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twosroos · 2 years

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All Grown Up [Chapter Five]

roos says ! a bit of me rushing the plot, adding in some jake for fun, and just fuckin around bc why not >:)

desc: Bob's gone for a few days on a trip, it goes great until it suddenly doesn't.

fluff, angst

notable characters: robert "bob" floyd, jake "hangman" seresin

TWs: mentions of past abuse, panic attacks

ao3 link ! last chapter ! next chapter

Today was Monday, and Robby would be out of town from around noon today, to about four on Wednesday to visit mutual friends of yours he hadn’t seen in years. You would’ve gone— loving the group to death, but it was too close to your derby on Friday and the Fourth of July party only a few days later. Today was also the first day of summer camp for both of your sisters, they were only going for July, just as you and Bob had done almost three decades prior. So, you had to spend the morning coaxing them into going. Now, the four of you stood at the entrance to the little family-owned summer camp, you kneeling in the dirt to give Genevieve a big hug while Molly clung to her brother's leg.

“You just got back!” She whined, punching his thigh. Bob laughed and kneeled, forcing her to step back.

“And I’ll be back, Molly.” He smiles, pulling her into his chest, “I promise. You’ll see me on Friday. It’s just a few days of orientation."

“Rob…” Molly whines and you laugh as Genevieve goes over and grabs her hand.

“C’mon. We have to go. Bobby will be here when we get back. Just like my sister!” Genevieve smiled, dragging Molly over. Seemingly begrudgingly accepting her fate, Molly walked alongside her best friend. The two girls waved goodbye to both of you as they walked away, their counselor kneeling to talk to them and give them big hugs as she greeted them. Once the two were safely tucked into the wooded entrance of summer camp, you jiggled your keys to signal Bob to stand back up. He did, with flushed cheeks, and the two of you walked back to your single cab pickup. You and Bob played old country music as you drove back home, silence enveloping you.

When you pull into the driveway, Bob turns the music down before you shut off the car and you turn to him.

“How… I—“ Bob sighs, “I wish I had been there for Molly when she was growing up.”

The sentence hits you like a train. You knew that he’d come home when Molly was born and tried to send her gifts and stuff every birthday or major event, but he’d missed a lot of his younger sister's life. It hadn’t occurred to you just how much it would affect.

“You still have a lot of time,” you try and offer, “she’s only five, Robby. I don’t remember much before my seventh birthday.”

“I know. But she’s gonna be in camp by the time I’m leaving again.” he buries his head in his hands and sighs heavily, “I mean this time I’ll only be gone for around two months but still, it sucks.”

“Are you going over your— well, our birthdays?” You ask. Your birthday was one day before Bob’s, it was the reason you became friends in the first place.

“Yeah. We’ll be in Nevada this time I’m pretty sure.” He laughs, "It's weird, soon I'll probably have spent just as many birthdays in random places as my own home."

"I hate that one day that'll be right." You huff, using a bit of shoulder force to knock open your door so you can get out. Bob follows suit, and when he says goodbye an hour or so later he gives you a spine-breaking hug while he promises he'll be back on Wednesday. And while you promise him you'll save him and his friend's seats at your derby, you successfully resist the urge to press a gentle kiss to his skin.

The pining is one-sided, you remind yourself as you bitterly think with a bright smile on your face as you wave goodbye to Bob in his truck, that kiss years ago meant nothing, and never will. Even if you desperately wish it did.

Tuesday passes without an issue. You drop the girls off at summer camp and they bounce off with promises to be good and be in one piece when you pick them up at nine that night. You go to lessons, train a few kids, then go home and practice with your mom and both of your horses until a quick left-over dinner around eight. When you pick the girls up from camp, Molly shows you a little painting of a plane she made for her brother. It's cute, though definitely not what a jet-- a Hornet, you think you heard Bob call it once while regaling a story, looks like. When the girls go to bed, you stay up with your mother and Jenny to start preparing everything possible for the party that was coming around the corner faster than you could realize. It was a week away, and you’d be spending every waking minute either at work, training at home, or working on food or decorations for the party.

Your derby, or competition as your mother called it, was during Friday's annual Fourth of July fair. Which didn't run on the fourth, it ran the last weekend of June. It always had. At the annual fair, they hosted three events you were helping train for, barrel racing, calf roping, and bull riding. You had done the first two since the end of high school, plus having ridden horses your whole life, but for the bull riding you mostly just made sure no one died to a rouge bull at any given moment. The farm you trained at— Cherry Lake Farm and Lessons, also offered bull riding, which is where Bob had done it a few times in high school but never enough to be in any sort of rodeo. Just like your horse riding. Now you helped about five people train their skills of riding bulls, even if the idea of riding a bull scared the daylight out of you and you were gonna be riding in the fair. You felt all grown up, living out dreams you never saw in yourself as a kid.

On Wednesday morning, you’d left home at around eight forty, assuring your mom you would help her set up the day before the party. She’d already opened up the two barns and the chicken coop with your sister before driving her and Molly to camp after you'd left, so you were able to soak in those extra thirty or so minutes of sleep before your body automatically woke you up and told you to get going. Usually, on work mornings, you'd drop the girls off at camp, but not today. Today, you rode your truck the short but sweet thirty miles to work, stopping at a local gas station to fuel up and grab some breakfast as you did every morning you worked. Everything seemed to be going perfect, the sun was warm, not hot, it’s cool enough to roll down your windows without the sun making you sweat, it’s so nice you don’t even run your air conditioner, and the bagel you got was better than any breakfast bagel you’d had there before.

Then you see Shannon standing at the stables with her arms crossed when you pull up to teach lessons.

Your stomach drops to your feet, and then through the floor of your truck, through the gravel driveway, and through to the center of the Earth— or hell as your mom would say. You park your truck in your usual spot under a willow tree, and sit there for a moment, contemplating even getting out to face her. Inevitably, you do, noticing you don’t have much more than twenty minutes before you need to clock in. So, you bite the bullet and turn off your truck, collecting your items in a small tote you sling over one shoulder before you hop out of your truck and use the key to lock it. As soon as you approach her, the rocks sounding your movement, Shannon turns to see you.

“Miss Lees?” you call, walking over slowly. She pauses, gaping, before shifting from foot to foot nervously. This is exactly how she had reacted to meeting you in person the first time, the day you had to move out of Mike’s shitty apartment. It makes your stomach slick.

“Y/n. Hey.” She says back, “I wanted to catch up with you a bit since we’re all back home for a few weeks.”

You tilt your head, one hand resting slightly inside your tote where you can toy with the fabric of your hat's rim, “y’all are back home?”

“Me and my brothers.” She murmurs and if your stomach can drop further, it does. It makes you want to vomit, the idea of Mike being near you. His hometown was around forty-five minutes away, Chris had told you Mike and Shannon would move back at some point, you had hoped it would be after the party.

“He’s trying to come to the party, isn’t he?” you murmur and she nods, rocking from foot to foot again as she rubs her shoulder with a bite to her lip.

“Shannon he can’t, Robby’s back and he’ll kill ‘em.” you rub your face, sighing heavily, “Shannon.”

“I needed to come here to tell you, I tried swinging by your house but you weren’t home. I came straight here.” You curse, seeing the genuine panic on Shannon’s face. Everything starts to come crashing on you, but you set your jaw and nod to her.

“I’ll tell my parents, and Tom, and Jenny.” You huff out, turning when you see a familiar black pick-up rolling up. You cannot place who owns it for the life of you but you feel your heart rate pick up.

“Y/n,” Shannon murmurs, and before you can turn to her your attention is grabbed by your phone vibrating. When you check it, the name Jake Seresin states back up at you.

The truck is Mike’s.

You pick up the call and send Shannon a look, mouthing the old safe word you’d come up with— oatmeal. You’d never say it otherwise, since you didn’t eat oatmeal, and she nodded and rushed over to Mike’s truck. You weren’t sure if he was driving it, because you knew Chris was using it for a while, but goddamnit you weren’t about to get fucked over without any chance of defending yourself.

“Seresin?” you call, waving hello to your boss as you slip into the office beside her. She flashes you a smile, and even if you can tell she wants to, doesn’t comment when you rush to your little shared office in the back and lock the door.

“Mike’s in—“

“— I know.” you groan, “his trucks at my job.”

“What?” Jake says before you hear him pull the phone back and shout, “Rooster! What the fuck— no, stop that.”

“His truck is parked outside my job right now, Seresin. And Shannon’s talking to either him or Chris who’s driving it. I have a fucking derby in two days, so much training and planning to do, and I don't have time to get sidetracked by my old abuser!" You shout, throwing yourself down onto the office chair and bringing your face into your knees, "What time do you get here tomorrow?"

"Real early," Jake says, "But he's there?"

"Him or Chris." You restate and you hear Jake curse. There are sounds of shuffling, someone asking what's wrong before you hear a bell jingle and the sound of waves comes over the phone-- along with the wind.

"Y/n. Shannon's there, right? She told me she was going to find you." Jake's voice falls into the serious tone you remember him using when you'd met him in Texas. He was a flirty guy, who loved joking around and living off adrenaline, but he got serious when he needed to.

"Shannon's here, she told me they are all home for the holiday." You look at the wall of medals, trying to keep yourself calm as you reread the names on the golden, silver, and bronze painted medals and the multicolored ribbons that decorated the walls with their respective trophies.

"So she can help you, right? And, Bob's driving back right now, I'm sure of you call him--" You're not entirely sure when Jake was filled in that his Bob was your Robby, but it made this a thousand times easier.

"If Bob steps foot on this property, and Mike's the one driving the truck, I'll have to talk to the cops after witnessing a murder." You deadpan and Jake snorts.

"Alright, look, stay wherever you are that's safe, okay? Do the breathing things Chris would do with you, and if anything happens you don't call anyone other than the police." He says and you gulp, nodding.

"Okay."

Jake sighs, "I have to go, training calls, but text me when everything's sorted."

"I will," You smile, small, "Thanks, Jake."

"Of course, Y/n. Your brother-- or your sisters, would kill me if I didn't help you." He says and that makes you laugh, even if your chest tightens and you can feel a panic attack coming onto you. Obviously, you don't want to keep Jake away from his work, so you bid him goodbye as happily as you can fake with cherry laughter and jokes before the world comes in on your as you press the end call button. You end up nearly dry-heaving on the floor, hands pressed to your face as you sob, biting back every exhale or inhale that you can, trying to be as quiet as possible. You feel like you're dying, the feeling of your lungs contristing making your chest burn.

Hands are on your shoulders, pressing into them, arms wrapping around you and pulling you close. You panic, pulling away, crying and blubbering nonsense in your panicked state, and though the person lets go of you, they keep a hand on your back. It's grounding, and the voices over your head begin to blur and unblur until you find it easier to listen to the counting someone keeps repeating. It's Shannon, your brain realizes a second later and you fully relax, leaning onto the person who'd grabbed you in the first place, assuming it's your boss.

Once you've calmed down enough to reattach your brain to reality, you blink the unshed tears away and wipe your face, thanking Shannon as she hands you a few tissues, then moves the trashcan over to throw them out, then gives you hand sanitizer and facial wipes to wipe down your face. The person holding you doesn't speak for a really long time, even after Shannon tells you it was Chris the whole time and then assures you that your emotions are valid and that feeling them at that moment was okay. Though you haven't had a panic attack about Mike in such a long time, you're sure that half of this meltdown was also just part of built-up stress. Then, you look to see who's holding you, since you feel back enough to do so and you nearly throw yourself away from him.

Holding you, one arm wrapped tight around each side of you, is Robert-fucking-Floyd. Who wasn't supposed to be home for another two hours.

He sheepishly smiles.

#top gun #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun fanfiction #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x y/n #robert bob floyd x you #robert floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x reader

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themerrypanda · 2 years

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The last of my Stardew Valley AO3 reposts! This was first a Luau Festival prompt, but next my take on a backstory for Sebastian’s line: “One year Sam put a pound of anchovies in the potluck soup. Ever wondered why Sam leads the town in community service hours?” Personally I like to imagine this story taking place the first summer after Sebastian’s 18th birthday.

