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autorepairlebanontn · 17 days ago

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Car Shocks Explained: What They Do and Why They Matter for Your Ride's Safety

https://autorepairlebanontn.com/?p=4047 Car Shocks Explained: What They Do and Why They Matter for Your Ride's Safety Ever felt your car bounce like a basketball after hitting a pothole? That’s your vehicle telling you something’s wrong with those crucial components underneath—the shocks. We’ve all experienced that uncomfortable feeling when our ride isn’t as smooth as it should be. Shocks, or shock absorbers, are critical suspension components that control how your car moves over uneven surfaces. They’re designed to absorb and dampen the energy from road bumps, keeping your tires firmly planted on the pavement. Without properly functioning shocks, you’d feel every crack in the road, and your handling and braking could be seriously compromised. Table of Contents Toggle Understanding Car Shock AbsorbersHow Shock Absorbers WorkThe Basic Mechanics Behind Shock AbsorbersTypes of Shock AbsorbersSigns Your Car Shocks Need ReplacementVisual IndicatorsPerformance SymptomsBenefits of Properly Functioning ShocksImproved Handling and SafetyExtended Tire LifeDifferences Between Shocks and StrutsShocksStrutsKey DifferencesHow to Choose the Right Shocks for Your VehiclePerformance vs. Comfort ConsiderationsBudget and Quality FactorsDIY vs. Professional Shock ReplacementDIY ReplacementProfessional ReplacementWhen to Choose Professional ReplacementConclusionFrequently Asked QuestionsWhat do shock absorbers do in a car?How do I know if my shock absorbers need replacement?What’s the difference between shocks and struts?How often should shock absorbers be replaced?Can I replace shock absorbers myself?How do different types of shock absorbers compare?How do shock absorbers affect fuel efficiency?Are premium shock absorbers worth the extra cost? Understanding Car Shock Absorbers Car shock absorbers function as critical components of a vehicle’s suspension system, controlling the impact and rebound movement of springs and suspension. These hydraulic devices convert kinetic energy into heat energy, effectively dampening the bouncing motion caused by road irregularities. Most modern vehicles use twin-tube or mono-tube shock designs. Twin-tube shocks contain two nested cylindrical tubes with hydraulic fluid between them, while mono-tube shocks feature a single pressure tube with a floating piston that separates oil from pressurized gas. Shock absorbers work through a straightforward hydraulic principle. When your car hits a bump, the piston inside the shock compresses, forcing oil through tiny holes in the piston. This restricted flow creates resistance, slowing down suspension movement and preventing excessive bouncing. Quality shock absorbers deliver multiple benefits beyond comfort. They maintain optimal tire-to-road contact, prevent excessive wear on suspension components, and enhance vehicle stability during cornering and braking. Performance vehicles often use specialized shocks with adjustable damping rates to fine-tune handling characteristics. Regular inspection of shock absorbers is essential for maintaining your vehicle’s safety and performance. Signs of shock failure include excessive bouncing after bumps, uneven tire wear, nose-diving during braking, and unusual fluid leaks around the shock body. How Shock Absorbers Work Shock absorbers function as hydraulic pump-like devices that manage the movement of your vehicle’s springs and suspension. They’re designed to absorb the kinetic energy generated when your car travels over uneven surfaces, converting this energy into heat rather than transmitting it to the chassis. The Basic Mechanics Behind Shock Absorbers Shock absorbers operate on a principle of resistance, controlling the compression and rebound cycles that occur when your wheels encounter bumps or potholes. Inside each shock, hydraulic fluid moves through precisely calibrated valves as the piston rod compresses and extends. This regulated fluid movement creates resistance that dampens excessive suspension movement, preventing your car from bouncing continuously after hitting road irregularities. By converting motion energy into heat, shocks maintain tire contact with the road surface, improving traction, improving braking capacity, and ensuring overall vehicle stability during various driving conditions. Types of Shock Absorbers Twin tube shock absorbers represent the most common variety found in many passenger vehicles, featuring an inner tube containing the piston and hydraulic fluid, with an outer tube serving as a fluid reservoir. Mono tube shocks use a single tube housing both the piston and hydraulic fluid, offering superior heat dissipation and higher pressure handling capabilities that make them ideal for performance vehicles. Adjustable shock absorbers provide customization options, allowing drivers to modify damping characteristics according to their preferences or exact driving conditions. For advanced applications, ASD (Automatic Stabilizer Device) and PSD (Pressure Stabilizer Device) shock absorbers automatically adjust their damping response based on road conditions, optimizing the balance between comfort and handling without driver intervention. Signs Your Car Shocks Need Replacement Recognizing when your shock absorbers need replacement is crucial for maintaining your vehicle’s safety and performance. Worn shocks can significantly impact handling, braking distance, and overall ride comfort. Visual Indicators Oil leaks around the shock absorber body are a definitive sign that replacement is necessary. These leaks occur when the seals deteriorate, allowing hydraulic fluid to escape and compromising the shock’s damping abilities. Physical damage such as dents, bends, or corrosion on the shock body or mounting points indicates structural compromise that requires immediate attention. Uneven tire wear patterns, particularly cupping or scalloping across the tread surface, often result from bouncing wheels that can’t maintain consistent contact with the road due to ineffective shock absorption. Performance Symptoms Excessive bouncing after hitting bumps or dips demonstrates that your shocks aren’t properly dampening the suspension movement. Your vehicle might swerve or drift during turns or lane changes, creating potentially dangerous handling situations on uneven road surfaces. Nosediving when braking or rear-end squatting during acceleration indicates the suspension isn’t being adequately controlled by the shock absorbers. Unusual sounds including clunking, rattling, or hissing coming from the suspension area typically signal internal shock damage or mounting hardware that’s become loose. Increased stopping distances can occur as deteriorated shocks prevent consistent tire-to-road contact during braking, compromising your vehicle’s safety in emergency situations. Benefits of Properly Functioning Shocks Properly functioning shock absorbers deliver multiple advantages that enhance your vehicle’s performance and safety. These critical components not only improve your driving experience but also contribute to the longevity of various vehicle parts. Improved Handling and Safety Shock absorbers ensure your vehicle’s tires maintain consistent contact with the road surface at all times, significantly improving control and braking response. This constant road contact is crucial for vehicle stability during maneuvers, especially in emergency situations where control can mean the difference between safety and danger. Shock absorbers effectively control body movement and wheel oscillations, contributing directly to accident prevention and passenger protection. Their performance directly influences your vehicle’s braking capacity, allowing for shorter stopping distances and improved stability during sudden braking events. By properly dampening the vehicle’s movement in response to road irregularities, shocks prevent excessive weight transfer that could otherwise compromise handling and control in critical driving situations. Extended Tire Life Quality shock absorbers distribute weight evenly across the tire surface, preventing the uneven wear patterns that often result from compromised suspension components. This even distribution leads to longer-lasting tires and reduced replacement frequency. The dampening effect minimizes vibration transfer from rough roads to your vehicle’s tires, protecting them from excessive stress and premature wear. Functioning shocks prevent the bouncing motion that causes tires to repeatedly impact the road surface with varying pressure, a condition that quickly degrades tire tread and sidewalls. By maintaining optimal tire contact with the road, shock absorbers also improve fuel efficiency since properly rolling tires encounter less resistance than those that bounce or skip across the pavement. Differences Between Shocks and Struts Shocks and struts both serve crucial roles in your vehicle’s suspension system, but they’re distinctly different components with unique functions and applications. Understanding these differences helps you better maintain your vehicle and make informed decisions when repairs become necessary. Shocks Shock absorbers function as standalone components that work alongside other suspension parts like springs and struts. They’re typically installed in the rear suspension of many vehicles, though some models feature them in the front suspension as well. The primary purpose of shocks is controlling the movement of your vehicle’s springs and suspension, which ensures stability and ride comfort on various road surfaces. Struts Struts represent more complex suspension components that combine multiple functions into a single unit. These integrated parts merge the roles of a shock absorber with those of a suspension spring and upper control arm. Most commonly found in front suspensions, struts provide substantial structural support to your vehicle’s suspension and steering systems, going beyond just dampening vibrations. Key Differences Structure: Shock absorbers feature a simpler, standalone design focused specifically on dampening, while struts integrate multiple suspension functions into one comprehensive component. Function: Both components dampen vibrations effectively, but struts also deliver crucial structural support and often integrate directly with the steering system. Location: You’ll find shock absorbers in both front and rear suspensions depending on vehicle design, whereas struts appear more frequently in front suspensions due to their additional structural role. Replacement Considerations: Replacing struts generally requires wheel alignment afterward since they’re integral to your vehicle’s steering geometry, while shock replacement typically doesn’t necessitate this additional service. Cost Factors: Strut replacement usually costs more than shock replacement due to their complexity and the additional alignment service required after installation. How to Choose the Right Shocks for Your Vehicle Selecting appropriate shock absorbers for your car requires balancing several factors including driving style, vehicle type, and budget. The right shocks can dramatically improve your vehicle’s performance, handling, and comfort on the road. Performance vs. Comfort Considerations Performance-oriented drivers benefit from gas shocks or mono-tube shocks that provide faster response times and superior damping under demanding conditions. These shock types excel at maintaining tire contact during aggressive cornering or when driving on rough terrain. Mono-tube shocks offer excellent heat dissipation capabilities, making them ideal for sports cars and performance-focused applications where consistent handling is crucial. Comfort-prioritizing drivers typically prefer oil (hydraulic) shocks or twin-tube designs that deliver smoother vibration damping. These shock absorbers excel at creating a gentler ride quality by effectively absorbing minor road imperfections. Twin-tube shocks operate more quietly than their performance counterparts, contributing to a more peaceful cabin environment. Daily commuters and family vehicles generally benefit from these comfort-focused options that minimize fatigue during extended drives. Budget and Quality Factors Cost considerations often guide shock absorber selection, with oil (hydraulic) shocks and twin-tube designs offering more economical options for standard passenger vehicles. These budget-friendly alternatives provide adequate performance for everyday driving conditions without very costly. Twin-tube shocks typically cost less while still delivering reasonable durability for normal driving conditions. Quality investments in higher-end shock absorbers like gas or mono-tube designs pay dividends through enhanced longevity and consistent performance. Premium shock absorbers feature superior materials that resist degradation over time and maintain their damping characteristics longer than economy options. Gas shocks, though more expensive initially, often prove cost-effective through their extended service life and reduced replacement frequency. Performance enthusiasts and those who drive in demanding conditions find the additional investment worthwhile for the improved heat dissipation, durability, and consistent handling these premium options provide. DIY vs. Professional Shock Replacement DIY Replacement DIY shock replacement can be a feasible project for those with basic mechanical knowledge and the right tools. Conventional telescopic shock absorbers typically present the lowest difficulty level for home mechanics. Before starting, gather all necessary equipment including a lift or jack, socket set, and possibly a spring compressor if you’re working with coilover or strut replacements. Ensuring you have the correct replacement shocks for your exact vehicle model is crucial to avoid compatibility issues. Safety protocols must be followed rigorously when working under a vehicle, as improper installation can lead to dangerous driving conditions and potential damage to other suspension components. Professional Replacement Professional mechanics offer expertise, specialized tools, and efficiency when replacing shock absorbers. Their training allows them to complete the job correctly while simultaneously inspecting other suspension components for wear or damage. Professionals typically finish shock replacements more quickly than DIY enthusiasts due to their experience and dedicated equipment. Many auto shops provide warranties on both parts and labor, giving vehicle owners peace of mind that the work meets manufacturer standards. This warranty coverage isn’t available with DIY installations, making professional replacement valuable for those seeking long-term assurance. When to Choose Professional Replacement Professional installation becomes particularly important when dealing with more complex suspension systems like struts or coilovers. These components often require special tools such as spring compressors, which can be dangerous in inexperienced hands. Vehicles with electronic suspension systems or those requiring precise calibration after installation benefit from professional expertise. Consider your comfort level with automotive repairs, available tools, and the complexity of your exact vehicle’s suspension design before deciding between DIY and professional replacement. The additional cost of professional installation often pays dividends through proper setup, comprehensive inspection, and warranty protection. Conclusion Understanding your vehicle’s shock absorbers is essential for maintaining optimal performance and safety on the road. These crucial components work tirelessly to ensure a smooth ride while maximizing tire contact with the road surface. When functioning properly shocks enhance handling improve braking response and extend the life of your tires and suspension components. Pay attention to warning signs like excessive bouncing unusual noises and uneven tire wear as they indicate it’s time for replacement. Whether you choose DIY replacement or professional service remember that investing in quality shock absorbers suited to your driving style and vehicle type will pay dividends in comfort safety and vehicle longevity. Your car’s suspension deserves this attention to keep you driving smoothly for years to come. Frequently Asked Questions What do shock absorbers do in a car? Shock absorbers control the impact and rebound movement of your vehicle’s springs and suspension. They convert kinetic energy from road bumps into heat energy, dampening the bouncing motion and ensuring your tires maintain contact with the road. This critical function improves comfort, handling, and braking performance while preventing excessive wear on suspension components. How do I know if my shock absorbers need replacement? Look for signs including excessive vehicle bouncing after hitting bumps, uneven tire wear patterns, oil leaks on the shocks, nosediving when braking, and increased stopping distances. You might also notice poor handling during turns, unusual noises from the suspension, or visible physical damage to the shock components. These symptoms indicate your shocks are failing. What’s the difference between shocks and struts? Shock absorbers are standalone dampening devices found in both front and rear suspensions. Struts are more complex components that combine shock absorber functions with those of a suspension spring and upper control arm, typically in front suspensions. Struts are structural components of the suspension system, while shocks simply dampen movement without supporting vehicle weight. How often should shock absorbers be replaced? While there’s no fixed replacement interval, most shock absorbers typically last between 50,000 to 100,000 miles depending on driving conditions, vehicle type, and shock quality. Regular inspection is recommended at each oil change. Replace them when you notice performance issues like excessive bouncing, handling problems, or uneven tire wear. Can I replace shock absorbers myself? Yes, DIY replacement is possible if you have basic mechanical knowledge, proper tools, and safety equipment like jack stands. However, the job requires working under a raised vehicle and dealing with potentially rusty components. Professional installation is recommended for complex suspension systems, vehicles with electronic suspensions, or if you lack experience with automotive repairs. How do different types of shock absorbers compare? Twin-tube shocks are common in passenger vehicles and more economical. Mono-tube shocks offer superior heat dissipation and pressure handling, making them better for performance applications. Oil (hydraulic) shocks prioritize comfort, while gas shocks provide enhanced damping and handling. Your choice should match your driving style, vehicle type, and budget. How do shock absorbers affect fuel efficiency? Properly functioning shock absorbers improve fuel efficiency by maintaining consistent tire contact with the road. When shocks fail, tires bounce and skip over road surfaces, creating irregular rolling resistance that forces the engine to work harder. Good shocks minimize these inefficiencies by controlling suspension movement, resulting in smoother driving and better fuel economy. Are premium shock absorbers worth the extra cost? Premium shock absorbers often justify their higher price through superior damping performance, longer service life, and better heat dissipation. They typically use higher-quality materials and more advanced technologies. For drivers who regularly face challenging road conditions, tow heavy loads, or prioritize handling performance, the investment in premium shocks can be worthwhile for safety and comfort. https://autorepairlebanontn.com/?p=4047 Absolute Auto Repair

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bengoodridge · 2 months ago

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The Cottworthy Conspiracy

"Well done, Mr. Andrews," said Senator Cottworthy. "I would imagine you're feeling rather proud of yourself."

Even though he'd lost, even though his schemes and plans were in shambles, he still strutted as if he was the victor, holding his lapels as Andrews sat nervously in the only chair in the room. The light was harsh, the walls concrete. Andrews spent most of the journey to this room staring at the inside of a black bag. He had no idea where he was.

"You did it," said Cottworthy. "You fought your way to the center of our vast conspiracy and survived. I would imagine you're going to run off and pollute that paranoid little blog of yours with everything you've uncovered."

"Damn right I will," said Andrews: twenty-something, light-haired, neck-bearded, waving the tattered remnants of his defiance. "I'm going to expose you and your people and everything you're doing. None of you are going to get away with this."

Cottworthy nodded to the two guards in the room, who nodded back. He removed the American flag pin from his lapel.

Almost immediately, he transformed into a six-foot lizard creature, with big red eyes shining in the poor light of the interrogation room. A silver skirt and a chest panel that seemed to carry some sort of compact life-support system replaced the immaculate suit, exposing vast stretches of glistening green skin wrapped taut around rippling muscles. Though Andrews had the proof he needed, the reality came as a shock. He jerked backwards and let out a small, involuntary cry.

"We are everywhere, Andrews," said the creature who had been Cottworthy. "We are in your government, in your military, in your boardrooms. Breaching the palaces of power on this planet was tragically easy - a little treasure in the right hands, a little flattery in the right ears, and this world was ours for the taking."

Andrews forced himself to breathe slowly. The lizard-creature had not harmed him, and the security officers hadn't even grabbed their guns. "It doesn't matter," he said. "You can't hide forever. The truth will come out. It always does."

