to down the entire cup in one fell swoop.

“Sorry… about that.”

“For what?” He shrugs her off with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Nadya watches owlishly as he goes to rinse the dish out. Can’t shake the sneaking suspicion that he’s glad for any reason to keep his back turned.

“Cade.”

Who’s a little too heavy-handed putting the glass aside to dry; thankfully the bottom is solid enough that it doesn’t break but there’s always next time. Nadya waits — gives him time to compose himself and turn back around before she’ll keep going.

Instead he grasps the counter’s edge like it’s the only thing keeping him from floating off into the void of space.

“Do I sound like him?” he asks, and when his voice cracks he sags against it even more. “And please… please spare me the false confusion.”

You know exactly who I mean, is what he doesn’t say. The irony that he’d just tried to pull the same thing isn’t lost on either of them.

It’s a relief though. To not have to… ignore it.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want an answer.”

“Well —” Nadya worries her bottom lip; finds a small chipped-off spot on the floor tile and speaks to it instead, “— I mean yes, of course you sound like him. You’re the same… you know what I’m trying to say.”

They weren’t the same, though. That’s why this is so hard on him. Why his shoulders are shaking one wrong word away from a total episode.

“You have the same voice — his accent wasn’t quite right but, uh, yeah.” He doesn’t stop her, so she doesn’t stop. “But if you’re asking me if I looked at him and couldn’t tell the difference between you two? Cadence… that was the problem. That’s what we were all struggling with. The way he talked, how he carried himself; it was all just too strange. Too much, I think.

“I couldn’t see any of you in him and it—it was scary.” I thought I’d somehow killed you. Thankfully Nadya’s able to bite that particular confession back and swallow it down. She’s hurting him enough.

Though she almost doubts it — when Cadence finally glances at her in profile. Hair covering most of his eyes but not so much that she misses the flicker of hope there.

“You’re telling the truth?”

“I’m gonna pretend that doesn’t offend me.” His look turns imploring; desperate even. “Yes, I’m telling the truth. Cynbel was a jerk — pretty much the anti-you. And… yes, he got us out of there alive and yes he helped me try to save Lily even when the others wouldn’t and—and I don’t regret any of that. Not for one second.

“But I also don’t have the words for how relieved I was to see you wake up the other day. None of us knew what would happen while you were unconscious all that time. Serafine looked close to pulling out her hair.” Two beds, two friends. And two monsters that could have come out on the other side instead.

“Even I’m not sure I really know what happened,” and everything on his face screams about just how much that worries him, “the last thing I recall clearly was being in the front hall, back at the Manor, and running forward as you were attacked. Then…”

He tries to find the words. Nadya gives him the chance because she knows what that’s like. The confusion of knowing you were awake; you were there… and then suddenly doubting everything in your head because that’s no longer the case. But Cadence comes up short, to his chagrin, and just ends up looking like a fish out of water.

She knows that pretty well, too. “It happened. Nothing we can do will change that now. So now we just…”

BANG.

Another flinch — Nadya doesn’t even realize what she’s doing until her hand is deep in her jacket pocket with the metal ridges of Cadence’s switchblade handle digging into her palm.

“I have a few more we could try,” comes Serafine’s voice from the front room, “they are… distant, but not unfriendly.”

“No, no way.”

Adrian’s sigh is soft and weary. His voice so quiet that Nadya almost doesn’t hear him at all. “Jax, it’s not like we have a ton of options.”

“We don’t need options. We need decisions!”

Great. More arguing. She and Cadence glance at one another in silence. Should we go in there? We should. Do I want to go in there? No, no I don’t, but we have to. You take Raines, I’ll take Matsuo. Ugh, fine!

The taller goes first — not that it was planned. But it gives Nadya the chance to look Serafine over without Serafine doing the same. Just as she suspected — and just as it’s been every time she thinks no one is watching — the vampiress goes on alert the moment his foot crosses the threshold. Cadence is a trooper, though, and gives her about as much attention as he would the ugly flowery wallpaper.

He turns to take up a chair; isn’t even sitting down before the look is gone from the woman’s furrowed brow. Replaced by a weary smile that instinctively checks Nadya over for signs of (more) damage. “Sounds like you three had another fruitful evening,” he remarks dryly. And gets three nasty stares for his troubles.

“You think this is a time for jokes?” she snarls. But he doesn’t bat an eye.

“I think it’s too damn depressing right now to do anything else.”

Jax resumes his pacing near the window. Nervous energy desperate for an outlet; because somehow fighting back literally hundreds of Ferals was something he could get over in a week and a half. Adrian sits leaned over in his armchair, elbows on his knees and such a crumpled, forfeiting look to his soul that Nadya feels some of it seeping into her pores.

“Adrian?”

He lifts his head with a visible effort; too heavy for him to hold high like the Adrian she knows. She’s seen this look in his eyes before — when she had been returned from Gaius’ grisly dinner party. How is it so much has happened, so much has changed, yet she still feels so helpless to make it better for him? “What can I do?”

Nothing, and they both know it. Her hand, only half-reached out in offering, slides into his. When he squeezes it’s borderline painful, but she endures. Taking a moment to gather himself, Adrian wets his lips before speaking.

“Something isn’t right. It just isn’t… I feel it,” he grabs his middle with his free hand, “in here. I’ve exhausted every resource pooled between Kamilah and I in the last hundred years. Dozens of networks, forgers, freelancers. There’s just no way they’d all be gone. Not without reason.”

Nadya lowers herself to sit on the arm of his chair. “So we still haven’t been able to get what we learned about the stake to Kamilah, then.” Their faces say it all.

“Do we have any other options?”

“Yes!”

“No, we don’t!” Adrian’s anguish hardens into anger faster than Nadya has time to process. He rounds on Jax hard and resolute. “Because that is not an option. Not after everything they’ve sacrificed.”

She peers between Serafine and Jax over Adrian’s shoulder. “What are you talking about?” And anger or not, Adrian isn’t scaring Jax off of his plan easily.

“We need to go home.”

Oh. “But…”

“But what, Nadya? What? Because you’re dead worried, just like I am, hell just like you are, Raines. We don’t know anything — and we have a pretty clear answer on how to fix that. We go back and we help them there, on the home front. And when we know we’ve got our foot in the door then we get back to this Eternal Tree and Gaius-stake. But there’s no stake in the world that will help if we lose the city in the process.”

He burns with passion and conviction. This is Jax; of course he does. Even Nadya finds herself shifting on the cushion, weighing the pros and cons of his argument. “I want to Jax—I do.” And here come the dang tears again. “But what about Lily? If things are really as chaotic in New York as Cade said —”

“— oh they are —”

“— if they are… we need to keep her somewhere steady, and try everything we can before it’s too late. We wouldn’t be able to do that.”

Nadya tries to meet his eyes but the rebel doesn’t make it easy on her. At least he’s staying silent on purpose; that means he agrees with her whether it helps his case or not.

“I can’t… keep…” Jax’s voice shakes like an earthquake, “running and abandoning the people I promised to protect.”

That same passion and conviction suck the sound out of the room; make it so his hissed anger and clenched teeth sound loud enough to make her ears ring.

“Once was too damn much. I’m not gonna do it again. Not when it makes sense to go back and fight.”

“I’m not sure it does.”

He scoffs at Serafine’s words. “Of course it doesn’t, not to you. All you European vampires know how to do is run and hide.”

Even Cadence looks at him in surprise. “I don’t think that’s really fair… the world is different here.” But he should have kept his mouth shut. Now he’s a target.

“And you sound like you’re conveniently forgetting why that is.”

“I’m not.”

“It wouldn’t be the first thing you’ve forgotten when it suited you.”

Nadya blanches. “Whoa Jax — out of line!”

“No… he’s not.” He’s rattled Cadence; that much is obvious. But unlike he had back in the kitchen, this time the man swallows it down and raises his chin high. “I read the same books you did Matsuo. And maybe I haven’t said it enough, or maybe you weren’t listening the last dozen or so times, but I couldn’t apologize to any of you more than I already have — even if I wanted to!”

He stands, towers over Jax specifically but he holds his ground. Later on — like way way later on and under better circumstances — Nadya’ll remember this and admire him for it. But right now he just looks like a moron.

“You’re angry,” Cade continues, “I get that. Fuck, do I get that. You’re a man in control of his life; his strength. You made your place in the world to spite anyone who told you that you couldn’t. But this—this anger—comes from powerlessness.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“You can’t protect the people you love. And what you can do — it’s taking too long. Try waiting a hundred goddamned years! I did everything I was supposed to and what did I get for it? I got a fat load of bullshit! I gave up a life! I gave up a wife!”

Nadya, Adrian, and Serafine all gasp. Did you know about this? Nadya gives a wide-eyed look to Adrian — but he’s just as surprised.

You’re angry. Well look who’s angry now.

Jax couldn’t care less. He snarls, fangs bared. “Are you seriously making my shit about you right now?”

And… Cadence isn’t. Cadence doesn’t. He shrinks away, all six feet of him seeming to curl in on himself. But he won’t back down.

“No, I’m telling you what you need to understand before anything more happens. Because there will be times your anger seems to come from nowhere; times where the only thing you can think, feel, bleed is a part of that rage. Of feeding it and letting it grow. But that’s all it wants from you. It wants to consume, to live. And there will come a time when you let it at the cost of everything you know is right.”

He shoves a wide hand against Jax’s chest. The man stumbles only barely. “You know what you want isn’t right, Jax. You know it puts you in power, and you know fighting will add fuel to the fire. But you also know all that will do is win you the battle and lose you the war. You’ll fight, and be angry, and still lose everything. But hey…” —stepping back, hands held up in surrender— “you fed the anger. It got what it wanted. You didn’t.”

If anything the argument could be made that Cadence’s (admittedly decent, in Nadya’s opinion) impassioned speech on anger only served to make Jax angrier. Until he surprises them all — and possibly even himself — and stands down.

His nostrils flare; the epitome of restraint.

“I can’t — no, I refuse to sit here with my thumbs up my ass for one more night. No more running around playing hide and seek with a bunch of cowards. They need to know what we know. So how do you suggest we get that in gear?

“We don’t even know if anybody’s still alive.”

“They were the last time I saw them,” says Nadya quietly; almost like an afterthought. It’s like remembering something from a long time ago. The boundaries of it blurred between the waking world and the one of dreams.

Adrian’s hand rests on her knee. “Well, yeah Nadya, we all saw them.”

Oh. She swallows around the sudden lump in her throat and looks away to hide her guilt.

“Unless…” because he’s Adrian, and Adrian knows her so well, “there’s something you’re not telling us…”

“It’s not that I was trying to hide it, I promise —” she throws a hand back towards the depths of the flat, “— I told Lily. But with everything that’s happened, and we needed to focus on Gaius and the memory of the First, and…”

“None of that matters now.” Serafine steps forward; her voice low and soft but that doesn’t make it any less commanding.

“But you need to tell us what you saw.”

Nadya nods.

It’s easier than she expected. And that’s not something she gets to say often. At first it’s a struggle to get everything right; she tells the ending like the beginning and can’t help but feel like she forgets something crucial. But like every other memory or vision once Nadya starts she finds that the words want to be spoken. The events want to be told.

Even if, in their wake, there are only more questions and the same amount of answers.

Beside her, Adrian’s got his deep-thinking face on. At least one of them is. “When was this, again?”

“I don’t know, that’s the hard part. I couldn’t get a date, or figure out if it was before or after Cade was here, or…” Her voice pitches in obvious distress. Immediately Adrian goes back to the soothing motion of running his thumb over her knuckles. It’s a big help, honestly.

“That’s okay. It’s more than we knew before.”

“The question is…” Serafine raises an eyebrow, “can you do it again?”

Can she? Nadya has no idea. This isn’t like with Serafine; she has no hands to hold. And this isn’t like with Gaius; she doesn’t have an entire library and a bloodline to help give things focus. But none of that really matters now.

“I can’t afford not to try.”

She wanders, dream-like, through the vast emptiness of the castle. Her feet feel as light as air. Nothing like the memories she’s used to — she’s already wading deep enough to drown and still can’t tell whether or not this is real.

At least Nadya is familiar with this part of the castle. The decor is changed, more deserved and tailored to fit the overall ‘modern tribute to history’ of the rest of the estate; and there are no more velvet ropes to deter curious minds from closed doors. She may not be lost but that doesn’t mean she knows where she’s going.

But Nadya doesn’t have time to doubt herself. Kamilah doesn’t have time for Nadya to doubt herself. So she lets her feet take her where she needs to go. Following the grand staircase just off of the main ballroom all the way up, then one floor more, to a set of wide double doors at the far end of the hall.

The chandelier lights catch on the nearby plaque; movement shifts in their dazzling twinkle. She whirls around, fearing for a moment for something behind her, but the corridor is abandoned. It’s just her here.

It couldn’t hurt to double-check. And she’s glad she does; Nadya catches her reflection in the sheet of polished gold and freezes in her tracks. Because that’s her reflection. Nadya’s eyes and mouth both wide with surprise. Not Kamilah’s — Nadya’s.

That can’t be good, she thinks fleetingly. But it doesn’t matter. She can’t let that stop her.

Not now.

She reaches for the gilded handle and pushes the door open to the Banner Westbrook Memorial Library.

In here, everything is exactly the same as before. From the polished display cases to the shelves lined neatly with tomes of all shapes and sizes. Muscle memory even tries to tug her away — just for a moment — and around the corner where it feels like just yesterday Adrian had healed the bruises on her neck.