Title: Luau Mayhem

Word Count: 1,598

Summary: Someone sabotaged the soup! While the governor is being treated at the clinic, Lewis hopes to find out who did it.

The good news: the Luau was stopped abruptly.

The bad news: the mayor was furious.

Sebastian watched as the visiting governor writhed in pain and began to swell upon tasting the potluck soup. His half-sister Maru and Doctor Harvey quickly rushed him to the clinic to treat him, while everyone else who was still on the beach when they left were forced to help with cleaning up the event, all while Mayor Lewis pulled people aside one by one and interrogated them behind the run-down cabin.

Sebastian had wandered all around the beach, picking up litter in an effort to stay low enough on Lewis’s radar that the true culprit would be found before he could reach him. He noticed Abigail doing the same thing. Sam, however, was holding his toddler brother while his mom helped with taking down the decorations. Unfortunately, Sebastian’s efforts were in vain. His desire to hide away from the festival brought him high on the pecking order, and despite Sebastian’s pretending to not hear him as he picked up trash from the ground and rounded behind groups of people, Lewis only got angrier and started shouting his name to the point that everyone else was watching too.

Reluctantly, he followed Lewis behind the cabin. Thankfully his mom didn’t try to clear his name, and trusted that Sebastian could clear his own. Or she thought that he may have done it? Whatever.

Lewis pulled a small notebook from his pocket and clicked a pen. He glared into Sebastian’s eyes, willing them to be intimidating. Joke’s on Lewis; he stopped being intimidating a decade ago.

“Good day, Sebastian.”

“It wasn’t me, old man. And if you have any other questions, just get to the point already.”

Lewis huffed, but flipped through his notebook.

“Right then. So, at what time did you arrive at the Luau?” he asked.

“Same time as my family did, I don’t know. Nine in the morning?”

Lewis hummed as he jotted a note in his book. Probably to keep track of people’s alibis. Ridiculous. “And who did you… hang out… with?”

“No one. I walked on the dock and sat behind the Fish Shop the whole time.”

“Uh huh,” he said skeptically. “Did you ever go back to the beach for refreshments?”

“Twice. Once for some crab cakes and punch, the second time when the governor tried the soup.”

Lewis raised his eyebrow. “Where were you when the governor tried the soup?”

“Edge of the beach, right next to the dock.”

“And how close did you get to the cooking pot?”

“Never touched it.”

“Hmm…” Lewis thought aloud again. “Recite to me the events surrounding when the governor tried the soup. Start at about when you heard me announce the time for soup.”

Lewis was looking for something specific. There was no way he could find it in Sebastian; Sebastian was sure of it. “Alright. I was sitting on the dock when you called for everyone to come in. I sat up, extinguished my cigarette, and walked onto the beach. You said something about hoping everyone put in high-quality ingredients.”

“I’m going to interrupt you–”

“Just get to the point.”

“What did your family put in the communal soup?”

“I believe Mom and Demetrius gathered some of his extra mushroom specimens and added them to the soup.”

“Have you seen what anyone else added to the soup?”

“No sir, I was sitting at the dock, like I’ve said a few times already. Are you already getting forgetful, old man?”

“I’m the one asking the questions here!” Lewis thundered. He glanced into his notebook. “Now, where was I…?” He ignored Sebastian raising his eyebrow. “As you were with the story.”

“Fine. After the last call for putting in ingredients, you took a ladle, filled a bowl, and passed it to the governor. You saw the look on his face, right?” Sebastian couldn’t help but to smirk here. “His face twisted up like he tasted something rank, and so he spilled the broth back into his bowl until he found a fish in his giant spoon. It was the funniest thing I saw all summer.”

“What kind of fish?”

“I heard a buncha folks say it was an anchovy. I never saw it up close though; I was away at the edge of the beach.”

Lewis wrote some notes, and scanned over them.

“Am I clear to go now?”

“One minute.” Lewis wrote for another minute, then finally passed a note to Sebastian. Sebastian raised his eyebrows, appalled. The fine read:

On this day, the 11th of Summer, Sebastian has been sentenced to 15 hours of community service, to be completed by next week, as consequence for putting one pound of anchovies into the potluck soup at the Luau festival.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve looked over my notes, and you’re the most suspect.” Lewis said matter-of-factly.

“With what proof?”

“You have no witnesses to say where you were, for one.”

“Abby was also on the docks! She’s seen me go to be alone.”

“You have no idea what else was added to the soup.”

“Because I don’t snoop around asking people what they put in.”

“And finally, that empty tin of anchovies in your hand!”

Sebastian was furious. “I was helping pick up the litter on the beach!” He shouted indignantly. “And I can’t give you fifteen hours in the next week. I have a big project to finish up by then.”

“Then you should have thought of that before you put the anchovies in the soup.”

“I never put anchovies in the soup!”

“Mayor Lewis!” The two turned to see Sam walking over with a very guilty look on his face. “It was me. Leave Sebastian out of it, I acted alone.”

“Don’t tell lies to get your own friends out of trouble.”

“It’s not a lie! I have my receipt from Joja Mart right here.” Sam fished his hand in his pocket and handed Lewis a crumpled up Joja blue receipt. Sure enough, it recorded the transaction under Sam’s name.

Lewis grunted. If Sebastian was only suspecting that Lewis had it out for him before, this only confirmed it. He glanced to Sebastian, then to Sam, then took back Sebastian’s fine for community service, and wrote on it again. This time, he crossed out Sebastian’s name and wrote down Sam’s in its place.

“Don’t forget the hours reduction for coming out clean,” Sam said with a muted smug smile. Lewis grimaced as he crossed out 15 hours and wrote 10 in its place.

“Fine. Sam, I expect to see you on the front steps of my manor at eight o’clock sharp in the morning.”

“I’ll be there, sir!”

Lewis huffed. But now that the culprit has been found, he decided his attention was better spent going over to the clinic to check on his beloved governor. And at that point, the beach was already cleaned up. The sun hadn’t even begun setting. Sebastian dared glance at his watch. It was only 2:30 PM.

Sam let the fullness of his cheeky grin shine. “Good work, Sebastian!”

“Hey, you too. Great timing.”

Sebastian suddenly became aware of Abigail walking up to them from behind. “I can’t believe it worked!” she squealed.

For Sebastian especially, the Luau was easily his least favorite town festival. Not only was it always planned on the hottest day of the year, which often was cloudless, but everyone was expected to spend nine to twelve hours sweltering outside on the beach next to a giant cooking fire, all to worship was usually a barely mediocre soup. The best part, though no one ever said so aloud, was Gus’s appetizers. He’d make so many, anyone could easily fill themselves without ever touching the soup.

“Thanks for suggesting to hang on to the receipt, Abby.” Sam said. “Lewis nearly booked Seb anyway despite having no evidence.”

“I honestly thought that he’d accuse me. He’s been looking at me funny ever since I started dying my hair.”

“I’m not surprised.” Sebastian shrugged. “I swear, the old man’s been out to get me ever since I started smoking in public.” He shook his head. “Makes me feel less sorry about this.”

“Yeah. I’m glad you figured out Governor’s aller–”

Sebastian shushed him.

It was pure luck that he was just outside Lewis’s manor when he overheard him talking on the phone with the governor a week ago. But it was Sam’s idea to use the governor’s fish allergy to end the Luau festival early. As long as they don’t mention the allergy itself, they can play off the incident as an honest prank gone wrong rather than malicious. Everyone knew that the vegetarian-friendly requirement Lewis recently established for the soup was suggested by the governor’s wife and not the governor himself. The governor had been seen on several occasions stopping at the Stardrop Saloon during his travels to enjoy a large steak or an occasional crab cake before making his way back home.

“Ten hours later for ten hours now? I’ll take it!” Sam cheered. Sebastian was just relieved his friend the saboteur volunteered to take the fall from him. “Maybe this time Lewis will finally have me start building a skate park.”

Abigail laughed and turned toward the bridge to town. “So, my place, guys?”

Sebastian and Sam nodded, and together, they nabbed more of Gus’s appetizers and made their way to the General Store. With so much more day ahead of them, finally they could enjoy their own Luau traditions of snacks, video games, and movies, all under an air-conditioned roof.

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spaceorphan18 · 1 year

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Scenes from December (15/24)

Klaine Advent Day Fifteen : Pump

***

December, 2039

Kurt’s weekend morning started out as any other; a homemade latte with two espresso shots and a pump of vanilla, scrambled eggs with toast, and his seat at the kitchen table where he could scroll through the New York Times and Washington Post on his phone. He grimaced, however, at the fact that he had left his reading glasses on his nightstand next to his bed, and either had to get up to get them, or resign himself to enlarging the font on his phone.

Unlike usual, however, it was a quiet morning. Blaine and Tracy had gotten up early so they could visit colleges around the city - unlike her sister, Tracy wanted to stay closer to home, and possibly save money by staying with them instead of trying to find a place of her own. Kurt opted to stay home - he could use the time to clean and catch up on a little work and generally enjoy the empty house.

Only, the house wasn’t completely empty. Dragging herself from her old bedroom was Katie, wrapped up in a blanket, eyes puffy and red and completely sleep deprived. Once they had moved her out to Boston, Kurt hadn’t expected her home all that much - but she had shown up late last night, in tears over a broken relationship, and in what felt like an oddly circular moment in his life, Kurt welcomed her back with comforting arms, even if she insisted she didn’t want to talk about it.

Kurt motioned for her to have a seat - but kept quiet. It broke his heart to see her in so much pain. First loves were hard. First break ups even harder. Kurt couldn’t say that he really liked the guy all that much - and for her benefit, he was glad this might be the end. But it wasn’t his place to say his opinion. Kurt (and Blaine) had always tried to allow the girls to make mistakes on their own so they could grow from them.

“It’s over,”she said softly, her voice full of resignation. “We talked about it all last night, and there’s no coming back. We’re done.” She sat in her old chair, placing her head squarely down on the table. “All that time we spent together -- we were going to go backpacking in Europe next summer -- all of it just gone now. Just done.”

“Oh, honey.” Kurt leaned over to rub her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“Well, apparently everything everyone ever told me was right,” Katie said, a bitterness in her voice. “No one finds who they’re supposed to be with at age fifteen -- except you and dad and your perfect marriage.”

“Hey now,” Kurt responded, eyeing her hard. “First of all, I was seventeen when I met your dad. Secondly, your dad and I broke up, twice, in college because at your age - you barely have a sense of who you are, let alone what you actually want or need from a relationship. And thirdly, we hardly have a perfect marriage. I don’t know if you’re aware of this - but your dad drives me crazy.”

Katie sat up, interest piqued. “Really?”

Kurt nodded. “Really. Why do you think I’m not out with Dad and Tracy right now?”

“Because Tracy knows the two of you are more irritating together?” It was a gentle tease, but Kurt still arched an eyebrow at her, which got her to smile. “Okay, why?”

“Because sometimes the two of us need some space,” Kurt said. “Your dad needs to have a television or radio or something on in every room he’s in. He always leaves all the cupboards open. And when he shaves, he seems to refuse to clean out the sink. And there’s the perpetual war we’ve fought for the past three decades over what temperature the house should be at. It all drives me crazy. And I drive him crazy, too. Apparently he still doesn’t appreciate the value of a little bronzer nor does he understand the importance of cheesecake in my life.

Katie lets out a little laugh. “I guess I never really thought about it. It was just… the two of you being the two of you.”

Kurt nodded. “Yup. And those little idiosyncrasies are also why I love him. Look, I get it. Relationships are hard, and when they don’t work, even harder. I know you can’t see this now - but either you’ll work it out, or you won’t. Maybe you’ll find someone who you find is worth the effort. Maybe you’ll find that being on your own is a valid choice, too. But right now, it’s okay to feel how you do.”

Katie let out a sad little sigh. “What I really would like now is some ice cream. Is that weird?”

Kurt laughed. “No. But we don’t have any now because your dad’s greatest enemy in the world right now is sugar. However, we can go to that waffle place that’s close by. They have excellent French toast, and it’s my treat. What do you say?”

Katie smiled, warmly. “Yeah, I’d like that.” He knew it’ll take a while before her heart’s fully mended. But at least this was a good first step.

“Good. Then we can pick up a cheesecake on the way home - because, god, it’s been a month and your dad is crazy.”

