#also what is on frank's roof. at first i thought chimney But That's Not A Chimney. What Is It. i genuinely have no fucking clue

[down-in-the-rainbow-square]

Remember that post that said u wanted to write that one, the reader goes into puppets/welcome home dimension?

I got u!

Can I request a Welcome home crew x reader, the reader from our world just looking at the website and suddenly blacks out. Then they open their eyes to see the puppets looking down at them! :D

Welcome Home x Reader - A Whole New World (and a Whole New Back Pain)

Not proofread! Thank you for the request! I'm definitely in my isekai sort of phase right now right x readers. For this one I'm just going to assume the reader hasn't discovered the hidden secrets of the website yet. Clown said we're only 5% in, so when we're closer to the end I'll do a remake with the reader knowing all the spooks and secrets (plus, it's really fun to just stick to the happy-go-lucky tune for now)!

I don't know what blacking out is like so I kind of just wrote random feelings instead. Hope that's okay!

P.S., This focuses more on Y/N than the characters but I'll make a sequel that focuses on them more!

Words: 1353

Type: Headcanons, platonic

Tw: food, mentioned kidnapping, mentioned death, injury

You were sitting at your desk when it happened. It was nearing sunset; a bowl of two-minute noodles sat cooling beside your laptop to serve as tonight's meal. Scrolling through social media, a sudden notification popped up on the screen. It was from a friend of yours.

Opening the message up, it read, "hey! Check out this website I found!" Attached to the message was a link to a cheerful looking website. Your friend described it as the link to an old and near-forgotten puppet show your parents had taped on VHS. You used to watch it together when you were really young, apparently.

Opening it up, you were sent to a title screen of sorts. It featured a little red house with a blue roof and yellow chimney. The website invited you to click on it. Doing so, you were revealed the real meat of what was inside.

The next half-hour or so was spent perusing the website. Some of the characters vaguely rang a bell; you remembered something about a guy called Frank, but you also thought there was a child, so perhaps you were making it all up. Maybe that was Wally.

Eventually, though, you were hit with a sudden drowsiness and a sick, twisting feeling in your stomach. Assuming hunger pains, you reach for you food on the desk. It would have gone completely cold, but you would have to deal with it. Fork in hand, you lifted it up to your mouth only to-

Only to wake up in bed. Strange; you never remembered going to sleep. The last thing you remembered doing was getting bad hunger pains and eating your noodles. Though you assumed you had just passed out in bed and not remembered anything.

You rolled around in bed. You were too tired to get up just now. You were about to drift off to sleep when you heard something - or someone.

"They're waking up!"

What in the hell?!

You instantly bolted upright only to be hit with a horrible pain in your spine that sent you back down again. Groaning in pain, you rolled over onto your side and opened your eyes to see... People? No. Monsters? Maybe. No, they were definitely puppets.

Looking up, you saw you were surrounded by them. They were all different shapes, colours, and sizes, but shared the same look: concern. Concern for your wellbeing or concerned because their meal just woke up you didn't know, but you didn't plan on staying for long enough to find out.

Again, you tried to sit up, ignoring the excruciating pain in your lower back. It was then that you realised this was also not your bed you were in. No, this was much larger than you could afford and had a red wood frame with feathers carved into the head.

Your first thought is that you've been kidnapped. Your second thought is you've been kidnapped by puppets. Instantly, you try to heave your way off the bed, only to be caught by a pair of arms. Well, two pairs of arms, actually.

"Hey, hey! Calm down!" Looking up, you saw a tall, green puppet looking down at you. He slowly placed you back down on the bed. Taking a closer look at his facial expression, he almost looked scared.

"Wh- what are you?" you whispered. You didn't care if it sounded rude, you'd rather be rude than clueless.

"I could ask you the same question." You turned to look at the source of the noise to see a different puppet. He was of medium height (for the puppets, of course) and had grey skin. Or felt, for that matter.

"What?" you replied.

"Well," the puppet began, "for someone who fell out of the sky, you sure seem fine."

Fell out of the sky? What was this guy on about?

"Wait, I what?" you asked. The puppets shared a look.

"You don't remember?" another puppet asked. He was about the same height as the grey puppet, but had yellow skin and red hair. "There was a lot of yelling."

"There was?"

Safe to say, you were confused. How could you have fallen out of the sky and not remember? Unless you suffered some kind of head trauma, which would explain why your back was in such pain. But if you truly fell from the sky, wouldn't you be dead?

Eventually the puppets managed to calm you down enough for you to not try to run every chance you got. They told you their names, and you told them yours in return.

There was Howdy, the one who had stopped you from running away and hurting yourself; Frank, the grey one who had told you what happened; Julie, the one who had come to help you first; Poppy, whose bed you woke up in and who cared for you while you were out; Eddie, who was the first to actually notice something falling from the sky; Barnaby, who had carried you to Poppy; Sally, who had kept the morale up for the other puppets while you were out; and Wally, who had assisted in taking care of you.

You found them all to be very interesting in both their appearances and personalities. Sally, who you had been informed was once the brightest star in the entire sky, was a rambunctious, creative soul always ready for an adventure and new ideas. She often proposed imaginative but impractical solutions to your back problem.

There was Julie, a kind and fun puppet with long blonde hair. She was always playing some sort of game, or editing one to allow you to join, even when you didn't quite trust her. Her favourite to play with you was Patty Cake, because it was simple and could be repeated as many times as she wanted. Sally liked to join in on that one for the singing. You were surprised she knew what it was.

But no matter how intriguing you found the puppets; they were always more fascinated by you. They constantly asked you questions about who you were, where you lived, what life was like. Howdy was very interested in the 'Click and Collect' system you had at your local supermarket. The ability to know someone's order beforehand without even a telephone was incredible to him.

Frank was by far the most interested. He was always asking you questions while you rested in Poppy's bed. At one point he left for about fifteen minutes before coming back with a whole bookshelf's worth of books. How he managed to carry it without breaking apart you had no idea, but he looked strained.

Frank had sat the books on the floor and started going through each one, repeating his questions only to throw the book away when it didn't match what you said. He ended up with every book thrown in the messy pile by the end of it and was quite angry.

Everyone was surprised with how similar but how different your worlds were. Things like recipes, games, and speech were all the same and yet you had all this technology they didn't, and they had whole species you didn't. Howdy was shocked to know he could never exist in your world, and Sally was upset to learn that she would only ever be a ball of gas (though she felt a bit better when you mentioned how huge they were).

But more than anything they were surprised with you. The first time they saw you eat was fascinating. Sure, (for the sake of the television show) they can eat, but not like that. What you were doing was just plain weird by their standards, with your odd moving of these 'muscles'. Wally had asked you what you were doing with your mouth and was shocked (and a little disgusted) to see your teeth.

The day seemed to go on forever in this little town you were informed was called Home. Poppy was too big for her couch, but refused to move you, so you ended up sleeping next to her. It was comfy, if not a little suffocating.

I'll be making a part 2 for this!

#rainbow square writing #welcome home #welcome home arg #welcome home x reader #welcome home x you #welcome home x y/n #ill only be tagging the centrally featured characters in this #wally darling #wally darling x reader #wally darling x you #wally darling x y/ #howdy pillar #howdy pillar x reader #sally starlet #sally starlet x reader #frank frankly #frank frankly x reader #julie joyful #julie joyful x reader #poppy partridge #poppy partridge x reader #food tw #kidnapping tw #death tw #injury tw

[dameronology]

slipping through my fingers (frank castle)

summary: frank castle has a lot of pride - maybe too much to admit just how in love with you he is

(fem! reader - i am so sorry for using specific pronouns in this, it's just the way i ended up writing it but pls know all my other fics are g.n if u would like to check them out!)

warnings: so much language, mentions of injury, frank being frank, blood, usual canon typical violence

- jazz xx

Matt Murdock liked to tell his friends that you'd met at work.

Work being that you were both vigilantes who tended to accidentally rip the shit out of Hell's Kitchen.