Just the other day… and a lifetime ago.

But that’s not where she’s supposed to go, she’s pretty sure, and the impulse passes — easily forgotten. She keeps her feet on the path but doesn’t know where they plan on taking her. Not until she catches sight of a familiar pair of doors tucked away in a darkened corner near the back.

When Nadya enters the portrait hall, she isn’t alone. A familiar figure stands at the very end; his back turned and relaxed in a slight slouch in his gait.

Gaius doesn’t need to turn around, though. His portrait, regal and looming like a giant, does a fine job of glaring at her on its subject’s behalf.

Nadya steels her nerves and keeps moving. She comes up next to him in a way she wouldn’t dare in person. Close enough that a slight shift of her feet could knock them together; like an ‘oops, my bad’ moment on the average subway commute. Don’t ask her why she does it — she couldn’t tell you. But maybe when she looks back on it she could say it was an act of courage. A way to prove to herself that she’s no longer the girl running scared through museum shelves, or the one who jumped away from the mere memory of him.

Beside her, Gaius shifts his weight from one foot to the other and takes a slow, rich-person-pretentious sip of the liquor in his hand. It’s jarring — no — disturbing to see him act so… normal. Even Kamilah tended to unintentionally do her best impression of a living statue when she wasn’t doing anything in particular. But save breathing, here Gaius looks like an ordinary man.

And he is neither.

“Do you remember how it felt, that first taste of the potential of your power?”

Just like that all of her fear rushes back in icy floodwaters. Forget wading, she’s outright drowning. From the inside, somehow. Like it’s taken hold of her veins and filled up her belly and throat and now with nowhere to go but back down into her lungs.

What are you doing? You’re not really here, remember?

Oh, her…self… actually makes a really good point. She’s not really here. Gaius is alone — though she’d been aiming for a memory involving Kamilah and this is definitely very much not that but if she can’t get one simple thing right she might as well return to the others with something. Information on Gaius’ plans, movements, acts will have to do.

So… wait. Who is he talking to then?

Gaius waits, and waits, and waits for an answer that doesn’t seem to be coming. So unless the painting is going to start talking —

Then he looks down at her. At Nadya, not through her, and all bets are well and truly fucking off.

She backs away fast, practically tripping under her own feet until her sweating palms collide with the texture of dried oil paint of some vampire she doesn’t recognize. Who cares about any other vampire — Gaius can see her. How the hell can he see her?!

Gaius who just watches, cool and impassive, and clucks his tongue when she jostles the frame at her back. “Careful now, Nadya, that piece was the work of a master painter—and a dear friend. I would hate for your clumsiness to ruin it from so far away.”

So far away… “I’m… not really here?” The same mantra, but now, aloud, she’s uncertain. He’s not exactly the agreeing type.

“Of course not. How would such a thing be possible?”

“I’ve seen… a lot of impossible things lately.”

That earns Nadya a hint of a smile around the lip of his glass. “No doubt you have. Paris has always been a city of unimaginable wonders; wonders that pay no mind to the realms of dark and light. And with someone as well-traveled as our dear Serafine to show you around? Oh you must have been having such a wonderful little trip.”

She wants to shut down, to find the remote and turn this awful show off; to reach out and see if she can grab his throat like she can the painting frame and squeeze like that would do her any good.

But there are are a lot of things Nadya wants. She wants Lily to be better with the snap of a finger. She wants Lily and Mari to be able to hold each other again, wants Kamilah in the safety of her arms and vice versa. She wants Cadence to find peace and Jax to find purpose and Serafine and Adrian to get back to the way they had been before the dumb trip down to the dumb crypts.

Just because she wants something doesn’t mean she’ll get it, though. Not without a fight.

So no matter how much she wants to take off running (mentally, physically, psychically) back to Paris and the others and away from Gaius, who knows where they are and who they asked for help and knows exactly how scary that is to think about — she can’t yet.

Not without a fight.

Nadya knows full-well she can’t outwit him in word games. So she defaults to a classic man-deterrent — she straight-up ignores whatever he says.

“If I’m not really here, how can you see me?” How can you talk to me? Why aren’t you currently killing me? The important questions.

Her deflection doesn’t go unnoticed. Gaius is too good for that.

“You tell me.”

“Wow, you’re so original.” She replies, and gives possible the most dramatic eye roll of her life. He doesn’t even flinch. Darn it.

Instead Gaius shrugs it off. “I would have thought that by now you were tired of being on the sidelines of your own life.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Really?” His face falls in mock sympathy. “You don’t find some truth to the sentiment? Or are you as blind in the mind as you are in the eye — to the repeated pattern of events that constantly spiral out of control but never fail to pluck you up into the chaos as they go?”

Nadya keeps her back up against the wall; somewhere safe where no one can sneak up behind her. Gaius is dangerous enough no matter where he is. “You know… I’ve had kind of a long week. I’m really not in the mood for your weird word puzzles.”

“They aren’t puzzles. I couldn’t speak any plainer if I tried.”

“Then I really feel bad for anyone who has to talk to you for longer than five minutes —” —a beat— “— myself included.”

“Maybe this will give you clarity, then. Aren’t you tired, Nadya Al Jamil, of having the events of your life told to you? It seems to be the only constant, to the outside observer.”

Which makes her snort a little too loudly. “I hope you aren’t talking about yourself. Most of the crap going on right now is your fault anyway.”

“I know,” he inclines his head, “so I ought to know better than anyone, wouldn’t you say?”

Nadya doesn’t say — but they both know why that is. He’s right. “I’ll give due credit to your natural curiosity. You’re always asking questions — not necessarily the right ones, or at the right time — but your take initiative to seek out the knowledge you need. But you never really seem to find it for yourself, do you. You simply fumble along on your fragile little mortal body until someone comes along and takes you by the hand. It’s convenient… I’ll give you that too.

“But if there’s one thing I’ve come to loathe about this new century; the age of technology and modern conveniences, is exactly that. Because convenience breeds laziness; breeds contentment and expectation.” His upper lip curls — and just like that his charming little smile becomes a wicked discontent.

“Here and now you wait on bated breath for me to just tell you the answer. You are the driving force behind everything—everything that has happened and all the things yet to come. Our little tête-à-tête included… but you do not so much as lift a finger to seek your own truths. You would rather they be given to you.”

It’s funny — here Nadya had been ready to accept that this will be the best she gets out of her attempt to breach the psychic barrier and find Kamilah, and to maybe give Gaius a few rousing sassy jabs she wouldn’t dare be brave enough to say in person while she’s at it. But she’s not the one doing the jabbing. Short, sharp and shallow wounds that make her red in the face with her fists balled up tight at her sides.

“You have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Well, no, that’s entirely false. I know everything about you, my little Bloodkeeper. Even things you don’t know about yourself.” Gaius’ eyes flicker red then, so quick and subtle that Nadya doesn’t think he’s even aware it happened.

“Especially things you don’t know about yourself.”

Her face burns hotly. “And that’s my fault? I didn’t choose to be this. Actually — that was you who chose for me.”

“You can tell yourself that if it helps. Though I can’t say denial makes for the strongest of moral codes.”

“You wouldn’t know a moral code if it poked you in the butt.” Did she really just say that?

The same question is written across his brow as it arches high, dark and neat.

“So when you abandoned the city you yearn so desperately to protect, was that a part of your morals?” No… he’s not… “When you willingly turned tail to run; when you left your friends, family, and… those you feel affection for behind. All part of this upstanding moral code of yours?”

He’s baiting her. Voice lilting, little finger tapping mutely against the side of his tumbler. The picture of easy breezy conversation and he knows it.

She won’t stoop to his level. Nadya answers him honestly; “No, and to tell you the truth I’d give up a lot to have never gotten on that plane. But I shouldn’t have had to leave. Your vision — your perfect vampire world — it’s impossible. I wouldn’t have needed to leave her behind, Gaius, if you weren’t so hell-bent on following in the crazy footsteps of a madwoman.”

The glass shatters in Gaius’ grip. Thin little lines of blood seeping through the crevices in his fist, drip-dripping down onto the no doubt expensive and antique floor runner. His hand snaps open like a trap, and the last shards of broken glass fall from his unmarked hand.

There isn’t a fleck of light left in his eyes.

“Watch your tongue.” And for just a moment, or a shadow of one, Nadya swears she can hear the tiny waver in his voice. Not enough to matter, or be symbolic of anything. But enough to prove a point.

In that shadow of a moment he’s not Gaius, King of Vampires; he’s Gaius, Rheya’s devoted Soldier. Powerless to save her and always—forever—too far away.

Nadya dares to step forward. “Why,” she challenges, “did I say something wrong?” Gaius raises his chin, looks down on her more than he already is; classic power move and she sees right through it.

“Because I don’t think I did. It’s your fault we had to leave, which means it’s your fault Kamilah had to stay behind, and all of it because you’ve spent three thousand years following some version of Rheya’s crazy plan — her failed plan to boot.”

“You know nothing of which you speak.”

“What does that make me then,” she asks, “Am I a blasphemer, Gaius, because I don’t blindly follow the Church of the First Vampire?”

Gaius’ voice rings in her ears. Not the one here in front of her; he doesn’t have the passion for it. But the Soldier, righteous in that cave and ever-loyal at Her side. She’s hearing a memory.

“Blasphemer!” Echoing out in her mind; filling her with conviction.

“Traitor.”

“Is Kamilah a traitor for what she did to you? Not locking you away — that didn’t matter. But she was supposed to be your Queen… until she wasn’t.”

“Insolent little —”

“Coward!”

“Oh no you don’t — I’m not done yet.” She actually interrupts him; even Nadya has a hard time believing it. But that’s nothing compared to Gaius, who looks like he’s just been run over.

“And Adrian too, right? Because you and I both know he was never as loyal a Soldier to you as you were to Her. Then again—talk about high standards. Why do you think that is? Why did you try to build a Soldier only to end up with a coward?”

His crystalline eyes go wide. This close Nadya can see the whites all the way around; the hint of the tip of his fangs between parted lips. This time it’s the King of Vampires who steps away, not the little mortal girl. But with the same traces of fear lingering in the air.

And Nadya? She has absolutely no regrets.

Well… maybe one or two. Especially when, finally, Gaius smiles.

“I see.” He shouldn’t be smiling. That doesn’t stop him. “That’s a very… unique selection of words Nadya. Paris has made you quite the young poet from the sound of it.”

She swallows audibly. Where the heck did that confidence go, and can it come back?

“It’s a beautiful city,” she agrees though every word is laced with caution like a thin film of arsenic, “I found it especially helpful in jogging some old memories.”

“I look forward to hearing more about them.”

“Uh…” Suddenly it almost hurts to look at him; like he’s burning alive inside — a sun in flesh. Nadya looks around desperate but in vain; the only eyes that stare back are frozen in time and place. Not even the familiar face beside Isseya’s stoic likeness can help her now.

“I don’t plan on staying — I shouldn’t even be here to begin, so...” You know.

Oh, he knows. There it is; knowing shining through all across his face. It occurs to Nadya then, when it might be two seconds shy of too late, that she’s the one out of the loop.

“Maybe not tonight, but I have every confidence I’ll be seeing you very soon.”

He looks like his soul is on fire but that doesn’t change the fact that the hand he reaches up to brush a thumb across Nadya’s cheek isn’t anything other than ice cold. He whispers, like an afterthought; “And with so much for you and I to catch up on… after all these years.”

Gaius can touch her.

Nadya makes a run for it. Sprinting back down the length of the room to the doors both barely hanging ajar. What am I doing? I need to wake up. How do I do that? Figure that out later! RUN NOW!

Holding her hands out in front of her, Nadya prepares to scramble a flight to safety — and collides with solid stone instead. A stone that grips her upper arms, feels her shaking, and looks down with ancient, distant eyes riddled with confusion.

“Nadya? But how —” Valdas cuts himself off before he can fully ask, and looks between her and the approaching Gaius with uncertainty. Realization comes over him and eclipses the muted melancholy; a shadow over the moon.

Nadya would have struggled if she had the time. But things are always moving a little too fast for her these days. And here, in this semi-reality where she’s both at Marcel’s castle in New York and in the apartment in Paris, is no exception.

As it is, she barely manages to wrench one arm from his grasp before the Trinity vampire tugs her by the other. His breath and the whiskers of his beard tickle in her ear. “Remember what I told you—” Then the scrape of millennia-old callouses on fingertips presses at her temple.

Nadya’s eyes fly open. The sting of unshed tears finds release, warm tracks carving into her cheeks. She wishes one would warm the place where Gaius had touched her cheek, but wishes don’t always come true.

She can still feel it. Still see the details in his irises, and that awful light glinting in his eyes.

“I don’t like that face.”

Jax’s surly comment brings her back. Back from where she doesn’t know — doesn’t want to. All she knows is she’s back, all four limbs and ten fingers that wind their way into the fabric of Adrian’s jacket and refuse to let go.

“Hey, hey,” he shushes her; pets her head slow just like Lily would, “you’re okay, you’re okay now. You’re back here, you’re okay.”

He’s stayed kneeling by her side this whole time, apparently. Not just a tether to Kamilah and home but to Nadya herself. Right now Adrian’s hand on top of her head might be the only thing keeping her from dissipating into oblivion.