"Oh, of course it will," said Cottworthy. "And on that day, you will be hailed as brave and persistent. The future of your world needs people like you, if it is to survive."

The sudden amiability surprised Andrews. The creature must have been having him on; with what he knew, there was no way they'd let him leave this room alive. "What?"

"Ours is a species devoted only to observation and study of the development of valuable cultures, Mr. Andrews. Did you ever wonder why we've intruded as we have? It is not an intrusion we perform often or lightly."

"Wha..." Andrews thought that was obvious. "To take over, of course," he said. "To...to enslave us."

"The creed of the paranoid, Mr. Andrews. The fear of distant authority. A valid fear, of course. No civilization should meekly accept domination. Yet of all the questions you've asked, you've never sought to answer that one. You simply assumed." Cottworthy's lipless mouth twitched. He almost looked ready to smile.

"All right," said Andrews. "I'll play along. What are you doing here? What do you want with us?"

Cottworthy sighed; had Andrews been better able to read his inscrutable reptilian expression, he might have appended "with relief."

"Intelligent species are rare and deeply precious," he explained. "Yours hasn't the slightest idea how many times it nearly destroyed itself in the last century. Were it not for our guiding talons, this beautiful planet would have been a smoking ruin five times over. It may still happen, given the arrogance and pride of its people and the devastation they seem determined to wreak."

The assertion had credibility, but Andrews wasn't sitting here because he quietly accepted the word of tall men with bossy voices. "I assume," he lied, "that you can back that up."

"Oh, I wouldn't make such a claim without evidence," said Cottworthy, "and I assure you that you'll have it in abundance before you leave here. This world measures its risk of collapse in minutes to midnight; my people are responsible for every desperate second added to that clock. We've restrained every fool who wanted to press the button, we're deposing every greedy CEO who thinks a thousand lives are worth a hundred dollars, we 've fought every pound of carbon dioxide pumped into the atmosphere. And at every turn your people have fought in favor of your own suicide. You march toward the cliff despite all our attempts to stop you."

Andrews scowled. "If you guys are that powerful, why not just stop us? Step in and take over."

"What makes you think we'd succeed? We have yet to run a simulation where our assets defeat your greed. If we worked in the open, you'd only use us to accelerate your suicide. Besides, we're flirting with unethical interference as it is; when we do return home, there'll be some pointed and difficult inquiries that none of us are looking forward to. We have no intention of guiding you more than you absolutely need to survive. You merely have turned out to need a great deal of guidance."

"All right then," insisted Andrews. "Let's see your evidence."

"We're compiling it now. It should make interesting reading for you. At least, we hope to assure you before you leave here that if the human race ever does stand on the brink of disaster, it will be due to its own actions, and despite the best efforts of my people and our...meddling." Cottworthy's mouth twitched again. "You know, you're handling this better than the last crank I had in this room. He seemed convinced that we were saving you for some kind of food supply. At least you only believe that we're an invasion force."

"And if I demand to be released, right now?" said Andrews. "If I don't want to wait for your so-called 'evidence?'"

Cottworthy went over to the door, which Andrews had assumed was locked. He tweaked the knob, and it swung open. "Straight down the corridor, exit's to your left, follow the signs," he said, and stepped back. "Your car's parked in the lot in J-3. We topped off your gas tank for you."

Andrews stared down the corridor. Clean, well-lit, an exit sign at the end, arrow pointing left. Cottworthy, the giant lizard-man from space, looked at him with an expectant, hopeful, winning expression.

"I'll wait," he said.

Cottworthy beamed. "I'll order us a pizza."

#short story #conspiracy #science fiction #scalie #alien species

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bpautospares · 5 months ago

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Importance Of Using Genuine Mahindra Spare Parts

Mahindra is a renowned automobile brand known for producing durable and high-performing vehicles. Maintaining these vehicles in optimal condition often requires the use of genuine spare parts. This guide covers everything you need to know about Mahindra car spare parts, ensuring you make informed decisions for your vehicle's maintenance and repairs.

1. Importance of Genuine Mahindra Spare Parts

Using genuine spare parts is crucial for:

Performance: Ensures your car operates at its best.

Durability: Enhances the lifespan of your vehicle components.

Safety: Reduces the risk of failures that could lead to accidents.

Warranty Compliance: Keeps your vehicle warranty valid.

2. Types of Mahindra Spare Parts

Mahindra spare parts can be broadly categorized into:

Engine Components: Pistons, camshafts, valves, oil filters, and gaskets.

Suspension and Braking: Shock absorbers, brake pads, discs, and struts.

Electrical Parts: Alternators, starters, batteries, and sensors.

Body Parts: Bumpers, mirrors, headlights, taillights, and door handles.

Accessories: Seat covers, floor mats, infotainment systems, and roof racks.

3. How to Identify Genuine Mahindra Spare Parts

To ensure you’re purchasing authentic spare parts:

Check for Holograms: Genuine parts usually have a Mahindra hologram.

Inspect the Packaging: Original packaging is sealed and features Mahindra branding.

Match Part Numbers: Verify the part number with your vehicle manual.

Purchase from Authorized Dealers: Buy from certified Mahindra service centers or trusted retailers.

4. Where to Buy Mahindra Spare Parts

Authorized Dealerships: Offer genuine parts with warranty and expert installation services.

Online Stores: Mahindra’s official website or reputed e-commerce platforms like Amazon and Flipkart.

Local Retailers: Ensure they are verified to sell authentic parts.

Used Parts Vendors: Only for rare or discontinued models, but always verify authenticity.

Read also: Mahindra Car Spare Parts: A Comprehensive Guide

5. Tips for Maintaining Your Mahindra Car

Regular Servicing: Follow the recommended service schedule.

Use Genuine Parts: Avoid cheap imitations to prevent long-term damage.

Inspect Components Regularly: Keep an eye on wear-and-tear items like brake pads and belts.

Keep the Vehicle Clean: Prevents corrosion and wear on parts.

Drive Responsibly: Avoid overloading or harsh driving.

6. Common Spare Parts and Their Approximate Costs

Part Name

Approximate Cost

Oil Filter

300 - 500

Brake Pads

1,500 - 3,000

Headlight Assembly

4,000 - 7,000

Shock Absorber

2,500 - 5,000

Clutch Kit

6,000 - 12,000

Prices vary based on model and location.

7. Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

Q: How can I be sure a part fits my vehicle?

A: Refer to your vehicle’s manual or consult an authorized dealer.

Q: Can I use third-party parts for my Mahindra vehicle?

A: While third-party parts may be cheaper, they often lack the quality and compatibility of genuine parts.

Q: How often should I replace essential parts?

A: Follow your car’s maintenance schedule or replace parts based on wear and tear signs.

8. Conclusion

Maintaining your Mahindra car with genuine spare parts ensures optimal performance, safety, and durability. By sourcing parts from authorized channels and following recommended maintenance practices, you can enjoy a hassle-free ownership experience.

#MahindraSpareParts #CarMaintenance #MahindraXUV700 #MahindraThar #MahindraScorpio #AutomobileParts #GenuineParts #CarCare #MahindraCars

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charliejoyce921 · 6 months ago

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Don't Let Holden Trax Troubles Slow You Down

The Holden Trax is a compact SUV that has gained popularity for its stylish design, practicality, and efficient performance. However, like any vehicle, it can encounter a few troubles that may impact its smooth operation.

From engine issues to electrical faults, problems with the Holden Trax can be frustrating for drivers who rely on their vehicle for daily commutes and road trips. But don't let these issues slow you down! With the right knowledge and proactive maintenance, most Holden Trax troubles can be fixed swiftly and effectively.

Common Holden Trax Problems

Engine Performance Issues A common complaint among Holden Trax owners is a lack of engine power or stalling. This could be caused by a variety of factors, such as a faulty fuel injector, a clogged air filter, or issues with the spark plugs. Regular servicing and timely replacement of parts like filters or injectors can keep your engine running smoothly.

Transmission and Gearbox Troubles Some Trax owners have reported issues with the vehicle’s transmission, including jerking, hesitation, or slipping gears. A common cause could be low transmission fluid or the need for a software update for the gearbox. Keeping your transmission fluid topped up and addressing transmission problems early can help prevent major repairs down the line.

Electrical Malfunctions Electrical issues can range from malfunctioning power windows to problems with the dashboard lights. A common cause of electrical malfunctions in the Holden Trax is faulty wiring or a dead battery. Ensuring that the battery and electrical components are regularly checked and maintained can help avoid costly repairs.

Suspension Problems Some drivers have reported issues with the suspension, such as unusual noises when driving over bumps or a rough ride. Worn-out shock absorbers or struts are often the culprits. Regular suspension checks can prevent these problems and ensure a smooth driving experience.

Tips to Keep Your Holden Trax Running Smoothly

Routine Maintenance: Always follow the manufacturer's recommended maintenance schedule for oil changes, tire rotations, and brake checks. This will keep your Trax running efficiently and help you catch potential issues early.

Stay Alert for Warning Signs: Pay attention to any strange noises, warning lights, or changes in performance. Addressing small problems early can prevent them from becoming larger, more expensive issues.

Visit a Trusted Mechanic: If you notice a problem, visit a qualified mechanic who specializes in Holden vehicles. They can diagnose issues quickly and recommend the best course of action.

Conclusion

While Holden Trax troubles are not uncommon, they don’t have to slow you down. By staying on top of routine maintenance, addressing issues early, and seeking professional assistance when needed, you can keep your Trax in excellent condition and continue to enjoy a smooth, trouble-free driving experience. Remember, taking care of your vehicle today means fewer problems tomorrow.

FAQs

1. What should I do if my Holden Trax’s engine is stalling? If your Holden Trax engine is stalling, check for issues such as a clogged fuel filter, a failing fuel pump, or dirty spark plugs. A mechanic can perform diagnostic tests to identify the root cause and suggest repairs.

2. How often should I get the transmission fluid checked in my Holden Trax? It's recommended to check the transmission fluid every 30,000 to 60,000 kilometers or as advised in your vehicle’s manual. Regular fluid checks can help avoid transmission issues and prolong the life of your gearbox.

3. What are signs of electrical issues in a Holden Trax? Electrical issues in a Holden Trax may manifest as flickering lights, non-functioning power windows, or dashboard errors. If you notice any of these symptoms, it’s important to have the electrical system inspected by a qualified technician.

#mercedes benz #cars #mercedes-benz #car #car repair guides #car maintenance

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corycook14 · 1 year ago

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A Guide to Overcoming Common Vauxhall Car Problems

Vauxhall has long been a trusted name in the automotive industry, producing reliable and stylish vehicles for decades. However, like any other car brand, Vauxhall cars are not immune to common issues that can arise over time.

In this comprehensive guide, we will explore some of the typical problems faced by Vauxhall owners and provide practical solutions to overcome them.

Electrical Gremlins:

One of the common issues reported by Vauxhall car owners is related to electrical components. From malfunctioning lights to issues with the central locking system, electrical gremlins can be frustrating. To tackle this problem, start by checking the fuses and relays. If you’re not comfortable doing this yourself, seek professional help. Regularly inspect and replace faulty bulbs, and consider investing in a quality diagnostic tool to identify and address electrical issues promptly.

Faulty Ignition Coils:

Many Vauxhall models are prone to ignition coil failures, leading to rough idling, misfires, and a decrease in overall performance. If you experience these symptoms, it’s advisable to replace the faulty ignition coil promptly. Regular maintenance, such as changing spark plugs and ensuring a clean air filter, can also contribute to preventing ignition coil problems.

Timing Belt Troubles:

The timing belt is a critical component in the engine that synchronizes the rotation of the crankshaft and camshaft. Over time, the timing belt can wear out, leading to serious engine damage if it breaks. Vauxhall owners should adhere to the recommended replacement intervals provided in the vehicle’s manual. Regular inspections and timely replacements can prevent costly engine repairs and keep your car running smoothly.

Clutch and Gearbox Issues:

Some Vauxhall models may experience clutch and gearbox problems, including difficulty in shifting gears or a slipping clutch. Regularly check the clutch fluid levels and ensure that the gearbox oil is at the recommended level. If you notice any unusual noises or difficulties in gear engagement, consult with a professional mechanic for a thorough inspection and potential repairs.

Cooling System Challenges:

Overheating issues are not uncommon in Vauxhall cars, often caused by a malfunctioning thermostat, a faulty radiator, or a leaking coolant system. Regularly check the coolant levels and inspect for any signs of leaks. If your car is prone to overheating, consider flushing and replacing the coolant at the recommended intervals. Additionally, ensure that the radiator and cooling fans are working correctly.

Suspension Woes:

Vauxhall owners may encounter problems with the suspension system, resulting in a bumpy ride and poor handling. Regularly inspect the shock absorbers, struts, and other suspension components for signs of wear or damage. If you notice any unusual noises or a decrease in ride comfort, consult with a professional mechanic to address the issue promptly.

Brake System Challenges:

Brake-related problems can compromise the safety of your Vauxhall car. Issues such as squeaking or grinding noises, reduced braking efficiency, or a spongy brake pedal should not be ignored. Regularly check the brake pads, discs, and brake fluid levels. Replace worn-out brake components and seek professional assistance for brake system inspections to ensure optimal performance.

How Service My Car Assists You ?

Have you reached a point where you’re questioning, “Where can I find the top volkswagen workshop bolton for my car service ?” Look no further, Service My Car is your ultimate solution for volkswagen service, with a special focus on volkswagen owners in Bolton. Our platform connects you with reputable volkswagen garages in Bolton, ensuring skilled professionals handle your car. From routine servicing to addressing specific car issues, we streamline the process, saving you time and effort. Enjoy the convenience of online booking, transparent pricing, and a network of certified mechanics dedicated to maintaining your volkswagen peak performance. With Service My Car, your car receives expert care, giving you peace of mind and a reliable driving experience in Bolton and beyond.

Conclusion:

Owning a Vauxhall car can be a rewarding experience, but like any vehicle, it requires regular maintenance and attention to common issues. By staying proactive and addressing problems promptly, you can extend the lifespan of your car and enjoy a smoother driving experience. Remember to follow the manufacturer’s maintenance guidelines, and when in doubt, consult with a qualified mechanic to keep your Vauxhall in top-notch condition.

#volkswagen workshop bolton #volkswagen workshop

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

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smoke and mirrors

⇢ richkid!tom x richkid!reader ⇠

w/c: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, drinking, light angst, and implied smut

summary: because of your mother’s insistence on a pristine family image and tom’s messy one, you deny your true feelings for him

a/n: ok ok ok the pics of tom in monaco really made me think and i had to get everything out of my system so here we are! thank you and enjoy x

your living room is engulfed by a hushed chatter that comes from far too many guests. half the people, you hardly know. it’s overcrowded, superficial, and the last place you want to be. it’s one of your mother’s get-togethers, as she likes to call them. these things are always far from the casual affairs they sound like.

weeks go into planning, caterers and decorators making themselves at home in yours. the family’s image is everything to your mom, so being a good hostess is her top priority. ironically, she’s more concerned with throwing her gatherings than raising you. so much for family, huh?

the only reason you agreed to make an appearance tonight is that tom might do the same. he’s a really good friend, someone you’ve been able to count on through all the mess that is your lives. you met in high school, when he moved from london to the states. his dad was offered a job promotion he couldn’t pass up. plus, tom and his brothers would be receiving a stellar private education here in america.

it was a win for everyone, especially you. the freckle faced boy who got lost on his way to english class became your closest confidant. tom’s company is such a sweet escape. he’s not interested in opera or the stock market like most people you meet are. he sneaks you out to go on walks at dawn and does shots with you until you can’t stand straight.

as you two continue to grow together, revelations about yourselves have come to light. what you want beyond your inheritances, who you want beyond friendship. you figured out the second part on a faithful night recently. tom showed up to your place with a bottle of tequila. after you drank it down through lots of lime chasers and giggles, he kissed you. you didn’t kiss back.

your heart said to go for it, but your mind pulled you back in. you were so shocked and overcome with new feelings, you froze up. that, and you’d infuriate your mother. although she cares about tom a great deal, she loathes his public figure. he’s always getting papped in places and with people he shouldn’t be. the two of you together would just destroy her.

you still want to please your mom at the end of the day, no matter how deep under your skin she gets.

tom immediately apologized and tried play it off as him being drunk. you grew up with him, became part of each other’s families, which means you know him well enough to know he was lying. he meant every second his lips were on yours.

what you need to do now is something you’ve meant to for a while. the only problem is that you’re stuck at your mother’s party, and tom hasn’t shown up yet.

“y/n, darling,” your mom calls for your attention. she’s dragged you into a conversation with some bloggers, but you haven’t spoken a word. “why don’t you tell us about your trip to spain last summer?” she plasters on her award winning grin and squeezes your shoulder. it’s time to play along.

“oh, it was beautiful,” you halfheartedly reply, more to the bloggers than her. they nod in clear interest. one jots down notes. “we went for a few weeks and visited a bunch of different cities. i’d love to go back sometime.” the typical press formatted answer earns your mom’s approval. you’re off the hook. your eyes start to wander around the room, hoping to set on tom.