Things then hadn't panned out the way you'd expected. And even what you'd thought was impossible had happened, it only continued. Life kept getting weirder and weirder, barely staying the same for weeks at a time.

This time two years ago, you see, Matt Murdock had been your everything. He was a complicated man; a contradictory one too. There wasn't anything specific in the Bible about putting on a devil suit and going out at night to beat the shit out of criminals, but he didn't like to think about that. Vigilantes probably hadn't existed in Biblical times, right? So there wasn't anything technically wrong them. That's what you had joked to him the first time you'd met on a roof-top exactly twenty six months ago. It had only taken a few more sarcastic jabs at his job, faith, and personality in general before he'd fallen head over heels for you.

Like him, your relationship was also deeply complex. You fit perfectly into the Daredevil side of him; you always vehemently denied being a side-kick, but you helped in every way you knew how. Most notably in imprisoning Wilson Fisk, but you also supported every single one of his ventures. That was what Matt had needed, really. Someone who showed up. Someone who helped in a fight and cleaned him up after. He had never realised quite how lonely his life had become until you showed up with your sarcastic commentary and out-spoken nature.

It was Matt's daily life that you struggled to navigate. There was no easy way to introduce you to Karen or Foggy -- how could he? How could he ever explain that one? Because sure, you had a life and a day job but there was no good explanation for how someone like you and someone like him could ever cross paths. Moreover, how you could ever end up together.

None of the mattered when you were running across rooftops together, or ducking behind chimneys in tears of laughter as criminals ran by you. Nothing compared to the soft moments of stitching each other up, or secretly repairing Matt's suit whenever he went out to court in the day. Truth be told, you could have spent your life-time in that little bubble. Just you and him against the world; Daredevil and the person who helped him fight crime and was slightly less of a main character but definitely not his sidekick. The outside world was hard to ignore, though. Reality had to come creeping in eventually, seeping in through the cracks of your foundations like an unwelcome visitor to your safe-house.

You had a good few months - nearly a year - together before that fact become harder and harder to ignore. Even behind the soft morning together, and the stolen kisses during your night-time escapades, you could no longer ignore the obvious. Things were falling apart. Your relationship was steaming towards nothing but a dead-end and a bad-break up - but to give credit where it was due, it wasn't for lack of trying. You clutched at straws for weeks, trying to breath life into a dead horse; trying to revive what had once been. It just took a catalyst for things to things to really, properly end.

Income Frank Castle.

The man was a bastard, really. A killing machine with no remorse and zero concern for his consequences. Your first meeting with him had been on a rainy, dark night in the Hudson Yards. You'd both come for the same man - an ex-gang member - and you'd half expected Frank to kill you. And when the gang member did try to kill you, Frank hadn't left you for dead. He'd taken out your shared enemy and dragged you to the nearest hospital, leaving you outside in a bloody puddle for a medic to find you.

A lot of Frank Castle's enemies were your enemies too. Bad, bad people who you nor Matt ever found the courage to kill off; his being religious reasons, and yours being that you valued human life a little too much. Still, you found it easy to view Frank's crimes in a grey area. Maybe you even understood his reasons. You just never in a million years thought that that would be the straw that broke the camel's back. In fact, it felt like a lot more than just that. It felt like the bullet that wiped the camel dead to the floor.

So, you packed and moved out. Took your things across Hell's Kitchen to a shitty little apartment. It was nothing like Matt's place - no high ceilings or spacey living rooms. No bath tub or working elevator. Worst of all, there was no him. There was no Matt to come home to; no Matt to wake you up with coffee on your nightstand or to wrap his arms around you when things became a little too much.

Your new apartment, however, was on Frank Castle's new stomping ground.

Now that he was assumed dead, Frank had all the time in the world to carry out his revenge on some of the worst men in the city. At the same time, you carried out your own missions at night - mostly saving cats from trees and helping old ladies cross the road, but there was a little gang territory there too. Mostly in an attempt to avoid Matt, you kept yourself to yourself - but your shared interests meant that some of your work would over-lap with Frank's.

You weren't an idiot, and neither was he. He knew who Matt was. He knew who you were. He'd seen you lingering beside Matt at the trial - and he'd seen you both retire back to the same apartment at night. Frank also couldn't pretend not to notice that you'd stopped doing that now. That you and the Devil had completely parted your ways, right from working together down to where you slept at night.

Your work had never been influenced by Matt. It just so happened that you wanted to fight the same bad guys - at least that's what it had been up until you met the Punisher. After that, your perspective had changed a little.

And it was through that epiphany that you began to get a little...cockier. Started doing more dangerous things; chasing meaner criminals and using better weapons. It was fun at first, exploring the new found freedom you have. Maybe Matt had been more of a restraint than anything; with his strong beliefs and influence on, you'd always stuck to what you knew; mid-level crime fighting. Now, you were moving up in the world. One night it was gang-members, the next escaped prisoners. All bad people; all worst ones than before.

That was how you ended up almost bleeding out on a roof-top above one of Hell's Kitchens busiest bodega. During the dead of the night, you'd tripped and fallen in a fight - now you had a twisted ankle and your own knife lodged in your leg. That was not how you pictured yourself dying. Not that you'd even given it much thought, but some part of you figured Matt might have been by your side. It was just your luck that this was the one night he'd chosen to explore the other side of the Kitchen. Not the one you were dying on, sadly.

"Fuck," you muttered to yourself. You couldn't move; couldn't stand up or call for help. Not if you wanted to stay out of prison.

You jolted slightly when you heard the sound of foot-steps round the side of one of the water tanks on the roof.

"...Ma - Daredevil?" you quickly remembered not to use his name half-way through your cry. There was no answer. "I have a gun-"

"- no, you don't," a gruff voice cut you off. A moment later, Frank Castle appeared from the shadows. "If you had a gun, you wouldn't be bleeding out on the floor, would ya?"

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you let out a huff. Anyone else would have run away (or tried to, given your situation). Not you. You didn't feel the need to. Frank had saved your life before. You had the same enemies. What was the saying...the enemy of my enemy is not my friend because my ex hates his guts but I still trust him because we hate the same bastards? Yeah, something like that.

Frank knelt down beside you. "You shouldn't be going after the Kitchen Irish on your own. They're dangerous and that makes you stupid."

"Aren't you meant to be dead?" you asked. "I preferred it when you were dead."

"Okay, smart-ass, go easy," he huffed. "D'you want my help or not?"

"Fucking obviously," you muttered. "Please."

Frank shrugged off his jacket, placing it beside you for the minute. You ignored the fact he was covered head to do in what was presumably someone else's blood, choosing instead to watch as he tore off a shred of his shirt. He tied it tightly around your leg, creating some kind of make-shift tourniquet.

"So, no Red around to help you tonight, huh?" he asked.

"Not tonight," you murmured.

"Lover's quarrel-"

"- I don't wanna talk about it," you cut him off, "not when I'm about to bleed out on a roof-top."

"Each to their own," Frank grunted. "I'm gonna count to three, okay? And on three, you're gonna hop up and limp a few blocks with me, yeah? Just over that way towards Harlem."

"Yeah, okay," you nodded.

"Okay - one, two -"

Frank stopped, pulling you off the ground and up into his arms. You let out a yelp as you did, the shock of his sudden grip catching you off-guard. Your hands instinctively clung onto the fabric of his shirt - maybe it was support, maybe it was for comfort. You didn't know, but either way, you knew in your soul that he wouldn't drop you. Call it intuition if you will.

"That wasn't on three," you said through gritted teeth, barely able to talk through the pain.

"Right you are," Frank hoisted you up a little bit. He began the descent from the rooftop, both your weapons now tucked away in his back pocket. "But you wouldn't have got up on three."

"Yes, I would."

"Bullshit," his body shook beneath you as he chuckled. "I know humans. I know humans in pain. They don't do jack-shit at the best times, let alone with a knife in their goddamn leg."

"Look at you, Castle," you shot back. "Such an understanding man."

"Right," he rolled his eyes.