Serafine is in the same seat across the table; looking like she doesn’t know what to make of Nadya in this state. Join the club sister.

“There is — hein, where are you going?!”

Just like she had in the portrait hall, Nadya takes off without looking back. Her limbs prickle, angry pins and needles demanding she slow down. But she can’t. She’s still… not here, not here, not anything. But in all she doesn’t know, the one thing she does is easily plucked from the air.

“I need a window.”

“Oh, I think she might be sick.” Says Cadence with an audible cringe. Nadya ignores him.

“A window! Now!”

She’s been wandering this apartment like a ghost for the last week and a half; she knows where the windows are. But between her sleepy limbs and the feeling of drowning in her own lungs it takes Nadya more than a little effort to find them.

“Open the damn window, Raines!”

“Jax, I swear —”

But Adrian puts his frustration aside — for her. For his worry for her. In a blurred step he passes her by and unlatches the window, pushing it out wide open for her the moment she arrives at the ledge. Nadya collides with the sill hard enough to knock the wind (and nonexistent watery fear) from her lungs; leaving her breathless.

“What do you think you’re doing, foolish girl?” Serafine keeps going, keeps scolding her — but she’s just wasting her voice. It buzzes like a fly in Nadya’s ear; fading, fading, then gone altogether. All of their questions, guesses, demands end the same way.

Pure silence. She shreds through it with her tongue like a knife.

“He said he’d be seeing me ‘very soon.’”

Her friends exchange similar glances. Worry on fear on an understanding because who else would she be talking about? There’s only one man that makes sense.

“That’s not possible Nadya.” Adrian tries his best to reassure her — but his own hand betrays him. This time it rests on her far less steady.

“Moreover it’s not happening. So why don’t we close the window, get something in your stomach, and…”

His voice trails off; watching, transfixed, as Nadya lifts her arm out from the window. Her finger pointed to the slumbering outer-city streets below.

A tiny red light moves in the darkness, flickering and spluttering on its dying breath. The cigarette filter serves one last inhale before being tossed in a small arc to the pavement underfoot.

A sleek, expensive shoe comes down and grinds the last of the embers into powder.

She doesn’t recognize the man — but she doesn’t need to know who he is; what he is shown in red eyes that flash and fade back to the play-act of a mortal. His shoes are dark, his suit is dark; the close-cropped and almost military shave of his hair is dark, too.

But not his smile. That is warm, inviting even in the black of night. Like the cherry-end of a cigarette.

The woman who comes up beside him, though — there’s no mistaking her.

Isseya looks up first. Locking gazes with Nadya, no searching needed. The sickening truth right before their very eyes. They knew we were here.

Gaius’ laughter still thrums in her blood. His words burrow deep in the marrow of her bones.

“I have every confidence I’ll be seeing you very soon.”

#bloodbound fanfiction #kamilah x mc #choices fanfiction #adrian raines #gaius augustine #jax matsuo #lily spencer #serafine dupont #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #oc: cadence smith #oc: valdas #oc: isseya #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: bound by destiny ii #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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partycentre2596 · 4 years ago

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Celebrate with a Hello Kitty Theme Birthday Party in Dubai

‘Got a little one who’s currently obsessed with Sanrio’s fictional feline character with a signature bow – Hello Kitty? Why not celebrate and throw the purr-fect Hello Kitty Themed Birthday Party here in Dubai or Abu Dhabi and elsewhere across the UAE easily with these essential Hello Kitty Birthday Party Supplies that you can count on.

HELLO KITTY INVITATION

Build excitement before the big day. Gather all those kitty lovers and invite them over to your Hello Kitty Theme Birthday Party by sending out these die-cut Hello Kitty Invitations that serves as a perfect complement to your Hello Kitty themed party. Simply write down important party details on this ready-made card and place it on the envelopes that come included in the set.

Now if you want something unique, creative and useful for your adorable party guests, you may also try sending each of them these Hello Kitty Rainbow Die-Cut Paper Tiaras or Hello Kitty Rainbow Electroplated Plastic Tiaras which they can also wear to your party! Simply add all the party details using a tag style invitation tied to these paper tiaras with a ribbon.

HELLO KITTY PARTY DECORATIONS

Transform your party venue and turn it into a Hello Kitty playland with Hello Kitty Party Decorations featuring the world’s most popular pussycat. Decorate in soft pinks, reds, and light pastels. Set the scene with a

Hello Kitty Rainbow Scene Setter

that comes with a series of posters that you can stick on the wall of your party venue. This lightweight vinyl decoration is reusable and can also serve as a great background for your photos.

Use streamers and banners to greet your special kitty lover on her big day which you can hang in your party venue like the Hello Kitty Rainbow Chain Garland or the Hello Kitty Rainbow Add-An-Age Letter Banner which you can customize and reuse for years to come with the included cardstock numbers. Add some more of that distinct Hello Kitty flair as you attach Hello Kitty Rainbow Foil Swirl Decorations on your ceilings to add a vibrant touch to your party. These come in hot pink, neon purple and turquoise colors with attached cardstocks that come in a variety of fun shapes.

HELLO KITTY BALLOONS

Surprise your kitty lover and let her party guests say hello to the well-loved fictional feline with the big pink bow with

Hello Kitty Balloons

that you can add to your party decoration. Choose from among these Hello Kitty Balloons which can serve as a single balloon decoration or you can combine this with other balloons to create a stunning balloon bouquet.

While you’re at it, you can also go for a huge Hello Kitty Airwalker Balloon to add a wow factor to your party decoration. This Hello Kitty Airwalker Balloon has specially weighted parts allowing it to float and hover on the floor. It even glides with the slightest breeze!

HELLO KITTY PARTYWARE

Set up your party table by dressing it up with character-branded Hello Kitty tableware. Your kid will surely enjoy seeing her favorite character in her party. Just make sure you don’t go overboard and add some balance to your table decoration.

When it comes to sprucing up your party table, you may opt for a foil fringe centerpiece like this Hello Kitty Rainbow Table Decorating Kit . It comes complete with one big centerpiece, two free-standing 3D centerpieces and paper confetti pieces. You may also consider our Hello Kitty Birthday Star Balloon Centerpiece for a beautiful table styling accent. Now you’re all set to serve that much-awaited yummy birthday party food!

PARTY TIP: Top that kitty lover’s birthday cake with the Hello Kitty Rainbow Birthday Candle Set that comes with small molded candles shaped like a heart, a bow and Hello Kitty too.

HELLO KITTY PARTY COSTUMES

Let your child get that total Hello Kitty makeover. Get her Kittyfied as you dress her up in these Hello Kitty Party Costumes that come in a variety of designs and sizes. It comes in adult sizes too so you can play dress up along with her too! These Hello Kitty fancy dress costumes all feature Hello Kitty’s lovely puffed sleeve dress with Hello Kitty’s face printed on it. Accessorize it with the matching headpiece featuring a pair of kitty ears and Hello Kitty’s signature bow also included in these great costume sets. Discover more ideas on how to get that Hello Kitty look in this article.

HELLO KITTY PARTY GAMES

Go for kitty-rific party games that guarantee fun for kids of all ages! You may try a Pin the Bow on Kitty Game that’s a spin-off of the classic Pin the Tail on the Donkey Game. Take the ready to play Hello Kitty Rainbow Party Game . Find other alternative party game ideas for Hello Kitty Party Games here.HELLO KITTY PARTY FAVORSFinally, handpick some exciting Hello Kitty Favors that will keep your those kitty lovers happy even after the party as you send them home with these party favors that you can slip into

Hello Kitty Plastic Loot Bags

or use as exciting party game prizes. You may select functional party favors such as Hello Kitty Notepads or Hello Kitty Pencils just to name a few. You may also go for Hello Kitty sticker strips, mini bubbles, tattoos or a Hello Kitty Paddle Ball that kids can play with after the party.

Alternatively, if you can’t select only one Hello Kitty party favor, then take our Hello Kitty Rainbow Mega Mix Value Pack that you can use to create your own birthday party loot bags. This pack comes with 48 pieces of party favors that any Hello Kitty fan will surely love. It’s got tracer rulers, colorful heart-shaped rings, puzzle watches and so much more!

PARTY TIP: Party accessories such as Hello Kitty Rainbow Die-Cut Rubber Bracelets and Hello Kitty Bead Bracelets are also ideal party favor ideas for little girls as they can jazz up their everyday outfits with it.

There you have it, some handy and easy to follow Hello Kitty birthday theme party tips and ideas. Find more inspiration for your Hello Kitty Party by checking out our complete list of Hello Kitty Party Supplies . Find other Girls Birthday Theme Parties and browse through our huge range of Girls Birthday Party Supplies here.

Don’t forget to browse our quick, think-ahead PARTY CHECKLIST to help you pull off a kittyrrific Hello Kitty Party.

Discover other exciting Party Tips and Ideas for amazing parties truly worth remembering!

‘Tried any of these cool ideas? Share the fun by tagging us on Instagram! #PartyCentre!

#birthday party items #children birthday party supplies #birthday party products #birthday party supplies #birthday party decoration #birthday party theme #birthday decorations #birthday celebrations #birthday party celebration #birthday party ideas #birthday party favors #birthday party accessories

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gumnut-logic · 5 years ago

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Thunderbird XL (Part Three)

Title: Thunderbird XL

Sequel to Thunderbird X

Thunderbird X | Thunderbird XL Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Author: Gumnut

Feb – 11 Mar 2020

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: “I’ve got you, son.”

Word count: 1572

Spoilers & warnings: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3 EPISODE 25 & EPISODE 26

Timeline: Episode Tag, written episode

Author’s note: Sequel to Thunderbird X. so much is asking to be written about the last episode of the series. This one just happened and in a way I didn’t plan. Many thanks to the Thundernerds on Tumblr for all their support and especially @scribbles97 for the readthrough.

I’m having the strongest feeling that ‘Need’ might be the sequel to this, so it is probably a good idea for me to actually finish it. Also, for some reason, I was drawn to it today. So we have Part Three.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

Hate wasn’t really a word for what he felt for Gaat. Pity was closer, but considering Jeff was a man who had been stuck alone for eight years, that was saying something.

When Brains entered and Gaat was flung across the room to be caught by Gordon and Alan, Jeff had a moment to greet his old friend, the man who had managed to save him yet again.

And still be completely socially awkward about it.

He could only love him for it.

Scott grabbed Gaat from Alan, stepping between his little brother and the pest who had hurt them so much, and he and Gordon rough housed the criminal below decks.

That left Jeff with Virgil, Alan and Brains.

“That was some pretty hot shot flying there, Allie.”

His youngest son flushed a little red, his hand going to the back of his neck. “Aww, thanks, Dad.”

An awkward silence fell after that. Virgil shifted to a work station off to the right. His hand hitting his comms. “Thunderbird Five, cockpit is secure, what is our flight status?”

“Eos is running a damage report. The EMP did have some impact and we will need to make some repairs.”

“Point me where you need me.”

“FAB.”

Virgil looked over to his fellow engineer who was on the opposite side of the cockpit, running his own assessments. “Brains?”

“J-John is c-correct. I also want to r-run a s-systems check. T-to m-make sure there is n-no sabotage.”

Jeff’s stomach tightened. Gaat had been alone for who knew how long and when foiled, he could have done anything out of spite.

“Brains, timeframe?”

He was aware of his two boys and Brains both suddenly staring at him.

“I am unsure, M-Mr Tracy.”

“Keep me apprised.”

“FAB.”

“Dad, you should be resting.” Virgil appeared beside him, a gloved hand gently touching his arm.

“I am. There is no gravity in space, Virgil.”

“Dad-“

“Virgil, I need you in the aft computer core. I’m reading a series of faulty processors and I have some concerns about the air circulation system in the secondary life support hub.” John’s voice demanded immediate attention.

Virgil hit his comms. “FAB, John. I’m on it.” He turned to his little brother. “Alan.” An indrawn breath, worried eyes cast over Jeff. “Look after Dad.”

“Sure.” His youngest son propelled himself closer.

Virgil’s fingers brushed across Jeff’s forearm as he pushed himself towards the exit.

Brains muttered to himself absently at his console, but that awkward silence returned.

A glance at Alan and he caught his son’s profile. As the young man turned towards the front of the cockpit, Jeff was struck at the contrast yet again between the child he had left behind and the man who had flown this ship all the way out here.

“Dad, I should probably give you a quick orientation for safety’s sake.”

Jeff nodded once and there followed a very professional systems report. Within five minutes he knew the location of all the main controls, the functions of each of the stations, and he was pretty sure that he could give a good go at piloting the craft himself.

Not that he had any intention of trying.

But it was reassuring to hear familiar terms and watch his son, ever so confident, speak the language of astronaut.

He had been eleven when Jeff left on that rescue. All starry eyed and rocket obsessed. And now…

A competent young man flying rockets into the unknown.

He had so many questions.

But they would have to wait as Scott burst back into the room. His comms were lit up. “Eos, yes, thank you for your assistance, and no, I have no intentions of letting anyone shoot you with an EMP ever again.”

“Good!” That high-pitched voice again. “John is on his way down to the cockpit. We are showing green on all systems except those Virgil is currently attending to. Thunderbird Five is prepared for the jump, deflectors are at one hundred percent. Navigational data is being prepared.”

“Thank you, Eos. Couldn’t do this without you.” The frown on Scott’s brow got just that little bit deeper.