“we?” the woman taking notes asks. must everyone pry? “my friend and i,” you shortly reply. you’re standing up on your tiptoes to see over the crowd. you’d think six inch heels would do the trick. “i’m actually looking for him right now, so if you’ll excuse me,” you offer a polite smile and silently pray they won’t ask who. unfortunately, your wishes don’t come true.

the other blogger, a short and stubborn man, speaks up. “just a friend you say? come on, tell us. who’s the lucky fella?” he inquires. your mother raises a firm eyebrow, signaling for you not to.

tom has a reputation for his reckless behavior. it’s your mom’s worst nightmare when the media associates your names under most circumstances. you’re representing her, so she does whatever she can to control how you’re seen. you’re constantly in the papers, being a young socialite and all. it sucks.

“he’d like to stay out of the tabloids, sorry,” you cover for tom, on your mom’s behalf. “i should really go. it was nice meeting you.” the bloggers don’t bother to hide their disappointment as you shake their hands. your mother rubs your back in approval. “thank you for doing that. we’ll talk later,” she speaks lowly. “bye, mom!” you practically make a run for it.

weaving through the sea of people, you end up by the main entrance. it’s hard not to get lost even though it’s your house. the place is packed with girls just a couple years older than you, wearing pearls around their necks. men’s strong colognes flow through the air. you’re in a form fitting red slip dress and louboutins yourself.

smoke and mirrors is what they call it. you show the pretty parts to distract from your ugly ones.

harrison suddenly comes waltzing in with a lady on either of his arms. you’d expect nothing less. he’s tom’s best friend besides you, considering the failed kiss attempt didn’t change that. their parents worked at the london branch of the same company. they each came to the states and met you. you happily introduced them to your world, helping to make it theirs as well.

“haz!” you meet him at the front door. he’s smirking while he leads the women inside. “fancy seeing you here, isn’t it?” he jokes. “very funny. i died laughing,” you deadpan, curiously eyeing harrison’s plus two. they merely giggle. “listen, have you seen tom anywhere? if he’s coming.” you’re fighting back a frown. “why wouldn’t he be?” harrison questions in a more serious tone this time.

“long story. you have guests to entertain, so i won’t get into it now,” you decide and manage a small smile instead. he perks up. “right. i’ll let you know if i see him?” nodding, you give him a wave goodbye. “enjoy yourself.” “you too, love. cheers!” the girls lean into him, harrison wiggling his eyebrows at you. he’s ridiculous.

hours pass by without word of tom. it isn’t like him to miss an event, especially if you’re in attendance. you despise these exhausting nights, and he’s supposed to be your rock during them. he should have his arm draped around your shoulders, whispering silly remarks to you while you hide out somewhere. you miss him more than you thought possible.

you’re just about to give up when you spot nikki ushering her husband inside. behind them follows tom, clad in a grey checkered suit with his locks perfectly tousled. he’s here. you waited the whole night, and he finally came.

tom kisses his mom on the cheek before strutting over to the drink table, not without a few reporters hassling him. they’re probably looking for another holland scandal to break. he declines their requests for comments on this and opinions on that, instead pulling up a chair next to harrison. the two exchange hugs and fix themselves glasses of champagne, you watching their encounter.

harrison fills tom in on the drama he’s missed tonight while they sip their drinks. tom keeps forcing smiles that don’t reach his eyes. he’s fiddling with his fingers, leg bouncing up and down steadily. those are the telltale signs he needs saving. however awkward it may be, you’re going to have to break your silence. it was bound to happen eventually.

“mate, i’m telling you. she fit her entire first right up her-“ “boys,” you cut into harrison’s story, greeting him and tom. his face tints deep pink upon your arrival. “don’t let me stop you. finish your charming anecdote,” you encourage him and subtly glance over at tom. he’s biting back a grin as he sets his elbows on the table.

“not with a lady present. let’s just… pretend you didn’t hear that,” harrison chuckles nervously and hops to his feet. “i’m gonna leave you two to chat.” humming, you move to take his chair. tom sucks in a breath. “what happened to the girls you brought?” you wonder. “they left. said they got bored,” harrison admits, tom stifling laughter. he elbows his friend for that.

“oh, fuck off. i’ll see you later,” he mopes, flicking your arm for good measure. tom salutes him and grabs his nearly empty champagne. “so long, bruv.”

it’s just you and tom now, seated side by side, silently so. he has no intentions of speaking first. he’s too embarrassed, and you don’t blame him. this is on you. you clear your throat before starting the conversation.

“can i top you off?” you tap the bottom of his glass with a tiny smile. tom shakes his head. “i’m alright, thanks.” he finishes the last sip and sets it down, turning to face you. your smile has vanished. “wasn’t sure you were gonna make it. i’m glad you did,” you change the subject. as if he’s considering the sincerity behind your words, tom furrows his eyebrows.

“mum wanted us to. she dragged me and dad straight off the golf course,” he explains and clasps his hands in his lap. his fingers interlock with each other. you fight off the urge to replace them with yours. “we would’ve been here sooner, but the paps are camped outside.” the hint of a smile forms on his lips, at last. “guess it’s not often you get the town’s finest under one roof.”

“you think i’m one of the town’s finest?” you tease, resting your chin in your palm. something flashes behind tom’s eyes. he looks right into yours, scooting closer. “absolutely. you’re the most eligible bachelorette in this whole building.” you allow a toothy grin to spread across your face. “tommy, stop it. you’re too nice to me.”

the nickname is music to his ears. tom looks you up and down, licking his lips simultaneously. “no, seriously. you look gorgeous,” he muses, you pushing at his chest. he exhales a breathy laugh, and you giggle yourself. “red’s definitely your color.” “reverse card. you wear it way better than i do,” you insist. your fingers tug at the collar of his suit. “too bad you didn’t match me.”

you’re relieved you two can talk like you usually do, light flirting and good vibes. it might not be so hard to put the kiss behind you. well, you can’t go on pretending it didn’t happen. you have to at least discuss the fiasco. tom should know why you didn’t reciprocate, then you can take it from there. whether he still has feelings for you, assuming he ever did, will depend on how that turns out.

“not to ruin the fun, but we still have to talk,” you murmur, tom’s body stiffening across from yours. he’s not sure he’s ready to discuss that. “can it wait? we’re at a party,” tom reminds you, running a hand through his styled locks. “yeah, my mother’s. don’t tell me you’re having a good time,” you playfully chastise him. he simply shrugs. “hardly. you’re the best part.”

you ignore the butterflies roaming about your body.

“you won’t mind a quick convo, then. it is with me,” you attempt to persuade him and place a hand on his knee. tom coughs a bit too loudly, the contact surprising him. “you know what? i think i’ll take you up on that drink first,” he decides with a mustered up smile. “coming right up.” you pat his leg before taking his glass. he chews on his lower lip while you poor the bubbling liquid. that was certainly… odd.

you slide tom his champagne back with an exaggerated wink. tom scoffs at this. “mm, thanks. care to join me?” he brings the alcohol to his lips, eyes never leaving yours. your mother specifically said no drinking tonight, since the press would be here. screw your mother, though. “please. could you hand me a glass?” you eagerly grab the champagne bottle. tom searches for an empty cup next to him.

you two are unspoken drinking buddies at this point.

“here you are, darling,” tom drawls, holding out the glass for you. every time he calls you that, you completely melt. “thanks, tommy,” you purr in response. you’re finally pouring your own drink when someone taps you on the shoulder, and hard. you look behind you to find your mother standing with her hands on her hips, less than thrilled. speak of the devil.

“hello, mother. can i help you?” you make sure to ask rudely. she responds with a smile that’s obviously fake. if tom weren’t here, you’d be getting scolded. “yes, my darling. those bloggers from earlier were hoping you’d finish your interview.” your mom shakes your shoulder in a motherly way. you squint up at her. “didn’t they leave hours ago-“ “they’re back,” she sharply informs you.

she’s lying, and you have a hunch as to why.

frowning, you hold tom’s hand in both of yours. “sorry, this won’t take long. why don’t you go find tuwaine?” you suggest instead. “he’s around here somewhere.” tom gives you an understanding nod and laces your fingers together, even if it’s only for a moment. “must be chatting up some producers or whatnot. i’ll see if i can help.” he’s such an incredible friend to everyone. he deserves the same from you.

“thomas, so lovely to see you,” your mom interrupts. tom stands up, kissing both her cheeks out of courtesy. “you, too. what a wonderful party. thank you for having us.” despite what the rest of the world believes, his manners are impeccable. “of course. give nikki my best, will you?” your mom puts her hands on his shoulders. he grins at her. “definitely. take care, mrs. y/l/n.” “always a pleasure,” she states, nudging you to come along with her.

you shoot tom one last apologetic look as your mother pulls you along and towards the crowd.

tom is no idiot. he’s well aware how she really feels about him.

when a swarm of guests is surrounding you, your mom lets go. you scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. “why would you do that? i haven’t seen tom in days.” she sighs without a care. “isn’t it time you branch out? expand your social circle?” her manicured fingers ruffle your hair. you push away her touch. “i’m social enough. we were in the middle of something really important.”

you begin to walk away, but your mother takes your arm. “whatever you’re about to do, it’s a mistake. he’ll make a fool of you,” she practically spits. yanking your arm from her grasp, you laugh bitterly. “of me, or of the family name? look around, mom.” you gesture to the spot beside her where your dad should be. “as far as i’m concerned, i have no family except tom. i’m gonna go check on him.”

you’re gone before your mom can stop you. she simply stands there, utterly mortified by what you said.

you run around the house to find tom, stumbling in your heels and not giving a fuck. you’d truly meant the part about him being your family. all the holland’s, honestly. they’re the most genuine and caring souls, and you don’t want to lose the one you’re closest to because of your mother’s delusions.

tom is in a circle with harrison and tuwaine, the three of them chuckling amongst themselves. you’d hate to bug him, but this can’t wait anymore.

“uh, tom?” you mumble his name, appearing behind him. he steps away with another quiet laugh. “hey, y/n/n. that was quick, hm?” your face gives away your distress. his whole demeanor shifting, tom reaches for your hands. “what is it, love? is something the matter?” “just… come with me,” you croak out.

you manage to smile at harrison and tuwaine, dropping one of tom’s hands so you can lead him upstairs. they each return the smile and share curious looks.

following behind you, tom keeps your hand tight in his own. he’d thought you were going to grill him about the kiss that barely happened. it seems like this is a much more pressing matter. his outburst of emotions can be discussed another time. now, it’s time to deal with yours.

you drag tom into the first room on the second floor, which is your dad’s study. he’s away on business this weekend, so he luckily couldn’t make the party. tom sits down in the office chair. you sit up on the desk, in front of him. your lip quivers the second his worried features come into view.

“y/n/n, what’s going on? why are we in here?” tom wonders, his tone soft. your heart clenches. “i- i wanted us to have some privacy when i told you this,” you sniffle out and blink back the tears forming. you’re sort of shaken from the conversation with your mother, and mostly because you have no idea how tom will react to your confession.

his hands come to stay on your thighs, right below your dress. they feel warm against your bare skin.

“tell me what? i’m listening, yeah?” tom gazes up at you with so much love. “lay it all out for me.” god, he’s fucking amazing. if only you knew where to start. “do you, um…” you trail off, letting your tears subside and words settle. “do you remember when your family made your big debut in town?”

a grin replaces tom’s frown, painting his beautiful face. “how could i forget? you made it quite memorable.” he traces circles on your thigh and elicits a giggle from you. “i spilled a whole thing of soda on your white fucking button down,” you recount with a lighthearted sigh. “right before your dad was supposed to introduce you to everyone, too.”

tom presses his tongue into his cheek to hold back another grin. “took ages to get it out. dad went mad when i didn’t show.” he cocks his head to the side, you leaning back on your hands. “you held me hostage in the laundry room so you could do that bloody stain stick.” your mouth drops open in mock offense. “i had to clean up my mess! i wasn’t gonna let the world meet you covered in pepsi.”

that was one of your earliest memories together. the holland’s threw a party and invited everyone who was willing to attend. they had been hoping to properly introduce themselves to the town, and this was their way of doing so. although yours and tom’s friendship was fairly new, you spent all night together because you had experience with such events.

tom’s dad was making a speech to thank the guests for coming. you and him listened from the snack table, until his name was called. he rushed to go up there while you were pouring yourself a drink. he’d bumped into you, and the bottle ended up all over him. you snuck tom right off to his laundry room.

you’d felt terrible as he stood there shirtless and blushing, you aggressively swiping his button down with a stain stick.

“why do you bring that up?” tom questions and continues circling your skin. you purse your lips. “i dunno. it was the last party i actually enjoyed,” you admit, putting your hand over his that rests on your thigh. “like to reminisce when i’m suffering through one of my mother’s.” his eyes shift to where your hands are laced. “i see,” he affirms. “so, is that… all you wanted to talk about?” “not even close,” you laugh out.

a burst of courage coursing through your body, you say it. “when you kissed me the other night-“ “i won’t do it again,” tom cuts in, trying to avoid the rejection he thinks you’ll give him. “it was a mistake, and i’m so sorry. our friendship is more important than my feelings.” you seem excited to hear that, though it’s not for the reason tom expects. “you do have feelings for me?”

he’d forgotten about his i was drunk excuse.

“um, yeah. i do,” he admits, cheeks rosy and lip caught in his teeth. “but, i’ll learn to put them aside, if that’s what’s best.” “no, no. it isn’t,” you dismiss him and put your free hand on his chest. “i love you, tom. that’s what i was really trying to tell you.” your words bring an instant grin to his face. he chuckles in disbelief, standing from the chair.

“fuck, thank god. that’s all i’ve ever wanted to hear.” he’s between your legs now, his hands moving up to your hips. you’re beaming at him as your arms snake around his neck. a burning question comes to tom’s mind. “hang on. why didn’t you kiss me back, then?” he almost whispers, thumb brushing over your hipbone. “this is gonna sound weird, but… my mom,” you reluctantly let out.

“you’re gonna have to elaborate,” tom prompts you and raises an eyebrow. you can’t hold back your eye roll. “she’s never been a fan of the person you are in the media.” his lips form a line. “i gathered.” your fingers tangle in his curls at the nape of his neck reassuringly. “i was subconsciously scared i would be letting her down in some way, if we were together.”

tom allows your hands to work their way up to his scalp. he exhales contentedly as you play with his ever so soft hair. “i understand, she’s intimidating. what’s changed that brilliant mind of yours about coming clean?” your nose scrunches up when he pokes one of your temples. “oh, yeah. i yelled at her earlier ‘cuz she stole me away from you.” his face lights up. “sexy.” “shut up,” you groan. “someone had to tell her off.”

“good thing it got to be you,” tom agrees with a squeeze at your hip. “‘m proud of you, y/n/n. it’s not easy, standing up to mummy dearest.” you tug on his hair. “like you’d know. nikki is a saint.” “that’s what she’ll have you believe,” he says under his breath, you gasping. his lips turn up in a smirk. “on that note… i love you, too.”

“would’ve been embarrassing if you didn’t say it back,” you acknowledge with a cheesy smile. tom dips his head down to rest his forehead against yours. “yeah, yeah. save the attitude for your mum.” your legs easily wrap around his waist, tom’s breath hot as it hits your face. “let’s give that kiss another go,” you mewl. he doesn’t hesitate to reply. “with pleasure.”

tom’s lips land on yours, you kissing back right away. he smiles into it as your lips gently move together. “about fucking time,” he grumbles, your hands situating in his chocolate curls once again. he’s savoring every second you touch him, kiss him, love him. the taste of your mouth is one he’s craved for longer than you could imagine.

it doesn’t take long for things to heat up, you messing with tom’s hair and tom rubbing your hips. you lay back on the desk as his tongue enters your mouth. holding you by your waist, tom hovers over you. his tongue tangles with yours in a deep kiss. between that and his fingers beginning to massage your thigh, you’re done for. you’re ready to take this a step further by the time he’s kissing down your neck.

“tommy?” you grab onto his shoulders, your head back. his lips detach from your skin with a grin. “yeah, love? ‘s everything okay?” he coos, pressing a final kiss to your collarbone. “more than.” you tilt his chin up to peck his lips. “you wouldn’t happen to have a condom, would you? just thinking ahead.” he laughs breathlessly, reaching into his suit pocket.

“conveniently enough, i do. not sure your dad would like me fucking you on his desk, though.” tom sets his hand on your leg that’s still hooked around his waist. “my room’s always available. carry me?” you make grabby hands and bat your lashes. he hoists you up by your waist, not lifting you just yet. “that would break the news of us, no? your mum’s gonna go apeshit.” he keeps his arms around you, chuckling.

“let her. besides, i know a couple of bloggers that would love to announce our status update.” you peck tom’s lips, grinning as you do. you’re suddenly in the air and being picked up by tom. the surprise of it makes you squeal, clutching onto his broad shoulders instinctively. he gives you the look of adoration that’s reserved for you only.

“we’ll go pop a few bottles with everyone, then we’re celebrating on our own.”