The two of you stayed silent for the rest of the walk back to...wherever the hell it was you were going. Did Frank even have an apartment? You'd always worked in the assumption that he slept in drains and rummaged for food from bins. Like a raccoon.

Still, it would have made sense for him to have a place to crash. He was clean shaven every time you saw him; his hygiene seemed pretty fucking impeccable too. Not like the rest of the crusty ass criminals lingering around the dark corners of New York. Their clothes were always thick with blood and caked in dirt. You figured, though, that if Frank was happy to commit vast amounts of homocide, he probably didn't draw the line at robbing an Old Navy mannequin of its clothes whenever he needed new ones.

Turns out that Frank did have a place - it was a few blocks south of Central Park, tucked away in the corner of a surprisingly nice building. It wasn't anything like you'd expected; neat, tidy, a little bare. That checked out though. He spent years in the military - a place that prided itself on routine and order. Everything was perfectly organised, from the boots by the door to the chipped mugs on the side. What you hadn't expected was for Frank to have a dog. The pit-bull was sat patiently in his little bed, completely unfazed by the sudden presence of two people drenched in red.

"Nice place," you broke the silence.

Frank placed you down on the sofa, giving a light shrug in response.

"Keeps me dry," he said. He shrugged his jacket off and tossed it aside, reaching for a bottle of vodka from the coffee table, then pressing it into your hand.

"No thanks," you shook your head. "Not much of a drinker."

"Sweetheart, I'm about to pull a knife out of your leg," Frank shot back. "I suggest you down that thing like it's the elixir of goddamn life, okay?"

"Right," you took the bottle in defeat.

Naturally, it tasted disgusting. Burnt the inside of your mouth and made you pull a face that elicited a snort from the Punisher himself. It was weird to see him like this - cracking jokes and sharing his alcohol with you. You'd spent the better part of two weeks watching his trial; watching as your then-boyfriend and his partner tried so hard to get him thrown in jail for the rest of his living days. That had been a stressful few weeks for Matthew. He'd been tired and cranky and...angrier than usual.

Sometimes you wondered if it had all been bad-timing. If everything bad had just come at once, and your relationship ending was merely collateral damage and there was no actual reason for it. Because if there was no reason for it, then maybe it could be fixed, right? Maybe you and Matt could reunite once more.

That wasn't the case, though. You remembered those few weeks; tired green eyes hidden behind red-rimmed glasses, fists bloody and cut up from how hard he'd hit the wall. Court documents scattered all over the kitchen table and tense conversations over dinner. The arguments, the tip-toeing around one another, the weight of the world on your fucking shoulders. Maybe your relationship wasn't toxic or mean but hell, it had brought you too much grief. Your lives were too hectic and chaotic to ever consider the idea of fully loving another person. At least each other.

"Mother fucker!"

Your voice cried out through the apartment - in his defence, Frank had given you a warning before he pulled the blade out your leg. If you hadn't been too busy thinking about your ex, you might have heard him.

"Ah, so you are here," Frank muttered. "You zoned out. I thought you'd died or something."

"No such luck," you groaned in pain.

"Deep in thought, huh?" he asked.

"Something like that."

"This next part is gonna hurt too," he said.

The next few minutes were tense; you never thought that you could have sterilised wounds with vodka, but the more you know. By that point, you'd experienced so much distress that you barely felt Frank stitching you up. He recounted some old story from the war in an attempt to distract you, but you couldn't have recalled a single detail of it.

"The good news is that you're not gonna die," Frank declared, wrapping a bandage around your leg. "The bad news is that you're gonna have an ugly scar."

"Makes a good story round the dinner table, though," you replied.

"Sure does," he agreed. "You ever been shanked through the leg before this?"

"A couple times, but not that deep," you replied. "I used to get stitched up by someone that...that Red knew."

"So your boy had his own medic?" he took a seat beside you, eyebrows raised.

"Not quite," you shook your head. "Just a nurse with a good heart."

"And your boy never stitched you up? Not once?" Frank asked.

"He did," you said. "He tried to keep me out the fight a lot, though. Never liked me getting involved all that much."

Frank snorted. "That's bullshit. You can hold your own better than him."

"You've saved my life like twice now," you reminded him. "I wouldn't call that holding my own."

"I know. You pretended to be a lawyer so you could break into the interview room and be all gracious on my ass, remember?" he said. "I mean shit like that. Shit that you do. You're naive as fuck but I have mad respect for you."

"Naive?!"

"You brought a knife to a gunfight with one of New York's filthiest gangs," Frank explained. "Fought Fisk for what...two years?"

"Two and a half," you corrected him.

"There you go, then - you might be naive, but you got heart," he said. "Never lose that."

You saw a lot more of Frank after that night. Maybe you wouldn't go as far as to say you were friends, but you'd definitely upgraded from man who saved my life once to man who saved my life twice and has a questionably decent sense of humour. Because despite him being rugged and rough around the edges and just a tiny, tiny bit vengeful, you felt safe with Frank - at least when you were on the right side. You figured he might have not given you such a warm welcome if you were still with Matt.

That subject didn't come up for the first few weeks of your odd...partnership, was it? Whatever it was, it had started with Frank always just happening to be right where you were. Whenever you set your sights on your next target, he'd be there to help you. Even if it was the most minor thing in the world, like the guy who had held up your favourite bagel store last week, or the woman who scammed your neighbour. The most menial, harmless people who you just wanted to rough up a little bit. He'd be there.

You didn't question. You didn't want to question it, mainly because you feared for the answer. Who was Frank roughing up every night in order to get your location? Maybe he was just stalking you.

On the second or third week - of which almost every night had been filled with his alarming presence and increasingly deep chats - he finally brought Matthew up. You knew it was coming eventually. All your past ventures as a vigilante had involved him. There was a lot of history and it had to come out at some point.

You were perched on some scaffolding uptown, having extended your search for ones of the Dogs of Hell slightly past the Kitchen. It felt safer in a way, because you knew Matt wouldn't be around to hear anything. Maybe that's why Frank had waited til that specific moment to ask.

"So," he began. "You and Red - what's the deal there?"

"There isn't one," you replied. "Not anymore."

"What, he dump you or something?"

"It was a mutual dumping," you shot back. "Nothing in particular happened. I mean...shit happened, but that's exactly it. Life just got in the way. Kinda beyond our control."

Frank snorted. "C'mon. You don't just end a relationship because shit happened, that's not how love works-"

"- right, because you're the world's leading expert, aren't you?" you cut him off. "It was strangling the life out of us and it became more effort than it was worth."

Frank glanced over at you, uncharacteristically silent for a moment. He had a lot of grievances with Matt Murdock - a lot - but right then, his number one reason for beefing with him was that he hadn't tried just a little harder to keep you around. Because Frank hadn't known you long, but he did see something in you. Something of value; not to just to him, but to every human in the world. You'd fought and you'd maimed people just as much as he or Matt had, but you hadn't lost your spark. You were still outspoken and sarcastic even in the face of death; you never gave up a fight and you seemed to take every inconvenience in your stride. Not many people rolled with the punches like you did.

Frank couldn't deny that he didn't know you all that well. Not in the way Matt did. The only image he had of you was the one you had shown him. Still, it was more than enough for Frank to start wondering if Matt was just a little bit crazy for letting you slip through his fingers.

"He didn't fight for you?" Frank asked. "I know the man doesn't beg but hell, he didn't even push a little bit?"

"He was so tired at that point that he practically held the fucking door open," you quietly replied. "Him and I were never meant to happen, really. We were kidding ourselves for a long time."

"But you loved him?"

"Of course I did," you didn't mean to snap, but what kind of fucking question was that?

"And he loved you?"

You glanced over at him. "Yeah - and before you give me spiel on I would have fought my wife a thousand times over because I lost her just remember that there were times where I almost did lose Matt. Where he almost lost me. And we still couldn't make it work."

"Fuck," Frank muttered. "You predicting my lectures now?"

You shrugged. "Clearly, I'm spending too much time around you."

"Can I just ask you one more thing?"

"Well, there's no sign of the bastard we're looking for, so..."