#klaine advent 2022 #s.o. writes things #glee fic #klaine fic #the years don't even seem like real years anymore

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vulpes-fennec · 1 year

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The Fae Equality Initiative (Ch. 2) 🌊

Summary: Tarquin, High Lord of the Summer Court, has sent ripples of shock throughout Prythian with his plans to eliminate discrimination against Lesser Fae. When the Night Court is invited to send a delegation to Summer Court, Elain Archeron can’t wait to show everybody what she’s capable of on her first official Inner Circle assignment. Little does she know that Tarquin has also recruited Lucien Vanserra’s assistance…

Read: Ch 1 | AO3

It had been difficult declining Tamlin’s offer to rejoin the Spring Court five months ago. “I’m happy to help out, Tam,” Lucien had said. “But I can’t stay in the Spring Court forever.”

The High Lord of Spring only smiled sadly and placed a hand on Lucien’s shoulder. “I get it, you’re tired of doing all the heavy-lifting in my court,” he’d joked. His face grew solemn as he added, “You’re always welcome to visit, Lucien. It was your home, too.”

Home. Lucien had thought home was with Jurian and Vassa—ironically—in the human lands. We had a few good years in that dilapidated manor. It’s not that we aren’t friends anymore…if anything, facing down Koschei brought us closer than ever.

But things aren’t the same with Vassa—QUEEN Vassa—on the throne. Now that she was officially recognized by neighboring kingdoms, she and Jurian had more responsibilities. Lucien had been dividing his time between Vassa and Tamlin’s court, mediating their discussions on human-Fae relationships. And even though Vassa and Jurian aged more slowly than the average human, they were still getting older. Lucien dreaded the day they would leave this world, and he tried not to think about it. Though it’s hard not to when Jurian complains about his back every damn day.

I don’t belong with the humans. Perhaps once Jurian and Vassa have passed, I’ll permanently move to the continent. Start a new life there and be free of the past.

Before winnowing to Adriata, Lucien had dropped off his weekly report at the Velaris townhouse, where Azriel and Gwyn Berdara were residing. His relationship with the Shadowsinger had warmed over the last few years, but it was really Gwyn whom he was closer to. “Where are you going?” the priestess had asked when she saw Lucien with two travel bags.

“Adriata,” Lucien had replied, giving Gwyn a quick hug before leaving. “Tarquin invited me to participate in his conference. I won’t be able to send reports in the next month, I hope that’s alright.” He had caught the discreet look that passed between the couple, but didn’t know what to make of it.

“O-of course! Noooo need to worry! You should enjoy the nice weather.” Gwyn’s teal eyes had been strangely mischievous. “Bye Lucien! Better get going!” She had practically shoved Lucien out the door.

Lucien savored the salty scent of the sea when he landed on the Summer Palace platform. Being back in Prythian was different. The magic of the land tingling his skin had replaced the prickly unease whenever humans openly gawked at him. He could see the shimmering latticework of wards over buildings, the spells that encircled the Fae. The human land was bereft of those features, too.

“Lucien Vanserra!” he heard a joyful shout. Tarquin was running towards him, a Summer Court entourage jogging awkwardly behind.

Lucien smiled broadly at the familiar face before bowing. He’d met Tarquin when the male was a fresh-faced prince of the city Etrona. For some reason, Lucien had confided in Tarquin about his lingering regrets with Jesminda’s death. In turn, Tarquin had opened up to Lucien about his disgust with the nobility’s treatment of the Lesser Fae.

Decades of sporadic contact during Amarantha’s reign didn’t diminish their strong friendship, for the two males enveloped each other in a back-slapping hug. “Enough of this formality,” Tarquin chuckled, giving Lucien’s shoulder a friendly shove. “Come. I have some time, and I can personally show you to your suite.”

Lucien had stayed in Adriata in the weeks following the war with Hybern, helping Tarquin’s court recover. Although Elain Archeron had invited him back to Velaris, he figured she needed time to grieve her father’s death, to heal from her ex-fiance’s rejection and the horrific things she’d seen. He guessed she also needed space to adjust to being Fae without the ever-present mating bond in her face. So he had stayed away. When Lucien returned to Velaris three months later, he’d confidently set down rent for a small apartment before hastily making his way to the townhouse. He could picture him and Elain strolling the streets, slowly courting each other and visiting the cafes along the Sidra. He had smiled at the idea of Elain growing flowers on their balcony, how the ample natural lighting would make her skin glow.

Thinking she would be eager to see me was a huge mistake. Lucien had no idea what happened in the three months that passed, but this new Elain was awkward, shrinking away from him whenever he tried to address her. And so Lucien frequented Velaris less and less over time, their mating bond languishing like the dusty apartment he still paid rent for.

Enough self-pity, Lucien admonished himself. Elain is far, far away…and that’s the way it will be for the rest of eternity. He focused on the repaired Summer Palace, so different from the bloodied rubble during the war. The presence of Lesser Fae servants was also more prominent, as they bustled about without invisibility glamours. Not “Lesser” Fae, Lucien tried to correct himself. I’ll have to ask Tarquin about the semantics later.

“The delegations’ suites are in the same hall,” Tarquin explained. Indeed, the doors had colorful little signs that differentiated between the residences. Lucien passed by the Night Court’s door, wondering briefly who Feyre and Rhysand would send. Probably Mor, or Amren because she would want to see Varian. A door with “Lucien Vanserra” etched on a golden plaque was the outlier, making Lucien cringe inwardly. Not Tarquin’s fault, but even the doors are reminding me that I don’t have a court to call home.

Lucien’s suite was smaller than the rest, but it was still tastefully decorated with ocean-themed art and fresh flowers. Wispy mesh curtains swaying in the large window teased gorgeous views of the glittering city on the mainland.

“How is your court responding to the changes?” Lucien asked Tarquin cautiously once the servants had left. Tarquin probably insisted on escorting me so he could have a private chat.

Lucien was right. Tarquin let out an exhausted sigh as he sank into the pale green couch. “It’s been rough,” the High Lord admitted. “I’m glad you’re here. I need your help.” His deep voice took on a desperate tone few were privy to.

“What’s going on?” Lucien sat down on the matching armchair across from Tarquin.

“It’s the blasted clothiers,” Tarquin ground out. The disdain in his voice was palpable. “Half of them in Adriata have doubled down and refused to service those they deem of lower status. Same thing is happening with booksellers and restaurateurs. Reports from my other cities tell similar stories.”

“I thought you’d made such discrimination was illegal?”

“That part of the law takes effect on the Summer Solstice,” Tarquin explained. “I needed time to formalize and bulk up the reporting system for violations…yet I fear that the agency’s staff will be overwhelmed for many years regardless of what I do.” His turquoise eyes were weary.

Lucien contemplated what he’d just heard. “So the...Fae are trying to be as prejudiced as possible before their time is up,” he mused. He omitted a few choice words describing the High Fae. Wouldn’t want to insult Tarquin’s court, as frustrated as he is with his people. “Are you worried that slapping fines won’t be enough, if they’re already acting like this?”

Tarquin nodded. “Precisely.” He sighed, rubbing his face. “I apologize, Lucien. You’ve just arrived and here I am, complaining about the problems I’ve triggered instead of letting you rest.”

“I’ll never tire of your ranting about stupid Fae prejudices. And you’re not causing these problems…the discrimination was always there. Keep your head above the water, Tarquin.” The High Lord of Summer could only give Lucien a sad smile before leaving the room.

***

Lucien had somehow managed to fit a fairly extensive wardrobe into his travel bags. An hour later, when Lucien was finally done organizing his belongings, a rapid knocking sounded from his door.

It was Viviane, the High Lady of the Winter Court, in all her icy blue glory. “Lucien!” she squealed, throwing her arms around him in an aggressive hug. “I’m so glad to see you!” Her scent of fresh pine and sharp cranberry filled the air. Lucien felt the press of her fur-lined cloak against his bare arms and chuckled. It seemed like his old friend hadn’t bothered changing into season-appropriate clothes before seeking him out.

“How’s Violetta doing?” he asked warmly. He hadn’t met the Winter Court princess yet, but apparently the infant had begun manifesting her ice powers early on.

Viviane blew a sigh of relief, tossing her silvery white braid back. “Let’s just say…Kallias is going to have his hands full this weekend.” Her pale blue eyes twinkled with amusement. “Meanwhile, I’ll be getting a nice tan on the beach.” She stuck out her translucent arms and wiggled them.

Lucien rolled his eyes. “Be careful, Lady Viviane. There’s no guarantee Violetta will still recognize you if you look like a tomato.”

“Oh, shush. Don’t you dare pull rank with me, Lucien.” She elbowed him playfully. Lucien smiled back. He and Viviane discreetly worked together under Amarantha’s reign: he coordinated crucial supply deliveries from Spring to Lillestad, the small mountain fortress she held down, while she relayed valuable information gleaned from her spies.

“I’m surprised you’re here,” Lucien replied frankly. Viviane wasn’t old-fashioned; she had worked tirelessly to protect any Fae that sought refuge in Lillestad. But the Winter Court was just as traditional as Autumn, and Lucien knew Viviane had to fight like hell to become High Lady of Winter. Even though she had proven herself worthy of the role a thousand times over, he thought bitterly.

“Well, only on the weekends.” Viviane’s energy deflated a bit. “My delegation will stay in Adriata for the entire duration. But I have High Lady duties and a gaggle of toxic Fae to put in place.” She tilted her head defiantly. “Anyways…we can save this serious chat for later. Have you had lunch yet? I wrote to Alis, and she agreed to meet me at this lovely restaurant! You should join us.”

Lucien’s russet eye brightened at the thought of the gentle Urisk who tended to Feyre back in Tamlin’s manor. Alis had also been an integral part of their rebel effort by maintaining lines of communication with the Summer Court. Lucien grinned. “Of course. We can even get ahead on your tan in an afternoon stroll.”

***

Viviane had gotten rid of her fur cloak and changed into a short-sleeved blue dress before leaving the Summer Palace. Lucien courteously held out an arm for her to hold as they stood on the small boat that nimbly took them to the mainland.

Adriata’s larger, crescent-shaped portion was essentially a bustling port. Gulls squawked and dive-bombed local fishermen for lunch, merchant ships unloaded crates of cargo, and local taverns were bursting at the seams with tourists. Rows upon rows of white and tan buildings lined the shaded streets stretching up steep slopes.

Things appeared scenic, but closer inspection of several posters aggressively X-ed out with paint revealed that they were copies of Tarquin’s new laws. So this was what Tarquin was talking about. Lucien had been so focused on the recovery effort that he didn’t notice back then, but it appeared the main harbor’s merchants and establishments were primarily occupied by the High Fae. It wasn’t until Viviane led him around the farther end of the shore that he saw ships, albeit smaller ones, that were manned by the Lesser Fae. Huh. I wonder how the docks will be integrated after the Summer Solstice.

Viviane took a right turn, leading them up a narrower street. The buildings here were still white and tan, but looked more worn than the earlier ones. They were patched up with newer material in many areas. Evidence that this area had borne the brunt of Hybern’s attacks. Clothes hanging out to dry criss-crossed over the street, and Lucien also noticed more Lesser Fae children running around.

The children readily returned the friendly smiles he gave them, but the majority of them stared open-mouthed at Viviane. I suppose it’s not every day that the High Lady of Winter walks through these streets.

“Alis? And is that…Luke that I see?” Alis was standing next to a stocky male Fae with lion features in front of a quaint restaurant. Luke was a Dawn Court blacksmith who helped arm the Summer-Winter-Day rebellion. His ingenuity with various metal alloys was a huge asset when Amarantha’s troops seized control of the Dawn Court’s mines. The very dagger in Lucien’s belt had been fashioned by his friend 30 years ago, and served him well to this day.

Luke’s face stretched into a grin, revealing frighteningly sharp canines. But his cat-like amber eyes shone with fondness as he gave Viviane and Lucien hugs. “I didn’t know you were coming to Tarquin’s conference!” Lucien exclaimed.

“How could I not?” Luke chuckled. “A free vacation to the Summer Court in the middle of winter? Sign me up!” He examined Lucien from head to toe, taking special interest in his golden metal eye. “And how are you doing, Lucien? I heard that you have a mate now!”