#tom holland #richkid!tom #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you

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bureowo · 5 years ago

Text

don’t say maybe (cause i’m not a little boy)

summary: jeongin just wants to be your man.

genre: slight angst. | word count: 2540.

warnings: sensual themes & mentions of alcohol consumption.

Jeongin suspires, leaning back against the couch as you leave a trail of open-mouthed, sloppy kisses along the side of his outstretched neck. You’re straddling him, knees on each side of his hips, and he clutches your waist like you’re going to disappear into thin air at any given moment. You smile, lifting your face to connect your lips to his once more, he almost whimpers; you taste sweet and smell even sweeter, and the way your tongue glides over his lip makes his insides burst into flames. Jeongin stares at you, entranced, as you lean back on his lap, your bottom lip caught between your teeth and a playful glint adorning your gaze. You run your hands down the expanse of his torso and halt to a stop once you reach his hips, your thumbs drawing circles against the exposed skin right above his belt buckle; he shivers, anticipating your next move, and then – he wakes up.

Jeongin awakens, clammy and disoriented, the movie he’d been watching still playing on the tv. He looks around the room in a daze, glad to find his roommate nowhere in sight, he’s not in the mood to deal with Hyunjin’s teasing right now. Jeongin runs a hand through his hair, sighs and leans back onto the couch – the same couch, yet the way he feels now is a sharp contrast to what he’d been feeling just minutes prior; he feels cold, embittered and palpably uncomfortable. He wallows in his misery for a few more minutes before he decides to hop into the shower.

To say that Jeongin is grouchy this morning would be an enormous understatement, his exasperated state obvious to anyone who’s looking; he hasn’t been getting much rest lately, thoughts of you occupying his mind till ungodly hours, images of your eyes, your lips, engrained deep into his brain – it keeps him awake at night, you keep him awake at night.

His ears perk up at the sound of your laugh, he looks up just in time to catch a glimpse of your wide, toothy smile before your hand shoots up to cover it; he hadn’t been paying attention in the least to what Hyunjin had been saying but judging by your reaction it’d been something incredibly funny.

Jeongin has to muster every ounce of strength in his body to not let the jealousy, rising up his throat like bile, spill out of his mouth; he yearns to make you laugh like that. He wishes he could tell you, unabashedly, how he feels – how much he covets your attention, your affection, and how badly he craves your touch. But, alas, he lays his head back down onto the table, pushing the untouched tray of food next to him further away.

“Are you tired, Innie?” You ask him, your fingers spreading over his own. He wants to tell you it’s your fault, and that you should either apologize or start paying rent for living in his head day-and-night, but your beauty leaves him mesmerized; the way you’re looking at him – eyes bright and focused on him, and a slight grin on your lips – makes him go a bit lightheaded.

Jeongin sighs and fantasizes about kissing that look off your face, replacing it with one of shock, of newfound awareness and passion. He’s so enraptured by his reverie, he doesn’t notice you pulling your hand away from his and getting up from your seat; only the tapping of your feet against the ground makes him look up at your retreating form, and his heart sinks to his stomach.

“How do I look?” Jeongin asks you, before proceeding to strike a pose – head tilted up and towards the side slightly, showing off his jawline, and his arm flexed over his head; he hopes you don’t notice how calculated his moves are. You giggle and walk closer to him, your hand reaching out to pat his head.

“You look cute Jeonginnie.” You tell him, melodiously, and he hates it. He straightens his back and his jaw tenses almost imperceptibly; here he was, in his tightest pair of jeans and with a sleeveless shirt cladding at his body and all you can say is he’s cute? He can’t help the scoff that escapes him; he had asked you for help picking an outfit for a date – a date he’d only agreed to go on because Hyunjin kept on pestering him about his love life, or the lack thereof rather. A date he fully knew he would spend thinking of nothing else but you.

He had asked for your help in hopes of getting some alone time and maybe even some compliments from you, but, really, he should have known better – you always treated him as a child. He despises it; it makes his blood boil, how you would ruffle his hair and smile fondly at him, the way you would pinch and squish his cheeks while talking to him in the best baby voice you could muster, even the manner in which you would hold his hand sometimes, like you were holding a toddler. He wishes he could make you see him, really see him for what he is – a man, who’d like nothing more than to hold you tight and hard.

“Don’t I look hot, though?” He questions you with a cocked eyebrow and a smirk on his lips. Your hand falls from his head and onto his arm as you take a step back; you look him up and down a few times, before finally gazing back into his eyes with a smug grin of your own.

“Maybe.” You reply, most tauntingly, as you lick your lips.

Sometimes, Jeongin feels hopeful; he’s not dumb nor blind, he sees the way you every-so-often check him out, biting your lip, he feels the way your hand lingers on his bicep for just a second too long, and he is not oblivious to the flirtatious comments you throw his way from time to time. Most days, he’d consider this just friendly banter, but at times like these, he feels confident, buoyant even.

The two of you had been teasing each other all day, relentless sneers and mocking remarks coming swiftly from both ends; it was all light-hearted, of course, but the nature of this exchanges leaves him feeling electric.

“Seriously Innie,” you say loftily, hands on your hips. “You can’t even make popcorn by yourself, what would you without me?”

“Oh, shut up.” He retaliates as you pour the popcorn into a bowl.

“Make me.” You turn around to face him, leaning back against the counter with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Before he can even begin to comprehend what he’s doing, Jeongin feels something bursting inside of him; he strides up to you, his hands falling onto the counter behind you. He’s so close, you can just about hear his heart pounding; he’s so close, you can feel your own heart hammering against your chest. You mutter his name, so faintly, he almost doesn’t catch it.

“What is it, Y/N?” The smug look on his face makes you shiver. “Didn’t you want me to shut you up?” He presses himself flush against you, his arm encompassing your waist.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He challenges you, his breath fanning over your face as he speaks.

“Maybe.” You mumble, eyes not leaving his lips for a second. And, with that, he pulls his body away from yours and reaches for the bowl of popcorn behind you before strutting his way back to the living room, leaving you reeling.

Oh yes, at times like these, Jeongin feels on top of the heap.

Love is dead – Jeongin concludes – and he is doomed to live a life of silent heartache and unspoken longing. The fear settles itself in the pit of his stomach, slowly crawling its way up; he feels like he’s choking, like every word he so desperately wants to tell you is fighting to come out at once, still, they all stick to the back of his throat like a thick coating of honey.

He thinks he could laugh right now, burst into a fit of loud, manic cackles, if only he wasn’t so close to crying. Of course – of course you’d be into Hyunjin, of all people; of course, he’d walk into the living room just in time to see you, bleary-eyed and rosy-cheeked, laying a kiss on his roommate’s lips.

Jeongin remains still under the doorframe, jaw clenched tightly and arms crossed over his chest; he clears his throat, not making any effort to conceal his distaste. You turn around first, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights.

“Innie-” You stammer, standing up. You dodge the sofa blocking your path, steps wobbly as you approach him.

“I’m heading out.” He interjects, voice low and steady, and you stop in your tracks. His stare feels like it’s piercing through you even after he leaves the apartment.

Jeongin relaxes the instant his phone stops ringing in his hand; he’s been avoiding you like the plague for the past few weeks – but honestly, what did you expect? That he would just be fine? That he would just smile and nod, and pretend like he doesn’t have all these feelings for you? No, he couldn’t do that – he can’t do that, so he sighs and deletes your name, once more, from his missed call log.

Jeongin gets up from his bed, looking at himself in the mirror – he looks pretty good, if he does say so himself. He tousles his hair a bit and puts his things in his pockets before beginning to make his way to the front door. As he steps into the living room, he nearly lets out a curse; he’d been doing a pretty good job of evading Hyunjin as well, however, it seems, luck’s not on his side today.

“Hey,” Hyunjin says apprehensively, turning his head in Jeongin’s direction but not quite looking at him. “You going out?” Jeongin nods.

He resumes walking, stopping before the door to grab his keys.

“Hey,” Hyunjin calls out again, Jeongin spins back around, a little irked. “Have you spoken to Y/N lately?” He questions, and Jeongin is left with a raised eyebrow and a whole lot of questions – did he mean he hadn’t spoken to you lately? Or was he just testing the waters? Is there something he’s supposed to know? Something you have to tell him?

“No.” Jeongin shakes his head.

He doesn’t spare Hyunjin another glance before heading out the door; he arrives at the club and sees his date waiting for him outside.

Jeongin lets out a humourless chuckle – it’s just his luck, truly, running into you at the nightclub. He can’t really remember when or where his date seemed to disappear from his side, but, if he’s being honest, he can’t really muster up enough will to care.

He makes his way over to the bar and asks for a drink; the bartender hands him his glass and he takes a swig, his face contorting as soon as the alcohol makes contact with his tastebuds. He sets his drink down and turns around to face the dancefloor.

Jeongin looks through the hordes of people until he finally spots you, and then he scoffs; he scowls brazenly at the unknown person grinding their body against yours. Just as though you can feel his gaze on you, you look up straight into his eyes; you disjoin yourself from the stranger and march up to Jeongin. Coming to a halt in front of him, you greet him, eyes still staring deeply into his.

“You’re here without Hyunjin?” He chides, reaching for his glass. You laugh, and the sound makes his stomach churn slightly – Jeongin tries his best to convince himself it’s not you, but the alcohol that’s making him feel so skittish.

“Why should I be here with him?” You question, a smirk finding its way to your lips and leaving him in a state of stark bewilderment.

There’s a lot of things Jeongin doesn’t understand – he doesn’t understand why he agreed to this, he doesn’t understand what it is about you that makes him unable to ever deny you; he doesn’t understand how you don’t realize that he would do anything for you if you gave him the chance, that he would pull the moon and each of the starts down from the sky and give them all to you. He sighs and sinks into the couch, sneaking a glance at your profile as you browse through the catalogue of movies, searching for one that piques your interest.

Hyunjin plops down onto the sofa, tossing a bag of snacks in Jeongin’s direction. He truly doesn’t get it – how can you and Hyunjin act so nonchalant? How can you pretend that he didn’t catch you two kissing on this very same settee? How are you not getting the picture when his heart is quite literally on his sleeve? When his feelings are so blatantly obvious? He spends the entire duration of the movie brooding, a mopey look etched onto his features.

No sooner do the credits start rolling through the screen, Hyunjin jumps to his feet and sends a subtle albeit conniving grin in your direction.

“Well, it’s time for me to head out.” He announces, arms lifting over his head as he stretches. “I’m gonna be late for my date.” Jeongin is, once again, left perplexed, although in a whole different way now – Hyunjin was going? On a date? With someone other than you?

He can’t believe it; he watches, dumbfoundedly, as his roommate gathers his things and begins to head out the door, he listens as you bid Hyunjin goodbye with an animated ‘have fun!’ and a wave of the hand, and he sits there, in astonished silence, as you turn your body to face him.

“What’s the matter Innie, cat got your tongue?” There’s something in the way you’re looking at him that Jeongin just can’t quite put his finger on; it leaves him feeling sort of feather-brained.

“Shut up.” He forces a scoff, although it comes out so gently it nearly passes as a breath.

“Make me.” You tell him, dauntlessly, and in one swift move you straddle him, knees on each side of his body; you hover over him, not quite sitting on his lap, hands settling on his shoulders for balance.

You’re so close he forgets to breathe, and, for a second, Jeongin fears that this is nothing but another one of his dreams, that he’ll wake up, high and dry, alone on the couch yet again. But you repeat yourself, tone more demanding this time, and the way his skin tingles, goosebumps rising as you trail your fingers down his arms, lets him know he’s awake.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asks almost tauntingly, eyes turning hazy. He stares you down, as if daring you to say the one word he loathes the most – maybe.

You get even closer to him, setting yourself down on his thighs at long last, his hands reach for your hips and he feels the warmth of your breath fanning over his lips as you say: “Yes.”

#skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #i.n scenarios #i.n imagines #skz scenario #skz imagine #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #bibi 🔞 content

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clausenauto · 1 year ago

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Are you wondering how do you know if your car axle is bad? Take care of your car struts or car shocks at Clausen Automotive.

#how do you know if your car axle is bad #car struts madison wi #car axles madison wi #car shocks madison wi #car shocks near me #car axles near me #how often should I replace shocks and struts #how do you know when your car axle is bad #what are the symptoms of bad struts

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yaneyanedaze · 5 years ago

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Our Goddess, Clueless

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------She wanted the King. But he showed now interest in her until recently. He praised her and made sure she was well, He was one of her favorites. So she knew that he wouldn't keep this new play thing long. She's seen people come and go, so soon she knew she was going to be his one and only soon.

“He’ll see that i’m a perfect match for queen and throw that stupid broad back to the rags she came from..”

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It was a bright sunny morning, it was my first official day in the castle.

When I turned over in my bed I let out a shriek of fear, Three maids stood in my room with sheepish smiles, they quickly bowed and apologized for scaring me.

"Sorry your highness, Lord Kars ordered for us to help you get dressed this morning!"

The first one says as she unveils a box, I opened a box and nearly fell back in shock. I pulled it out and revealed a beautiful blue dress that had a giant slit that showed off my legs, following were gorgeous silver colored heels that matched with it. After I slip it on, I do a little twirl and smile happily at myself in the mirror "This dress is so beautiful~" I chime as the maids nodded their heads in approvel.

The second maid walked over to fix my hair and place the crown on top of my head, while the third worked on my nails and makeup. They were all making small talk with me, asking me about my old life, what was my favorite color, what did I like to do? You know, some small things to make me feel comfortable around them. I was happy and excepted the small talk, we talked and talked until a rapid knock was heard at the door. The first maid went up and opened the door, only to quickly bow;

"O-oh I'm so sorry Master Esidisi! We didn't mean to keep you waiting!"

I turned and smiled softly as I gazed over to him, "Good Morning, Lord Esidisi" I greeted, The white haired male chuckled and gave me a big smile as he walked into the room. "No No, it's fine (y/n), Kars is rather impatient when it comes to his queen. He has a whole day planned out for the two of you, so Lets hurry it along now" He says, ushering me out the room.

I nodded and stood up, waving goodbye to the girls as I step out of the room, closing the door behind me. I quickly moved to follow Esidisi, the clicking of my heels must've alerted him to me struggling to keep up with him, he slowed down and offered his arm to me. I giggled, slightly embarrassed but took his arm anyways, he guided through the halls smiling at me as walked, taking smaller strides to keep up with me. Esidisi opened up a large door and led me through, to which I was met with Stella, Kars and another male I know but haven't had the pleasure of meeting yet.

He had long hair and a stare that said he did not want to be there but his eyes lit up a bit when he looked at me. Stella gave a slight wave before returning to her conversation with the King, and said male had yet to turn around and see me. "Oh Santana! Didn't expect you to be here, Is something wrong? Did you start something " At first he didn't say anything until he looked me up and down. A light in his eyes shown but it was gone as quickly as it came. "No, I'm just here because of the queen, I came to show respects.." He stated quietly. At the mention of my name, Kars turned around and his face was priceless. He held a blush on his face and his mouth was slightly agape, but that expression quickly turned to a smirk. Raising an eyebrow, he walked (more like strutted) over to me and placed his hands on my hips, pulling me close to his body.

"You Look stunning, my dear. Stella Picked well." He said, gesturing over to the woman who was currently on the arm of Wamuu, who entered soon after me. I smiled over at him, and the Wind lord smiled back at me. Kars ran his hand across the side of my face, caressing slowly until his hand stopped under my chin. "Are you ready for the day my love? It's just gonna be me and you with no interruptions today" He said, a sultry undertone lying within his words. I felt a blush coming on my cheeks as I shyly looked away which only made him chuckle as he waved his hand to the servants to clear the way as he pulled me through the door to the outside, but out the corner of my eye i swore i saw Stella with a scowl on her face. 'What could she be upset about?....' I asked myself as I walked away with Kars

Should I be worried?

(POV Switch, Stella)

I watched as the King walked away with that skank commoner he called a Queen.

I huffed and crossed my arms and tried to do my best to hold my anger in as I was around the other kings, when Esidisi looked at me with a raised eyebrow, I smiled innocently at him. Wamuu had already left to attend to matters, to be honest, I could care less. He was a gentleman, don't get me wrong, he would wait to court me and said he wouldn't ask for my hand until I was ready.

News Flash. I'll never be ready.

I deserved to be Queen, after all, King Kars held me in high regards, he said I was special, then he turns around and does this!? I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn't here Santana, Hell I didn't even remember he was there. "You're a pitiful excuse of a woman." He said bluntly, which shocked me, but Esidisi smirks and had a devious chuckle.

"He's right" He started. "You're stringing my poor son along, thinking that this is o.k. that you can continue to lust after Kars." He continued as he walked closer to me. I wasn't your average height for a female. (around 6'2) so i wasn't intimidated by him walking up on me, and frankly, I don't care that they get to see me like this. They know that Kars will not believe them, nor would Wamuu. His smirk turned to a scowl as he leaned down to get in my face "I'm not gonna say a word, because I know you'll slip up and do something stupid. The King doesn't appreciate people who disrespects his family," He finished. Santana simply scoffed as he walked away, "I just think she's a whore who's desperate for Kars, But now since he found the queen he's been searching for, She'll be done away with" He said before turning the corner and heading out of sight. I growled at him and crossed my arms,

"You'll see! She probably doesn't even know one thing about being a damn Queen! She'll just get replaced like the last one-"

"DON'T YOU DARE GO THERE YOU HARLOT"

The room was silent as we just stood in there, the room obviously heating up from his anger, but remained not phased with a cocky grin on my face. "What's the matter, You don't want me to tell her about the previous girl would you?" I teased. He backed up, let out a low growl, and turned leaving. I gave myself a little fist pump before I put on my nice woman act again as I wander off the go and find the King and the "Queen"

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(POV switch, back to you reader-chan!)