"Did he protect you?"

You thinned your eyes at him. "Course he did."

"No, I mean did he really protect you?" Frank pushed.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the question. Deep down, you knew that Matt would have done anything for you - almost anything. If it came down to him having to end someone's life to save yours, you knew how it would have gone. That was a far fetched scenario for most but one that you almost found yourself in far too many times. Every time, you and Matt had both escaped alive. You'd made it out without him having to make that decision. That was just dumb lucky really.

"I know what you're getting at Frank," you murmured. "You're pointing to the fact that I would kill for him, but he wouldn't kill for me."

"You said it. Not me."

You let out a derivative snort, standing up. "Why the fuck do you care? Why are you asking so many questions?"

"I'm making conversation-"

"- so ask me about my day then! Or...my favourite shows!" you exclaimed.

"Okay, fine," Frank held his hands up in surrender. "How was your day?"

"Shitty," you snapped. "No thanks to you."

He didn't try to follow you when you up and left. You were glad about that.

You kept to yourself for a few days; stewing in annoyance at Frank and a little in heart-break. Even though it had been nearly four months since you and Matt had broken up, there was still hurt there. You didn't feel much for him anymore but you had, at some point, loved him. For the better part of two years, in fact. It just left an ache in your chest to know that it had been a little one-sided. You managed to fit him into every aspect of your existence, but Matt had only ever made room for you in one side of his life. You'd given him your all. He'd half-assed it.

Rather than going out at night, you stayed in your apartment. The city was safe in the hands of Frank and Matt - maybe not so much if they ever crossed paths, but you knew for a fact they actively avoided one another. It was a miracle that Matt had retired the idea of taking out Frank; instead, he just focused his energies else-where.

After three nights of staying in, you were woken one night by a tapping at your bedroom window. It was not long after midnight, and your first instinct was to reach for your newly acquired gun. You'd done so on The Punisher's advice.

Speaking of the Devil (not that one, though), Frank was relieved to be greeted by the sound of the safety clicking off. It meant you were taking what he'd said seriously. That knives did jack shit and that at least bullets went through walls.

"Attagirl."

"What the fuck, Frank?!" you demanded, kicking the sheets aside. "You can't break into my house-"

"- there was word on the street that you were dead," Frank cut you off. "I ain't seen you for days, either. How was I to know better than the fact you're just holing up in here watching Friends?!"

"Why would I be dead?" you asked.

"Just word on the street," he quietly said. "I was beating the shit outta one of the rats from the Cartel and they just...they said something of concern, that's all."

You let out a sigh, tossing the gun aside.

That was the first time you saw Frank getting...bothered. He had no reason to care about you; certainly not one enough to break into your goddamn house at some ungodly hour.

"Well, I'm alive!" you declared.

"Really? Here I was, thinking I was having a good ol' chat with your ghost ," he deadpanned. "It would just be nice if you gave me some of warning when you're gonna fuck off for days at a time like that, yeah?"

"How?" you pushed. "I don't have your number, Frank. Every time I've met you before this, you've just rocked up outta the blue."

"Okay, I'll give you that," he muttered.

You dropped back into your bed, reaching out towards your night-stand. There was a moment of fumbling - and one of tossing around random crap - before you produced an old flip phone.

"Take this," you tossed it at him. "It's a burner phone. I've got the number saved in my phone and mine is saved to that one too."

"Thank you," Frank replied. "D'you mind if I stay for a while? It's fucking freezing out there."

You pondered for a moment - Frank Castle in your home? What a weird fucking thought. Had he asked you a few weeks ago, you would have run in the opposite direction. He wasn't the same man anymore to you, though. He was no longer the Punisher. He was Frank Castle, who you now knew like an old friend. You knew that he was a terrible singer and that his favourite band was Guns N' Roses. You knew that he was partial to a good Taylor Swift song and that he could barely shoot with his left hand. You knew him.

"Sure," you shrugged.

Pulling aside the covers, you shuffled over so that Frank could join you. He kicked off his boots and jacket - you were pleasantly surprised to see that for once in his life, he wasn't drenched in blood. There was just a black t-shirt and sweats; ones that felt comfy against your bare legs as he slipped into the bed beside you.

You weren't sure what was happening, even less so why you were letting it happen. Nothing had made much sense since you and Matt had broken up, and you'd just stopped questioning the why's of things a long time ago. Frank was a steady presence and that was what you needed in that moment.

Neither of you said anything when you woke up the next morning, still in the same bed. You'd completely fallen asleep on Frank's side and he'd instinctively wrapped his arms around you. It felt natural - like you were supposed to be there with him, bundled up in blankets and saying nothing at all. It was like two pieces of a completely different puzzle that had fit together nicely. It also made a picture that made absolutely no fucking sense but...wasn't art subjective? Whatever picture it created, whatever confusing reality became of it, you liked it. Frank liked it. It was a weird, unreadable abstract piece but it brought comfort.

"We're gonna have to get up at some point," you murmured.

"I ain't got anywhere to be," Frank replied. "Do you?"

"Absolutely not," you said.

"Good," he muttered. "I gotta get some rest anyways if I'm gonna keep beating up bad guys for you."

"With me," you corrected him. "You might bring a certain amount of power but I have the brains."

"I'm not so sure you do, sunshine," he snorted.

"Complain all you want but I know you enjoy protecting me," you shot back. "You wouldn't keep showing up otherwise, would you?"

"I'm doing it outta the good of my heart," Frank insisted.

"I'm pretty sure you have a revolver where your heart should be, Frank Castle."

He knew then that he would do much more for you than Matt Murdock ever would. He wouldn't just stop at wiping out someone for you - he would do it to anyone who just hurt you. Whether it was one person or ten. Even a hundred. You'd accidentally become important to him and like hell was he gonna sit around and not protect you within every inch of his life.

It was a complicated situation to navigate, though. Frank wasn't good with feelings at the best of times, let alone when it came to the ex-partner of his sworn enemy. That territory was beyond complex. It was filled with land-mines and hidden traps and god knew what else. It was one that he couldn't even begin to deal with - but it was also one he couldn't run away from.

Things only continued on that up-hill trajectory after your morning together. Frank would stop by a few nights a week when he didn't see you, or you'd come stumbling back to his after a fight. You always said it was to see Max, your new favourite pit-bull, and Frank would always pretend to agree. It was nothing to do with the fact that you were the first person he'd loved in almost a decade, or the fact that you only ever felt safe with him.

There were some complications though.

Complications being that Frank knew some part of you would always love Matt.

In the same way you could never take away his love for Maria, Frank could never take away your love for Matt. Even if you stopped being in love with him, the man still had a piece of your heart. Whatever version of you had existed in the two years you spent together lived on in your memories. It lived on in the fact you saw Matt everywhere you looked in Hell's Kitchen; your favourite bar, the place you had your first kiss, the roof-top you'd first dropped the L-word.

Frank knew that. He knew even more that someone as bright and as sparky as you should end up with the guy with morals. A guy like Matt.

So, he just swallowed it down. It didn't mean that Frank stopped seeing or hanging out with you - in fact, things just stayed the same. That weirdly intimate limbo that you found yourself in just carried on. You continued to fall asleep with him and wake up beside him. The banter and flirty conversations persisted. Anything more than that was scary. Anything less was even worse.

Frank was good at hiding the fact he didn't like talking about Matt. It was just as well really, because neither did you. You just wanted to shut that history down and move on. Whether that meant with Frank, you weren't sure. All you knew was that Matthew Murdock belonged in the past. The future, however, was uncertain.

By three or so months into your little adventure with Frank, you had a routine. It differed from night to night but generally, you would always call or text him by 9PM. Sometimes, it was the location of where you wanted to meet. Other times, it was just a message to check in and let him know you were staying in that night. Either way, it brought comfort to him to always know that you were safe, even if the random emojis you sent never showed up on his shitty little flip-phone.

Naturally, when Frank hadn't heard from you for a day or two, he became worried. He brushed off the fact you hadn't texted him for one night; maybe you were busy. Maybe you'd fallen asleep. There was a million reasonable explanations for one goddamn night.