Gordon floated in behind his older brother, a frown equally severe on his face. It looked alien on those features as he turned to Jeff. “The Hood’s stowed in his ‘cabin’. Rope and all.” There was some satisfaction at that announcement. “We will now return to our scheduled inflight entertainment. Due to the lack of a movie, MAX will be providing juggling for your amusement.” The robot on the ceiling squawked. That was MAX?! “Alan will be providing the rollercoaster effects.” A hand up to Gordon’s face as he shifted to a not-quite whisper in an aside to Jeff. “He really has been playing far too many video games.”

“Hey!”

“Yes, Dad, you may have to curb his screen time when we get home.”

The youngest turned back from the helm. “Fine, Gordon. I’m sure Dad will love to hear about Corfu while I’m not playing those games.” The glare in those blue eyes was furious.

“Woah, Allie! Hold on the big guns, it was a joke.” Gordon reacted enough to float backwards.

Jeff held up a hand. “Boys?”

Two pairs of eyes darted at him. Alan pointed at his brother. “He started it.”

Jeff stared at them both and was suddenly struck at the familiarity. His boys were bigger, yes, but they were still his boys.

He opened his arms. “C’mere.”

Neither hesitated and he once again was able to wrap himself around dreams-become-reality. He kissed two golden heads.

Scott floated into his vision, a small smile on his face.

Jeff had to squeeze his eyes shut for just a moment before he let his two youngest go.

His eldest’s voice was gentle. “Alan, we need pre-flight. Gordon, Eos is about to relay navigational data for your approval.”

Chorus of two. “FAB.” And his two boys moved.

Scott approached Jeff. “Dad, we have a seat for you.” He reached down into the centre hub of the cockpit, just behind the two forward seats and unfolded a chair. It clicked solidly into place as if it had always been there.

“S-Scott, I can f-find no trace of sabotage.” Brains’ hands were dancing over his controls. “Eos, have you c-completed the d-data and programming checks?”

“I have, Hiram. There is no sign of interference of any kind. I find it highly doubtful that the criminal would sabotage his only way back to Earth.”

John sailed in through the rear hatch. “Eos, we’ve spoken about human idiocy, particularly regarding the Hood.” His middle boy smiled gently at him as he passed smoothly to his place in the cockpit.

“Oh, I thought you were joking.”

Those turquoise eyes that had kept Jeff company for all those long years, blinked. “What gave you that idea?”

“The illogic of it all. Why would the Hood be so stupid? Also, you swore in six different languages at the time.”

Another blink and a darted glance at his father. “Well, I wasn’t joking. The Hood is an idiot.”

Jeff couldn’t help himself. “Only six?”

John’s eyes widened just a little. “I was distracted trying to keep Thunderbird Two airborne.”

“What?”

Said Thunderbird’s pilot chose that moment to return. “John, processors replaced and the air circulation system is patched. I wouldn’t give it long, but it should survive enough to get us home.” A nudge off the ceiling and Virgil was once again beside him. “We should get you strapped in, Dad. The ride out here was rough.”

Scott’s hand landed on his brother’s shoulder and squeezed as he turned back to the helm where Alan was taking his seat.

That left Jeff to Virgil again, who gently urged him into the chair and buckled him in.

He stared at his boy as he let him do the simple task. It wasn’t as if Jeff was incapable of strapping himself in, it was just…

“Virgil?” He tipped his head down, trying to catch those worried eyes.

His son continued to fiddle with the belt, not acknowledging him at all.

“I’m going to be okay.”

At that Virgil did look up and the love in his son’s eyes pierced his heart. “I know, Dad.”

It was said with such finality, such determination…come whatever, Virgil was going to make sure he was okay.

Jeff opened his mouth to respond, but he didn’t have a chance as Scott began launch preparations and Virgil spun himself away to his station.

Jeff followed him with his eyes, his heart thudding in his chest.

God, it was hard to believe this was all happening.

Lucy, our boys.

Our boys!

“Alright.” Scott’s accent always made itself known when in command. That at least hadn’t changed. “Go / no go for launch.” He turned towards John. “Telemetry?”

“Go.”

To Gordon. “Navigation?”

Again with that serious expression on the aquanaut’s face. “Go.”

To Virgil. “Airframe?”

“Go.”

To Brains. “Propulsion?”

“Go!”

To Alan. “Helm?”

“Go!”

“Then let’s go home!” His eldest turned around to Jeff. “Wanna count us down?” Those blue eyes flashed.

There was no question. “I was hoping you would ask.”

With a heart so tied into his family and the wonders they were capable of, he counted down from five, each number thrown into fate’s face as he took that last step home.

And the ultimate in defiance.

“Thunderbirds are go!”

Alan moved.

The ship blinked.

-o-o-o-

End Part Three.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Jeff Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Alan Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Eos #episode tag #tag spoilers #tagspoilers

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boneandfur · 5 years ago

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Incantations [1]

And whosoever of them ate of the honey-sweet fruit of the lotus, had no longer any wish to bring back word or to return, but there they were fain to abide among the Lotus-eaters, feeding on the lotus, and forgetful of their homeward way. (Homer, Odyssey)

WARNINGS: contains potentially triggering content. Rated Explicit 18+. Tagging will be in comments as i’m in a bit of a rush today. Words: 2840 // Summary: No one ever tells what becomes of common girls, after they ascend. An alternate universe that explores the links that myth and magic have to present day Cordonia. A/N: love you guys!! Thank you for being so supportive, especially @lizeboredom and @ritachacha and @darley1101 and @breaumonts

CHAPTER ONE

"The Queen is not pregnant." The doctor delivers his verdict in the clipped, sterile tones that Riley has begun to dread and expect in equal measure. He strips the gloves from his hands, wiping them off briskly and vigorously, and she tries not to think about his fingers pushing into her, probing her aging ovaries cynically as her ankles dangle in the stirrups, laid bare for her king -- her husband, yes, but first and foremost her king -- to witness.

As if she were being punished.

As if what happened -- what has repeatedly happened -- is her fault alone to bear.

Maxwell would never -- But Riley tries not to think of him.

(Not anymore. Not for a long time. Not since the last time she saw him, a thousand and one things unsaid between them.)

"...instruct her to lie with her legs up after the act of coitus, and no sinful positions. There is only one way that the heir to our blessed country should be conceived..."

Riley thinks of the doctor's words when her thighs are spread so wide they ache and her lover is plowing her deep, cursing and grunting, the sound of their sweaty flesh slapping together in the thick darkness of the room.

To conceive a child, you must cease your sinful ways. The queen shall lie on her back, and think of Cordonia. The king shall lift the hem of her nightdress, inserting his little king into her throne room. The subjects shall be blessed.

The summer heat presses behind the curtains, if it comes into this room, it will blind them, their sins laid bare before all the court to see.

All Riley can think of is how close she is, dipping a finger between her slick thighs, the bud of her clit swollen and engorged. She fists the bedsheets in one hand as his hand cups one breast, the pads of his fingertips creating a delicious friction on her nipple. She twists wildly under him, movement becoming frantic, jerky.

"Not yet." His accent gets thick when they are abed together, it becomes something out of legend and myth, honey and myrrh, stirring the embers into a blaze that will burn down civilizations, and make a new age of men.

•••

"Who is that absolute oaf making a mess of the canapés?"

Lady Adelaide must be getting old, Riley thinks. She would know those broad shoulders and muscled thighs anywhere. The memory of his stubble against her breasts makes Riley dig the tips of her nails into her palm, but only for a moment.

"There's no need to signal the staff. I will take care of it." She touches Adelaide's shoulder, brief, light, like the fanning of the death’s head moth against the cheek, and the older woman nods vaguely, already turned back to her glass of wine and Lord Rashad's slow, deliberate eye fuck.

Riley scans the grounds for her king, out of pure habit if nothing else. Three years after the fact has made Liam a stranger, and she sees him lay two fingers on the shoulder of Kiara of Castlerellian as she laughs prettily with the ambassador of Auvernal, showing her neck. It means: She is mine. She belongs to me.

(Once, it was Riley who was the mistress. Once, she was the one who belonged to the king, not to all Cordonia. Once, she had the world at her feet, and the love of few good men… And now, nothing.)

Even from this distance, Riley can see the ambassador swallow, taking a step back. His eyes avoid her direction, but she knows she will have to patch this up later, and can already feel a migraine coming on. Diplomacy was never her strong forte, even if she played the part back when she was still an imposter, a waitress who dreamed of being a queen.

Arin, The First Courtesan of Rome. Valentina, The Sell Sword. Penelophon, The Beggar Queen.

(No one ever tells what happens to the common girls, after they ascend.)

"Excuse me, sir, guests must use a fork, and not their fingers. We are not all wild animals here." Riley taps the oaf on the shoulder, and squeaks in mock alarm as he drops his plate. He issues forth a roar of laughter, wrapping her in a bear hug and lifting her off her feet.

He smells of the Aegean, blue and green and bronze as the brine in his hair.

(Salt, and sun, and sin.)

She sneaks a glance in Liam's direction. If he has noticed their proximity, he gives no sign. But why would he care? This man is to be trusted.

The petals of the lotus quiver in the breeze, and sleepy dusk grows thick with the sickly sweet fragrance of the blossoms.

•••

“I need my lips on yours when you come for me.” His voice is ragged and thick with lust, and she does not protest as he flips her over, pulling her to the edge of the bed. His cock impales her to the mattress, plunging deep inside of her, and Riley makes a strangled noise in her throat as her lover begins to thrust, her teeth pressing against his shoulder, nearly breaking the skin.

She tastes sun and sea and salt and sin, and when she closes her eyes she hears the sonorous peal of the bells from the last time they were together, three years gone: the household draped in black, her orgasm tasting of hot copper where she'd bitten her lip to keep silent, for a queen must never, ever cry.

(You must bear an heir of royal blood. It is for the good of the country, for we have enemies on all sides. If you cannot conceive, what good are you, except as a figurehead?)

“You are crying.” His voice is as resonant as the caverns under the palace, where before time was time, princes and pythias alike would speak the language of the house snake, and feed it milk and honey to ensure good oracles for the reign to come. “Ah, my queen.” He pulls out, and his breathing is thick, labored: the scent of wormwood is pungent in the small room. The sides of the mattress beside her thighs sinks down as he braces his hands upon it, and he cups her by the chin to gently kiss her forehead, a mark of obeisance.

(But she is not his sovereign. His star had already fallen before hers ever shot across the sky. Their constellations were never meant to align.)

“It is nothing. I thought you wanted us to come like an incantation between our lips.” She feels him tense under her fingertips, stroking down the rippling abdomen, the fuzz is fair and fine from his navel to his cock, and he moans when she takes him in her mouth.

(Sin, salt, sea, sun.)

An incantation.

A ritual tattoo.

The black sails that returned the ships to the harbor after the battle had done, bearing the byre of the regent’s only heir.

“Fuck. Fuck.” His hands fumble, they grip the bedposts. His cock quivers in her mouth, she runs the tip of her tongue up the vein in the center, then deep throats him, hard. His muscles tense, the only sound in the room is that of the tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat and his rasping groans. When he comes, his fist gripping her hair, the deluge floods into her mouth like the waters of the Nile.

Riley licks up every salty drop, the great man dropping to his knees before her with a thud that would bring the guards running if they were not all sequestered in their quarters to escape the heat of the midday sun.

(Except Mara. But Mara will never tell. After all, it is Mara who knows her secret sins, loyal unto death like a handmaiden of old.)

•••

“Duchess, are you always this bored at state functions, or did I arrive at a bad time?" Leo lays a finger on the side of his nose, tapping it with a wink. He is bronzed from the sun, and under his ceremonial suit his muscles bunch and ripple, the seams stretching at the shoulders. He pops a canapé into his mouth, following it with a shot of ouzo from a nearby waiter's tray.

"It's always a time." Riley frowns as Leo passes her a shot of ouzo, clinking their glasses together. “I shouldn't be drinking --” but after a long, measured moment, she does.

Blue eyes search her face, and her stomach roils with guilt. “I'm not.” The memory makes her head swim, and the ouzo tastes like poppy syrup, oozing down the back of her throat.

(Only three years gone, bloody handprints on the wall, the dogs setting up a cacophony of howls for days on end, and all the things that smelled of them, of her, carted away and burnt to cinders.)

What good are you, except as a figurehead?

“That is very fine, especially when you think about what the two of us will get up to later.” Leo’s breath tickles her earlobe when he leans in, and the proximity of his body makes something kindle in her loins, desires she'd thought long dead and buried beyond the garden walls. “I have half a mind to snort a line of blow right off that tight little arse, right here on the lawns, but I think Regina would perish on the spot.”

“Let us consider it done, then.” Riley smiles against Leo’s neck, so he can feel her lips move, and then takes a graceful step back. He grunts, shielding his erection with a carefully angled bottle of champagne, dripping with condensation.

“Your Majesty, the king bids you join him for the closing address.” A servant bows before her, and she thinks she may never get used to this -- the linen dresses with finely beaded necklines, intricate enough to put an Egyptian queen to shame, the way the crowds part for her as she walks in mincing steps through the waving grass, the sudden sharp memory of a small, tiled room, painted with cracked frescoes, the oldest room in the palace.

(There was a lemon tree, and a girl with wide eyes, bangles on her wrists and shackles on her wings. Her wings? But that can't be right.)