I giggled as I walked with a bouquet of flowers in my hands, Kars had taken me out to the village to see different shops. He tried to buy me several expensive things but I just settle on a simple dress and the flowers. They were blue, purple and white, A beautiful mixture and in Kars words 'fit for a lovely Queen'. Kars had his arm wrapped closely around my waist, guards on either side to protect us. I waved to whatever villager who would wave to me, I even stopped for a bit to talk to some of the local kids. A bunch of them were the children I used to babysit when I lived in town and they immediately recognized me, which led to all of them swarming me. They were asking questions about how the castle was, was there fun games to play, were there kids there? All of the questions were thrown at me, I tried to answer them all but one caught me off guard.

"Miss- I mean Queen (n/n), Will you still come to play with us?.."

I stared at the sky for a bit and then over to Kars, who was looking at me with all the children, I nodded and picked up the little girl who asked. "Of course, i'll try to visit and play as often as I can, I just have to ask the King" I answered, as soon as I asked that the kids turned to Kars and all began pleading with him. All various forms of the same question, to which Kars, at first, glared at the children until he eventually sighed. "I guess she can come as much as she likes."

Cue a chorus of happy yells , which turned to angry parents fusing at them for interrupting our trip.

I waved them goodbye and gave each one a flower from the bunch, and I still had lots left. I quietly hummed as we headed back to the castle. "My dear, Tomorrow we have to begin preparations for your official taking of the crown." Kars mentioned, to which i simply nodded. We'd discussed this earlier, and I told him, even though I was cross with my mom, I still wanted her and my family to attend. He was heavily against it but sighed after I told him I wanted to make amends, and that they had to come.

Kars ushered me inside the castle as he said he had business to attend to with the others, he gave me a kiss on the forehead and cheek before walking away, leaving me with guards to escort me back to my room. I followed and held my cheek where he kissed me. I was only here for two days and this man already managed to have an affect on me, what the hell is wrong with me!? I sighed and plopped down onto my comfy bed and slipped out of the dress and heels, I didn't care about my hair, I'd just get up and wash in the morning. I snuggled into my pillow, at first I didn't want to do any of this, but now I can't help but feel some type of attraction to the male. I mean he's going to officially be my husband in a few days, but I still couldn't shake this feeling off that something was wrong..

....And something bad was gonna happen....

#jjba #yandere jjba #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere kars #Kars x reader #jjba pillarmen #jjba kars #jjba esidisi #jjba wamuu #jjba santana #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

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twilighcreed · 5 years ago

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Title: What Pride Has Brought

Paring: Arthur Morgan X Reader (Established Friendship turned Romance); Past Arthur Morgan X Mary Linton (Mentioned)

Author: TwilighCreed

Word Count: 6.4k+

Warning: Violence themed, gore, character death, angst, animal death, strong language... Defiantly not something children should read...

Summary: In the wake of the Valentine massacre, the Gang faces a short supply of much needed food after their hasty retreat to their new hideout at Clements Point. With their leaders gone in search for a way out, Y/N takes in upon herself to ensure the well being of her family in the Ambarino mountains.

Authors Note: Hello everyone! It’s been a long while since I’ve last posted anything on my account, and I deeply apologies for that. With me starting my career in the military, enlisting has taken me across the country and the world. This story has been collecting dust in my archives since December of 2018 and I thought it’s about time I get back into my passion for writing. Not sure if I’ll make a part two, but it’s defiantly a thought. Thank you all so much for your patience!

Enjoy!

The tension of the rawhide bowstring was taut between your fingertips, the skin raw from continuous use for the past several days and you could feel the ache in your muscles. You were used to the soreness—it was always yours and Charles responsibility to go hunting for provision within the camp. The others were always too clumsy when it came to the primitive art of hunting, bringing back small game and buckshot meat and ravaged pelts, neither of which were any help when it came to carving what little meat you could salvage from the appalling carcass of a whitetail buck. It became too common that you took it upon yourself to become the food provider; easing the weight off Charles and making Pearson a little happier when you started to bring quality kills in from a hunt.

Furthermore, when you weren’t at camping helping the woman with their chores, making meals other than stew for the men, and helping Kieran with the horses or aiding Dutch with new plans of another heist, you often find yourself surrounded by thick forest with nothing but your wits and skills to keep you alive while you hunt for the next big thing: elk.

The bland taste of local game started to become recurring and the meals weren’t as happily anticipated anymore; causing the gang to start complaining about the food quality and making a bitter Person. You looked over at him with empathy while slowly chewing on your stew, and by the following morning you packed your warmest attire and drove your horse up north to the Ambarino mountains, heading to Grizzlies East where you heard fellow hunters and trappers had caught prized kills. It was worth a shot and a good excuse to leave camp for a few days. Arthur always had you stuck in camp.

It was what lead up to your current situation, with an improved arrow notched in your bowstring and your dominant arm brawn back with the large form of an elk in between your crosshairs. He was several meters away—amidst dead vegetation and low hanging branches— from your hidden position behind a pine tree, your body leaning up against the bark to help keep you steady and benefit you in getting a perfect shot. All you needed to do was aim a little lower to the left…

“Your posture is off.”

TWANG!

THUNK!

In your focused concentration, you were unaware of a presence coming up behind you that your fingers slipped and the arrow was released too early, sending it flying between the Elks' legs and into the tree behind them. Now aware that the elk’s life was threatened, it wasted no time to burst into a sprint and make a sharp turn into the dense vegetation. In a matter of seconds, you lost sight of the mammal and you could only watch it flee in utter defeat.

You could hear the quiet chuckle behind you and your devastated shock quickly turned into fierce annoyance. Whipping around, you glared at the man leaned up against a tree behind you, a smug smile on his lips and a mischievous spark in his eye. For a moment you stood there in admiration at how unmistakable handsome Arthur Morgan looked with his blue winter coat and hat tipped low, but the sting and numb feeling you felt in your arms and hands reminded you that he had just ruined a perfect opportunity to kill a prized elk you had spent the past three days tracking. It was a horrendous act of betrayal—he knew you pride yourself on your hunting abilities.

Your breath was hot in its confined space behind your bandana despite the plummeting cold that surrounds you, and for a moment it became almost unbearably uncomfortable. Allowing your bow arm to rest, you reached up and pulled down the cloth covering your lower face, a scowl etched into your features.

“What the hell, Arthur!?” you half whispered half yelled, your irritation clear enough for him to know that you were furious with him, however, your displeasure didn't seem to phase him, only adding to his pride of getting you worked up so quickly.

It usually took a lot to get you angry, you were always calm and collected, but when it came to Arthur Morgan, he knew exactly what buttons to push to throw you into a fit, and that irks you, but at the same time gave you a strange comfort because it only showed how well he did know you.

“My bad, sweetheart, did I scare ‘em off?” he spoke, his western drawl husky and laced with hints of laughter; and for a second, your previous anger subsided and you welcomed the sound of his voice.

“What’da think?” you huffed, glancing back over your shoulder at where you last saw the elk run off to. “Damnit. It took me three days the track him.” you groaned.

The sound of breathy laughter caught your ears and you narrowed your eyes, looking over at the cowboy with a more intense glare, a frown tugging at your lips. He was laughing at you. “What are you laughing at? This is serious, Arthur!”

“I know it is. Calm yourself, Darlin’. Come on, let's go get yer elk. He couldn't have gone far.”

You watched him with a continuous scowl as he pushed himself off the tree and started to trek over in the general direction of where the elk had scurried off, ignoring your pointed look with a smirk.

While he crouched down and examined the tracks, you walked over and plucked your arrow from the tree, examining the arrowhead for any damage that might have been caused on impact. To your surprise, it didn’t take too much damage, but it would still need to be sharpened at the tip before it could be used again.

“Where’d you leave your horses?”

“Just past that treeline,” you nodded in the direction, walking back over to where Arthur now stood. “I brought Dutchess and Arizona with me.”

“I noticed. Why’d yer need two?” he asked, joining your side while you sauntered to where your horses were hitched.

You chuckled softly, “An elk is a lot heavier than a deer. I’m planning on taking a lot of the meat back to camp and stock up. God knows I can only take enough of everyone's complaining about the food.”

Arthur hummed in understanding. It was blatantly obvious that morale was low in camp since the move from Horseshoe Overlook to Clements Point, and with the new humidity they had to endure and the rise in temperature, most of the food had gone bad, leaving a limitation on what was available. You knew a few tricks that would keep the elk’s meat lasting for several weeks, even months if the process was taken with precaution.

Reaching to where you had your horses hitched, you placed a gentle hand on your mustang mare—Dutchess—neck and gave her a few gentle strokes before moving over to your draft horse, Arizona; checking over them to make sure they were well enough to drive through the snow. When you were satisfied, you placed your bow on your saddle and mounted your horse, glancing over at Arthur.

Just as you were about to ask where his horse was, he lets out a high whistle and you could hear a horse wine not too far from where you were. Not long after, you spotted the black frame of a large animal and out came the confident struts of his Arabian stallion. Arthur smirked when he noticed your envious eyes.

“You need to teach me how to call my horse like that.”

“Maybe some other time, now come on, we’re losin’ daylight.”

You nodded your head and held the reins of your mount as well as the lead to your other. You allowed Arthur to take the front, directing his horse to where the elk's prints were still fresh. You might as well let him do the tracking, he was the one who spooked the elk.

☾

Your eyes studied the distance between the setting sun and the horizon, calculating how much time you have left before it grew dark and you would either need to set up camp or find shelter, depending on how the weather held up. You had maybe a minimum of two hours before then, and with the temperature growing, even more, colder than the previous nights, you knew it was going to be a freezing night.

“Arthur,” you called his name from atop your horse. When he heard your worried tone, he looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes becoming serious and you knew you had his full attention. With a regretful sigh, you kicked your horse to stop beside his mount. “It’s getting late. We should find some shelter. I have a feeling that tonight's gonna get pretty bad.”

“Are ya sure? What about your buck?”

You both had been tracking him for several miles at this point, from Lake Isabella all the way up Spider Gorge and east to Cairn Lake and soon after reaching the lake the wind had started to pick up covering his trail with the surrounding snow making it even harder to track him. There was no point in continuing with a dead end.

“We can try again in the morning.” you said, “Colter isn't far from here. We can set up camp there. No point in tracking him if we freeze tonight.”

Arthur nodded his head in silent agreement before turning his reins and heading west, backtracking and going northwest off the trial. You noticed he had become quiet, a stern front replacing the gentle persona he had shown you earlier. It was unsettling but you knew it was better to leave it alone.

Colter was the first settlement the gang had found after the whole ordeal in Blackwater and they were forced to run north away from the Pinkertons. It was an old abandoned mining town that still seemed intact, but with the harsh and unpredictable weather, it was slowly starting to degrade with passing time.

“So, how’d you find me?” you asked, trying to start a gentle conversation while watching as Arthur tugged at the reins for his mount to bank left and up the hill. “You were still gone when I left.”

“Charles told me. You should have waited until I came back,” he said, his voice gruff and flat.

This slightly threw you off. Why was he acting so cold towards you?

“The camp needed food, Arthur. A whitetail or a bore can only do so much and the camps funds are low and no one is willing to spend their own money on food for everyone else.” you reasoned, feeling slightly offended that he thought you couldn't handle yourself. He knew you could hold your own. “Besides, you were off with Dutch and Hosea doing Gods-knows-what while I’m doing some actual work for the group.” you shot back, a bitter taste in your mouth.

His head twisted and he gave you a hard glare making you slightly flinch in your saddle. You cursed at yourself for opening your mouth like that, but it had been nagging at you for a while and part of you felt relieved you said it out loud. But with the hard look, he was giving you now made you question if it was right of you to say it.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he clamored, pulling back on his reins and stopping his mount before turning in the saddle to look at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me. Since that shitshow, in Valentine, we had to move camp again, and at the worst time—”

“It ain’t like we haven’t had to move before. You're the one outhere hunting for some damn elk while I’m the one risking my neck to make us some money.” he protested, belittling your effort with comparing his work with yours.

Both you and Arthur worked harder than most when it came to contributing to the camps well being. You both had strong bonds to the gang meaning you both took everything personally and to heart. Arthur had been with the gang longer than you and is one of the original members and right hand of Dutch. You coming many years later when you were seventeen and at the time Arthur was twenty-five.

There was an obvious strong connection between you and Arthur. There was no doubt about it. He took the role of looking after you when they found you on death's door after aiding them when a job has gone wrong. Feeling responsible, he had persuaded Dutch to take you in (not that he needed much persuading, you did help them after all). Some of the members at camp would argue and say your relationship was almost at the peak of romantic, but with Arthur’s troubled past relationships with Mary Linton, and you not wanting to spoil what you had with him, you decided to keep it as just companions.

Though it never stopped either of you from looking longing after one another when either would go to bed in their respective tents, or seek each other out after no seeing the other for a while, nor the long talks you shared by the campfire, speaking in hushed whispers about your past and what the future holds. And because of this bond and Arthur taking on the role of bodyguard, he practically forbids you from leaving camp, ensuring several arguments like this one.

“Excuse me, you're the one who wouldn't let me pick up a job! Not even an honest one!” you growled, holding your ground. You weren’t afraid to stand up to Arthur like the others. It was both admirable and annoying trail. It gave him pride knowing you could stand your ground but also incredibly irritating when it comes to situations like this.

“Yeah? What the hell yer gonna do? Work at the whore house?”

Your eyes widen in shock, hurt, completely taken off guard. For a long minute, you didn't know what to say, your heart clenching inside your chest that it became unbearable. You could see that the moment those words left his lips he regretted it, but there was no turning back now. Arthur was just as stubborn as you were, maybe even more.

Your lips tightened and your eyes turned cold, you first clenching tight around the leather straps and you swore you saw Arthur tremble.

“You know what? Fuck you!” you shouted, “I didn’t ask for you to come out here! You know damn well I could pick up an honest job.” you deflect, determined to defend your wounded pride.

“Mhm, sure.” he tusked, shaking his head in disbelief.

You didn't know what the hell got into him, but you weren’t going to push around. That wasn’t you.

“Damn you, Arthur Morgan. Why the hell are you even out here? I don’t need you! Why don’t you go back to the fucking bitch Mary!” you shouted, almost standing up in your saddle and pointing an accusing finger at him.

When the name of his past lover left your lips you saw the green of Arthur's eyes widen and his face pale. Not a second later his stone cold facade resurfaced and his tone became bitter and threatening.

“How the he—”

“You think I didn't know?” it was your time to laugh, “I saw the damn letter, Arthur. You wanna try and explain yourself on that one?”

“She needed my help. Her brother was off trying to join some damn cult—”

“So you go crawling back to her after what she did to you? After everything, I’ve done for you?! Do I mean so little to you, Arthur?”

The secret was revealed and you weren’t sure if you were happy or upset even more than when you found the letter. But the cards were dealt and now you both had to face them.

“It ain’t like that, Y/N. You know that!” he choked and his eyes narrowed, “It ain't even your damn business!”

You just shake your head.

It hurt you more than you’d like to admit when you saw the letter. It hurts even worse when he came back to camp late knowing that he went off to see her. You didn't know what transpired between them, but you assumed the worst. You thought that if you prepared yourself it would hurt less. That's what you thought and you were wrong. It still hurt like a son of a bitch.

“Yeah, of course, you’d say that.” you huffed, feeling defeated. You suddenly got a strong feeling of wanting to be alone, and if you stayed even longer you know things would get worse.

Turning your reins sharply you kicked your horse's side and clicked your tongue, sending both your mounts into a fast trot. “Do me a favor and leave me the hell alone!” you yelled over your shoulder, not daring to look back.

“Where the hell do you think you're going?” You heard him shout after you but heard no sign of him coming after you.

Good.

“Away from you! Hiya!”

☾

When the sun’s rays had finally been closed off by the mountain ridge and the moon started it’s rise to the middle of the midnight sky, you had bitterly wished you stayed with Arthur. The temperature had notably dropped tremendously and not even your many layers of clothing could keep the bone-chilling cold out. Your horses undeniably increased in their whines and you couldn’t blame them. It was damn near freezing and the wind had picked up making you all the more miserable and making it even harder to ignore the cold.

From the last few minutes of daylight, you were headed further north following along Spider Gorge. You haven't been this far north so you were treading new territory and with night befalling far more quickly that you’d like, you were desperately attempting to find some landmarks or shelter. Anything to get you and your horses out of the cold, but to your demise, there was nothing but snowy mountains closing you in and thick trees.