But two? No. He couldn't believe you would go two whole nights without contacting him, or making an appearance at his door. It had become such a common occurrence that it felt out of character for you to be so absent. Something was up.

Your apartment was empty, but your phone was there. That in itself was a massive sign that things were wrong, because the device was like a fifth limb for you. There was untouched food on the stove and a half-eaten pot pie on the side. That was wrong too. You weren't messy. Your apartment was always spick-and-span. Cluttered, yes, but messy? No.

Frank might as well have gone out his fucking mind looking for you. There weren't many places you could be - at least not ones you could go without telling him. If your passport was still in your nightstand, and wallet still in your bag, you couldn't have gone far. At least he could limit your location down to the whole of North fucking America, right?

The last place he checked was the one he'd been dreading the most.

Matt Murdock's place.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't the most realistic place for you to be, but Matt might have known something. Frank hated that he had to turn to him in order to protect you, but that was the main thing - he was protecting you. Or at least trying to.

"Red!" he yelled from outside the door. "I know you're in there! It's...it's important. It ain't nothing to do with me or you, it's about-"

Frank stopped talking when the door opened. He knew that Matt Murdock was going to be on the other side, but it felt startling to see him outside of the red suit. At least when the matter was to do with...vigilante business.

"You've got some nerve showing up at my door, Frank Castle-"

"- is she here?" he demanded. "Is (name) here?"

"What do you want with them?"

"I ain't seen my girl in days, Murdock," Frank pushed past Matt, entering the apartment. "I'm going out of my fucking mind!"

"Your girl?" The words rolled off of Matt's tongue with confusion.

"I...I can't go into it right now," he admitted. "I just need to know if she's safe."

"She is," Matt said. "She's in the bedroom."

"In the...are you fucking kidding me?"

Frank Castle wasn't a quiet person. His voice carried through walls - multiple walls. And when you heard it, you immediately came to find him.

It looked...questionable. You, exiting Matt's room. In his clothes, no less. What looked even worst was the bruise around your eye and your split lip. You'd been beaten up pretty badly and Frank's brain was working so goddamn quickly that he couldn't piece together a single explanation. At least not one that he liked.

"Frank?" you gently greeted him.

"H-hey," he stuttered. "You wanna tell me what's goin' on?"

Your eyes fell to the floor. "Not really."

"Of course," he snorted. "Why would you owe me an explanation, huh? Why would you owe me anything after..."

He trailed off, then stopped completely.

"After what?" Matt interjected.

"I've saved your girl's ass twice," Frank glanced between the two of you. "You wanna tell him about that, huh? How I rescued you when you two were still together? About how you stole his bar card to sneak through the court and see me?"

"Frank," you tried to reach out to him. "You're getting the wrong end of the stick."

"Yeah, no," he snorted. "I don't think I am."

"Will someone just tell me what the hell is going on?!" Matt demanded.

"You wanna know what's going on, Red, huh?" Frank turned to face him. "We've spent every day over the last three months together. You know what she's like, don't you? Clumsy as fuck and all brave heart. A certified dumb-ass, right? Yeah, well, I helped her fight. Helped her wipe out Kitchen Irish and the Cartel. Stitched her up and all. Looked out for her, lost sleep over her. And then she disappears off the face of the fucking Earth for two goddamn days and I go out my skull trying to find her, and...she's here. With you. All in cahoots, even though I know for a goddamn fact that you don't deserve her for a second."

"Frank!" you snapped. "If you would shut the hell up for just one second and let me explain yourself, you'll see that you've got the wrong idea!"

"You're in his bedroom, in his clothes," he dejectedly said. "Don't lie. Don't act like I'm a fool-"

"- I was kidnapped," you cut him off. "The Cartel kidnapped me, okay? And Matt rescued me. That's all it is."

Matt, who had completely given in on trying to understand what the fuck was going on, gave a shrug. So what if you were gallanting about town with Frank Castle? That wouldn't have even been the weirdest thing he'd seen this week. It didn't mean that the idea of you and Frank completely killed him inside, but he didn't have the energy to bring it up. Your relationship was dead to the world. Nothing he could say or do would bring you back, so why bother trying? He was just grateful he'd rescued you in time - and maybe a little ostentatious that Frank hadn't.

"She's telling the truth," Matt said. "I don't know what's going on between you two - and frankly, I don't want to know - but I can assure you that we're not in cahoots."

"See?" you urged. "Just...you just gotta listen to me, Frank. Okay?"

"You two clearly need to talk - and I need to go for a walk whilst I get my head around this whole thing," Matt announced. "Feel free to be gone when I get back."

A silence fell over the apartment as he picked up his jacket and left. Did you feel guilty? Absolutely.

Guilty that you'd worried them both; guilty that Matt had been dragged into the middle of the situation. Most of all, you felt guilty that you were realising your love for Frank Castle right in the middle of your ex's living room. Only about six feet away from the very place you'd both once laid your heads, amongst...other things.

"The Cartel got me the other night," you quietly began. "Dragged me off the street when I went out to grab some shopping. They were trying to get through me to get to you and...well, Matt got to me. Took a couple hours but he saved my ass, just because he'd been patrolling that area by chance."

"They wanted to get to me?" Frank's eyes flickered up from the floor.

"Yeah. They thought we were...in cahoots," you tried to fight back a smile at the phrase. "I told them they were wrong but hell, Frankie, now I ain't so sure."

He scrunched up his nose. "I was always worried about Red. Thought you were always gonna have feelings for him and all that."

"I'm always gonna care for him, but I don't love him anymore," you said. "That's the difference."

"The difference between what?"

"Between him and you - I don't love Matt."

"I know I said earlier that I ain't stupid but hell, are you even speaking English right now?"

"I love you!" you blurted. "Is that clear enough for you?"

"Clear as fucking day."

Frank reached out towards you, taking you by the waist. He crashed his lips on yours, a large hand resting on the back of your head. You know that feeling after you've been underwater for a long time and you come up for air? That's what it felt like. As though you were finally breathing after weeks and weeks of holding your breath; as though you needed his touch the same way you needed air in your lungs.

"You're gonna have to be patient with me, because I don't know what the hell I'm doing," Frank admitted, resting his forehead against yours. "What I do know is that I love you too. And I'm going to protect you with my life, okay? I ain't ever leaving your side from now on. I'm finding the men that hurt you and I'm going to maim them."

"How romantic."

"Heck, I'll get Red to help me-"

"- yeah, I don't think he will," you fought back a smile. "You know I'm gonna have to talk to him later, right? I owe him an explanation. Not that I can explain a single second of this."

Frank smiled. "Yeah, I know. For now, though, just....just-"

"- just what?"

"Just kiss me."

tags: @sourstars @carrotfantasimp @kakashibabe02 @pyschedelic-star @spookystokes @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @captswilson @the-phantoms-library

#frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle imagines #frank castle reader insert #frank castle x you #frank castle angst #punisher x reader #punisher imagine #punisher imagines #punisher reader inserts #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagines #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x you #matt murdock reader insert #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #matt murdock fanfic #frank castle fanfic

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 121: Seen and Unforeseen

The house was dimly lit, very old, and had seen better days before the eight of them crash landed in here.

Sirius was thrown so bodily into an old couch he felt something snap inside of it.

James crashed upon a bed that spit up on an unseemly amount of dust.

Remus slammed against a bookshelf so hard, it wobbled dangerously, like it was all going to crash down right on top of him.

Peter landed alone, in a dingy room that had the nearest excuse for a bed in a corner, the book on top, and that was it.

Alice was in some sort of wine cellar that clearly had the most use, judging by all the missing bottles on the rack.

Frank was thrown so hard against a door his nose busted.

Regulus found himself in a barren backyard, in an unfamiliar neighborhood, spotting a dirty river that wound between overgrown, rubbish-strewn banks. An immense chimney, relic of a disused mill, reared up, shadowy and ominous. There was no sound apart from the whisper of the black water.