Lucien must have winced, because Luke looked taken aback. Hah, a mate that doesn’t even like me, Lucien wanted to say. “Her name is Elain Archeron,” he supplied. “But she has not accepted the bond.”

“Ah, I see.” Luke looked down awkwardly. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure she’d come around, especially knowing how popular you are with the Dawn Court ladies. If my memory of a particular birthday bash serves me right.” Lucien blushed, remembering precisely which birthday party Luke was referring to. 63 years ago I was a total rake. Oh, how things have changed.

“Lucien!” Alis put her bark-worn hands on her hips good-naturedly. “I cannot believe I had to find out from Viviane that you were coming! You have time to send Feyre letters every week but not me?”

Lucien ducked his head. “Sorry, Alis,” he apologized, flashing a dazzling smile that softened the Urisk’s face. “How about I make it up to you by paying for lunch?”

Alis smiled. “You can make it up to me by visiting my nephews next week. They can’t wait to finally meet you.” She led them into the restaurant, where various species of Fae were holding conversations over plates of fresh vegetables and fragrant meat. Lucien’s stomach growled at the thought of eating flavorful food again.

The restaurant owners were astonished that the High Lady of the Winter Court would deign to visit their humble establishment. Although Viviane had never stepped out of the Winter Court during Amarantha’s reign, her reputation was well-known. Many patrons came up to their table thanking her profusely for sheltering a friend or a relative, for being a strong force of resistance against the Hybern general. Viviane received their gratitude with humility, even offering to buy everybody dessert and drinks.

Good food, boisterous Fae chatter, and the company of old friends helped Lucien feel more like himself again. This is how things COULD be, between the High Fae and Lesser Fae, he thought sentimentally. Fae who laugh together, share meals with each other, and help each other in a future worth fighting for.

Resources linked here!

Read: Ch 3

#elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #tarquin acotar #summer court #acotar #acotar fanfiction #elain x lucien #lucien x elain

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bomberqueen17 · 2 years

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tiny house saga

A long-awaited post of progress photos.

Starting with the most recent, and then i’m putting the long thing behind a cut:

[image description: interior of the cabin, looking down from the sleeping loft at the expanse of the roof rafters and the floor below, where a door in the south wall, newly installed, stands propped open.]

I should tell the whole story. So in like.... what was it... October or November of 2019 I had the yurt I had been sleeping in during the summers for 3 years on my sister’s farm burn down due to a chimney failure with my woodstove. Plans began somewhat immediately to build a tiny house to replace it, and I’d found some free plans and my dad was plotting with me to use salvaged materials and such. The house was going to be really tiny, like 10x12 feet or so, with a tiny sleeping loft, and somewhat ramshackle probably; I’m sure we weren’t going to insulate it.

Then the pandemic hit, and shit got weird, and no progress was made. I spent 2020 sleeping in my sister’s guest room whenever I was at the farm, since nobody else could visit anyway. And then my father died suddenly, in December of 2020, and it seemed silly to mourn the concept of the tiny house, but I was also really grieving the experience of doing a project with my Dad, which i’d really been looking forward to-- my nephews were both old enough that he was starting to teach them welding and such, and I’d thought the boys and Dad and me could spend some time on this and would have a good time and just-- it was really awful to realize that of course now it’ll never happen.

Without me saying anything, my brother-in-law, the one who owns the farm with Farmsister, on whose property all of this was supposed to have taken place, approached me and said we could still build a house, and that he’d help instead. He has construction experience, but is so busy I hadn’t wanted to expect his help except for maybe some of the big work. But he said no, he’d step in.

In March of 2021 we took a family trip-- me, BIL, Mom, my older sister, and one of her sons-- to Jamaica, VT, where the Jamaica Cottage Shop has its fabrication yard. We looked at an example and I decided to buy their Vermont Cottage plans, in view C, for the 16x24 size.

Yeah, it’s a far cry from the tiny shack I’d planned to build, but I had resolved that if i was going to involve BIL, it was going to be something that was nominally up to code, built with new materials, and would be usable for decades, rather than some weird fun little project that would be full of spiders and eccentricity. The increase in cost wasn’t that much with the increase in size (once i committed to using new rather than salvaged materials), so I went for it.

Immediately we had to revise the plans, but BIL was confident. In May I bought the first lumber, to build the skids, and along with it, a battery-operated electric nail gun. We built the skids, and also excavated the site, and backfilled it with gravel sourced from a natural gravel deposit on the farm; I also spent the summer picking buckets of rocks out of the fields and hauling them over a few at a time. I probably moved about 1 ton of rocks by hand, and then BIL carried over about 15 more tons with the tractor.

I ordered several thousand dollars’ worth of supplies, lumber and others. The insulation and windows and doors and the like were stashed in a spot that flooded in July, when a flash flood caused a large amount of damage to the farm, but nothing was lost. In August we finally got the skids set and began to assemble the platform upon which the whole thing was going to be built.

[image description: a grid of lumber sits atop cinder blocks in a cleared space among greenery, with trees in the background.]

We were delayed by a labor shortage on the farm, but mostly by a delay in the delivery of the lumber from the mill I’d ordered it from, a local place that had apparently not adequately maintained their equipment and so was shut down for weeks at a time for maintenance.

But eventually we had everything. And at the end of September, my other brother-in-law showed up, with a lot of woodworking and finish carpentry experience, and also some free time, and with him working steadily for a week, and a number of assorted characters rotating through, we made rapid progress.

[image: farm-BIL, a tall thin white man in a khaki baseball cap, kneels on a wooden platform, screwing down a sheet of plywood. To his right stands Army BIL, a well-built white man in a camoflage baseball cap, hands on hips, looking up at the skyline, atop the plywood-sheathed platform.]

In a matter of days, Army-BIL had done the rough framing, and had started putting in the interior wall siding. (The cabin is constructed inside-out, with the framing, then the interior siding, then rough 2x4 nailers, then insulated wallboard, and only then a final moisture barrier with rough board-and-batten siding overtop.)

[image description: the rough-framed walls of a house stand, the nearest one faced with tongue-and-groove interiorsiding with a window and door cut out, and inside on a scaffold stands a boy in a blue t-shirt (my older nephew, then 12), holding up a pair of rafters in their approximate rough final places, while Army-BIL stands on a ladder making measurements inside the house.]

By the end of the last week of September, my older sister’s sons and husband had, with some help from various of the rest of us, framed in the rafters as well.

[image: my older sister, a tall thin white woman in a dark gray ballcap worn very low over her face what are you doing, stands holding several boards; to her left, her husband affixes the other end of one of the boards to another rafter. Below her, two boys in blue shirts, her sons, are climbing on the scaffolding.]

And there progress halted for the winter, but for some incremental improvements-- I stapled hardware cloth around the base of the platform, burying the bottom of the hardware cloth as deep as I could manage to deter groundhogs, rats, mice, or raccoons from making their home under the house, and we got the rafters done and then secured big billboard tarps over them for the winter.

In March, we took the tarps back off, and it looked like this.

[image description: looking into the house from the east, sun shining brightly, rafters highlighted against blue sky, the walls are all covered in the interior siding of pine, and there’s a scaffolding inside still set up.]

We got the nailers on all around the lower storey, and slotted the insulation panels in-- I discovered that I had just the tool for the job to cut the panels, since they’re too thick for utility knives-- yes, that lady’s leg shaped knife I got for my birthday. Worked like a charm, am delighted. Once that was up, we could wrap the whole house in moisture barrier-- well, most of it, just not the part above the deck, which we’d have to work on separately.

[img description: the house from one corner, showing silver-colored panels labeled DuPont wedged in among the wooden nailers surrounding the windows.]

The roof needed a layer of sheathing, and Dude helped me with that. i found out he hates ladders, which i somehow had never learned thusfar in 19 years with him. Now I Know. Mostly, though, BIL did all that work, and in one uncomfortably epic day we finished the roof sheathing and then drafted my sister into helping us put the rubber Tyvek roofing underlayment over the top of it. The loft was still not enclosed, but we’d framed in the window, and so we left the underlayment long and stapled it down over that missing half-wall, to make the whole shebang weatherproof.

Then we got the door on that side installed, and it was largely weatherproof.

[image description: the porch side of the house, with green Tyvek strips messily stapled down at angles, in the upper part, and then on the lower floor a white steel door with a window sits, not quite closed, with no doorknob.] We installed a doorknob too, because otherwise the door wouldn’t stay closed.

In April we came back and pulled up the Tyvek, trimmed it off, and put the interior siding up on the upper storey. Once we had that, we installed all the windows-- well, the 7 downstairs windows, and then later in the week we managed to get the upper storey window installed too.

[img description: from the interior of the house, with the loft foreshortened so you can’t tell it’s a loft, farm-BIL is visible with his legs, standing on a ladder, showing through the open doorway and his head and shoulders through the window he’s installing in the upper storey. The roof is visibly made of sheathing boards, the gaps between them illuminated green where the roofing underlayment is on the outside of the sheathing.]

Farmsister and I came and fixed that upper storey window so it’s a bit straighter, once we got the housewrap on and correct. it’s tricky because what do you level it to?? Hard to say. Anyway. It’s in there.

We got the second door installed too, in the south-facing wall. And that’s where we’ve left it-- still needs the metal roof on the exterior, and the insulation and interior siding on the ceiling on the interior; still needs soffits put in, as the eaves are open to the elements and the breeze (and bugs) can sorta whistle through there at will; still needs a floor installed over the rough plywood subflooring; still needs conduit put in for what plumbing and electrical there may or may not be. But as it is, I’m going to see about at least building myself a sleeping nest in the loft; I don’t want to move furniture in, since it still needs to have scaffolding put up for the ceiling and the more I move in now the more I have to move out later, but the loft is largely done and move-in-ready enough to be getting on with.

(I may need a mosquito net, if I spend any time in there.)

I leave you with a view from the loft.

[image description: in the foreground there’s a little corner of the loft floor, but then the rest of the frame is looking out into the house. The south-facing door is propped open with a rock, extra scaffolding is stacked against the west wall, the light is coming green through the roofing underlayment showing in the cracks between the sheathing, and you can see two lovely 3x4-foot windows in the west wall.]

#tiny house #post-yurt living #about the author #farm life #the big update

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athetos · 1 year

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My grandma passed away. I knew as soon as my dad texted me because he said good morning with my name. He never uses my name, to the point sometimes I fear he’s forgotten it. I talked to my mom for a while. I realized the reason this feels so distant and unreal is because my grandma has been so distant and unreal from me and my brother for a years now. Later on it was because she was getting sick, but before that it was because she didn’t want anything to do with my moms side of the family after my parents divorced, and it was clear I sided with my mom. Not like I had much choice. I just started college and didn’t live in town anymore, and I knew my dad was abusive because I was in an abusive relationship at the same time and knew the signs. So while I loved my grandparents, they didn’t want to see me.

So I only saw them a couple times a year, especially once I started fighting with my dad more. Usually at Christmas, thanksgiving, and a summer bbq. So an average of 3 visits a year for the past decade. I love them both for helping raise me and helping shape me into the person I am today. My grandma taught me how to swim, how to type on a keyboard, and encouraged my love of reading. I would spend hot days swimming for what felt like hours in the pool then reading warrior cats or redwall on the patio while she knit or read herself. We’d tend to the gardens and they’d give us fresh veggies, pickled eggs, homemade dressing, and their award-winning wine that we were much too young to drink but drank anyway. I think if I was 16 and you told me she passed away, I’d cry endlessly and refuse to believe it.

But I’m 27 now and in a way it feels like she’s been gone for 10 years already. She has been largely absent from my life, even though she echoes so strongly within me. I had cried and grieved many times over the remnants of our relationship when I was in college. I would have frequent nightmares of going to her funeral, or witnessing her die. Because that what it felt like, in a way. That she had died. And maybe once I graduated, but before I moved, she was resurrected for a short time. Like getting second chances to say goodbye to a ghost, and make up for lost time. 3 times a year, I could make amends and we could pretend I wasn’t in their blind spot for my entire college career. The love I felt for her then was strong, but it was not the same love I felt for her before. Was the love she gave me the same? Or was it different as well? Was she proud of me? Did she recognize me? Could she still see the girl with tangled hair and butterfly sweaters within the face of a disillusioned not-girl?