“Fuck.” you cursed, your body shaking violently and your teeth clattering getting even louder.

This wasn’t at all what you planned or hoped for. Everything was going the exact opposite in the worst way possible. The gang was still left without food (to your knowledge), the Pinkertons were hot on your gang's trail; losing Jenny, Davy, and Mac; stupid Mary coming back into Arthur's life and now your argument and the weather turning foil.

Nothing was going right and dread started to creep into the pit of your stomach. If you stayed out here any longer you would freeze to death, and the last thing the gang needed was to find out you died because of your pride and jealousy. But the one thing that keeps eating at you was that you would die alone, without telling Arthur your true feelings, and that you wouldn't have the chance to fix the rift that had started to grow for the past few weeks since you discovered the letter.

It was selfish of you to think that he was yours and yours alone and that what you had was really special. You were a fool and you could see that now. It still didn't ease the pain in your heart. And yours hopes to have a few days away from him only made matters worse.

More than anything you just wanted to be back at camp, in the company of your family and in the quiet embrace that you would share with Arthur after a long night by the fire and a bottle in hand before you found the letter.

“C-come on girl… j..just a little… further…” you managed to say between shivering breaths.

The wind started to howl and with it: snow. It was turning into a blizzard and your hope for surviving was starting to diminish. You weren’t one to give up so easily, not without a fight at least. You came into this world in someone else's blood kicking and screaming, you’d be damned if you didn't go out the same way.

A sudden howl caught your attention and you felt your blood run cold. With the rush of wind, the howl was amplified and it was near impossible to know where it was coming from. But you knew that sound from anywhere…

Wolves.

Your mare abruptly let out a loud cry and started to frantically move in her place, throwing her head back and letting out a string of whales. It was frightening and you tried to calm her down with your words but to no avail, the wind was too loud for her to hear you.

Before you could do anything, Arizona let out a whine himself and throw his body in the air, his forelegs kicking and the lead slipping from your hand. You hopelessly reached out to grab the rope but it was too late and he broke into a run and you lost sight of him in the storm.

“Shit! Arizona!” you called out, “Damn it!”

You had heard of a wolf pack prowling these parts from the time John was attacked, but in your time spent here, you hadn't heard nor seen any. Not even any dead carcasses of animals they hunted or signs of a possible den. You thought it was too cold for them. You were wrong. If your knowledge was correct, the wolves corralled their prey, forcing them to run. You had your revolver and knife if it came down to a fight, but with the severe unseasonable weather, a wolf attack would seal your death.

If a wolf manages to pine you down, they would undoubtedly go for your throat. If you managed to get out of the struggle, you would most certainly have critical wounds, and if the infection did not kill you, the blood loss would. And if by some miracle neither of these happened, the elements would finish you off—hypothermia being the primary cause.

Through the blizzard you heard another howl, this one much closer and you could hear more than one as they raised in voice. Instantaneously Dutchess let out a panicked cry and broke out into a gallop, oblivious to your commands when you tried to stop her. It all moved to fast and everything just seemed to blur around you and before you could do anything, Dutchess came to a streaking halt and you flew forward.

The snow was deep enough that your landing wasn’t too harsh, but the moment you fell into the white blanket you let out a yelp for how freezing the snow felt against your exposed flesh. You stumbled to your feet and the howling wind was broken by the unmistakable sound of a curdling growl.

You couldn't move. Your muscles had seized and your body trembled in fear. All function in your body just went out and you were no longer in control and no matter how hard you screamed at yourself to move, you couldn't. You were frozen in fear.

It took the cry of your horse and the bloodlust bark of a beast to make you move. You picked yourself up and turned sharply away from where you heard the terrifying noises, your body going to flight mode and you just ran. Your mare was already too far ahead of you by the time you started to flee, and your fear spiked to its peak. There was no way you could catch up to her.

The wind whipped at your face and bite at your skin. Your body was numb and everything stung and burned. You were losing energy fast. Trying to hike through two feet of snow was draining you and trying to run was only making it all the more difficult.

You could hear the barks and growls coming from behind you, and the rush of their paws against the snow. You didn't know if it was just one or many, you couldn't see them, and you didn't want to find out.

You leaped forward, digging your heels into the white powder and clawing your way through the thick snowfields. Your breath was ragged and hot, your throat sore from your sharp intakes of the icy bitter cold and every muscle fiber in your body burned like a raging fire. You could still hear them behind you and for a moment you looked over your shoulder; never stopping your assault forward. What you saw made your heat drop.

You could see a blurry outline of the beast. It was larger and bigger than any of the wolves you’ve seen throughout the states. Its eyes looked as if they glowed white and it struck terror down to your core. Wolves often hunted in packs, and they were chasers, opportunist, seeking weak prey. You were that chase, that open opportunity—you were the hunt.

This sudden new found fear pushed you to go even harder, faster, leaping up out of the snow and pushing through with purpose. You refused to be their food. You disregarded your worries for the horse and focused on the looming threat at hand. You needed to find shelter and you needed to find it fast.

Through what little light filtered through the storm, you saw the distinguishable outline of pine trees. Being in an open field would give them a larger area to strike, so if you stuck to the trees you would put something between you and wolves. It was the only choice you had.

Making a beeline for the thick forest you felt the sting of the lower branches lash out while you plunged into the thick of it. It slows you down but gave you an advantage by putting distance between you and the threat. The recognizable sound of their strides grew a little quieter, but their voice of annoyance grew louder.

You had managed to find the outcropping of a mountain's side and with it the chance to find shelter. It was difficult trying to navigate through the blizzard but you had coped with this difficulty, finding that the mountainside abruptly curved inward into itself. A cave.

You stumbled forward and out of the storm, your hand reaching for the wall to help guide you. You had heard that some caves would continue on for miles but the floors underneath them would disappear. Many miners and curious adventures had died that way; falling to their death. It was distinctly colder in the cave, but you were blocked from the wind and out of the open storm. You were safe for now, but you weren’t out of danger just yet.

Your eyes slowly adjusted to the dark and you could make out blurry lines of the structure of the cave. The ceiling was low, but enough for you to stand at your full height without having to bend your knees. You could barely make out the other side of the cavern and you estimated that it was at least four meters wide. The atmosphere was slightly damp but it was dry enough that you wouldn’t be at the risk of frostbite, but the snow had penetrated your coat and when the temperature would rise, the snow would melt and your clothes would become soaked.

You shuffle your feet forward and kept your palm flat against the wall. You glanced back to the opening of the cave and saw that the entrance was smaller than when you stumbled in. You were several yards in when suddenly your foot hit something hard and you fell forward. You thrust your hands forward and were able to soften your fall but you could feel your forearms and palms sting and your knees ache when it came into contact with the ground.

You waited a moment on all fours to regain your breath and to calm your nerves. Your heart was banging against your chest, threatening to break free and it was so loud in your ears you that you thought it would burst. Thankfully, your muscles were still shaking indicating that you didn't pass the threshold of severe hypothermia. You weren’t sure but you know your core temperature had most likely dropped and you would need to build a fire to regain that lost heat.

So lost in thought, your body ignored the dampness beneath your palm and it wasn’t until you made a move to get up that you noticed it. It didn't feel like water because it wasn’t cold. It was warm and almost sticky. Pushing yourself up, you reached into the coat of your pocket for your matches and pulled them out. It was the only source of light you had. You left your lantern secured on your saddle.

With trembling hands, you managed to pluck a single wood match from its container before dragging the tip across the ignitor, igniting the flame. The match did not give off a lot of light, but enough for you to see a little more clearly now.

Curious as to what made you fall, you turned your head down and to your horror, you almost screamed. The object that had made you fall wasn’t a rock like you though, but the carcass of an elk, the elk you were hunting. You know it was the elk you were hunting because of the antlers. One of the tips had broke clean off. It was how you were able to track him.

You tumbled backward in shock, your backside hitting the stone and it ran up your spine like a lightning bolt. The front part of your clothes—more notable your hands and knees—were drenched in blood. You groaned, suddenly feeling sick. Holding down the urge to vomit, you pushed yourself up onto your knees to get a closer look at the corpse of the elk.

Striking another match, you brought it close, your eyes looming over the ravaged carcass. You could still feel the heat radiating off the animal's fur and the smell wasn’t rank, meaning the kill was still fresh. The throat of the mammal had cleanly been bitten through and the belly was torn open and pulled apart. Upon closer inspection, you could see puncture wounds scattered all over the body, notable around the limbs of the elk. They were bite marks.

Realization washed over you and for a second time that night you felt your heart seize in your chest and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Quickly, you stood up and surveyed the area, dread holding you tightly while you prayed to God that you weren’t where you thought you were. Then you saw it. Bones littered the back of the cave and chewed on skulls decorated the floor. Patches of dead leaves and branches were scattered in remote parts of the cave as fixed for bedding.

You were on their home…

A low, deep throaty growl echoed through the cave and you wished the world would swallow you whole. You spun around, your eyes straining in search of where you heard the growl came from.

You swallowed hard when you saw the form of a wolf standing in front of you, it’s massive body trapping you while it bared its fangs, freshly stained crimson from the elk's blood; its eyes clouded in lust for blood—your blood. You could see that the wolf was foaming at the mouth, saliva dripping down in strings onto the cold floor.

You kept your eyes locked with the wolf, your hand slowly reaching down to where your holster was. You had six bullets in the chamber and one already in the barrel, if you aimed right and shoot quick enough, you should—

Your thoughts were cut short when you saw two smaller forms come out from behind, what you presumed, the alpha. They weren’t as threatening as the one who stood before you, but they only added to your stakes of you making it out alive.

They seemed to chitter almost themselves, their heads dropped low and their eyes never leaving yours. You could hear the scrape of their claws on the ground and you shuddered in fear; you wouldn't be surprised if the wolf could smell it on you. It would be strong.

Your eyes flickered from one beast to the other, your mind racing to come up with a plan, anything to get you out of this mess. But each only seemed to end in your demise.

Where the hell was Arthur when you needed him?

Just as your fingers grazed the cold steel of your revolver, almost instantaneously the wolf lunged.

It happened so quickly you didn't have time to think: just act.

The loud vibrant explosion of your finger pulling back on the trigger echoed several times before you felt the massive weight of the animal push you down. You felt your breath leave your lungs and you were left winded, gasping for breath but you didn’t have time. You threw your arms out in front of you as a shield and a sudden burning, searing piercing pain shot up your arm and you cried out.

Grunts and barks filled your ears as the wolf thrashed it’s head side-to-side, it’s jaws clamped around your arm, ripping your clothes and its teeth sinking deeper into your left arm. Out of reflex your right hand turned into a fist and started to strike down hard onto the wolves head, yelps and gasp leaving your lips as the wolf only seemed to bite down harder.

You felt the massive paws push down even harder on your chest and the pressure became too great that you thought you heard a crack. You yelled and reached blindly for your pistol, your hands only coming in contact with the cold floor. Abandoning the gun, you reached down to your side and gripped the hilt of your knife and yanking it out of the sheath.

The wolf let go of your arm for a second only to lunge for your throat. You moved your head to the side and felt the wolves teeth sink into your shoulder and your mind went blank in agony and you screamed. You brought the knife up and muster all your strength, you plunged the blade into the wolf, blind aiming.

You heard the wolf cry out in its own pain, its teeth leaving your skin and you bitterly hopped it was worse than what you felt.

You pulled the knife out and plunged it back in, this time closer to the chest. It yelped above you, warm blood oozing onto your hand as you repeatedly stabbed the wolf while using your left arm to push the wolf up, exposing it’s soft belly to you. With a cry, you dug the knife as hard as you can into the soft flesh of the wolves underside and the beast gave out a weak whine.

The weight above you gave way and the wolf tumbled off you, your knife still impaled in its side. You took the opportunity and rolled to your side with a pained grunt, your good arm reaching for your pistol. When you felt the metal against your palm you shot forward, your iron sights aimed at the other two wolves and letting off several rounds. By the painful yelps, they let out you know you hit at least one of them.

Click! Click! Click!

The soft clink of your gun told you-you were out of bullets. Looking down at the gun you threw it to your side, the clattering of steel hitting the rocks bounced off the walls and you were left in silence.

Your eyes traveled back up and you were once more greeted with the slow and disheartening realization that you were alone. The other wolves had fled when you killed the authoritative figure in their small pack. Without their leader they were useless.

The agonizing pain forced you to look down at your wounded limb and bleeding shoulder. The wolf had torn clean through your coat and undershirt underneath, creating a clean path down to your flesh. With the dime light of the cave, you could see the bright crimson of your blood leaking from several large puncture wounds on the back of your forearm. You wouldn't be surprised if it went down to the bone.

Using your right hand, you gently yanked down on the bandana wrapped around your neck, freeing it before you used the cloth as a makeshift wrap. Your hands had stopped trembly so it was a little easier to tie a loose not after you wrapped your arm. In the distance you could feel the warm trickle of your blood as it seeped into your shirt and stained your chest, small streams of blood leaking from your shoulder and you could feel an intensified ache with each heartbeat.

Your breaths came out short and shallow, and each puff was accompanied by a thick cloud of smoke. You could no longer feel the tingle in your toes or the burning of your muscles. You couldn't feel anything but the pain of your wounds. Everything just seemed to grow quiet… And you felt the heaviness in your eyes and it was becoming more difficult to hold yourself up.

You blinked, and you blinked again, a sudden dark cloud creeps into the corners of your vision, slowly reaching forward and the world started to become dark and cold.

“Nu.. nno… no…” you tried to say, trying to force yourself to stay awake but with each passing second, it was becoming clear this wasn’t a battle you would win. Your muscles gave out and you fell on your back, numb to the pain when your head hits the floor.

“A..Ar… aarrthh… Arthuuurr…” you whispered into the abyss. His name sends warmth to your heart and you almost cracked a smile.

You knew you were going to die. But it was going to be a good death. You were proud because you had died the way you wanted, kicking a screaming; your body soaked in the mixture of your blood and the wolves. It wasn’t a bad ending to a short and painful story. It was better than at the gallows with a noose wrapped tight around your neck and the people chanting your name for a crime that wasn’t yours.

But all that didn't seem to matter, because as the darkness took over your vision and your eyes became too heavy to keep them open, all you could see was the deep forest green of his eyes, and feel the soft tendrils of his hair, and hear the sweet deep voice of his drawl as he said your name…

#Red Dead Redemption #Red Dead #red dead 2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur x reader #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #Dutch Van Der Linde #Van Der Linde Gang #video games #twilighcreed

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pass-the-bechdel · 5 years ago

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Alias s02e13 ‘Phase One’

Does it pass the Bechdel Test?

No.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Four (23.53%).

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Thirteen (76.47%).

Positive Content Rating:

Three

General Episode Quality:

Exciting, if somewhat empty.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) UNDER THE CUT:

Passing the Bechdel:

Super Bowl watchers don’t want to see women talking, apparently.

Female Characters:

Sydney Bristow

Francie Calfo

Diane Dixon

“Francie Calfo”

Male Characters:

Gils Macor

Jack Bristow

Dixon

Michael Vaughn

Weiss

Kendall

Anthony Geiger

McCullough

Arvin Sloane

There is so damn much to say about this episode. How it’s colored by the fact that it’s a Super Bowl Episode—an episode designed to appeal to a new, broader audience who might not have otherwise watched the show. How it irrevocably alters the show’s status quo, and why it does so. How it’s often (unfairly, I feel) identified as the point the show jumped the shark. How it’s both the series at its most exciting while arguably also being made up of largely empty calories.

Let’s start with the initial scene, where Sydney literally parades in lingerie as part of her latest mission, which has her impersonate a sex worker in order to get close to a person with access that will allow her to take down SD-6. Twice. It’s both the apex of a practice the show has indulged in before—using Sydney’s aliases as a way to justify placing Jennifer Garner in a variety of sexy costumes—and also an outlier: the sequence exists the way it does entirely because the showrunners wanted to draw in new viewers sticking around after the Super Bowl.

There are several things that bug me about this sequence. The first and most obvious is that, this was the first impression J.J. Abrams and company thought needed to be made, which is quite telling. Given that nothing in the series ever suggests that the writers ever considered queer women, it’s quite clear who is being prioritized here, both within the story and a TV show—especially since the episode also has her note, for the first time, that she does not particularly care for being dressed this way (something more than borne out by her usual style).

Also bothersome is the fact that Sydney’s alias is that of a sex worker, because while the series has been more than happy to have Sydney (and the few other female characters we’ve seen) be sexy, and sometimes even seductive, it seems far less comfortable with allowing her to be sexual, even when performing a job that in popular perception requires it. Sydney strutting down the airplane hallway is good enough to do twice, the series suggests; actually having sex with her target, however, would have crossed a line and made Sydney unworthy of viewers’ support. Occasionally, we’ve seen this belief suggested textually: the disdain with which Macor’s reliance on sex workers is talked about this episode and the way Anna Espinosa was introduced as evil Sydney by showing her having sex with her mark both suggests there is something wrong with non-romantic sex.