Lily landed on the roof, and was not inclined to come down when she recognized a horribly familiar house in the distance with a cat weather-vane, that patch of trees behind the park just across the street, or the sign at the end declaring this is as Spinners End.

Frank blinked the spots out of his eyes as he realized he was in the room with Remus, and made a valiant effort not to flinch and run from the room as he fumbled for his wand in the semi-darkness and pointed it at his own streaming nose silently casting the spell, still trying to blink the stars away.

He wasn't entirely convinced he'd managed to hide it all, but it was still better than screaming. At least they were both saved from any stilted conversation by a shouting from behind the bookcase he'd landed in, Peter demanding if anyone could hear him.

Frank and Remus moved in tandem without even looking at each other, both tapping the bookshelf first, but whatever spell they'd tired had no affect, so giving it a shove, and still it didn't seem to want to move.

Sirius roused himself from the couch, shaking his hair out of his face as he went over and called, "stand back Pete!"

Frank looked at him in confusion. "What are you-"

Remus grabbed the back of his robes and pulled, pushing Prongs back into the room he'd just tired to leave from and slamming the door behind the three of them.

There was a soft, muffled exploding noise that seemed to shake the whole house, but at least when five of them converged back in the living room, it was to see the two of them waving smoke out of their face and bickering.

"Could have killed me you arse!" Peter was huffing as he brushed dust from his long ruined clothes.

"What, I got you out didn't I?" Sirius pointed out in exasperation. The bookshelf lay in a scattered mess around them like a war map.

"Remind me never to get rescued by him again," Frank muttered quietly to Alice, who snorted in surprise at him making such a dark joke.

"Where are we?" James interrupted the two, circling curiously on the spot.

Remus went over to a mounted wall light and flipped it on, but the bare bulb only cast the corners of the room into heavier shadows and illuminated their destruction upon arriving. There was an empty mantle, and Regulus knew there to be a very tiny kitchen he'd passed through to get in here, with a few muggle contraptions he couldn't recall what they were called, but he'd seen back in the Dursleys house, if lesser models in here.

"Hey, where's Lily?" Alice asked in concern.

Regulus had spotted a hint of her flashing red hair on the roof, but she'd sat herself down, and he figured she'd be in here by now if she wanted to be so obviously didn't want to be disturbed. "Well, I don't hear anyone else screaming for help, so let's get on with this." He summoned the book to him, which came shooting out of the room that had been behind the bookcase.

Frank thought him a bit more of an arse than usual, he'd thought they'd almost been getting along back in the Weasley's kitchen, and he really didn't care? The end of the last chapter wasn't that pressing of an issue to keep going! The chapter title illuminated no explanation. Seen and Unforeseen? That could mean almost anything!

He and Alice went in search of the house one more time with a thorough inspection but only found more dust and disuse, and then went out back just to make sure, but finally spotted her on the roof, just sitting up there and gazing into the distance.

The two exchanged an uneasy look, feeling almost bad now they'd forced their company on her back in the last place, but they also didn't want her to have to go through this alone. Snape was still being more of an arse than ever in those Occlumency lessons, and it was clearly getting to her. They didn't know what else to say though, they'd made it as clear to her as they could they still wanted to be friends to her whatever her decision regarding him, and if she didn't want to talk about it in the meantime they could hardly force her.

They went back inside, holding hands and hoping their friend knew she could join them when she was ready.

The chapter itself wasn't offering much in the meantime, Hermione was patiently explaining exactly how Harry's date was a disaster with Cho in almost painful detail. Alice watched James in particular during this to see if he was bothering to take notes, and to her unbelievable surprise he seemed to be.

Remus and Sirius were behind him, whispering and snickering more bad advice they hadn't managed to say during the last bits, but Potter was ignoring them and watching Regulus with an intent expression and still looking around hopefully like he wanted to catch a glimpse of somebody else's red hair besides the arriving Ginny and Ron.

Frank had the vague impression he'd pay Hermione to invent said book, 'Translating Mad Things Girls Do So Boys Can Understand Them.' "Have I ever mentioned how much I love you," he told his girlfriend seriously. His nerves had been a havoc convincing himself to ask her out, but it had practically been smooth sailing from there.

"I certainly never grow tired of hearing it," she giggled.

"Well Ginny at least gets better with every mentioning," Sirius perked up in delight at hearing the news she stole her brothers brooms for practice. He had no idea what Prongs saw in Evans, the girl was a nut not even liking the sport. "Don't be getting ideas though you little shit," he added quickly when Regulus gave him a curious look.

Regulus huffed and muttered something about having his own broom thank you as he kept going.

Another game came and went, this time with Harry completely in the stands having to watch as his replacement Seeker spotted the Snitch slower than he would have, the whole miserable experience capped with the score and they were all wondering now if Ron would ever manage to save a goal.

"Honestly, I think I'd just let him quit out of pity after that," Peter winced, he'd take giving up with dignity instead of another fiasco.

"Oh come on, he's got it in him," James bolstered at once, his eyes lighting in excitement. "There's totally a way to fix this problem! First you put one person in the stands until Ron could easily ignore that person no matter what they said or did, and then keep adding people until Ron could block them all out. I don't care how long it took, I'd find a way so that Ron would never let someone get the better of him like this."

"Cheers Prongs," Sirius mock raised a glass at him to everyone's stunned silence except Sirius it seemed. "You're a shoe in for captain next year."

"I'd better be," he nodded, and they couldn't even blame him for the pig-headed tone.

Peter sighed and took an uneasy step back as Remus just laughed in agreement. He swore they'd only liked him before because they'd shared a dorm with him so long, it's not like he was anything like them. He'd made a fool of himself in Keeper tryouts at the beginning of the year trying to get onto the team, and he certainly hadn't blamed the current captain for picking the younger player who saved all of her goals rather than his measly three. Both James and Sirius had promised at the time they'd come out and practice with him for next year even as a reserve player, but of course nobody had seemed to have time for that.

Regulus had watched the entire thing, debating whether he should say something, but Peter just shook his head and waved him on.

Sirius had watched the exchange, and had to bother his mind for several moments as talk left Quidditch and Harry was assaulted by owls for his article in the Quibbler getting released earlier than usual before finally remembering and guessing what must be bothering Peter now.

He winced, just a bit. It's not like they'd done it on purpose, he could have come down to Quidditch practice any time with them but usually stayed up in the dorms with Remus, it's not like Peter had ever brought it up himself again.

He still wanted a way to talk to both of them, but was drawing a blank as to how. Percy wrote the most obnoxious letter possible, he accused himself, you can just go over there! It was easier said than done though, some part of him was still afraid they'd just turn on him again, what the hell was he supposed to do to convince himself otherwise, let alone them.

"I guess that explains the seen part of the title," Remus interrupted his grumbling thoughts with an uneasy smile. "Now what do you suppose the unforeseen bit will be?"

"Some more madness to do with Trelawney I'm sure, that old bat can't foresee the weather," Sirius shrugged without care. He was getting vaguely annoyed watching Peter and Regulus take a few more steps back and start whispering about all the reactions to that article being mailed to Harry, but again he couldn't find any good reason to snap at the two for a moment. He wished he could drag Moony off for a snog, just for something to entertain them, but even if he was trying to consciously stop doing that for now so Prongs wouldn't think he was being ignored, he didn't trust this place enough anyways.

The two of them stopped in outrage as much as anyone though when Harry was banned from Hogsmeade by Umbridge because of this.

"That rotten creampuff needs to have her tounge cut off!" James spluttered in disgust.

"At least Harry doesn't have to follow that decree," Peter reminded grimly, "but I'll get the knife."

Frank and Alice watched as this was clearly the most insulting thing she could do to the Marauders, even if they would have ignored this and every other rule from her as thoroughly as they already did to every other in the castle.

It was of some comfort to Regulus at least that Umbridge's plan to ban the article at least backfired and the whole school found themselves reading it, he certainly enjoyed that part.