I don’t have to try to honor her. Everything she has done for me has been woven into my dna and etched in my bones. Just by living, I am carrying her memory. It’s in every action and every thought. To separate her love for me would be to unravel my very being. I cannot exist without it. I understand now why people are so concerned about their legacy, of the importance of continuing their family line. It’s not their genes that are important, but the love they give their descendants. Trace my family tree, and you will find the prototype of me, hundreds of years ago. I am a culmination of all that has come before, and for the first time, I truly want to have children, to be able to give them that same love my grandma gave me, so they can give it to their children. I want to be remembered, not by name or by face, but by the fingerprints I leave behind.

Everyone is asking me if I’m coming home. I don’t know. What else can I say? What can I do? Fly home for a funeral, pretend I haven’t laid my grandma to rest years ago, and say a few inadequate words that will crumble as soon as they leave my lips? Meet relatives I haven’t seen in years, even decades, and pretend I remember their names? As though we have anything in common, anything at all, but my grandma’s kindness and grace? Is that enough? I cannot meet the eyes of some of these people. Not all of them have cast me away, but some have, as soon as they heard word I was with a woman. I’m not afraid of them, but are they afraid of me? Could someone who has been raised on my grandma’s love have that much hate in their heart? I can afford a plane ticket, I have bereavement leave. So why not go? Except I can’t. But I can.

I still haven’t cried yet. I don’t know if I can. I’m screaming at myself to feel something, for my body to react. Just the vague emptiness in my chest. Worrying for my father, for the first time in years. I didn’t think I was capable of worrying for him. Maybe i won’t cry until tonight, or tomorrow, or the funeral, or sometime years down the line when it finally hits me and spills out of me, overdue and rank. Grief is a funny thing. My art teacher died when I was in middle school. It was the first time I had lost someone close to me, when I was old enough to comprehend death. My grandma was the one who called me to tell me she died. It didn’t feel real until that monday, when I saw her photo everywhere. I broke. I was taken to the counselors office, where I tore up origami swans and bawled until they made my parents take me home. I didn’t recover until she came to me in a dream. She invited me to a party, and said everyone was there, celebrating her life. She hugged me and told me to be strong, and eat some chocolate cake. So I did. And I never shed another tear over her again. Still, I think about how she was buried with an easel, where we had drawn and written our love for her all over. I wrote the lyrics to shadow of the day by linkin park, and my hand cramped halfway through, but I kept going. I still think of her when I listen to Van Halen, or use complementary colors.

I’m not sure where we go from here, beyond forwards. Will this repair my relationship with my father, or will it shatter it into thousands of pieces? Will I reconnect with my family, or will they forget me as soon as they finish the ceremony? Will I be forgiven? Will they forgive me? Wherever things go from here, I know my grandma is still with me. She looks out from my eyes and grips the pencil with my hand. Even as I type this she is haunting every word. Not all hauntings have to be bad.

Thank you, Grandma, for everything. You taught me how to swim, so this will not make me drown.

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linasofia · 2 years

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Into The Woods

Part 2

Fandom: Uncle Vanya (2020)

Relationship: Dr Mikhail ”Misha” Astrov x Female OC

Warnings: 18+

Words: 2,2K

A/N: This is part 2 of a fic I wrote for the Armitage Summer Splash event. You can read the first part here.

@legolasbadass & @lathalea This is for you! Thanks for all your feedback.💚💚

Faint rays of light find their way through the thin curtain and wake me much too early. The calming sound of raindrops against the window makes me pull the duvet closer to my chin. It is not heavy rain, I can tell by the soft sound, but an innocent summer rain, and its only purpose is to give nature a life-giving glittering blanket over its green fields. I turn away from the window but the curtain is not thick enough to block the light out. The room is small, there is only room for a bed, a nightstand and a small dresser but I’m glad I got to sleep in a real bed tonight and not on a mattress in the main room, which last night looked more like a dormitory at a summer camp than the sleeping area for a group of adult academics. When I stumbled to bed, I left the window in my little room ajar and now, my head is grateful for the morning air. I stretch my body on the bed and massage my temples. We had fun last night. The food and wine were exquisite, the combination of family, dear friends and colleagues turned out to be a genius idea, and the singing and dancing went on long after the midnight sun had nudged the horizon. But today I pay the price for all decadence.

I smile at the memory of Misha trying to get a word with my brother after we returned from our secret adventure in the forest. With a sweet blush on his bearded cheeks, he explained on our way back to the cabin that he was a little old-fashioned. Misha was not really seeking my brother’s approval but he wanted to tell him face to face, rather than Nikolay finding out in another way. But my brother was the center of everyone’s attention, as he should be on his birthday, and never understood Misha’s request for a private conversation.

The sound of gentle drops finally drives me out of bed and with a sigh, I search my bag for something to slip on while I visit the bathroom. Everybody seems to be asleep, and when I walk on silent feet the few meters to the bathroom I try to be as silent as I can. I notice the door to Misha’s bedroom is closed and I assume he is sleeping, just as the rest of the cabin. My head feels heavy and I rest it in my hands as I sit down and do what I came for, inspired by the dripping against the windowsill. Maybe a short walk in the light rain and a healthy dose of fresh air can make the situation better. I drink water directly from the tap, quickly brush my teeth and then leave the bathroom. The front door is not locked and I manage to sneak out unnoticed. Once again I leave my sandals indoors, this time to avoid them getting ruined in the wet grass. The summer-child in me is awake and nature calls my name. If it was not for the drumming against my temples, I would run through the high wet grass and let it tickle my sun-kissed calves. But instead, I walk, enjoying the feeling of light rain on my bare arms, not caring about the fabric of my dress slowly getting soaked. My bare feet carry me to the area where the meadow turns to forest and I stop on the small trail to take in the smell of wet pine and soil.

”We have to stop seeing each other like this.” The dark, familiar and slightly amused voice behind me instantly makes me spin around and Misha’s sapphire eyes greet me. His gaze is warm when he lets it follow my body’s curves and I realize that my dress at this point is probably showing him much more than I would be comfortable with if we had not been intimate last night. He wears the same trousers as the day before but his soiled shirt has been replaced with a clean navy one. In the rain, it slowly takes the same shape as his body and I could get drunk again just by looking at him.

”What are you doing here? I thought I was the only one awake.” I really thought I was. Not that I’m disappointed to see him, only astonished.

”I was laying on the porch swing under the big oak. I like resting there, the pillows are very comfortable. The old oak’s crown of leaves works as mother nature’s protection and is a good addition to the small roof of the swing. It keeps the rain away.” He gives me a warm smile that makes his eyes glitter more than the drops of rain falling from his hair. ”You can guess how surprised I was when I saw you walking out in the rain.” His hands gently brush over my upper arms. ”Especially dressed like this.” You should have borrowed my raincoat, or at least an umbrella. They are just by the door.”

”I’m fine,” I tell him. ”I love the feeling of summer rain and I don’t want to hide from it under a piece of water repellent fabric.” Misha bursts into laughter. Then he wraps his arms around me and holds me close. When his lips meet mine in a tender kiss I hug him back, like I am afraid this vision standing in front of me, in clothes that now cling to his body, might disappear. With a low groan, he deepens our kiss, his tongue finds its way between my lips and his hands become more eager as they caress my back, my waist and finally the top of my thighs. I moan softly as he pulls the fabric up and reaches for my naked skin. His large hands squeeze gently at the soft flesh of my hips and when he looks me in the eyes, it’s like opening the window to his soul. The sincerity in his eyes almost knocks me over and, together with the heat his hands create on my body, he enchants me once again.

”You are really special, I have never met anyone like you.” His voice is husky when he speaks and his chest is so warm, even if his shirt is just as wet as my dress. His voice is filled with longing, the same longing runs in my veins and my whole body aches for him. He runs his hands over my hair and kisses me again and when his tongue dances with mine I can’t help thinking that this man was made for me. I’m amazed by how well we fit together. He breaks the kiss with a displeased grunt.

”We can’t stay here in the rain. I would love to go back inside, take off your beautiful but soaked dress, put you in my bed and make love to you. But I don’t think that is the smartest way to wake the rest of the guests.” He gives me a smirk that makes him look playful. I know he is right. Teasingly I run my fingers through his hair at the back of his neck and gently scratch my nails against the soft skin, and I can almost feel him shivering under my touch. My name is only a trembling whisper as it falls from his alluring lips.

He rubs my upper arms and then takes my hand. His long fingers cover my significantly smaller hand. ”Come. Let’s go, before you get cold.” His thoughtfulness makes me smile and I follow him, even if my whole body is protesting and demands more of his hands on my skin. As if he can read my mind, he lifts my hands to his lips and places a gentle kiss over my knuckles. ”We will come back to this soon, I promise. I just don’t want you to freeze and catch something that will keep you away from me when we get back to town. I’m selfish in that way, you see?”

From a distance, the cabin looks almost abandoned. No life is to be seen and all windows except mine are closed. The cabin is large, too large to be called a cabin, actually, and I remember thinking yesterday when I arrived that it was not what I had expected, it was beyond my imagination. Misha told me while giving me a quick tour that it had been in his family ever since it was built. I picture the logs for the building coming from the forest around us. Cut down by hand and then transported to the meadow. The cabin, built by sturdy men who knew that good work would be rewarded, members of the Astrov family tree who no longer can breathe in the scent of pine and wet grass. My heart aches a little. The very soul of the cabin rests in its walls.

The sound of Misha’s voice pulls my attention back to him. ”Maybe we should change clothes and then sit on the porch until the rest wake up. How does it sound?” I squeeze his hand and give him a nodding smile. ”Hopefully they are very tired today.” The stairs up to the cabin are a little slippery but Misha holds my hand tightly in his, protecting me from falling if I should slip.

A few minutes later I sit down beside him on the outdoor sofa in the corner of the porch. I wear a long white sweater that was meant for yesterday evening, but it stayed in my bag since the night was so warm. Now I’m glad I have it. He places a blanket over my bare legs and gently caresses my knee. A part of the blanket rests in his lap. Then he gives me a concerned look. ”Are you warm enough?”

”I was not really cold before, but thank you. It feels good.” Misha puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer to him. I rest my head against his firm body, feeling the intoxicating scent that is uniquely his. The rain has almost stopped now and the clouds in the sky will eventually bow to the sun. Under the blanket, I sneak my hand over to his knee and gently caress his thighs. His legs are a treat for my palm and I seductively run my hand over the strong muscles and I hear him softly pull in air between his teeth as I firmly squeeze the firmness of his upper thigh. Encouraged by his reaction I grow bolder and let my fingers wander along the inside of his thigh, but I stop as soon as I feel him tighten his grip on my shoulder. My name sounds like a treat when he rolls it on his tongue. As much as I long to touch him, all of him, I will not do it with the risk of someone stepping out of the door. Hiding my own arousal is easier than covering his state. Soft linen trousers can be very revealing for a man of his size. I withdraw my hand and a ragged breath slips from Misha. ”You have the power to drive me mad,” he then murmurs as he presses his lips against my hair.

Suddenly the door opens and my brother steps out on the porch. He looks like he came directly from bed; traces of a pillow can be seen on his cheek and his hair stands like the ends of a broom. With a surprised look on his face, Nikolay’s gaze wanders from me to Misha, to his arm around my shoulders and back to my face.

”Is this what it looks like?” His question is not directed to any of us in particular, but Misha answers him. My dear brother gets the news before he even has had his morning coffee. His face turns to a big smile and he stumbles over, clearly with a heavy hangover, and gives me a bear hug. Then he turns to Misha. ”Be good to her, or else!” With his finger, he makes a very telling gesture at his own neck and if it wasn’t for the grin on his face, I would have been horrified. A relieved laughter erupts from Misha’s chest.

”I need coffee,” Nikolay then says with a pointed look.

Misha removes his arm and stands with a grunt.

”Me too.”

When he disappears inside, my brother takes a seat on my other side. He rests his head on my shoulder and I pat him. We sit in comfortable silence, but then he speaks in a soft and affectionate voice.