Lady Riley Brooks…

The Duchess…

A figurehead…

She closes out the whispers with a Lady Di smile plastered on her face, bright as anything. Liam’s fingertips dig into her wrist, just enough. He knows. The sinking cold dread settles in her bones, and she covers it with her most brilliant, diplomatic smile.

“Darlings, thank you for joining us.” Her kisses on the cheeks of the Auvernese and Panrian ambassadors are sweet as poppy syrup, false as plasticine. When they smile, it is at Kiara, awkward and unsure.

“Your Highness!” One of the reporters for a local vlog, The Golden Apple, jumps up and down frantically, waving to get her attention. Riley picks her out of the crowd, a girl with short pink hair and a leather mini-dress far too on-trend for the noveau riche set. The press badge reads Eris.

Riley mentally steels herself for the same tired question, but is unable to mask her expression for what comes instead.

“Duchess Riley, how is the royal family handling the news about Lord Maxwell Beaumont?”

•••

Maxwell Percival Beaumont.

The hallway is endless.

Riley carries her kaboodle, and Maxwell drags the vintage steamer trunk with seemingly little effort behind him. His designer trainers set up little clouds of dust off the threadbare carpet, an Aubusson which has never seen a carpet sweeper more modern than anything from 1902 (according to the girl upstairs, socialite Fenny Vandervliet, this is an actual historical fact).

She can feel the ghosts of the pre-war building at her back, watching her leave. I'll be home soon. The words are on her tongue, but she does not dare speak what she already fears to be a lie.

She thinks, instead, of Maxwell’s scent on the bed sheets when they woke in the morning, still tangled together.

Bronze, parchment, and the expectations of the ancestors.

•••

After the nightclub, she begs a headache, and Maxwell offers to share a taxi. Liam seems pretty taken with you, you know…

But when he brushes a strand of hair back from her face, she doesn't pull away. And when she offers him a nightcap, he doesn't refuse. When he lifts her hair from the back of her neck to press a kiss at the nape, all the birds in the apartment, hearing her soft sigh, begin to sing.

He unclasps the first button on the dark green dress (abalone and gleaming pearl, borrowed from the girl who lives upstairs, the socialite with enough Old Money to buy all of New Amsterdam), and the silk rustles like the petticoats of the girl who ran away to sea with a pirate she met on the King's Highway in 1612, rapier wit and gold teeth, a pair of blackbirds the two of them.

(But her soul whispers that this man is not the pirate, that man was another path, another chance, and he sits drowning his sorrows even now at a dive bar somewhere south of hell.)

His fingertips are warm against the bones of her spine, and his lips follow, each kiss making her gasp and grip the kitchen sink for stability, as though she might fall apart without him there to keep her steady. Years later, this memory will blacken around the edges like a beaten bronze mirror found at an archaeological dig in the Aegean, back in 1899, just as the old age began to fall into the new. She will take it out and examine it, trying to reconcile the girl she once was with the queen she has become.

(Ah. But that is what will come, and this is now.)

Now is this: a tangle of images and sensation. Maxwell’s fingers lacing through hers as the dress slides to the floor, his tongue in her mouth, she bites his lower lip and drags it between her teeth. The shelves rock against the wall, the train is coming through. The scent of cardamom is in the air, her hands are in his hair and his stubble scrapes against her neck.

Maxwell’s hands move up her thighs, they both fumble with each other’s garments: her moan of dismay as she tries to maneuver his belt, his low groan as he struggles with the clasps of her bra.

Don't bother. She stays his hands and pulls the straps down, her breasts still firm and high and tipped with dusky rose. She feels his cock hard and firm between her legs, he's lifted her up on the counter and stepped in between her thighs, pulling her forward and nudging them apart as he dips his head to take one nipple into his mouth, her cries drowned out by the sound of the train again. Somewhere, a harp is playing, somewhere, somewhere, over the rainbow.

But here and now there is only the two of them: Maxwell's fingers push aside the sodden cloth of her underthings, and she sobs his name as he plunges his fingers into her, in and out, in and out, over her clit and back inside of her until she knows she will go mad with wanting him.

Condoms are in the bathroom, she manages to gasp out, and when he dashes off, she has a moment to study her reflection in the windowpane: a stranger is there, with red lips and tousled hair, and a face to launch a thousand ships.

Riley. His lips brush the nape of her neck and if she kept scrying into the glass for one single second more, she might have seen his doppelgänger there, with a breastplate of beaten bronze, on his knees before his queen in a bedchamber of a palace in some place long forgot to human memory.

They fall into the bed, his hands are on her hips as she sinks against him, their moans and sighs an incantation.

Come back. Come back to me.

Throw the centuries off like the dust on a handful of faience beads. Dance in his arms on a ship's deck lit by Greek Fire, roaring across a wine dark sea. Scream your lover’s name as the blood pools under the locked door that will become your tomb.

Come to me. Come back to me.

A funerary rite.

A hymn to the living.

An incantation.

#the royal romance #liam x mc #maxwell x mc #maxwell beaumont #trr #playchoices fanfic #n*fw

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mojofun · 5 years ago

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Good Friends Will Be Stupid Together (Chris Evans x OC)

Hello people; this is an entry for another writing chllenge I participated in. The prompt was “Good friends don’t let you do stupid things together”; let’s see how the king of dorks and OC handle the tension. I wanted to tag @lebakedbeaute and, also, give a shoutout to @kitkatd7 for the many funny and wonderful prompts in this challenge. I hope you enjoy this story 😊

Warnings: gets a little cheeky in the end, but nothing graphic

______________________________________________________________

Emerson groaned, bringing a hand to her head when it throbbed painfully. Blurred memories all came back in full force, making her feel dizzy; she fell back on the pillow with a huff.

All of a sudden the lights came on; she covered her eyes with her hands, hissing in pain

<<Sorry babe, but I couldn’t see anything>>

That voice.

Once a sign she was dreaming, now straight from her nightmares. As soon as the blaring lights grew dimmer, she removed her protection and blinked to focus on the indistinct figure that stood by the door. It took her a while, but she could eventually distinguish the unkempt blond hair and his omnipresent smile that made her insides flip.

Damn, she thought. Of course, I had to make a fool of myself in front of him

She slapped herself mentally a thousand times

<<How are you feeling, Em?>> His thick accent made the butterflies in her stomach stir to life, though in her conditions it was remarkably similar to the need of throwing up that she was adamantly suppressing

I’m not about to make this situation even worse

<<Like I ran into a train head-on>>

He chuckled lightly, handing her a glass of water and something fizzy

<<What’s that?>>

<<Drink it, it will make you feel better>>

<<But->>

<<Just drink it>>

<<Oh, right, I forgot I was talking with the king of hangovers>>

The man cackled again

<<Snarky even after a whole night spent drinking; you’re something else, babe>>

<<Stop calling me that>> She muttered, forcing a sip of the concoction down her throat; it made her stomach even more upset, but she held on to the last sliver of her dignity

<<No can do, babe>> He took the glass from her and set it on the bedside table. Then, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and walked to the door <<Sleep Em, you need it. Goodni->>

<<Good morning, rather>>

<<Whatever, talk to you later>>

<<Sure. Thanks, Chris>>

Once left to her own devices, Emerson felt her head buzz with an unhealthy amount of thinking for someone so hungover as her.

It was nothing new, though- the thinking part.

The drinking had been for a while her last resort into the most lethal curse known to humanity: unrequited feelings.

You drama queen

Shut up brain. Why are you so active now when you can’t function properly around him?

That snarky comeback was enough to shut up her subconscious, but she kept thinking hard.

Chris had been her best friend for years, and she always had a crush on him. Nothing unmanageable, but it was there.

The problems began a few months earlier when he asked her to accompany him to a family event- not as a date, her mind reminded her.

Emerson sighed, skimming through the memories with a wistful smile: he’d been so caring, so damn sweet that night, holding doors and even giving her his jacket when they left. It had been such a damn perfect evening that she’s almost leaned in to kiss him when they reached her apartment.

To this day, she thanked whatever guardian angel stopped her, though a part of her wanted to know what he tasted like, what it would feel like to be in his strong arms as their lips met

<<Fuck>> She groaned, sinking even deeper in the pillows- wait, pillows?

Yes, there was definitely more than one

Chris really thought of everything, damn him; as if I’m not in love enough already

Sleep came sooner than she hoped, and she was immensely grateful for that: it was the only time her mind let her enjoy some peace and quiet.

Outside the door Chris leaned against the wall, sighing deeply. The major crush he’d developed on his best friend was anything but good.

He cursed himself daily for being such a fool, but there was nothing he could do: Emerson was just too beautiful, too funny, too sweet, too… Too perfect.

He sighed again; he needed to learn how to live knowing he’d only ever be her best friend.

________________________________________________________________

<<Good morning, princess>>

Chris’s way-too-cheerful voice greeted her the next morning when she finally emerged from her bedroom

<<Hi>>

<<How are you?>>

<<Good, thanks; the headache passed>>

<<Awesome. Want some breakfast?>> <<N->> <<I made pancakes>>

The woman stilled, brushing her black hair out of her face, fixing her caramel eyes on him with a pout <<Damn you>>

<<You know you love me, princess>> He joked, pulling the chair out for her. When she was seated, he handed her a tall stack of pancakes with an insane amount of syrup, just the way she liked them

You don’t even know how true that is, Chris

<<Thank you>>

<<You’re welcome>>

The small smile he gave her was enough to make her blush.

He let her eat in peace, going as far as to bring her a glass of orange juice directly at the table. When she was done though, he became serious

<<Emerson?>>

She flinched

I know that tone: dad-Chris-mode is on

She fidgeted with the hem of her t-shirt- not hers; she’d… Commandeered it from the blond a while earlier. He didn’t know, of course, but he didn’t seem to mind.

The knowledge that he’d changed her made her cheeks even redder, but she said nothing about it

<<Yes?>>

<<Can we talk?>>

<<Sure; you know you don’t need to ask me>>

<<Actually, this is about you>>

I knew it

<<Uh, ok. What’s up?>>

His gaze grew stern, his lips no longer curled in a smile

<<I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while, Em. You’ve been acting… Weird, for a while now>>

Oh fuck

<<Weird? What do you mean? I’m always weird>>

Those words forced a smile on his lips; it was small, but it was something, and it brought a smile on her face too

<<Yes, but you’re a nice weird, wonderful even>>

Stop it, you dork

<<Recently though, it’s been more of a bad weird>>

<<Bad? In what way?>>

As if you don’t know, her brain reprimanded her. You’ve been humiliating yourself even more than you normally do, and that’s saying something

Shut up

Chris’s baby blue eyes stared at her gravely

<<Do you remember almost leaving the club with that guy yesterday night?>>

His tone was displeased, and she knew she deserved. Guilt ate at her, but back then it had been the only way she found to cope with everything

<<Yeah, I do>>

<<He could have hurt you, Emerson. You didn’t know him>>

<<I’m aware of that. By the way, thanks for saving me>>

Another small smile appeared on his gorgeous face

<<Good friends don’t let you do stupid things>>

She laughed

<<Really? I thought that’s all we do together>>

He joined her laughter, reclining back on the couch; seeing his arm inevitably reach out to touch whatever was next to him, just like he always did, made her grin fondly

Damn you, dork; how are you so adorable?

<<That may be true, but Em>> He became serious again <<I’m worried about you. Why would you do something like that? It’s so unlike you>>

<<I… I don’t want to talk about it>>

<<Em, please. You->>

<<I said I don’t want to!>> The young woman barked, looking away the moment she saw confusion and hurt on his face <<Please. I don’t want to>>

<<Babe, you’re making me worry>>

<<You don’t need to. It’s my fault, I’m the one who’s been stupid enough to->> She barely caught herself in time <<Never mind>>

<<Dammit, Emerson>> Chris pleaded, standing up from the couch and kneeling in front of her <<Talk to me; you know you can tell me anything>>

Seeing him like that cut her breath short; her brain galloped miles per minute, transporting the kneeling man into an entirely different universe in her imagination…

She cringed, gritting her teeth and stomping her foot

<<Em! What’s wrong? Are you hurt?>>

The female stopped moving, staring into his azure eyes that held so much more affection than she felt she deserved, and yet…, It was not the kind of affection she wanted

Ever the selfish fiend, her subconscious cried out.

Her restraint was dangerously close to snapping.

As soon as their eyes met again, she gave in ad cradled his face with her hands

<<Babe, what->> He couldn’t finish that sentence because she pressed her lips against his; while her eyes closed, his stayed wide open.

It only lasted for a moment, but she relished it. However, seeing him so taken aback when she opened her eyes again made realisation dawn on her, and she felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her immediately

<<Fuck. Chris, I- Fuck. Excuse me>> She stood up so fast that he almost toppled over and she ran past him, headed toward the door.

At that moment, he realised what was going on. She liked him, and she thought he didn’t reciprocate: that’s why she’d been so strange as of late.