Things just continued to spiral downwards from there, as Harry had yet another vision of You-Know-Who torturing someone, though at least this time it was another Death Eater rather than someone they had to care about. Regulus was shivering in revulsion by the end, almost in tears as he kept picturing himself in that future still rather than Rookwood if he didn't find some way to talk his parents out of this when he got back. He wasn't like Sirius, he couldn't just run off to someone's house and expect to be taken in if his parents kicked him out for it!

Sirius nearly went to him then, his feet even began moving unconsciously to do it, Regulus looked miserable and wretched as he read that and clearly his worry about Regulus thinking this would never happen to him was wrong, but then Peter put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and whispered something just for the two of them. Sirius stopped cold and leaned back on his heels instead, they really didn't need him to make it worse if he tried to help.

James listened to it all while having to fight off a scream, he couldn't just come up with a plan for his son on how to casually combat this madness continuing to happen to him! He was nearly screaming and jumping on the spot in outrage as Snape still managed to make the whole experience worse during that next Occlumency class, all but confirming his job as a spy Death Eater, but for whose side he still couldn't trust.

He wished Evans was back down here more than ever, he'd love to watch her in particular to see how she took to him still insulting Harry every other breath after torturing his mind like this!

Something new happened on the next round though to break him out of his revere, and none of them were sure what would happen when Harry cast some kind of retaliation back from Snape's curse, in the form of Protego.

A girl was laughing as a scrawny boy tried to mount a bucking broomstick, and the Marauders felt a thrill of laughter at remembering this as their first flying lesson, and the idiot had done all that to himself, the girl had been Mary Macdonald, but everyone present had been laughing, even Evans would swear she hadn't been despite her twitching lips as she'd pulled him away back to the castle while Hooch had gone after the wayward broom when he landed.

A greasy-haired teenager sat alone in a dark bedroom, pointing his wand at the ceiling, shooting down flies, and Sirius sneered at Snape being such an awful person. He clearly knew the feelings of being alone then, but the idiot wasn't any good at making friends to fix the problem. He didn't even like Evans and he still pitied her having to deal with Snape.

*And then suddenly the last memory was being described, and they all felt a shot of horror as this very room was described, and a hook-nosed man was shouting at a cowering woman, while a small dark-haired boy cried in a corner...

"Oh shit," James muttered, turning crazily on the spot for who knew what, before bursting out of the back door so loud he almost startled Lily off the roof.

She'd been listening with a tightly knit stomach that ached so bad during the whole chapter she wished she could expel all of her intestines with a very particular potion in mind even before it had gotten to Snape's memories, then she'd contemplated jumping from the roof and barging in to stop all this before it went past that first memory.

She had no choice though, she knew that she couldn't save Sev from them hearing about this anymore than she could rescue Harry from the way he was treated. She still hadn't been expecting Potter to come thundering from the house and looking around wildly before spotting her up here.

She didn't know what he meant by it either when he gave her a long, beseeching look, before just sitting down in the grass and waiting out here patiently with her. He didn't apologize, try to get up there with her, or do much of anything besides that.

Her arms finally loosened their tight grip around her knees just a smidge, even she wouldn't deny to herself she felt just a tad bit less alone now just for his presence. She couldn't hear what the others had to say about this, still honestly didn't want to know what that explosion and all the general shouting that had been going on inside was.

She'd never have shared all she knew of Sev's home life with them if given the chance, he'd never even really told her, but she'd suspected it was something like this with the crude comments he made, particularly about his dad.

He'd sneak over to her window when it was a bad night, just like she would go to his when Petunia said something particularly vile, and they'd go hide out in their spot until they'd talked and laughed and it was bearable enough to go back.

Didn't he remember all that when he was being the same abusive arse to Harry? Did he care at all for how it would make Neville feel to be reduced to tears when he nearly had so many times? Did he find more comfort with those cruel friends who offered to torture muggles instead of her commiserating, was that why he wouldn't stop talking to them?

Regulus Black finally kept going, and she knew nor cared what their resolution to this revelation had been, she just wanted to shake Severus and demand answers why he was like this as he just vindictively ignored the whole instance like his past meant nothing to him and turned his wand on Harry again.

Her son found himself in You-Know-Who's mind once more, longing to break past that locked door, and for once managing such a thing and finding himself in the circular room of doors they'd already seen once before. Hot tears spilled out of her cheeks as he just insulted him again for not trying hard enough, as if it weren't her eyes in Harry's face that was begging for help to make this stop. Harry hadn't asked this happening to him anymore than Severus had ever purposely induced Tobias' anger.

Then a scream interrupted before the torturer could go any farther, and the two left it for the night to see what other catastrophe had befallen the castle. Lily bit down hard on her lip to stop a sob of relief escaping it was over again, for now.

The distressed person turned out to be Trelawney screaming over the fact she was finally being given her pink slip by a woman who needed to be buried alive in the color.

Umbridge was somehow even more revolting than usual as she glorified in the Divination teachers dismissal, while a crowd of students could only stand there and watch the poor woman's life get thrown down the stairs.

Lily glanced down and saw Potter's look of disdain for the very same, and she wanted to scoff he thought himself better when he had an audience to most of his shows. He embarrassed and tormented others for his own amusement just like Umbridge. She stopped the thoughts cold though as she imagined what Harry would think of this, and forced herself to really hear her own mental tirade, she knew she was still angry at Severus and lashing out.

James Potter was an arrogant toerag who did whatever for his own amusement, but he'd never driven anyone to tears, let alone stand proudly above the scene of his crime. If the person their prank was used on didn't laugh along, he usually just took the detention with grace and didn't target the same person again. If the curse he'd sent left someone unable to get to the hospital wing, he'd almost inevitably do it himself, if not one of his friends slinking off to go find somebody who would while he took the detention with a smile.

He was an arse, but he wasn't curel, not like Umbridge was until Dumbledore stepped in and stopped the show.

She sighed one last time as she kept looking back on the past five years of her school life with a giant question mark plastered over everything, one she wasn't convinced even a centaur for a teacher could help unravel.

HPHPHPHPHP

*Just so you all know I'm acknowledging it and it's not a mistake, I did do the memories in reverse order that they actually appeared in the story for my own benefit.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #hp #OotP #Marauders #wolfstar #Jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Regulus Black #Peter Pettigrew #Alice Smith #Frank Longbottom #Lily evans

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales Reviews: How Santa Stole Christmas! or Scrooge is kind of a dick

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everybody! Christmas begins on this blog with the last new Ducktales of the season! Time to break out some eggnog, presents and warmth of good family, i’ve got a bushel of Christmas reviews planned for the season, and this one is just the start of htem. As you can probably tell by my enthusasim I love this holiday. Oh sure it has it’s bad sides, paticuarlly several jackasses making huge deals out of the fact some people say happy holidays because “there’s a war on christmas” when really their just petty morons who can’t accept theirs more than one holiday in the month and not everyone likes christmas. I do, but I know not everyone does, and that’s fine. But overall it’s a fine holiday with warmth, cheer, family, generosity and of course, what brings us here today, really damn good episodes and specials of television. It’s just a really warm and cheerful time that , whlie it can bring out the absolute worst in people.. can also bring out the best more often than not. And that’s why I love this holiday. If you don’t that’s just fine, but it’s my blog, I can love what I want. And I love this holiday.. and I loved this episode, a good end to a great run of episodes. So let’s rock around the Christmas tree and find out why Scrooge hates santa, this is How Santa Claus Stole Christmas!

We open with the classic night before Christmas poem.. only naturally since Della is reading it to the boys, it’s Scrooge’s version involving barbed wire and calling the man a traitor because what honestly did you expect. Though I find it ironic a man introduced in a Christmas story has a one-sided blood feud with Santa. The boys are annoyed with this and just want free presents and the presecne of a jolly fat man and don’t get why Scrooge hates him. And yeah.. all of that tracks. They were raised by Donald who, while he clearly spent several years at Scrooges tolerating this feud, likely figured the Feud was just some personal gripe of scrooges and that Santa had done nothing that terrible. Which given Scrooge isn’t personable on the best of days and the episode goes out of it’s way to point out Scrooge has no friends, is entirely accurate and Donald was, as always the sane one in this situation. Plus he was already mad at Scrooge, this was just another way to tell him to go fuck himself. 