”You look very happy, my dearest sister. Astrov is a great guy, nobody would be more happy for you than me, if this becomes serious. But don’t tell him I said so.”

I give him a hug, ”That’s because I am very happy.”

After a while, seated between my brother and Misha, I warm my hands on a mug filled with coffee and notice that my head feels much better. The sun shines through the clouds and when the rays of light hit the wet grass it glitters like someone sparkled the meadow with tiny diamonds. The view fills me with a blissful feeling and I smile serenely. Slowly more people join us on the porch and the cabin comes to life. It looks like it’s going to be another warm day after all. Followed by a presumably heated night.

Did you like it? Please like, comment or/and reblog! ❤️

Taglist and others who might be interested: @lathalea @legolasbadass @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @laurfilijames @enchantzz @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo @mariannetora @s0ftd3m0n @haly-reads @sunnysidesidra

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed.

#dr astrov #mikhail astrov #uncle vanya #richard armitage #fanfiction #fanfic

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megamindsupremacy · 2 years

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Young Avengers fic recs (Part 1)

Okay, I know this looks bad… by remnantwolf

“Break into the Avengers Compound, they said. It’ll be fun! They said.” Kate grumbles as she fires an arrow that hooks onto one of the windowsills. “Clint’s so gonna kill me if I’m caught.”

Kate Bishop meets the Avengers

Seeing double by damaskrose

I mean, he’s always known they’re identical. Hell, that’s what even tipped them off about the whole reincarnated-twin thing. But between Tommy’s silver-white hair and green eyes and the fact that Billy looks like he’s actually encountered a hairbrush this decade, it’s not always that apparent. Billy’s the better-groomed brunette and Tommy’s the shaggy-haired delinquent who wears whatever clothing he grabs off the floor first in the morning. It can be easy, then, to forget how similar they actually look.

But apparently a box of hair dye can make a big difference when it comes to that.

Or: Billy and Tommy decide to go as each other for Halloween, which unlocks a slight twin existential crisis and a lot of family feelings. Also featuring Tommy "bi crisis" Shepherd/David Alleyne and Wanda Maximoff being a good mom, actually.

The edge of seventeen by khirsah

Sometimes he wondered, if he found a way to reach out to sixteen-year-old him, would he believe he’d eventually come to this?

Like, the end of the world by norickayer

Teddy Altman is in the habit of keeping his phone charged, if only for the clock, the GPS, and the photo gallery. He certainly isn’t expecting to be woken up by a Facebook notification three months after the planet became uninhabitable for human life.

Tommy Shepherd has updated his facebook status: “Hollywood lied to me. There were supposed to be a lot more hot chicks at the end of the world.”

Loki Laufeyson likes this.

A study in scarlet witches by benwiseheart

She’s happy to see him. She always is, but the unexpectedness and late hour of the visit catch her off guard, and she can’t help but worry, wonder if he’s okay. “What’s the matter? Is everything alright?”

Tommy is flustered and nervous when he finally responds. “I want to be the next Scarlet Witch,” he blurts out.

Wanda blinks.

“You had better come inside, then.”

They are the hunters, we are the foxes by mooosicaldreamz

The absolutely one hundred percent true story of Kate Bishop battling an alien invasion, ignoring rampant rumors on her sexuality, realizing those rumors may have more truth than fiction, having words with her father, and getting a sweet helmet.

Family matters by joshriku

The most consistent part of Tommy's birthday is, surprisingly, Magneto.

Time was a flat circle by reyforgthrgendersnatch

An AU where the Young Avengers never save Tommy from the mutant juvie and he continues to be tortured, making his mutant powers go haywire.

Tommy and Billy eventually cross paths, but it doesn’t end well. Now, Billy needs his help again, and it’s safe to say Tommy doesn’t want to stay.

Three Loki’s sounds like the setup to a bad joke by cosmicocean

Billy puts a hand on Loki’s shoulder. Loki looks at it like he’s going to bite it. “Wait. Do you feel that?”

The air is… shifting around them. Almost like it’s recalibrating. Restructuring. Loki frowns, lowering his hands.

“Oh, motherfu-“

A golden doorway opens in front of them and everyone immediately shifts into battle positions except for Loki, who folds his arms with a scowl.

Young Avengers, meet Lokis. Lokis, meet Young Avengers.

It’s [not] a twin thing by heartslogos

Four times when Speed and Wiccan were unexpectedly similar, and one time it wasn't a surprise.

Got this feeling on a summer day by shyasamouse

Billy got the text at 1:34 AM.

Kate: Joe's Diner in 20?

Blinking blearily at the screen of his phone, he waited for his brain to catch up to his eyes. Once he'd properly read the text, he flapped a hand vaguely in the direction of Teddy's face, managing to catch him in the nose once or twice. Teddy snorted awake, rubbing his nose accusingly and grumbling at him. In explanation, Billy shoved his phone in Teddy's face, giving him a minute to comprehend the gesture before tossing the phone back on the dresser and stumbling up out of bed.

EDIT: ROUND TWO ADDITIONS

when i was your orbit (and you were my star) by exalteddm

In her pocket, her phone reconnects to the local Earth’s cell network and proceeds to start screaming like a 590-banshee—which is to say, not very loud, but deeply irritating on a soul-draining level. America pauses her inspection of the envelope to fish out the device, silence it, and watch as all eight hundred ninety-eight text messages roll in one at a time.

Seriously. She’s been gone for a month.

In which America runs walks at a completely reasonable pace away from her problems, and Kate waits patiently for her to come home.

AU (mostly post-canon, if canon were a mishmash of Young Avengers, the Hawkeye show, and a universe where nobody dies), one-shot.

#mads posts #fic recs #fic rec list #marvel fic recs #marvel fic rec list #young avengers fic recs

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schwazombie · 2 years

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Fn... fn hate how parents and a lot of adults just in general are so dismissive of kids’ emotions. I can remember my parents making fun of me, laughing at me, because of how I felt and how I expressed myself; my sister mocked my niece for being ‘melodramatic’ when she was five or six. But how fucking hard is it to realize that kids don’t have the same experiences as adults, and even if they did, they don’t have the vocabulary for it yet.

Once when I was a kid my parents had gotten mad at me for something and I knew I was in trouble, and that usually resulted in physical punishment - on top of that I knew I was the same as Eve, who was responsible for all sin, and in church I had learned over and over again that we were naturally sinful beings deserving of hell, so kid me learned pretty quickly that I was bad. I responded to getting into trouble with crying and saying I didn’t deserve to play with toys. Now I was a kid, right. Playing with toys was fun! Was a reward! It was a good thing! But I was bad, naturally and to my core, and I had sinned because my parents were mad at me and they only got mad at me if I sinned, so what I was trying to express was my feeling of “I am bad and a sinner and not worthy of good things”. But kid me couldn’t put to words what all those things in my childhood had led me to believe. My parents just laughed at me for being melodramatic.

My cousin is quite a bit younger than me, to the tune of I want to say around 13 or 14 years, so when my niece was six or so my cousin was in later elementary school or early middle school, which is a large difference but not so large that they couldn’t play together. Once I was over at my sister’s house as my aunt and cousin were getting ready to go & my niece was very upset and said “But I’ll never see her again!”. My sister rolled her eyes and ugh you’re soooo melodramatic you will too see her again. The fact of the matter is my aunt and cousin lived a fair ways away so visits weren’t that often on top of the fact that they lived in different school districts so it wasn’t like they’d see each other at school or on the bus, and what I know and can express now that I couldn’t as a kid is that my family is often on the outs with each other, sometimes for years. My niece was upset that her great-aunt and cousin were leaving, and it was going to be a long time until she saw them. Very upset. And the only way she knew to say that, and maybe even subconsciously express the idea of “what if something happens and y’all have a falling out and we kids have to deal with it”, was “I’ll never see her again”. How difficult would it have been for my sister to see that, to see what her kid was actually trying to say but couldn’t because she was a literal child, and to offer some sort of empathy? “I know you’ll miss your cousin, but maybe we can facetime next weekend” or “Maybe we can see if we can go to the pool together before the summer is up”, something that’s not an outright dismissal of the child’s feelings?

And like... kids have no frame of reference a lot of times. Maybe it’s the first time that 6yo has experienced a feeling that intense. Maybe that 10yo hasn’t ever come across that situation. I’m an adult and I’ve lived long enough to know that when I have a really shitty day that’s so bad it feels like I’ll never wash it off that it will eventually stop feeling that bad, even if it takes a few days, and until then I can wear something comfy and have a bowl of ice cream. 12yo me didn’t have two decades of having lived through untreated depression like I do now and only knew everything hurts and won’t stop. Of course there was a level of drama to that. That doesn’t mean it was fake.

Anyway. I don’t know what got me to thinking about this. I don’t even like kids. I guess it’s just very wtf to me that as someone who doesn’t like kids and doesn’t want them that the people who do like kids and want them don’t... I don’t know... make a fucking effort

#zombie thoughts

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terrible-twst-oc-ideas · 4 months

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Would You Believe I've Never Had a Lesson? VI. Finale - Entering the New World

Months passed. Seasons went by. Time, as it always did, marched forward from the moment Piper sent their arcane academy applications. In the midst of it, it might have seemed like forever. But now, on the day of their departure, it seemed to have come too soon.

“Ah, there you are, darling. Let me help you with those.” Mr. Duke was already waiting for Piper when they trudged out of the school’s front entrance, and began loading their bags into his car. “Do you wish to sit in the front or the back seat?”

“Um--” Piper pushed their glasses up, readjusting their thoughts. “The front. Please.”

Mr. Duke nodded, and opened the car door. After a few more minutes of packing, they were off.

“So. Magpie Academy…” Mr. Duke hummed, his eyes on the road and his ears turned toward Piper, “I’m not surprised you chose that one. Their strong academic program appealed to you, no doubt.”

“Yes, of course it did. But it wasn’t much of a choice either,” Piper squinted, not pleased by the summer sun in their eyes. They really should have sat in the back where it was shadier. “The only other school I applied to was Noble Bell, though I never heard back from them. It was admittedly disappointing. I’m already familiar with the campus, and it would have been nice to still be nearby.”

“Ah, do not fret, darling. You’re smart and sure enough to get by. I’m sure you’ll get settled in no time.” Mr. Duke’s eyes glistened with melancholy, before they darted over to Piper’s clothes. “That’s a lovely coat you’re wearing. Where did you get it?”

“From a shop in town. My parents sent me money for it as a birthday gift.” They glanced down at the coat, a bold, dark blue topcoat with piano-cuffed sleeves and spiraling green patterns. “I thought it made for a distinctive piece of performance wear.”

“You thought right,” Mr. Duke smiled, “It suits you.”

Neither party had much more to say, so Piper let their attention wander towards the window. It had been ages since they’d last seen this road, these city streets. They’d been just a small child back then, with nothing more than a talent for piano and some bags that were far too heavy for them. It was a bus that transported them from the train station, wasn’t it? Yes, they remember how noisy all the other students were, how the little ones chatted with their parents and how the older ones chatted with their friends. They had no one to talk to but their thoughts.

Back then, everything about Madame Bonfamille’s had been strange and new to them. The hallways hadn’t etched themselves into their memory, all the faces hadn’t been set in stone. They had yet to become acclimated to the schedule, the people, the way everyone viewed them. Even their organ was a mysterious and beautiful stranger, one their younger self had been drawn to like a light in the dark, slipping out of their dormitory to visit and play her in the dead of night. Of every person and thing from their old school, she was the only one Piper had bothered to say goodbye to. She’d been theirs for nearly a decade, after all. They hoped someone else would come to cherish her as much as they did.

“Well. We’re here.” The car came to a stop along the curb, not far from the train station. “I’ll help you with your bags again. Would you like for me to walk with you?”

“That’s quite alright, Mr. Duke,” Piper sighed, already getting out of the car, “I know you have other business to attend to. And besides, I can manage by myself.”

Mr. Duke nodded, removing Piper’s few bags from the car.

“Well. I guess this is au revoir, then.” Their former teacher held out his hand, and Piper shook it. “Best of luck to you, darling. Take care.”