He had to stop her

<<Emerson, get back here>>

She ignored him

<<For crying out loud Emerson, come back now!>>

A hand slammed on the door before she could open it, while a muscled arm wrapped around her waist

<<Let me g->>

His lips on hers interrupted her speech; this time her eyes were blown wide, while the man closed his to better enjoy the sensations the kiss gave him. Finally, after a while, he pulled away; she blinked at him in puzzlement

<<What…>>

<<As I said before, good friends don’t let you do stupid things. Well, not alone>>

That reply made her laugh, and he held her tight while she shook her head in amusement. He guided her to the couch, wrapping his arms around her when she sat down

<<Em?>>

<<Yes?>>

<<Did you… Did you mean it?>>

<<The kiss? Yes, honey; it was probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done->> Chris snorted, earning himself a swat on the chest as they laughed <<But I meant it completely. Luckily, good friends don’t let you do stupid things alone>>

The blonde snickered and pecked her lips

<<Is that all we are? Good friends?>>

<<I still want to be your best friend, Chris, but I wouldn’t be opposed to, let’s say, exploring other dimensions to or relationship as well>>

<<When you put it that way…>>

He leaned closer to her.

Finally, both of them closed their eyes to fully enjoy the kiss.

Putting themselves out there might actually be the stupidest thing they’d ever done, but they were grateful it happened; so grateful.

--------------- Extra -----------------

<<Chris?>> Emerson called

<<Yes, princess?>>

<<Can we, you know… Do more stupid things together?>>

The blond actor cackled: seeing her like that only made her more adorable in his eyes. He pecked his cheek while she ran her hands on his chest

<<More stupid things…

As in a greater number or, you know… Sillier than this?>>

She beamed at him, chortling softly at her dumb joke. Then, her expression changed. The salacious smirk on her plump lips cut his breath short. She grabbed him by the shirt and whispered, pulling him closer

<<I was thinking you, actually>>

The last thing the blond actor remembered was picking her up and hurrying down the corridor in a flurry of clothes.

The TV show they planned on watching would have to wait.

#kits250challenge #writing challenge #chris evans x original female character #chris evans x ofc #chris evans image #chris evans fanf #friends in love #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fluff #chris evans fic

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animeperanima · 5 years ago

Note

I went to sleep in the meantime but for the send me a character thing: Caesar and/or Gyro? I love my Zeppeli boys and I'm Very interested in your Italian Takes

Caesarino tesorino <333

Fav thing about them:

the fact that he goes from a highly skilled and controlled individual to Italy's greatest fool as soon as Joseph is thrown into the mix. he looks fancy and graceful but he has a mirror specifically to teach at card games! it's the duality of man *insert italian pinched fingers emoji*

Least fav thing about them:

probably the fact that he doesn't get to do shit in part 2 until he goes to fight Whamuu. because of how the genre was structured poor Caesar got completely overshadowed by the protagonist

Favourite line:

"I can't let my life sputter out. This is the Zeppeli family spirit, from the past to the future! It's the human spirit!"

I love the idea that leaving something behind for someone else to bring into the future is what it means to be human. I've seen a couple stories with this concept and it's close to my heart.

brOTP:

maybe not really a bro relationship but I do love him and Lisa Lisa. he became very close to her and changed deeply due to her teachings. he admires her and she respects him, despite both of them putting up walls for the sake of propriety and self preservation it's clear to me that they cherish each other.

OTP:

Caejose, man. it was my first Jojo ship and it's still in my top 3, they were just too much for me to handle. I feel like they balance each other out: Joseph would have been an inconsiderate brat all his life without Caesar and he in turn would have been a stuck up dipshit.

nOTP:

I haven't really seen him shipped with anyone beside Jojo (as it should be, the boy was smitten) but maybe Caesar x Suzie Q? it comes up sometimes with the OT3 but I just don't see them working as anything more than friends.

Random headcanon:

Caesar lives with the biggest catholic guilt you could ever imagine. he feels like he lost his chance at Heaven because of all the crimes he committed and the vengeful intent that fuelled his youth. he spends a lot of time thinking about his actions and the impact they have on those around him, the balance of good and evil that he has brought in the world.unrelated but on top of being religious he is also supersticious. he will gladly pet a black cat but then he'd turn around and change path to make sure the cat doesn't cross the street in front of him. just in case.

Unpopular opinion:

the boy ain't from Naples, he feels like a Florence boy to me. just please, imagine the many instances of Caesar's "maremma maiala, Jojo" it would be way too funny. also Joseph would pick up on the fact that Caesar's accent is different from those around him and he'd have a field day with the weird C sounds.

Song I associate with them:

You Will Never Know by Imany

I've said this in the tags a bunch of times but I don't think Caesar ever confessed to Joseph or even really told him how much Jojo meant to him. Caesar's arc really is all about a road being cut short and this song works perfectly with that.

Favourite pic of them:

stupid sexy motherfucker, I hate him

Gyro/Jennifer Lopez kin

Fav thing about them:

he is just so competent??????? he knows what he's doing and he does it well. I love how creatively he solves problems, the whole first stage of the race had me screaming, it was just too good. steel balls ain't a functional weapon but somehow he always pulls through with them and them alone?????????? I.... I may have a thing for people who are the best at what they do.

Least fav thing about them:

the fact that he just kinda.... forgot about the kid who was on death's door. like.... you'd think it would be a higher priority on his list of things to worry about. (to be fair, i flew through Steel Ball Run, I wanna re-read it properly once I've read Stone Ocean too; so maybe I'm wrong and Gyro did indeed give a rat's ass about the poor kid)

Favourite line:

"Eat shit, asshole! Fall off your horse!"

"I've got no choice. We're cornered, so I have to teach you. First off, Johnny, let me tell you one thing. Starting now, you can only say the words, 'There is no way I can do this!' four times, and four times only. Alright? Four times."

modern!au Gyro but he's not a doctor, he's a motivational speaker/life coach

brOTP:

I feel like he and Hot Pants could have been wonderful as friends. thankfully there are a few fanfics that have just that. Hot Pants would just be so done with Gyro, entirely done.

OTP:

Gyjo, clearly. which is funny because it has such a horrible ship name but it just works. seriously, you just have to look at how many times Johnny ended the race in a better position than Gyro despite not really caring about the win and the fact that Gyro hasn't slapped him yet to know that fool is head over heels. (yes, I am salty about Johnny; I love him but I am salty anyway)

nOTP:

uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh, boh

Random headcanon:

at first he started doing his gags to annoy Johnny; he was used to none of his jokes ever really landing so he started enjoying getting a rise out of people when he kept them coming until they just couldn't take it anymore. turns out that Johnny is a really weird guy with very few friends or people who, y'know, treat him normally so he absolutely loves Gyro's shitty jokes. Gyro was surprised to say the least but having someone actually enjoy his gags is much better than anything else.

Unpopular opinion:

translations that spell his name J.Lo are extremely valid and my faves. I know that Gyro keeps to the part 5 tradition of naming Italian characters after food but J.Lo makes more sense with his real name (Julius could also be Giulio, so it's pretty close) and it's a fricking Jennifer Lopez reference. have you seen how luscious his hair is? his poses????? that's a J.Lo if I've ever seen one

Song I associate with them:

Blitzkrieg Bop by The Ramones - purely for the sound, it fits his shenanigans

and Brother Under The Sun by Hans Zimmer and Bryan Adams - YES IT IS THE SOUDTRACK OF SPIRIT: STALLION OF THE CIMARRON, NO I WILL NOT BACK DOWN ON THIS. this just.... the music and the lyirics and the setting all scream "Gyro to Johnny"

Fav pic of them:

#jjba #character asks #gyro zeppeli #caesar zeppeli #jojo's bizarre adventure #it took me ages to answer sorry #but i really had to think some of these through #i love the zeppelis so muc #it's hard to do them justice #also i'm sorry i keep serving angst whenever i'm asked about my faves #but that's just my way of loving the #*them #and also..... canon gives me a lot to work with #thanks araki

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ofravensandgenesis · 5 years ago

Photo

IT IS FINISHED no seriously, this took ages. First couple of days were fine and motoring along with progress, then I was laid out for a week-ish with health problems. Then once I was well enough again I was back to being fixated on finishing this piece of my lad Joshua here for another handful of days, so I’m super glad this is done now. More talk about the painting, details and process under the cut:

Art Entry 01, Joshua Rook, Junior Deputy of Hope County. Regarding the painting’s execution, stylistic choices, practiced methods, and speculation on further experimentation for skill and stylization. _____________________________ Honestly I thought that the uniform’s large swatches of green fabric would be more difficult than it actually was. Turns out that was the easier part compared to the shoulder patch and metal badge. x’D The metal badge design is based off of and inspired by a custom-ordered cosplay badge design I found while looking for references, in this post here (link,) from v-i-d-e-n-o-i-r’s blog and Far Cry 5 cosplay. There are some differences in the painting’s rendition above, namely I flattened the middle section and made it all concentric polished metal instead of painted and the great seal rendition in the middle doesn’t have silver lineart either. Those choices are as much for aesthetic reasons of eliminating the blue ring so it was all a fairly simple mono-material-looking surface as it was for simplifying having to forego painting the foreshortening that a spherical dome might entail. Also just because the rest of the metal turned out looking good enough that an additional bit of shiny metal seemed like it’d fit right in for this. That being said, the badge design that inspired this one is rad and awesome looking—and I totally didn’t realize it wasn’t quite like the badges from in-game assets until after I’d painted it. x’D So, I decided to stick with this one since it’s simpler and has cleaner lines, and less engraving to pick out highlights on. Metal is very hit or miss for me to get right, so I’m very pleased with how this one came out! :D I think I did well on that one. The shoulder patch originally I was looking at real world references and ended up changing the shape once I actually looked at in-game references on Staci and Joey—who I discovered have slightly different details on their uniforms, like the font for their name tags—Staci’s has an old-timey-looking-font with serifs, Joey’s is a non-serif more modern-style font. Some pictures have them having different buttons on their uniforms either in color or shape (the former being exported assets, the latter being in-game gifs/screenies/etc.) This is also how I learned that the little landscape with the shovel, pickaxe and plough/plow are part of the great seal of Montana. I had no flipping idea that was what it was, looking at the patches in-game. The cosplay community does some great work for that, for which I’m grateful. I ended up looking up references of what the state seal’s design was so as to see the smaller details, and to find out what the motto meant ”Oro y Plata,” meant, leading to etymology googling adventures from there, as usual. All important details to paint though I think here, since Joshua’s deputy uniform is symbolically significant to him and will remain so throughout his story as part of his internal conflict for a couple of reasons. One thing I knew I should’ve done from the start, and reminded myself to do, was the fact that I should paint all skin sections at the same time, so as to ensure they all came out the same shades. I did not do this. x’D I’ll have to actually try to do that next time honestly. Same with the hair sections, while I like how they came out, I do feel the differences between the three major segments in terms of brushwork is not as coherent as I’d like, even if beard hair is not necessarily similar in how it lays to scalp hair, particularly with length and such taken into consideration. Still, not bad. Could’ve used more refs for the backlighting and figuring out how the highlights would fit best on the ponytail, but I think the hair curves turned out nice there in particular. Overall, Joshua’s hair ended up messier than I’d thought with how the locks all end up looping this way and that across his head, but it does actually fit him well as a character for his hairstyle to be messy and loosely held together, but functional. It did end up longer than I’d intended, so we have him likely ending up with a nerdy Jesus hairstyle when it’s down. x’D (Thanks to @undead-gearhead for that mental imagery, I shall take great amusement in that should I get around to drawing Joshua with his hair down.) Aside from that, I think I’m slowly improving on figuring out how to paint glasses, though I’m thinking in the future I should test more layered reflective light on them or something where the frames are in contact or close to skin, particularly around the glasses’ bridge across the nose and such. Then there are the other deviation details added—like using dark green instead of the black for the uniform accents. The faded black looks great in-game, but I do think the buttons pop more against dark green instead for this painting. I’m a little bit surprised how well the button-placket section came out, Clip Studio Paint crashed when I painted the first rendition of it, sadly losing all that work. I thought it’d be okay but turns out it didn’t quite get to auto-save that recently enough, but the second go around turned out quite well I think, possibly better. I was originally planning to try to put more textured brushwork across the flat sections of the uniform material, but decided to skip it for speed—I’ll test that elsewhere perhaps, though I think it came out well with the watercolor brushes layered on top of one another like that as is. Among the other smaller details, there’s some tweaks and such for how Joshua’s eye shape, eyebrows, nose shape, hairline etc came out compared to references of Greg Bryk in his role as Joseph Seed. I think Joshua did come out looking like he’s obviously related to the Seeds as I was hoping for, but I’m kind of on the fence that people would look at him and automatically assume it’s Joseph specifically that he’s descended from. I hope so, but either way, that’s how he’s written in-fic. x’D Overall, I would consider this painting a success, though as usual I do wish it’d been faster to finish. I do think this was good practice for detail work, and metal shading, also: buttons. Still haven’t figured out how to paint lips with more pink or red tones, I don’t like the way they look when painted sadly, unless it’s lipstick. That may end up being a stylistic element perhaps, along with how I paint the lines for fingernails and other such details. Fun fact: I have to leave the shading on the eyes for last, or else my brain goes “The eyes are done! We’re done! Call it a day.” I’m not sure why, but so far, leaving them as flats until the end seems to work a treat for keeping me focused on finishing the rest of the work with less mental dissonance. Now if only I could figure out why despite knowing I should do all the exposed skin portions at the same time, I don’t follow through on that naturally as far as inclinations go. Maybe it’s a layer organization thing and perception of wanting, say, the cloth to be done first before working “down” to the hands and such in the sense of working from the head down? I’ll have to think on that some more and test things in the next painting. Perhaps color coding the order of layers to paint will help? CSP does have a nice layer-icon-color function that I’ve dabbled with here and there. There are so many brushes, I really do need to test out more of them, I use, what, four or five total, but primarily somewhere around two or three. Hm, but what to do with texture, and how to utilize it so? Hmmm, as far as personal appeal for methodology goes, I might prefer to use textures in select pieces for more emotional emphasis? If I can figure out how to do that in a messier speed-paint style of things. Rougher textures for conflict, for example. That sounds like an interesting idea to explore, I’ll have to remember that for a later piece. Maybe more heavily textured brushes will also help with the mental itch to refine things to a cleaner-level of refining instead of leaving it in a more organically rough state. Hm, maybe it’s a “mental texture” aversion or something, as far as an interplay between the brush’s texture and the flow of the linework/brushstroke. Perhaps more uneven brushes echo that in a complimentary fashion to better allow less mental discomfort for me personally when trying to paint in a faster, looser fashion? Honestly, very tempting to go try that out sooner rather than later on some art ideas I have, but I’ve been missing my writing very much of late with two time-demanding paintings back to back. So, ideas for a later time to experiment with.