While Alias does not generally claim to be a feminist work, it is still somewhat unsettling to see a show that is ostensibly centered on a woman make these arguments. It’s not surprising—at all—but still disappointing. I don’t actually care to see Sydney having sex with random people for information, but this low-key slut-shaming doesn’t work either.

As attention-grabbing as the initial sequence is, however, it’s only a drop in the bucket to what is largely an innocuous episode. Most of what is notable about “Phase One” has little to do with what it is doing and everything to do with how it is doing it. This is the big “blow up the status quo” episode: after this, SD-6 and the Alliance are no more; the series’ core premise is, for all intents and purposes, over and done with.

Back when this first aired, the fact that the show would just up and end its central conflict in the middle of its second season was treated as shocking and daring; in retrospect, it feels much less so. While there are still no obvious-in-retrospect in-story hints that this would happen—not a point in the episode’s favor—one can see, given how the series’ focus shifted from SD-6 to the C.I.A., that the writers had gotten somewhat bored with the double agent shenanigans. Something like this was always going to happen, and given the details of the premise, it arguably needed to happen sooner rather than later.

(It’s also been well-documented that the timing of SD-6′s end was dictated largely in part by the perception that people found the series hard to follow, and a desire to accommodate those people. While I have some sympathy for these claims, and find them believable—especially since the writers had trouble keeping their continuity straight more than once—it also feels shocking that the showrunners were willing to bend to this degree.)

What is still quite surprising, however, is how little interest there was on making this feel like a satisfying conclusion. The circumstances that bring down SD-6 relate to nothing Sydney or the C.I.A. had previously done. There is little sense of escalating stakes, with none of the established Alliance players in attendance, and with the major threat—Jack at SD-6 being tortured—being a nearly direct replay of what had occurred on the episode immediately preceding this one. Sloane’s replacement at SD-6 is someone we’d never seen or heard from before, and gets taken down without a fight. At no point does it feel like the people assaulting SD-6 are in danger. While the events of the episode are not completely divorced from things that have gone on before—they occur as a direct consequence of Sloane’s exit last episode, and is part of his ongoing plan with Sark and perhaps SpyMommy—what they do is make the end of SD-6 the beginning of a new story, rather than the end of one. It also denies viewers a sense of proper satisfaction—surely the end of SD-6 should come because of Sydney? And yet, she is ultimately largely irrelevant—a tool in somebody else’s story. The show’s original premise, thus, is rendered an inconvenience—something to be discarded as dramatically as possible.

This isn’t to say that the episode doesn’t work—most of it does, quite well. Dixon gets what is possibly his finest moment in the series, and gets to be the lynchpin of the episode. The Sydney / Vaughn ship finally sets sail with a great kiss. The ending is shocking. It all feels lush and big and exciting. In the end, though, it’s not the finale I wanted it to be.

Other Notes:

Because this episode is aimed at potential new viewers, there are a bunch of scenes and conversations that exist solely so that these new viewers can be caught up to speed. While I appreciate the effort, these scenes now seem dated and intrusive, if sometimes charmingly so.

On that note, part of restating the show’s premise is mentioning Danny for the first time in like a dozen episodes, in the process giving us much more detail than we’d ever gotten about him. Kinda too little too late, show.

This episode’s big guest star is Rutger Hauer, who does his best but is let down by a story that doesn’t have much time for him and a script that doesn’t allow him to be terribly memorable in the time he does have. Given that his mayor role involves him stumbling upon the fact that Sydney and Jack are double agents and torturing Jack, I really wish they’d allowed Ariana Kane to stay for one more episode and merge the two stories. But that would have defeated the purpose of the story.

We’re told that Sloane is acting director of SD-6, which is either an error or one heck of a thing to slip into when it’s no longer relevant. While it answers some questions (like why he wasn’t a senior partner at the Alliance) it also raises far more (why is he still acting director after seven years)?

HOW IS FRANCIE’S RESTAURANT MAKING A PROFIT AFTER SIX MONTHS?

Sydney mentions the Alliance to Dixon, with the full expectation that he’ll understand what she’s talking about. This raises a question: if SD-6 agents know about the Alliance, how does SD-6 justify never actually doing anything to try and bring it down? As a friend of mine noted, the entire premise of SD-6 is creaky as hell.

#Alias #Alias Season Two #Phase One #Female Representation #Bechdel Test #MimeParadox

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missn11 · 5 years ago

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Chapter two and three of The Devil’s Advocate, since chapter two is quite short, but these chapters are giving us some build up by introducing a mysterious woman luring people in a poorer neighborhood to the local abandoned church with her song. And we catch up with Liza and Owain and see how things are done in the Atlanta Camarilla court.

The song called. Antwuan made his excuses to his friends and left. They weren’t going anywhere. Nobody Antwuan knew was going anywhere. Nobody but Antwuan. His friends had always ragged on him. Except for Little Johnnie, Antwuan was the only one who’d stayed out of trouble, “kept his nose clean,” like his mama put it. Soon he would be old enough to work for his uncle Maurice driving a cab. He was going to save some money, buy his own place. The ladies would like that. He wasn’t going to spend his whole life in Reynoldstown.

I seen too many folks get shot down, or go crazy on drugs. None of Antwuan’s friends really thought they’d live much The Devil's Advocate 63 past thirty, anyhow. None except Little Johnnie, and he was just too scared to get himself killed. Antwuan liked hanging out with his friends, but he didn’t need them every night. And it wasn’t every night that the song called. The first time Antwuan had gone had been for other reasons. Taquanna had hinted that he should come, so he’d figured, play his cards right, he might get down her pants. Seemed worth a shot. Since then, though, there was no question. The song called, he was there.

The old church had always been a part of the scenery for Antwuan. It was there, he just didn’t mess with it. Nobody messed with it. The place had that feel to it, and people stayed away. Not even the up and coming gangstas congregated there. Hell, Antwuan reasoned, plenty other boarded up buildings to trash.

Lol, I think we have a title drop here with that street name!

Again as he approached, Antwuan heard the notes that floated through the night and sum- 64 Gherbod Fleming moned him. He had never heard the song before that first time, but now he heard it every time, no matter where he was. This past summer he’d been down at a Braves’ game, and even over the miles, the traffic, and the crowds he’d heard it and hopped on MARTA and gotten back as quickly as he could. There was no one else around as he walked up the cracked sidewalk into the shadows surrounding the church. But there would be others, he knew. The song would reach out to those who were aware, and many would come. Antwuan was glad he lived so close and could almost always make it. He reached for the door, the lofty, lilting notes pulling him more forcefully now. It was a prelude, as his mama called it when she made him go to their church, only this music was far more alluring than any church prelude, and the service was nothing he would expect from Preacher Rutherford. Antwuan chuckled at the thought, but immediately fell silent as he entered.

She stood at the front of the sanctuary before the toppled, graffiti-carven pulpit—the pale angel. Her skin was white as ivory, made more noticeably so by the dark black hair and straight bangs that framed her thin face, now lifted toward the heavens, eyes closed, lips slightly parted to allow forth the most enticing sound heard to man.

Place your bets on what Clan this woman is! I’m thinking at the moment a Toreador with a high level Presence.

Her voice brought them to her, held them there, not that they would want to tear themselves away. Antwuan closed his eyes, let the music ease his mind, carrying away thoughts of trouble, of his mama pestering him to get a job now instead of waiting till he was old enough to work for his uncle, of the long empty days since he’d dropped out of school, of wondering if the gunshots he heard at night would kill a member of his family or one of his friends. The daily concerns were washed away, replaced by soothing music, the closest thing to true contentment that he’d ever experienced. But even this contentment was not complete. At its heart was a tiny ache, the seed of desire, a rising need. The music did not erase this need, did not carry it away, but rather caressed it, cared for it. Now the music changed, shifted indescribably. Antwuan knew that if he opened his eyes he would see the others around him, ten or fifteen of them. He felt the familiar presence of Taquanna beside him, her shoulder inches from his. The angel still 66 Gherbod Fleming sang above them; her music reminded Antwuan of a song his grandmother used to sing to him as a little boy, but he couldn’t quite fully summon the tune to memory. Besides, that would only distract him from the pleasure at hand.

and then they dance and Antwuan has sex with Taquanna, which isn’t told in great detail, more tastefully really. Then later Antwuan feels super happy on the way home and he collapsed on his bed, sleeping until very late into the day.

Chapter three starts with Liza making her way to the art museum for the Camarilla gathering

Liza took a detour through Piedmont Park. She loved the freedom of walking the city at night by herself, something she couldn’t do as a mortal. Not only did she revel in her newfound powers, she always looked for a chance to show them off, to convince herself they were real more than to impress anyone else. Liza don’t need nobody else, she told herself quite often. She hoped somebody would give her trouble, wished that some thinks-he’stough asshole would try to mug her, or better yet, to rape her. She’d leave him with his dick stuffed down his throat. I bet ol’ Dietrich give Francesca a big hard one, Liza mused.

Probably got spikes just like on his head. The Devil's Advocate 69 Strangely enough, it was Francesca that intrigued Liza more. The way she rrrolls her rrrrs. The very thought gave Liza shivers. Maybe the two women would meet again, without Dietrich. The freak. Who knew when another Sabbat mission might bring them together again? The team had worked well enough: Liza, the Atlanta native, guiding; Dietrich helping herd their prey; Francesca giving the orders and immobilizing old what’s-his-name at the end. To Liza’s disappointment, it was a slow night in Piedmont Park. After about forty-five minutes completely unmolested—not even a nibble—she headed toward the High Museum of Art and Prince Benison’s exhibit.

The Camarilla, the vampire sect that controlled Atlanta, claimed every vampire as a member. So Liza, as an Atlanta Kindred, was automatically invited, even if Benison didn’t really want her there. Technically, she was an anarch, a rebel who didn’t acknowledge the strictures of the Camarilla, at least not all of them. But since the Camarilla claimed her, there was plenty of gray area to use as she saw fit. Liza liked gray area. Gray area meant freedom. Although if Benison, or any of the 70 Gherbod Fleming other Atlanta Kindred for that matter, found out about her Sabbat connections, that would be the end of freedom, not to mention her life. She’d be staked, or beheaded, or left out for the sun, or all three.

And we get our first look of who’s who of the Atlanta Camarilla court at the gathering.

Occasionally, Benison had midnight prayer breakfasts at Rhodes Hall, his mansion just a bit down Peachtree Street. Liza avoided those like the plague. No way was she going to go listen to the crazy Malkavian prince spout scripture, pretending that God still cared about the Damned. Liza the The Devil's Advocate 71 anarch had that freedom. She could skip out on any gathering she felt like. Not so for these other Kindred. Stupid bastards. Prince Benison frowned on subjects missing his courtly functions. That was another reason to attend this relatively painless exhibit: to rub it in the others’ faces that she didn’t have to be there.

And they were all there all right, Liza noticed: Eleanor, the prince’s snobby bitch wife wearing her poofy Gone With the Wind dress; Benjamin and Thelonious, resident legal eagle and Mr. Civil Rights, brothers who bought into the white folks’ world; Owain Evans, the youthful and good-looking but boring-ass businessman; Hannah, the local Tremere grand wizard or whatever; Marlene, artist wannabe, porn queen more likely. There were others too, but Liza was distracted by the sight of Alex Horndiller, Benison’s righthand ghoul, leading two young men, mortals, toward the center of the gallery. She strutted over to them, her black tights drawing quite a few stares amidst the formal evening wear crowd.

Liza causes a stir when she feeds on two of the ghouls before the Prince has a chance for the first sip.

She slapped the ghoul on the shoulder, hard enough that he almost stumbled. “Corndicker, what you got for me?” Without another word, Liza took the forearm of the first young man, tall, blond, maybe in his early twenties, and sank her teeth in. He flinched only slightly; the collective gasp that arose was from the onlookers. Liza tried not to 72 Gherbod Fleming laugh—she hated when blood ran out her nose— but it was so like the courtly Kindred to be shocked…like she knew they would be. The two men were the refreshments for the evening, common vessels, but of course the prince should have enjoyed the ceremonious first sip. Liza wasn’t hungry, not after feeding on that vampire sap with Francesca and the Elephant Man, but this was almost as much fun as ripping apart muggers in the park would have been. She let go of the first man and grinned at the irate Horndiller, red splotches forming on his face. “Not bad,” she said as she winked and pinched the blond vessel’s ass. “And I like the Dixie cup.” Before Horndiller could form his indignant sputterings into words, Liza sank her teeth into the second man, stockier and more darkly complected than his counterpart.

She had drunk only a little when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Corndicker’s got more balls than I…but before she could finish the thought, she was spun roughly around, and to her shock, it was not Horndiller who held her. Instead, it was J. Benison Hodge, prince of Atlanta. Liza stumbled backward in surprise, but the prince’s iron grip held her upright, his fingers pressing down to the bone of her shoulder. He towered above her, his massive dark red beard inches from her face, his green eyes ablaze with more anger than Liza had ever seen in them.

She tried to speak but The Devil's Advocate 73 could only wince at the pain as he squeezed her shoulder more tightly. The prince spoke in a low, throaty growl. “I offer hospitality, and you mock it.” The words were meant for her, but Hodge’s forceful baritone easily carried across the chamber to the onlooking Kindred, about whom Liza had very nearly forgotten. The prince released her shoulder and quickly drew back his hand to strike her backhanded across the face…but he stopped, spotless white glove raised, arm trembling with rage. His stiffened jaw forced his beard forward. “I will not tolerate this.”

Liza could do nothing but cringe at this awesome display of barely controlled ferocity. One swipe of his gloved fist would likely crush every bone in her face. She suddenly felt very young and weak and small confronted with this force of nature that was the prince. Benison took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. Just as slowly, he lowered his arm. Not for one moment did his severe gaze release Liza from scrutiny. “For one year and one night, I do not want to see you, I do not want to so much as hear report of your name.” A savage, psychotic glint flashed across the prince’s fiery green eyes, as if he wanted to end it now, as if he wanted nothing more than to strike her down this instant for her affront to his honor, but the brief wavering passed, and though his wrath was undiminished, restraint held the day. “If I do, 74 Gherbod Fleming you will find final death.” The prince turned his back to her. “Begone.” It took Liza a second to realize that she had not been struck down, that he had not snapped her neck as surely he could have. She swallowed her wounded pride and slunk away

Then we switch over to Owain’s POV, who’s still thinking about the chess game he lost.

Owain probably had never been to a courtly function in a fouler mood. Three hundred years of strategy and planning abruptly catapulted to hell, he kept telling himself. It was not a misfortune he could lightly set aside and forget. How? How could it happen? Overconfidence? Carelessness? The art exhibit was hardly a sufficient distraction. At least it’s not one of those damnable prayer breakfasts. Prince Benison, through his contacts on the board of the High Museum, had commandeered this gallery to show the artwork of one of the Atlanta Kindred, Marlene. Marlene fancied herself something of a sculptor, and though she was Toreador, Owain did not feel that the term “art” accurately described her accomplishments. Apparently ceramics or clay were too subtle media; Marlene had taken to welding together various shapes and sizes of scrap metal and then attaching somewhat grandiose titles to the resulting monstrosities. What her work lacked in vision it certainly made up in magnitude. No mantlepiece The Devil's Advocate 75 collectibles in this portfolio.

Not a big lover of modern art is he? XD

As usual at these functions, Owain attempted to stay out of the way. There was much more to be learned from watching and listening than from taking a lead in most endeavors, a fact that Owain had learned well over his centuries of vampiric existence. And one that anarch rabble would do well to learn, Owain thought as Liza was shown the door. Her little outburst had been entertaining. Owain had to admit that, although he had been quite guarded in not displaying his amusement at the spectacle. She won’t live long confronting a prince that way. Owain was surprised by her brazen recklessness, her stupidity. There are more efficient ways to undermine a princes’ position, subtler ways, safer ways. Owain could only wonder if the prince’s treatment of her might have been more irreversibly detrimental had she had time to actually insult the “artwork.”

At the time of Liza’s little scene, Owain had been standing to a side of the room, near the Tremere chantry leader, reclusive Hannah. He was close enough that most passersby, assuming that he and Hannah were merely pausing in conversation, continued on without disturbing him, but not so close that he actually had to speak to the Tremere. Owain suspected that Hannah appreciated the arrangement as well, she not being one of the more socially ambitious Kindred in the city. For the most 76 Gherbod Fleming part, the only people who expressed more than the most passing of interests in speaking to Hannah were her Tremere lessers from the chantry. Several attempted to toady but quickly retreated having received nothing but coldly polite and formal responses

Owain also noticed that Chantry Mistress Hannah’s reaction to the anarch-prince confrontation was as muted as his own, only a slight wrinkling of her nose indicating her distaste. Owain himself was not a stickler for manners. Over the years he had come to see their value as a stabilizing factor in both mortal and Kindred affairs. He was not offended by the “affront to the prince’s honor.” Rather he was dismayed by the anarch’s idiocy. Owain shook his head thinking of her misguided actions. She wanted to embarrass him, to damage his reputation.