“You as well, Mr. Duke. Adieu.”

Their teacher’s smile became bittersweet, giving his former student one last look, before returning to his car and driving away. Piper watched him leave, first staring at the car, and then, once it had disappeared around a corner, at the point in the skyline they knew was Madame Bonfamille’s roof.

It was hard not to feel melancholic about leaving such a place behind. Even if it was never fully home, its familiar comforts still called to them-- their old dorm room, Mr. Duke’s attentive-ear smiles, their first and most beloved organ. They hadn’t even left the city yet, and they were already mourning those small joys.

But, they knew they couldn’t stare forever. Madame Bonfamille’s had been a new world once, and through time, they’d turned it into a familiar one. They simply needed to do it again.

Piper fixed their eyes on the station, gathered their bags, and began to walk forward.

#terrible three #t3 writings #piper origin story #twst ocs #happy new year gang!

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randomoranges · 8 months

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Summer 2023 Retrospective

Once more, summer break has come to an end and once more, I am reflecting on everything that I did and that happened over the past 7 weeks.

This year felt – different. It was almost as if summer never really got into the real swing of things. The weather was a clusterfuck, what with forest fires, smog, rain and cooler temperatures. Every time it seemed like it was over, there would be another storm, another air quality warning and somehow, it impacted the overall feel of summer.

However, this summer was also filled with lots of visits from friends and family and adventures. Between people visiting me and me visiting them, it occupied a lot of time (in a good way.) There were highlights to the summer; notably, going to see the Back to the Future Musical, getting to see my uncle twice, visiting friends, making new friends, celebrating the Lizard’s 10th year, seeing the Perseids, and adopting a sunflower. I also got to go to many new places in the city I had wanted to visit.

On the other hand, there were also some downers to the summer; my dad getting hospitalised again, the never-ending debacle with my plants and the weather.

Yet, there were also so many smaller moments that were pleasant as well. Out of the 37 days I had, I only had 6 days where I had nothing planned. (That’s insane.) I managed to go to the pool so many times, I did a lot of art and I read a lot of books. Even though I did not write at all, I still found other creative outlets, so I guess that counts. There are many things I never got around to doing, but I suppose that’s okay. Some can still be done post end of holiday and others can just be added to next year – hopefully.

I’m still not looking forward to going back to work tomorrow. I never like the version of me I become under the duress of teaching and it seems that no matter how hard I try, I lose myself in the process. But – it’s a new school year and at least, I’m doing the same thing as last year so I know what to expect. There is less unknown. Hopefully, that will help.

As always, below is my little list of things I did over the summer – an old habit I’ve kept for over a decade now. More for me than anyone else, but it’s there.

Here’s to more adventures!

Pool: 23

Ice cream Hocheglacé Iconoglace Pineault Dolce Santanella Kem Coba Ca Lem

Adventures Maisonneuve Market Biodôme Observation Deck Quai des Commencements PAC Old Port Au pied du courant Ave Mt-Royal JT Food Trucks Eye balls E’s wedding Dad Fiasco First Official White Hair TM Sugar Sammy Plant fiasco Bonjour Montréal sign Navette fluviale Berlin Wall World Commerce Building PVM Ring RAMQ Lézard Bizarre 10th birthday NYC-PVD-BST Dinner with J Gogol Bordello Power failure/playing Pictionary in the dark Sunflowers! Strawberries! Chinatown Food trucks Bota Bota Spa Nails Edmonton + camping Did art Dusted room Cleaned out drawer Perseids Esplanade Louvain Sunflowers One Started Fic and a half Adopted a sunflower Dinner at Schtroumpf’s Showed Dad how to work the laptop Tea at the Ritz

People S visit Zia visit Les petites La gang du camp Uncle x2 S J + Fam Zia Edmonton gang T, M and errone else Schtroumpf and Aqua C

Food Chez Gérard Beaver Tails Usine à spaghetti Au p’tit doré Guillaume Les enfants terribles Oh Dumplings La beignerie Terrasse Nelligan Tea at the Ritz Bota Bota Spa

Movies/TV shows/ Books End of Miraculous s5 Spider Man Nimona x2 Nimona comic Q Force Melting Queen Qu’est-ce qu’on a fait au bon Dieu ? Barbie x2 BTTF Musical Miraculous Lady Bug Movie Gomens 2 x3 Qu’est-ce qu’on a encore fait au bon Dieu ? Best Men Christmas in Wonderland Cowboy Bebop s 1 2 Staged s1 A Dash of Salt and Pepper The Gay Best Friend Heartstopper s2 Rose à l’île Red White and Royal Blue movie Red White and Royal Blue book Around the world in 80 Days

#summer #summer 2023 #summer retro #estie qu'chuis pas down pour demain wow

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renatedagmarmilada · 1 year

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Childish children's Games paid for by Kissinger and Kaspar!

> Mr Ki said to Mr Ka

> so be it then

> Mr Ki likes to please

> as Mr Ka likes to harass

> she's part jewish then is she

> havn't sorted that out yet.

> like the Minister of DA

> who said yes to bide time

> and decided all life was not worthy

> in his mind anyway

> like that cowpoke who said

> we all must die anyway

> so the others will die anywhere

> and in Newham the H of H said

> and what about the Zealots

> and that Robin Cook

> on his nightly visit for tea and cookies

> but they hit one of ours

> such a nice man he was

> then Simon got Pierre as well

> and Margaret stuttered

> that is the last word I will ever utter..

. > VERTIGO is one remote technique! > > I want to tell you something first > In Russia they tell me they write poetry > endless songs just the same > about their past Gulags and sufferings > > The great American asked yesterday > Have you used all her work as we ordered > tell her it was political, we believed the brits > brits told us you were maladjusted brains > > so everyone quotes their victim > go to the police they're in it too > we raised our victim, they told us another lie > everyone who comes into the lab, knows there’s no control > > it's a laugh say the Stanis as they pressure everything and one > why don't you just kill her > just one squeeze of her heart > and read eveyone's lines on the file > > steve adds I'm going to use her > till she's seventy plus, the ultimate nightmare > Ivan puts over I didn't expect this from you lot > it says much more than maladjusted, read that file > > I don't want the chinese in it > what if she gets a chinese lawyer where she teaches > victim’s diminished responsibility, they had put for Beijing > we know your antics everywhere from the file > > Huh..so that's why I am not allowed to speak > my books shredded, sensitive material they say > about them, naming them, threatened constantly > for years and years and years and..

> since nineteen eighty six Only Mongolia protested- what the hell is this?

//point being if you are a pilot and someone puts vertigo on the whole crew, easily done..//

Childish children's Games

> Mr Ki said to Mr Ka > ‘so be it, then’ > Mr Ki likes to please > as Mr Ka likes to harass > she's part jewish then, is she > havn't sorted that one out yet.

> like the Minister of DA > who said ‘yes’ to bide time > and decided all life was not worthy > in his mind anyway > like that cowpoke who said > we all must die anyway > so the others will die anywhere

> and in Newham the H of H said > and what about the Zealots > and that Robin Cook > on his nightly visit for tea and cookies > but they hit one of ours instead > such a nice man he was

> then Simon got Pierre as well > and Margaret stuttered > that is the last word I will ever utter....

THE BISHOP IN CYCLES

> the bishop asked is she steady now believes the lies told him by the lab.

> it said on the lab file it comes in cycles actually the bossess Huntington Disease

> (well their student torturers do all the illegitimate children of the four lab men

> as each item is repeated and repeated) till the end of the program in 2080

> comes from that Lille invited to the lab Let’s have the french show us what they can do-

> who got it wrong and as I sat teaching they thought they would benefit

> so PIerre had his cancer activated they still dont know the English yet

> wrote a report on the file of lies all must add a horror issue or spite

> cycles of drunkeness and drugs from all the lab assistants,

> (look I had to laugh, come on, me? what we do we put on as you

> but that was the problem what you do so well, we take as ours

> everyone laughed and didn't take it seriously) Anna the bossess told her lot- brutal, brutal, brutal

> confessions I did sip a sparkly wine once make it so brutal that no one will believe it

> at a summer East End solctice a decade or more this Human Resaerch or Behaviour science group

> which left me shaking all night long also ran camps in Auschwitz and Belsen

> as the lab machinery does now nightly by remote the assistants put on horrors

> it makes my son cry to hear me screaming in my sleep as they use all their remote techniques

> he lies there trying not to hear supposed for the mentally incapable

> and the neighbours at my China University to test them, not left on for month after month

> were going to thump the guy who was hitting me they use it as a torture on the population

> in CHina they just don't believe the West does these things we are trying to make things better here!!

> so the lab has torn through the Priesthood given them artificial remote errections

> and worried and sorried several priests Including the Popes, English lab hate catholics

> that's because they used debasement over Mass and Allan Lieberman gave Ratzinger hell on earth

> (we told you we don't believe in God the lab are all Jews except the bosses

> we have something stronger) latest USA technique we can use as we wish

> Pope John got worried and tried to withdraw but once in there is no escape

> I only did it cause Queeny visited and talked and told me it was for the good

> I believed Pope John wailed no way out they tried out one of their created accidents on him

> THe nations are nearly all in it They cant afford to miss it, who knows what it is

> China is already out they thought as it’s rubbish but once in there is no way out

> simulated earthquakes crashes and destruction the whole Pandorahs box in one lunatic lab’s hands

> each country to have an internal disaster to see how they cope, go straight onto the UK monitor

> anti matter chaos theory underground killers any lunatic notion anyone has, practiced

> we wanted to know the new technology they all sigh, too late to turn back

> the red herring a ridiculous sex report by the bossesses, all sex workers and special prostitutes

> paid with possibility to come to the lab with promises of becoming known on the victim’s work-

> to torture one tiny helpless family chosen by sex worker bossess services the Ministries

> run by a load of lecherous prostitutes and sex workers, does England never change?

> and the civil servants’ moll who is desperate for the top

> with the civil servants power seems it is something bottom Londoners crave

> scared they'll all topple like a pile of cards string pulled by Behavioural Science at St barths

> as the nation finds out what they are really about. under the whispers and lies

> now put the victim will die early upon the report the machine will ensure it happens

> her mother had early advantages she never had so that will cover that

> it's rubbish I know but we call it a study the americans put one safety clause

> we put all sorts we want on the report all has to be told to the victim, somehow

> tell them lab. wont stop until the program is banned bit like the wars to end all wars all over again

> (last night was hell, they say it was an Ivan) there is a plate it seems with our bodies to pinpoint

> how many more years of nightly real physical torture it is ok, they are called tests

> it was banned in America but no one listens here it was too callous for the USA but UK is sinking

> Only Mongolia protested which was a real surprise!

> and Isreali's amazingly almost hit on the truth you’d thought with the KZ camps all having human Research, on sitr

> till they were told to shut up..... by whom?

VERTIGO

> I want to tell you something first

> In Russia they tell me they write poetry

> endless songs just the same

> about their past sufferings

> The great American asked yesterday

> Have you used all her work as we told

> tell her it was political we believed the brits

> britain told us you were maladjusted

> so everyone quotes her

> go to the police they're in it too

> we raised her they told us another lie

> everyone who comes into the lab

> knows there is no control

> it's a laugh say the Stanis as they pressure

> why don't you just kill her

> just one squeeze of her heart

> and read eveyone's lines on the file

> steve adds I'm going to use her

> till she's seventy the ultimate nightmare

> Ivan puts over I didn't expect this

> it says maladjusted and much more

> I don't want the chinese in it

> mustn't get a chinese lawyer where she teaches

> diminished responsibility they had put for Beijin

> we know your antics everywhere from the file

> so that's why I am not allowed to speak

> my books shredded sensitive material they say

> about them naming them threatened constantly

> for years and years and years..........