#Far Cry 5 #FC 5 #Far Cry 5 AU #FC 5 AU #deputy joshua rook #my art #ofravensandgenesis's art #art talk #chatter #writing about art #writing about fanart #queue

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 6 years ago

Text

No Surrender Pt. 5

Request: hey i love your writing!! i was wondering if you could write something where the ready and bucky are in the same hydra facility and try to escape together. idk maybe that’s bad but i love your writing!!

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: In the winter of 1945 Hydra captures Sargent James Barnes. After months spent unconscious, he wakes up in a cell with you and a new addition on his left side. Quickly it becomes clear that being locked up together may be the best bout of luck either of you has had in a while… Maybe together the two of you have a chance of making it out of this hell alive. Now, 69 years later the two of you are brought back together, scars and all. War changes everyone it touches but maybe, together, you can both find some kind of peace.

Warnings: Just fluff and feels.

A/N: Well. This is the end of the line (couldn’t help myself). Thank you all for being patient with this one as it’s taken me a hot minute to circle back and wrap it up. I hope you enjoy the end of this story!

Tags are open!

@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @stevehesaidabadlanguageword @buckysstar @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @siriuslycloudy2 @krugeforeveryone @jewelofwinter @get-loki @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @wildmoonflower @cutie1365

Two days later Bucky is about ready to scream.

It’s been nothing but an endless sea of paperwork and protocol—getting reestablished as, well a person—setting things up with the V.A., finances, procuring necessities like clothes and a cell phone. He was exhausted.

Steve was off helping Hill and Stark with something to do with their new plan they were calling ‘The Avengers,’ leaving Bucky blissfully alone.

The bliss was short-lived at best.

Alone, it was hard to shift his focus from the shadows flitting around in his mind, almost impossible to calm down his instinct to be prepared to fight at any moment.

He finds himself wondering about you, how you’re doing, what your day to day was like, and wanting to just hear your voice. After staring at his phone and pacing for almost an hour he finally gets the gumption to call you.

It feels like the phone was ringing forever, certainly long enough for him to doubt his decision. Hell, you were likely helping Steve and the rest right now. He felt silly and more than a little useless until-

“Oui?” Your voice is cold, tentative. Of course, he’d forgotten to send you his number.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s-”

“Bucky! Is this your number now?”

He lets out a little awkward laugh, “Yeah, as of yesterday. I’m a fully functional modern American.” Functional, could he tell a bigger lie.

“Excellent. How are you?”

“Well… I’ve got some time and was wondering if that invitation was still open?” Silence hangs a little longer than he expected.

“Of course. Come on over.”

“If you’ve got other plans… I don’t wanna intrude.”

“You’re not intruding. I… Please, I’d like for you to come.” Something in your voice makes concern rise in his chest. “Do you need a ride or anything?”

“Nah, I’ve got Steve’s bike. Fifteen minutes ok?”

“Perfect.” Was that relief he heard? “I’ll see you then.”

It’s just before noon as the bike thunders onto your quiet street. Just like a few nights ago he feels like a nervous kid at the thought of seeing you. Add that to his concern he can’t shake that he’s imposing on your life—he’s a wreck. Doubt, anxiety, and a million other emotions swirl in his mind as he knocks.

They all flee when he sees you though.

He had been so used to you being a vision of poise in your well-tailored creams and whites, your vibrant lipstick, hair always exactly where you wanted it… Right now though, you remind him more of the woman he first met. Beautiful still but haunted and hurting.

The circles under your eyes are dark, lips a little too dull. Your hands tremble a touch as you gather your cardigan tight around your frame, the oversized garment covering your teeshirt and leggings.

You offer him a half-smile, “Come in.” As he follows you up the stairs the scents of coffee and cigarettes hit his nose.

“I just made a fresh pot of coffee if you’d like some,” you say once in the kitchen. Before he can respond you turn to the cabinet, taking a mug down with a shaking hand.

“Y/N?” He asks, coming up behind you, plucking the mug from your grasp and taking your hand in his. “What’s wrong?” You say nothing, your eyes cast down at the floor.

He shouldn’t be here, he knew it was a bad idea. He releases your hand, “I can go. I didn’t mean to-”

“Please don’t,” frantic, red-rimmed, eyes shoot to up, your hand suddenly grasping his tight. You look surprised by your own reaction.

He remains frozen, unsure of what to do. Well, not entirely. What he wants is to gather you in his arms, wants to breathe in the smell of your hair, kiss you until you smile… None of those things are right, he knows this, but desire doesn’t always listen to the rules. Sternly he reminds himself who you are--decidedly not his--and who he is--someone undeserving of a dame like you.

Your tongue flits out, moistening your dry lips as you hold his gaze. “I just…” You take a tentative half step forward, closing the small space between the two of you and rest your forehead against his chest, breathing deeply.

Bucky’s heart thunders, so hard he knows you must feel it. When your hand releases his he expects you to pull away but instead your arms wrap around his torso, holding on as if you’re scared he’ll run.

It takes him longer than it should to get his arms to curl around you. He’d embraced Steve and even you briefly since being back but here, alone, this is different. It had been… shit decades since he’d held anyone or been held like this. An ache he’d been forcing down begins to rise to the surface at an alarming pace.

You turn your face to press your cheek against his pounding heart. “I don’t… I don’t want to be alone…” Your breath hitches and he holds you tighter.

“Ok… Ok,” he breathes into your hair stroking your back. The two of you stand for a bit, holding on with all your might.

“I’m sorry,” you release him, wiping a few stray tears from your eyes.

“For what?” He couldn’t fathom something you’d need to apologize for.

Turning to the coffee pot you gesture to your self, “For me. I’m… I’m just tired…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” without thinking he cups your face with his metal hand, turning you back to him. A tear sneaks from the corner of your eye, instinctively he dashes it away with his thumb. “Here,” he takes the mug you had as well as one that must be yours as it still has a bit of coffee in it, “let me.”

“Black?” He asks as he pours, noting the lack of sugar or cream near the pot.

“Oui.”

There are papers strewn on the little breakfast nook table so he heads that direction, both mugs in hand. You sit heavily in one of the chairs, wrapping your hands around the warmth of the mug, breathing deep. He takes the spot opposite from you.

Bucky sips the coffee, it’s damn good and the silence that hangs between you two isn’t uncomfortable.

With your eyes glued on the steam rising from between your hands, he lets the details of you sink in. Silver strands wink in your hair making it seem to sparkle in the sunlight--beautiful despite its disheveled state, the lines on your face are so fine as to almost be imperceptible, freckles lightly dust your nose and cheeks, cheeks that are slightly sallow as though you haven’t been eating enough. A muscle ticks ever so slightly near your right eye, and there’s a nicotine stain on your right index and middle finger.

Your eyes rise to meet his. While your body may not show the decades of your life he can see them clearly there. He can’t help but wonder if he and Steve had, in some sick way, been luckier…

“Do you wanna talk about it?” His voice is soft. The corner of your mouth ticks up a bit but you shake you head no.

“You have your own ghosts to deal with, you don’t need to trouble yourself with mine.” Tentatively you take his hand in your own. “You being here is enough.”

Admittedly, he’s somewhat confused as to how his presence could bring anyone comfort. Hell, he could hardly be alone with himself comfortably… Still, it does feel good to know he can do this for you.

“You won’t be burdening me, Y/N. After everything, you’ve done for me… Let’s just say I have space for your ghosts too.”

Swallowing hard you take a shaky breath, averting your gaze back to your coffee. Bucky worries that he’s said the wrong thing, somehow made this worse, until after a moment you speak.

“I… I went to see Peg the morning after the party. It…” He notices your accent is more pronounced as your emotions surface. “It was not a good day for her.” Your eyes squeeze shut, “She didn’t know me.”

For a moment you just breathe, holding his hand in a death grip. “She’s the last… the last person who truly knows me knows because she lived through it all with me and… when she’s gone… I feel like a part of me will die too.”

It occurs to him at that moment, Steve must have felt something like this when Bucky didn’t know him. The thought makes something ache deep within him. Some day he’ll find a way to make that up to Steve.

You shake your head, “I’ve stared in death’s face so many times and not been afraid… but this… I’m terrified.”

Gently, he takes your other hand in his. “I know it’s not the same as living through it but… I’d-” He struggles to find the words suddenly. “Well, I’d be honored to know you, to truly know you, Y/N.”

Your eyes hold his once more, he swears there’s a little more light there than before.

The rest of the day is the best day Bucky can remember from the last 70 years. There’s no hurry, no stress, just you.

You talk about your life before the war. Growing up in Lyon with your older sister and twin brother. Days spent running through Renaissance era streets, Roman ruins, and more modern fare.

Summers spent with your mother’s parents in the Auvergne countryside. It was so similar and yet so different from his own childhood in Brooklyn. He loved watching you light up as you remember little details, things you hadn’t thought of in so long.

Every time a record ends there’s another ready to go. Leisurely, the two of you munch on cold chicken, bread, cheese, and fruit for lunch while Bucky reaches back into his fractured mind for memories of his own childhood.

He’s surprised to find that even without Steve to back him up, how talking helps him grasp things, make sense of the chaos. It’s nice even if it aches a bit to remember them, his Ma and Pa and sisters.

As the sun begins to set you both settle on the patio, whiskey and cigarettes in hand.

“You know,” you sigh out a cloud of smoke as you stare at the sunset, “I still haven’t ridden a rollercoaster.” Your head rolls, resting on the back of your deck chair, to look at him, a small smirk on your lips.

“What?!”

Your laugh rings in the quiet evening. “Surprisingly, there haven’t been many opportunities. And…” You pause as though you’re unsure of your next words, stamping out your cigarette to stall. “And, I was waiting for you.”

For a few moments, you hold one another’s gaze, unmoving, hardly breathing.

“Well,” he clears his throat breaking the connection. “I guess that’s one thing we can still do. I think the rest of my promises are a little too late to keep.”

“How so?”

“I’m sure you’ve had pizza, Brooklyn doesn’t have a baseball team anymore, and I’m pretty sure all the dance joints I knew about closed a long time ago.”

“We don’t need a joint to go dancing you know.” There’s a spark in your eye as you pick up your phone, music beginning to play from unseen speakers a moment later.

Bucky feels his mouth go dry. You hop from your chair and stand in front of him, hand extended, eyes wide and expectant.

“Dance with me.”

“I…” he averts his gaze heart suddenly racing faster than the swinging beat of the song. “I don’t know if I remember how.”

“Only one way to find out.” He glances up at you, unsure. “Haven’t you kept me waiting long enough Sergeant Barnes?”

He can’t help but smile at the playful grin lifting your lips. It had been long enough.

Taking your hand he rises. This was a fast song, he knows there’re steps involved but he can’t quite remember them. His brows knit, body frozen trying to find this buried knowledge.

“Hey,” he glances down at you. Your face a mask of understanding, “Stop thinking so much, just listen.”

Closing his eyes he focuses on nothing but the music, its fast beat, energetic dips and sways, and the feeling of your hand in his. In an instant his mind is filled with smoky clubs, the sensation of sweat dripping down his back, laughter, salt on his tongue, whiskey burning in his throat--and the dance.

It takes a couple of songs to fall into it but on the third you’re both in sync, moving to the music, dancing the Lindy, smiles huge. As the music wraps up he spins you out and rapidly back into him, pressing you close to his body.

Your head falls back and you laugh breathlessly. “And you were worried,” you tease.

“Doll, I’m just gettin’ warmed up.”

“I bet.” Suddenly your lips are on his.

Of their own volition, his hands rise to cup your face just before it registers that he cannot do this. You’re DumDum’s wife, or… widow rather but still… You’re also a good person, someone who’s spent the last seven decades fighting for the right side whereas he-

Instead of holding you closer his hands gently push you away as he steps back. He tries to ignore the surprise and hurt in your eyes, tries to deny the fluttering in his gut.

“I’m sorry I-”

“No,” he cuts you off. “I… I just… I should go.” He takes a few more steps back. “It’s… I told Steve we could do dinner and,” his words are tripping over themselves almost as fast as his heart’s beating. “Yeah, I just have to go.” He doesn’t look at you as he goes through the open patio door, can’t look at you because he’ll loose his shaky conviction.

“Bucky,” you lay a had on his shoulder as he reaches his jacket. It’s gentle but he flinches nonetheless.

“Thank you for today, it really was wonderful.” He doesn’t look back as he bolts from the warmth of your home.