But Hodge came out looking stronger than ever, and now she’s banished for a year and a night. Owain laughed to himself. A nice touch that—a year and a night. Hodge does have a flair for the dramatic. The duration of the punishment was a clear echo of the length of Arthurian quests—a year and a day. Owain was particularly enamored with the legends, as many of the earliest were of Welsh origin. It was clear to Owain that the prince saw himself as some type of crusading knight, protector of moral fortitude. It fit all too perfectly with the prince’s other derangements.

No, Owain was not offended by Liza’s little show, unlike many of the other gathered Kindred who bought so completely into the aura of southern gentility that Hodge, his wife Eleanor, and his sire Aunt Bedelia so convincingly affected. To Owain etiquette was a means, not an end unto itself. It was sometimes the only keeper of civility between enemies, and more importantly it was a veil behind which to work deceit. That line of thought reminded Owain that there was business to be conducted this evening. Mostly he was biding his time, making sure to stay long enough not to insult the prince, but not so long as to seem to be attempting to ingratiate himself. Almost no vampire, Owain felt, was worth the time of a social engagement, and very few mortals or ghouls. But if he had to be here, he might as well get something accomplished.

Then Owain tends to some business but first he has a brief encounter with the Prince’s sire, Aunt Bedelia.

He scanned the room until he saw Benjamin, a fellow Ventrue but hardly a friend. As he moved to leave his safe haven near Hannah, however, Owain nearly stumbled over Aunt Bedelia in her antique wheelchair being ushered around the gallery by her childe the prince. “Goodness, J. Benison. Someone has stepped on me,” Aunt Bedelia chittered shrilly. “Who is that?” She squinted up through her half-moon spectacles in Owain’s general direction. Her heavy wool dress swallowed her frail form. “My apologies, Mother,” muttered the prince, 78 Gherbod Fleming gracious and mild-mannered now that civility was restored to the gathering. “This is Owain Evans.” Owain smiled dutifully. “Never heard of him.” “Of course you have, Mother,” Benison patiently reminded her. “He came from Europe during the Great War. He’s from Wales originally. He…” “Never heard of him,” Bedelia snapped, testily this time.

The prince lowered his head and sighed. “Of course you haven’t, mother. Mother, I present to you Owain Evans, Ventrue of King Road, Atlanta. Mr. Evans, my sire Aunt Bedelia.” Bedelia held her left hand before her. Owain, standing to her right, glanced at the prince who was watching him expectantly, so he stepped around her, delicately took her hand, and kissed it. “The pleasure is all mine, Aunt Bedelia.” “Charmed, I’m sure.” Bedelia smiled sweetly, quite content now that she had been paid the proper respect; so content, in fact, that she had apparently fallen instantly asleep, her eyes closed now instead of squinted. She began to snore quietly.

Benison was smiling broadly. “Always good to see you, Owain. Mother and I couldn’t be happier that you made it this evening. Enjoying the artwork?” Before Owain could answer, the prince glanced off to his left. “No, I don’t think we need to send any- The Devil's Advocate 79 one to follow her,” he said, answering a question that no one had asked. Then, without missing a beat, he was smiling at Owain again. Owain hesitated. This peculiar behavior was nothing new for Benison.

The prince waited a moment. “The artwork?” he asked again. “Oh yes,” Owain assured him. “I’ve seen nothing like it elsewhere.” Benison cuffed Owain on the shoulder and laughed heartily. “Good, good. Of course you haven’t. Our little Marlene is quite the artist.” “She is something,” Owain agreed. He wondered what else Marlene was to the prince that she should merit such patronage. Owain had it on good authority that the prince’s wife was no paragon of fidelity. Perhaps the indiscretion was reciprocated. Though few vampires retained any type of sexual desire, there were always other…displays of affection that a spouse might guard jealously. “Well, Mother and I must attend the other guests,” said the prince. “Always good to see you, Owain. Enjoy the exhibit.”

At this, Bedelia perked up. Her gentle snoring ceased abruptly as she blinked herself awake. She squinted up at Owain as if she had just asked him a question and was expecting an answer. Owain, nodding respectfully at the prince, saw that Bedelia was still watching him expectantly. “A 80 Gherbod Fleming pleasure to see you, madame,” he offered. She continued staring at him, as if oblivious to his statement. “Have we met, young man?” Benison broke in quickly, “Well, Mother, here’s your favorite bridge partner, Hannah,” as he wheeled her away. “J. Benison, why didn’t you introduce us?” Bedelia was asking, but the prince continued on their way, greeting Hannah with great enthusiasm and seeming not to hear the protestations of his sire.

Owain gratefully slipped away. He always had gotten on fairly well with the prince. Both were warriors and, even though their wars were of different eras, there was a certain camaraderie in that. Aunt Bedelia was a different matter. Owain was sure her “forgetfulness” was merely an intended slight, a game meant to lessen him somehow. He shrugged off the encounter. Let the old hag pretend she doesn’t know me. I’d rather continue advising the prince than have her approval. Now where has Benjamin gotten to? Must have slipped into a side gallery.

He also skirted the main work of the exhibit, a behemoth of a piece consisting of three major chunks of curved and twisted metal The Devil's Advocate 81 with numerous smaller additions, suspended in its entirity from the ceiling by chains. It was a work Marlene had crafted several years ago titled “Benison’s Ride,” in honor of the prince’s purging of the Atlanta area of those anarchs and caitiffs who had not paid him the respect of announcing their presence to the court. Benison was quite fond of the piece and arranged for public viewings periodically for the edification of the Kindred in his domain. A vociferous Brujah had surmised that the sculpture was actually a representation of a whale spewing forth a Volkswagon. The prince felt otherwise. That particular Brujah no longer resided in Atlanta. Other colorful yet more discreet speculations had included but not been limited to: a severely disfigured head wearing a propeller hat, three falcons fornicating, and a ballet dancer engaged in projectile vomiting. At the original unveiling, Owain had limited his response to polite applause.

Finally Owain finds Benjamin with the Prince’s wife Eleanor.

Benjamin, an African-American dandy with his impeccable Brooks Brothers suit, tidy short-cropped hair, and wirerimmed glasses, was relatively young in his undeath but there was power in his blood. Next to the prince’s wife Eleanor, he was ostensibly the most influential Ventrue in Atlanta. Owain tended to keep his distance from clan politics; he’d been there too many times before. The fewer everyday entanglements the better, he felt. Both Benjamin and Eleanor, however, held this detachment against Owain and regarded him with suspicion. If they only knew how much older and more powerful he was than they, they would fear him as well.

“Benjamin, we must speak,” Owain said as he approached. A young female, whose name escaped Owain at the moment, edged away from Benjamin with only a glare at Owain, a grudging display of deference to the elder. Benjamin frowned, the expression causing his glasses to slide down his nose. “Yes, Owain, how The Devil's Advocate 83 may I be of service?” he asked in a cool formal tone. Benjamin’s slight but noticable English accent always amused Owain. True, the young lawyer had studied for several years at Oxford, but after more than fifteen years back in the States such an acquired accent would normally have faded. Unless, of course, the bearer consciously chose to maintain it as an affectation, a vanity. Owain, after living in Wales, London, France, Spain, and now Atlanta, had studied language and made a concerted effort to acquire an almost accentless English that raised no eyebrows. Speech patterns could give all too much away about a person. Even his current name, “Owain Evans,” was a concession to the need to remain unobtrusive and seemed choppy and harsh in comparison to his original “Owain ap Ieuan.” “Owain?” Benjamin’s voice snapped Owain out of his woolgathering, a bad habit and one he’d been succumbing to increasingly of late. “How may I help you?”

Owain edged closer to his fellow Ventrue and spoke in a low voice that would not be overheard by the other Kindred milling about. “I need a favor, a simple thing really.” Benjamin regarded Owain skeptically but said nothing. “There is a certain case,” Owain continued, “that will be heard this week by Justice Chamberlain of the Superior Court. You know Justice Chamberlain?” Benjamin shrugged noncommittally as he pushed 84 Gherbod Fleming his glasses back up. “He’s an acquaintance.” “Ah. How fortunate. You see, this particular case involves a zoning dispute. Mercator Manufacturing has bought property near downtown with the intention of constructing a regional distribution center. Unfortunately, certain rather reactionary individuals, most notably the Citizens Empowerment Union, have taken it into their heads that such a project would not be a desirable addition to the area. Never mind the jobs it would bring. Never mind the investment in surrounding neighborhoods….” “Never mind,” Benjamin interrupted, unable to hold his tongue any longer, “that the jobs would be non-union minimum wage, or that the people would be working for an international corporation with a history of closing shop when standards of living rise to a point where workers demand raises, then relocating to centers of cheap foreign labor.”

Despite Benjamin’s refusal, since the whole thing is just basically wage slavery, Owain blackmails him into agreeing since he knows about his relationship with the Prince’s wife Eleanor.

He loves Eleanor too deeply to harm her, but you…? I don’t think he would exercise such restraint in dealing with you.” 86 Gherbod Fleming A polite smile masked the venom of Owain’s words to any who might be watching. Owain stepped back. Benjamin could not hide his dismay, his shock, his fear. His every muscle was taut; his glasses slid down his nose again. “Now that I think of it,” Owain went on, “not only will Chamberlain uphold the rezoning, but the Georgia Supreme Court will refuse to hear the appeal.” He winked at the still speechless Benjamin. “I’ll be in touch.” Owain turned and left the side gallery laughing to himself at the expression on young Benjamin’s face. That should teach him some respect for his elders.

Yikes, Owain! But we knew that anyway,from when he killed his niece in las and her children. After being a really huge dick, Owain walks back to the main gallery and sees a wild scene unfolding.

Just as Owain entered the main gallery, a cacophony of gasps, exclamations, and laughter errupted. Owain saw why instantly. Atop “Benison’s Ride” perched Albert, the wiry, bearded Malkavian known to all Kindred in Atlanta. Completely naked. “On, Dasher! On, Dancer!” He rocked back and forth, in his own way reenacting the prince’s heroic ride as the massive metal sculpture wobbled precariously beneath him. Marlene, the self-proclaimed artist, had fainted dead away. The prince, doting over Aunt Bedelia at the other end of the gallery, his back turned, was quite oblivious to the evening’s second spectacle behind him. That was as much as Owain cared to see. He nonchalantly eased around the room—the oppo- The Devil's Advocate 87 site end from the prince—toward the elevator. Several Kindred were ordering Albert to dismount, but they were unwilling to risk breaking the sculpture by pulling him from his seat. As the elevator doors closed behind Owain, he could hear Albert singing, “Rollin’ rollin’ rollin, keep them dogs a-rollin’!” at the top of his lungs, the sculpted representation of the prince towering upward between his hairy legs like a giant scrap metal phallus. And then dead silence. Owain could picture the prince turning around. “Albert!”

#vampire the masquerade #The Trilogy of the Blood Curse #The Devil's Advocate #books #my reading blogging

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hoffersonheadpress · 6 years ago

Text

optimus fine - marichat and adrienette fic

this could be seen as romantic or like the fine line between friends and crushes but either way it’s funny lol.

summary: marinette is sick of chat noir's relentless flirting, so she decides to give him a taste of his own medicine. adrien doesn't know how to act around marinette anymore.

word count: 1297

“ha! and i still have time for lunch, papillon is getting slow.” marinette bragged as she leaned against the alley wall, plucking leaves out of her fringe and dusting dirt from her cheek.

it had been one of their tamest villains yet, it took no longer than a half hour to defeat and chat noir didn't even have to use his cataclysm. it was the usual suspect of kids being kids, and papillon taking full advantage of their often sporadic and unreasonable mood changes. but as they say, easy come easy go, they were the easiest to deakumatise.

a giggle chimed from marinette’s bag and she saw tikki already halfway through a cookie, “or you and chat noir are just getting better!”

marinette chuckled in response and used her index finger to gently scratch tikki’s head, “that silly kitty may be getting stronger, but his pick up lines are definitely getting weaker. did you hear the one he used today?”

she stretched an arm out and raised her chin as if she were about to recite a poem, “ladybug...” she furrowed her brow and clenched her fist dramatically, “...if you were a transformer, you’d be optimus fine!”

marinette’s composure broke as soon as she uttered the phrase and brought her arms around her waist as she fell into a fit of laughter, “whatever am i going to do with him?”.

peeking her head out of the alley marinette noticed no civilians had returned to the park the fight had taken place in, giving her a great opportunity to slip away unnoticed. which she almost did until a black figure dropped down in front of her.

marinette shrieked in surprise and flung herself backwards, tripping over her feet and tumbling to the ground. “ow!”

“hey mari- uh,,, mademoiselle! are you okay?” the voice above her asked as two leather clad hands (paws?) immediately pulled her back up.

“chat noir?” marinette mumbled, blue eyes blinking up at his green.

a smug smirk stretched across pointed teeth, before the cat took a step back and bowed, still holding onto one of marinette’s wrists, “the one and only. there’s no need to be frightened anymore little lady, danger is all gone.”

marinette blinked in shock a few more times before a glint of mischief crossed her expression. she slipped her hand into chat’s and placed the other one against his chest.

“oh, i'm so glad! i was so scared, but when i saw you and ladybug fly in i just knew everything was going to be ok.”

she could practically feel his chest swell at the compliment. he threw his head to side nonchalantly and smirked.

“yeah well, nothing papillon could conjure up could ever be a match against the chat.” he flexed the arm marinette wasn't holding.

marinette had to suppress a chuckle as she watched chat show himself off like a trophy, she slipped back into character when he made eye contact with her again.

“of course, you're so strong,,,” the hand that was spread on his chest lifted until she was just trailing her index finger along the muscular lines prominent through the suit.

chat’s smooth expression faltered slightly at the action.

“papillon wouldn't stand a chance against this.” marinette looked up at him through her lashes, feeling triumph well in her chest as she noticed the colour of his cheeks begin to turn pink. she decided to take it one step further by pushing her body flush against his.

“you’re our hero” she whispered into his ear. the hand that was previously on his chest slithered up to the nape of his hair.

chat’s face had now turned completely red, and his mouth opened and closed as he tried to find the words. his cocky attitude had melted away, leaving him stammering and stuttering. as a final blow marinette pressed a long kiss to the corner of his mouth, before slipping out of his grasp.

“see you, chaton.” she flicked the bell on his collar before turning her back to him and strutting in the opposite direction.

marinette couldn’t keep the smirk off her face as she imprinted the image of chat noir flustered and speechless into her mind. ah, yes. she was going to enjoy thinking about that the next time he dropped another ridiculous pick up line on her.

once they were out of earshot, tikki peeked her head out of marinette’s purse, “what was that all about?”

“i wanted him to know how it feels to be on the receiving end of relentless flirting for once. who knows, it might just humble him a little” marinette shrugged.

“nothing could humble chat noir.” the kwami quipped.

they both giggled as they made their way back to the school, after all no amount of akumas could stop ms mendeleiev and her incredibly boring chemistry lessons.

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

class had already been in session for 20 minutes before adrien walked in, muttering a quick apology and scampering to his seat. marinette saw his flustered face and smiled sympathetically, understanding all too well the feeling of walking into class late. but rather than responding with his usual kind smile, his eyes shot down and the colour in his face deepened.

confusion and a twinge of hurt filled marinette’s chest as adrien turned his back to her immediately and sat down. but ms mendeleiev had already begun talking again, so she decided not to push it yet.

every now and then as the class dragged on, marinette could swear she saw adrien looking at her out of the corner of his eye, but would quickly avert his gaze when marinette caught him.

by the time the final bell rang, marinette felt like she had grown another head. she had periodically throughout the class run her fingers over her face, looking for any reason as to why adrien might be staring at her but found none.

she placed a hand on his shoulder as she noticed him throw his things in his bag and try to get up the second he heard the bell.

“adrien, is everything okay?” marinette’s usual nervousness was replaced by both concern for adrien and self consciousness, leaving her usual stuttering and blushing behind.

in fact, this time it was adrien doing the stuttering and blushing.

“marinette! yeah,,, im uh- im great! you are how? i mean! how are you?” adrien spluttered, cheeks turning rosy again.

marinette’s eyebrows knitted together as he stumbled over his words, “i’m fine,,, it’s just you’ve been looking at me weirdly, is there something on my face?”

“no! your face is beautiful!” his eyes shot open, “i mean your face is fine! not that your face isn’t beautiful but there’s,,,, there’s nothing on your face.”

even more confused than before, and a little embarrassed, marinette dropped her hand from his shoulder, “okay…”

“i should probably- probably go because i have,,, chinese! my bodyguard will be waiting! see you,,, see you soon marinette!”

before marinette could reply, he shot out of the classroom. marinette turned to alya, who had watched the whole interaction with a questioning look. alya shot an equally confused one back and shrugged her shoulders.

“isn’t that usually the other way around?”

marinette shook her head and sighed, “i honestly preferred when we were at the ‘just friends’ stage, now he looks like he’s afraid of me.”

alya elbowed marinette gently in the side, “or he’s majorly crushing on you.”

marinette nudged her back, “nah. i’ve only ever been a flailing, clumsy mess around him. why would he be attracted to a girl who can’t even form a coherent sentence around him? never mind flirting with him!”

“don’t worry about it girl, one day i bet you could even reach two coherent sentences around him!”

marinette giggled in response, “wishful thinking.”

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