> since nineteen eighty six

NON LETHAL WEAPONS

> used in Vietnam to flush out 'enemy' women and children

> advanced here in Britain to on line instead of chemicals

> just think of a radar and plane as people and computer

> we make it all up they crow to government and foreign students

> let me tell you how and I have found a use for the family

> she has to be very strong we will use and use until death

> fifty percent hair taken out in china, repeated now here

> shave or wear scarf you shouldn't have brown hair at that age

> heart destroyed by Stein so don't run or walk

> work not allowed so claim dole ours will copy all you create

> family distanced so live without we don't want them to sue later

> skull punctured take it steady don't fall it might crack

> ten thousand taken over the years and people killed

> all money is evil live for the people we select for you

> we put your money into our own accounts from our machinery

> it is called transference tequnique

> and six million from Slovak State coffers to UK by Anna

> husband taken by lab games-

take lovers we do married or not

puritanical is not the british way

> the list is endless

hit all parts of their lives

behavioural science

rules in UK even more than in USA-

> I feel just like the Vietnamese of the north back then

> used for remote experiments when captured-

> americans add we would not be allowed to do to monkeys

> what brits do to you people

tuning is not nicely done over there

> tuning uses energy waves

makes you do what they want you to do

> very very dangerous, from Presidents to beggars!

> the solicitors agree!

no law over here

for nothing using anything

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mariacallous · 1 year

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Foreign Policy Morning Brief: Biden goes on tour, plans to meet Xi

By Audrey Wilson

Here is today’s Foreign Policy brief: U.S. President Joe Biden begins a weeklong trip to Egypt and Asia, Russian President Vladimir Putin opts out of attending the G-20 summit in person, and U.S. stocks rally after better-than-expected inflation data.

I’m filling in for Christina Lu, who has the day off.

Biden Jets Off

U.S. President Joe Biden took off Thursday for a weeklong international trip on the heels of the U.S. midterm elections. The Republican party is now expected to take control of the U.S. House in January, but with smaller gains than pollsters predicted. Abroad, Biden will likely project U.S. stability and strength—after all, his foreign policy may not change much with a new Congress, no matter the final election results.

The U.S. president will have a quick start at the United Nations climate summit today in Sharm el-Sheikh, Egypt. At COP27, Biden was expected to tout the landmark climate legislation passed in Washington this year—even as developing countries have spent the summit calling for climate aid for loss and damage caused in large part by wealthier nations. Biden is the only leader from a top emitter present at COP27; the leaders of China, Russia, and India did not attend.

Biden will then travel to Phnom Penh, Cambodia, currently hosting the leaders of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN). There, the U.S. president will likely seek to reassure regional allies about the U.S. commitment to a rules-based order in the South China Sea. The Philippines and Indonesia have each looked to deepen military cooperation with the United States amid China’s saber-rattling over Taiwan, Bloomberg reports.

Biden’s most anticipated overseas engagement may come on Monday, when he meets Chinese President Xi Jinping himself on the sidelines of the annual G-20 summit in Bali, Indonesia. It will be their first face-to-face meeting since Biden became president. (The two leaders have spoken five times.) The talks come amid rising tensions—over Taiwan, the continuing U.S. crackdown on Chinese technology, and Russia’s war in Ukraine.

Speaking to reporters, a senior White House official described the Biden-Xi meeting as aiming to “build a floor” for the U.S.-China relationship. With that in mind, expectations for the talks remain low. “I don’t think you should look at this meeting as one in which there’s going to be specific deliverables,” U.S. National Security Advisor Jake Sullivan told journalists on Thursday.

Biden said he would avoid making concessions and wanted to draw “red lines” in the U.S.-China relationship—perhaps in the hope of avoiding further deterioration. Since entering office, the U.S. president has taken a strong stance on Taiwan, which China claims as its own territory. Beijing responded with aggression in August when U.S. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi visited Taipei.

China has also bristled at U.S. policies targeting its ambitions in the technology sector, particularly the semiconductor industry. The effort to crack down on Chinese technology has gained steam under the Biden administration. New U.S. export controls on the equipment needed to make semiconductor chips “could set back China’s tech ambitions by as much as a decade,” FP’s Rishi Iyengar reports.

Climate once seemed to present a potential avenue for U.S.-China cooperation. U.S. climate envoy John Kerry said this week that he had met his Chinese counterpart, Xie Zhenhua, on the sidelines of COP27 for the first time since the summer, when China and the United States suspended climate dialogue. But it wasn’t a breakthrough: “We’ve had some informal talks, but we’re not in any formal negotiations,” Kerry said.

What We’re Following Today

Putin may dial in for G-20. Russian officials confirmed on Thursday that Russian President Vladimir Putin will not travel to Indonesia to join the gathering of G-20 leaders in person but may take part virtually. Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov, already in Southeast Asia to attend the ASEAN summit, will lead the Russian delegation in Bali. The G-20 summit officially begins on Nov. 15.

Indonesia faced some Western pressure to rescind Putin’s invitation to the meetings over his invasion of Ukraine, but it said it would not do so without member consensus. Earlier this year, Indonesian President Joko Widodo visited Ukraine and Russia, hoping to encourage direct talks between the countries. Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky is also expected to attend the G-20 summit virtually.

U.S. stocks rally. The major U.S. stock indexes saw their best single-day gains since 2020 on Thursday, as investors reacted to news that inflation in the United States had begun to cool. The new Consumer Price Index shows that major interest rate hikes by the Federal Reserve may be helping to ease prices, with inflation at 7.7 percent in October compared to the previous year, down from 8.2 percent in September.

The Fed will make its next interest rate announcement in December—after another inflation report—but investors may already be betting that the central bank will slow the pace of its interest rate increases. The value of the U.S. dollar fell by more than 2 percent on Thursday, its biggest drop since 2009.

Keep an Eye On

Ethiopia’s peace deal. More than a week after the Ethiopian government and the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF) signed a surprising peace agreement, humanitarian organizations say that they have not been able to reach millions of people in the war-torn region, the Guardian reports. As part of the truce, the federal government pledged to end its blockade on the region, but the World Health Organization says that aid has not yet been allowed to pass.

In Foreign Policy, Mohamed Kheir Omer writes that Eritrea—which has a long-held grudge against the TPLF and has fought alongside Ethiopia’s federal government against Tigray since 2020—could undermine the truce.

Russia’s retreat. As Moscow said its troops had begun withdrawing from the city of Kherson, Ukrainian forces cautiously entered territory abandoned by Russian forces in the southern region. Information out of the city remains spotty; Ukrainian troops are working to remove land mines, and fighting continues in some areas. Reuters reported on Thursday that Russia will take at least a week to withdraw its troops from the city, according to Ukrainian officials.

Thursday’s Most Read

• Ireland Is Europe’s Weakest Link by Eoin Drea

• Ukraine Pushes Russia Out of Kherson, the Biggest Liberation Yet by Jack Detsch

• How to Win the U.S.-China Economic War by Robert D. Atkinson

Odds and Ends

As world leaders and dignitaries gather in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, for the ASEAN summit, 25 lucky attendees will take home a unique souvenir: a locally made luxury watch. Cambodian Prime Minister Hun Sen, a noted timepiece aficionado, shared images of the limited-edition watch on Facebook this week, designed to highlight his country’s “scientific and technical progress.”

The gifts may instead draw attention to Hun Sen’s own taste for the finer things, which has previously elicited criticism from Cambodians. Despite his official monthly salary of around $2,500, Vice reports that the premier has been photographed wearing watches from the super high-end Patek Philippe brand, including one valued at $1.2 million.

A spokesperson for Hun Sen’s party told Reuters there was “nothing political or strange” about the ASEAN watches, adding, “It is the kindness of the host country to give them as souvenirs to leaders.”

That’s it for today.

For more from FP, visit foreignpolicy.com, subscribe here, or sign up for our other newsletters.

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acloudinthebrain · 2 years

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madonna and the child

growing up in an extremely christian household to realizing we were part of a cult this whole time will rock anyone’s world. granted it’s not the most outlandish and appalling thing i’ve gone through in the almost three decades i’ve walked this planet, i often think about madonna or the virgin mary, jesus’s mother. more specifically the shallow and simplest term for this, a mother.

my maternal lineage has been the forefront of my life for the past few months where i’ve been challenging the foundation of complacency, forced filial obligations, and passed parental responsibilities to children (among other things) that those in my maternal lineage has laid down for years, generations, and perhaps even lifetimes at this point. mother is the one i deal with directly when it comes to all these issues. she is the last one fulfilling what my maternal linage could only do in the time they existed and the world around them while they were still here. however the world has changed, as it does when time continues to go on even when we’re dust and have fallen back to the earth. i can only be so grateful and acknowledge the privilege i have to even ponder my existential problems where mother was only afforded to act and ponder in the present in order to survive. that road is and will never get easy; you simply walk through those bumpy roads, break your legs, and continue on to numbness till you’re on smooth and solid ground. but how does one stop to heal when all you’ve known is walking through the dirt with broken bones? how does one be a mother to your own children when you were just a child with the responsibilities of your own mother for everyone else including your mother?

for every phase in my life, a madonna was always presented to me for what i needed in that period of time since mother couldn’t ever fully be present to be one. it’s not that i ever went looking for them, they just came into my life and guided me whether i asked or not. happened then, happening now. whether or not they were fleeting, a madonna was always presented to me but not in mother who i needed the most. both grandmothers are long gone and too late to rectify any of the damages made. mother is the last and i’m not sure i’ll be continuing this on. perhaps this was the universe’s way of repaying me for the loss i received before even existing on this plane. it’ll never account to my actual mother, but it was close enough to continue life as normally as i could. but putting all the pieces of each madonna together could create what mother could’ve been. but it will never be her.

the first madonna i could remember that was presented to me and significantly impacted me as a person was my college counselor in high school. she helped students when it came to anything college related; applications, information on schools, guidance through the college process, you name it. i remember the day i entered her office with my best friend, something so warm and welcoming radiated off of her. i don’t know what it was, but i was magnetized and we instantly clicked. for the duration of my high school career, her office was my sanctuary from all the nastiness of the cesspool that is high school. she listened to all my problems, delusions, and overthinking monologues, never once met with judgement or disappointment. whether it was in her office, on the phone, at the boba shop, or some restaurant, i don’t think i ever had a moment with her where i felt like i couldn’t fully be 100% myself, even when i was unreasonably mad at her because she called me out on things i was still in denial about.

on one of the many occasions where we spent time together past school hours, she was taking me home in her shiny mustang that always astounded me that she even drove. at this point, she knew everything that was going on in my life and at home which was just a conundrum of all kinds, and i knew about her life and how her son was basically a nomad who visited home and worked during the summers, then was off to explore another part of the world with his girlfriend. she proceeds to ask me if she was a good mother. at 16 years old, i didn’t really know what it meant to be a good mother; i was probably the last person on earth she should’ve asked considering the context. but maybe i was also the best person to ask at the time. i thought about it carefully and asked her why she would ask me that. she goes on to share a story that felt too close to home and something that remains in the back of my mind all this time, peering out into the spotlight from time to time. she tells me a story of her friend who was always praised by her peers and loved ones of how great a mother she was; all 3 of her children were honor students at the top of their classes, arguably gifted and bright students, and were all determined to go into some STEM career. however, all 3 of her children fell to some kind of mental illness with one unfortunately succumbing to it while the other estranged himself from the rest of that family. she begs the question again and her worries of constantly wondering if she was an adequate mother with the comparison of her friend in mind, i have more insight on what she’s trying to ask me. i ask her if her son is happy with her and enjoys being around her when he’s there with her. she says yes and that they often carry both frivolous and philosophical discussions. i ask her if her and her son communicate and express themselves to one another. she gives me another yes. i ask her if her son is able to fully be himself around her. another yes. i ask her if she’s there for him when he needs her to be. yes.

at this point i simply give her a smile and she understands. her eyes well up and she thanks me. i give her a hug and step out of her car, dreading the painful walk to my house knowing i have yet to go into survival mode again for the umpteenth time. however, the moments leading up to all this is occupies my mind and makes me think about mother again. had this been us two, she would’ve easily said yes to these questions without any hesitation, knowing they should’ve all been no.

i think of her often and regret my actions towards the later part of our friendship. but i think she understood i was troubled and had enough to deal with in my life. i only hope i didn’t hurt her, but it’s wishful thinking. i could always reach out to her, but maybe some things are better left in the past. they served their purpose, as did my christian life at the time.

but i wonder now, does mother feel this way too?

- claude

#my writing #writing #thoughts #journal #journaling #words #creative writing

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