Steve doesn’t ask any questions when he storms into the condo without a word, neither does he say anything for the next few days regarding Bucky’s near-total silence. He gives him space, without leaving him alone entirely. It’s a tactic Bucky remembers using with Steve back when they shared a shitty apartment and Steve was often in a mood. He appreciates it.

After waking up in a cold sweat the fourth night since his afternoon with you he paces his room for hours, feeling like a caged animal. He can’t tell if he wants to scream or cry or punch something. All he knows is that it feels like there’s a swarm of hornets in his skull and he’d give anything to make it stop.

He doesn’t know what possesses him but he suddenly goes to the desk where he’d laid the beautiful journal you’d gifted him. With a shaking hand, he touches the letters on the front—reminding himself that those are his initials, his name. Opening the journal for the first time he pauses. A letter addressed to him in your delicate script lays against the first page.

Swallowing the guilt bubbling up he opens the unsealed envelope:

Bucky,

I want this to be a place just for you so leaving an inscription seemed wrong. In my years I’ve found that, even when it hurts, putting pen to paper to account for both my sins and triumphs reminds me of who I am—who I’ve been. Use this book as confessional or time capsule (or not at all), whatever soothes you. On these pages, as with those who love you, there is no judgement—only freedom. Thank you for everything you have done for me. I hope that in time I can repay you the debt I owe.

Always,

Y/N

His eyes burn with tears. How could you think, truly think, you owed him a debt. You who’s presence drove him, helped him survive the hell he found himself in. You who never stopped looking for him. You…

With your petal soft lips, smoky voice, and gentle touch. Who was one hell of a dancer, soldier, and spy. You… who he undeniably wanted with every fiber of his being and could not allow himself to have.

Wiping away tears he refuses to let fall he fishes a few paperclips out of the office supply organizer on the desk. Carefully he aligns your letter on the first page, clipping it in place. Despite your reservations about leaving an inscription, he wanted your words here.

Initially when he thought of writing in this journal he thought he’d only put down good things, because you were one of those good things. However, as the pen hits the first page what pours from him isn’t good.

He writes until the sun brightens his window. Pages upon pages filled with horrific things… things he’d done or had been done to him. A few times he had to stop, stomach-churning from the memories. But now, as dawn chased away the shadows in his room, he felt lighter somehow.

Taking one last look at your letter he presses his lips to his fingertips and then your swirling signature before closing the journal.

Moving quietly he heads to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. The routine is soothing, clearing the remaining shadows inside of him.

When Steve gets up a little over an hour later he looks surprised to see Bucky in the living room reading a book.

“Morning,” Bucky says as Steve cocks an eyebrow.

“Morning.” He pours a cup and heads to the living room.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence Steve speaks, “You ok?”

Bucky doesn’t answer immediately. He doesn’t want to lie to Steve but his gut reaction is to play tough for him, to make everything seem better than it was. That wasn’t good for anyone though.

“A little better.” He takes a deep drink to give himself a moment more. “Not ok… but-” He shrugs, unable to find the words.

“That’s just fine, pal.” Steve takes a deep breath. “I think I’m going over to see Peggy. She’s had a good morning so far. Wanna come?”

“Are you sure?” He did want to see her. But… you may be there and he wasn’t sure how to apologize for being such an ass just yet.

“Yeah. I think…” A shadow crosses Steve’s features for an instant. “I think it would be good for her to know that you’re a secret she doesn’t have to keep anymore.”

Bucky nodded. If he could take that off of her, of both of them, he would.

A million times on the drive over he thinks to ask Steve if you’ll be there. He just can’t quite find a way to word it that doesn’t sound ridiculous or like he doesn’t want to see you—which he does, desperately.

As they pull up he swallows the question and steels his nerves. If you were here so be it. He’d deal with his jackassery like a man.

Steve doesn’t knock, just opens the door and leads them into a townhome similar to yours.

They head up to the main level. Things were slightly less open than your place, it hadn’t been updated for a decade or so. There were more personal touches in this space, however. He notes family photos on the walls, some framed children’s drawings, and pauses--it hadn’t occurred to him that Peggy had kids, a husband, a family.

“You comin’?” Steve goads at the base of another staircase. Bucky nods following him up.

A nurse reclines on the sofa in the small open sitting area at the top of the stairs. She smiles upon seeing Steve.

“Captain Rodgers,” her eyes widen a bit when they notice Bucky but she says nothing. “Miss Y/N is in there, she’s still having an excellent day.”

“Thanks, Amanda.”

The men head down the hall and your laugh rings out of an open door making Bucky’s heart lodge in his throat.

“I’ll be right back Peg.” You head out of the room to meet them looking polished and vibrant, so different from when he left you.

Bucky expects scorn but you, of course, offer him nothing but a gentle smile.

“I’m so glad you could come.” Your voice drops, “Steve, you and I should tell her we have a surprise and then you can come in Bucky.”

“Sounds good,” Steve smiles at him. All Bucky can do is nod before the two of them head back into the room.

He’s not sure he’s ready for this. In his mind Peggy is young, vibrant, overflowing with moxie… But as soon as Steve’s golden head swings out of the door waving for Bucky to come in he knows he has to find a way to handle it. For them. For all of them. With a deep breath, he wills one foot in front of the other.

“What on earth are you two up-” Peggy says as Bucky enters the room. She stops, a shaky hand catching the gasp falling from her lips.

She looks smaller, her hair white, but her eyes glint with a fire that is still distinctly Peggy Carter. Bucky can’t help but smile.

“James,” she was the only one who called him by his first name. “It… is it really…”

“Hey Peggy,” he says softly, reaching his right hand out to take her fragile extended one. He keeps his left hand tucked firmly in his pocket.

Her gaze shoots to Steve and then to you, “You did it.”

You shake your head, “Not exactly. But, he’s home.” Bucky feels your gaze on him but is unable to meet your eyes.

“We’ll give you two a minute,” Steve says leading you from the room.

For a moment Bucky stands awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

“You look awkward with your hand shoved in your pocket like that, James.” His cheeks burn a bit. She laughs, eyes sparkling. “Come sit,” she gestures to the chair by her bed.

Slowly he takes his hand out and does as she requests. She reaches for it and he obliges. Tenderly Peggy studies it, running her frail fingers over the joints.

“Y/N told us what they did,” she gives his hand a squeeze with more strength than he expected. “I’m so sorry we never-”

“Don’t.” Peggy looks at him, a tear threatening to fall. “Y/N said the same thing. Knowing you all looked, that you tried, that’s enough Peggy. You did all you could.”

“Did we?” She looks into the middle distance for a moment, seeming to struggle with something. “Regardless, here you are and I get to finally thank you.”

“For what?”

“Because of you, I met, Y/N. Without her, I don’t know where I’d be but I doubt it would be anyplace good. She’d disagree, of course, but she has kept me going many times.”

Bucky can’t help but smile, “She has that effect doesn’t she?”

“Indomitable, that’s how Howard described her. Never to her face, of course,” she laughs a little. “He’d be damned if he ever got caught saying something ni-” Bucky takes a ragged breath and Peggy stops.

Stark had been in his dream the night before… What he’d done.

“Look at me,” Peggy says, voice stern. He does. “What happened was not your fault. Do you understand me?”

Bucky blinks in shock, “You… you know?”

She nods, “So does she, Steve too I would think.” He must look as terrified as he feels because Peggy grabs his hands in hers.

“We tracked you. From the moment there were whispers of a man with a metal arm… but we were always three steps behind. There were times she was close to finding you…” Peggy pauses, gathering herself.

“If you’re scared that she doesn’t know, hasn’t known all along, the things that…” He nods not wanting her to continue. “Well, don’t be.

“We’ve all done things, James. Terrible things that haunt us, things we’ll take to the grave.” She tucks a strand of his hair back in place. “But we did them of our own volition. In a way, your hands are cleaner than any of ours.” He snorts an empty laugh, unbelieving.

“You know,” her tone was lighter as she takes him in, “you were always the one that got away for her.”

“What d’you mean?”

A smile fills Peggy’s face. “She loved Dugan, truly, but you were always the ‘what if’ that never got to be. Just as Steve…” her voice cracks a touch. Bucky squeezes her hand. “A lot of us had those what-ifs back then. You move forward and build your life, a good life, with what is there but it doesn’t mean you stop wondering… stop wanting.”

“I… She deserves more than me, Peggy.” Bucky’s head spins a bit. How could she know?

“Shush. Both of you have a second chance, something so many of us would have given anything for, don’t you dare waste it because you’re afraid.”

He manages a nod, barely able to keep the tears at bay.

The two of them talk for a bit. He tells her how he met her niece, how much she helped, and Peggy gushes about how proud she is of her. She tells him about her family, how it had been to see Steve again. It feels like only a few seconds before there’s a gentle knock at the door.

“Mind if I pop in?” Steve asks, beaming at the two of them.

“Of course not,” Bucky stands, giving Peggy’s hand a gentle pat. “You two chat.” Her frail hand wraps around his before he can step away.

“Don’t forget what I said, James.” That fire burns in her gaze and he nods, knowing better than to ever argue with Peggy Carter when she has that look.

The nurse isn’t in the seating area but he can hear someone downstairs. Through the sliding glass door, he sees you leaning on the balcony railing. Before you can notice him he positions himself in such a way that he can still take you in without being seen.

You have one arm across your chest, the other leisurely brings your lit cigarette to your lips. After a deep inhale you puff a perfect ring into the air, grinning with self-satisfaction. Bucky can’t help but smile too—he’s not sure he’s ever seen you quite like this, so relaxed.

Howard had been right when he’d called you indomitable.

Despite the way his breath catches in his throat he moves into your line of sight. Despite the riot of his heart against his ribs, he opens the door. Finally, despite the weight of self-loathing resting on his soul, despite his past, despite everything… he cups your face in his hands without a word and kisses you deeply.

Immediately, you melt into him. If he’s being honest with himself he expected you to pull away, push him off, reject him—but no.

Every nerve ending sings. His fingers tangle in your hair. Your tongue flits out teasing him. The world falls away until two soft laughs from inside make you both freeze.

“I do love it when people listen to me without argument,” Peggy says with a laugh.

Bucky looks at you, cheeks almost as red as your lips but your smile is so bright he knows you’re not the least bit ashamed.

“Though I didn’t expect you to take my advice so soon, James.” Bucky turns, grasping your hand in his, to face Peggy and Steve.

“Wasted enough time,” he says smiling down at you.

“I should have known you’d stick your nose into this, Peg,” your tone one of false annoyance.

Peggy laughs as Steve pushes her onto the balcony. “That’s what you get for having spies for friends, my darling.”

The four of you spend the better part of the next two hours in easy conversation as music plays from the small speakers in your cell phone. Mainly the guys listen to you two tell stories of your time in the field together, memories of your mutual friends, putting pins in some of the time he and Steve missed.

Peggy bobs her head along to a song that’s just kicked up. “It’s too bad we couldn’t all have gone dancing together. We’d have turned heads.” Steve gives her a sad smile as she looks at you.

“Well,” Bucky says with a twinge of mischief, “someone told me the other day that you don’t need a joint to go dancing. I bet we could figure something out.” He tugs you out of your chair, “Come on.”

“What’re you up to?” You say with a laugh.

“You’ll see. We’ll come get you two in a minute.”

Without further explanation, you follow him downstairs. When he and Steve had gotten in earlier he saw a sitting room on the second floor with a record player. It would be perfect.

“Help me push this furniture out of the way will ya doll?” Turning to you he flashes a bright smile. Your eyes glitter as you nod.

It doesn’t even take ten minutes to get the space suitable. He even fixes the lighting to give it a dim feel while you pick an album you know Peggy will love and start it playing.

“Will you go get ‘em?” He’s almost giddy—it’s such a foreign feeling but he’s glad for it.

Peggy’s giggles trickle down as Steve carries her down the stairs, insisting all the while she can walk and demanding to know what they’re up to.

As they come into view Bucky spreads his arms wide, “Welcome to your own private dance. Best part is, you’re in full control of the music.”

“Bucky!” Peggy exclaims as Steve sets her on wobbly legs. “Oh, this is wonderful!”

The opening notes to a song Bucky just barely remembers hearing before kick up.

“I think I owe you a dance,” Steve says taking her hands.

“You’re damn right you do, Captain Rogers.”

You and Bucky hang back for a minute as Peggy and Steve begin a slow, tender, movement in the cleared makeshift dance floor. When Bucky looks down at you a tear finds its way down your cheek.

He immediately wipes it away with a cool metal finger. You catch his gaze, your own filled with joy and a little sadness.

“May I?” He holds out his hand much as Steve had a moment before to Peggy.

“I suppose, Sergent Barnes.”

Bucky pulls you close. As the singers croon “It’s been a long, long time” he can’t help but note how perfect it is for all of you.

There was so much loss, so much pain, but Peggy was right. Here, in the circle of his arms was his second chance at a life.

Looking up into his eyes you whisper the lyrics, “You'll never know how many dreams I dreamed about you.”

He stops your dance, takes your face in his hands, and plants a quick tender kiss on your lips.

Looking down into your eyes he’s overcome with excitement, and terror, and happiness as he realizes that you were worth the wait, worth the fight--but he didn’t have to fight this, not anymore. To you, to this feeling, he could surrender.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky x reader #james barnes #1940s bucky barnes #steve and peggy #feels #fluff

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