The boys hear what they think is Santa on the roof but turns out to be Scrooge, in full Scottish war garb manning traps with webby.. in full chimney camo... putting a knife to Dewey’s throat for siding with santa.. well okay pointing at his throat but still god damn. Every now in then i’m reminded how ready Webby is to murder someone. It never gets easier or less disturbing. The boys.. continue to make a good point: Scrooge says he’s the richest duck in the world and can provide them whatever.. but being Scrooge just gives them itchy hats made of cheap fabric, and bemoans them wanting a trampoline, a new electronic game, and a new phone. And while Scrooge can give them whatever he wants, it’s his money, he also could’ve put some actual thought into it and clearly views the holiday more as a transaction and less for hte acutal sentmient. Instead of giving them personal mementos, or making them personal mementos, or even just simply building them a sled or something, a simpler toy than what they want but still something nice that comes from the heart.. he just gave them the cheapest hat he could find and tries to guilt them for not liking his thoughtless present he probably bought in bulk for everyone in the manor and his employ because he’s kind of a dick sometimes. IT’s good storytelling though as it sets up that Scrooge.. can possibly be int he wrong, so when the main plot comes to his front door, quite literally, there’s some doubt as to wither he or santa is in the wrong. Speaking of which Santa is at the door. So cue the credits and cue the cut for the rest of the plot as is usual. Full spoilers, and full plot under the cut. Ho ho ho. 

First a quick comment on the Holiday version of the theme, the same one from Last Christmas! IT’s really good, a really nice frank sinatra style verison of the theme. Good stuff. My only real complaint is like last time.. there’s nothing unique about it, it’s just the normal season 3 intro but with snowflakes. And that’s.. more on Disney than the creators. If Frank and Matt had the option they would likely do an entirely original intro.. it’s just Disney can be cheap when it comes to intros, see how possesed ludo stayed in the star vs intro long after that plot point was resolved, and only affords one a season. That being said they still have one up on most networks, who, with the exception of Netfix with she ra, never really let intros change more than once, if at all. I mean I get it, budgets are higher here than with anime, they can’t do a new song and intro every half a season.. BUUUT it wouldn’t kill more stuidos to do this more often and do a complete intro overhaul, as it adds freshness, and you can still use the same old theme, just over a new set of pretty images. Most just allow a few swap outs, Disney included, and while I get intros are expensive, this is something you can use for a whole season, or more, why are you like this? 

Anyways one theme song and me complaning about an animation trend I don’t like later, we’re inside the Manor with none of the other adults present because this season hates me. I do actually get it this go round: Besides Della, Donald and Launchpad getting a full subplot in the other holiday episode, they aren’t really needed. In fact most of the episode’s present day is a framing device for the tale of how Scrooge and Santa met and why Scrooge hates him, so for once the minmal use of the supporting cast.. is actually done well. The focus is on Scrooge and Santa, a feud that’s had four years build up in real time, and two years in series and a bunch of months. So yeah, i’m okay with sidelining everyone for once, because this story really needed all of the space and there was no real place for them aside from the climax. This is Scrooge and Santa’s story, with Webby there as an impartial-ish observer. We’ll get to that in a moment.  Also if your curious where in the fuck this episode fits on the series massively warped time scale.. i’m going with this and “The Trickining!” taking place before season 3, since “Astro Boyd” takes place in march, and “Forbidden Fountain” takes place in probably late april, huge thanks to a friend on discord for help with the timeline. Otherwise it just makes no sense whatsover and while it dosen’t TECHINCALLY need to, I prefer the series timeline at least making some rational sense. The world dosen’t have to but time still does. So the boys are at least 12, possibly turning 13. Congrats. Or maybe they just don’t age. I dunno. 

Now time and plot concerns aside, Santa gladly gives the boys their gifts which is.. everything they listed: A mini tramp for Dewey, Legends of Legend-Quest 2 for Huey, and another phone for Louie, which Scrooge dosen’t get. But Louie gets it on 2 levels: One, the one he asked for is probably a nicer model and as someone who just got a very marginally nicer model on insurance, I get it, even if like Scrooge i’m fine as long as mine works, it’s still nice to have more space to do shit. And two, he plans to sell the old one and keep the money. So yeah the boys already loved Santa but now they have every reason to since, you know, Santa actually gave them what they asked for and Scrooge gave them itchy hats because he’s cheap not because he put the slighest thought into it. And no i’m ont letting him get away with that: Again, off list, perfectly fine. Right behind me on my sprawl of book shelves is Weird Al’s biography, a really fun, really intresting book with photos on his career. I did not ask for it, but my mom rightly knew I would love it and got it for me for my birthday, which is very close to christmas, the 16th if you were curious, anyway, and I’ve treasured it since.. and really need to re-read it. My point is you CAN get someone something they didn’t ask for and still have it be something they LIKE. I did that for most of my christmas gifts this year. Scrooge just, as I went on about above, didn’t give a shit and was a bit callous about it so yeah, Santa wins this round.  But Santa naturally needs Scrooge’s help to save Christmas because his ankle’s sprained and he’s out of options. Scrooge.. naturally refuses because, as i’ve made clear this and past episodes, he can be kind of a dick and Santa is one of his worst enemies in his mind. Why help him? So Santa, reluctantly, offers Scrooge the one thing you can get for the man who has everything: An agreement to leave his house alone. The boys aren’t happy about it, but Scrooge reluctantly agrees to the deal. They prepare to mount up though the boys aren’t invited, as Scrooge thinks their too far in the Santa camp and Scrooge does not trust him. Which again is both accurate and fair on their parts as again, he gave them things with well meaning and love, he gave them hats he fished out of the dollar store clearance bin. I mean at least go for the dvd’s and blu rays man. Yeesh. Santa does lightly buy them off by offering them another present if their good boys. Though honestly given Santa in this universe, he probably was going to anyway and this is his nice way of getting them to stay behind to make Scrooge happy. 

So as they take off, while Webby is wary of Santa, she is curious what happened, especially since earlier Scrooge actually did finally voice his gripe, if without any full length explination: Santa took Christmas From him. And Della might know that, Scrooge likely didn’t tell her or Donald the full story and Donald rightly didn’t buy it was that one sided. And it isn’t as we’ll see. Since the episodes divided up into two storylines, i’m once again splitting the difference. This time though I would like to mention the story is beautifully woven in, with both complementing each other: there’s some legit suspense as we wonder if Santa did something really that bad or if he’s lying to webby, or if Scrooge being Scrooge was just exaggerating or holding onto a grudge that was partly his fault. It’s genuinely well done to build up the story and helps really flesh Santa out as a character in both stories. i’m only not doing that because my short term memory, while good enough to hold the story for now can be spotty, and this is a lot less taxing on it. Also parts of this segment happen before the boys leave, but it’s easier this way. Sooooo... 

Times Past: Santa’s Worst Christmas Some time ago... seriously I don’t know. Scrooge was born in the 1800′s and Christmas well existed by then, to the point there’s actually a story starring young scrooge published over seas. Granted the Duck’s are no stranger to christmas, as I already covered Christmas on Bear Mountain for Scrooge’s birthday, and will be covering “A Christmas for Shacktown’ sometime this December. It’s just something worth noting. But given this universe can do whatever it wants, having it invited sometime in the early 1900′s or late 1800s is fine just fine. 

Scrooge is a coal salesman, selling people what they need but getting no shelter as he’s, again, an ass. But in the depths he finds Santa, whose having trouble puling his sleigh, and gets them in the previously closed door with kindess and saying he’s with me. We now get an idea of who Santa truly is: a kind, selfless soul who thinks nothing of himself, and is happy to offer a gift in exchange for something, but does so only in the most well meaning, warmest way possible. In short this Santa really is.. what Santa is at his best in stories; a kind, generous man who just wants to make people happy. He just gave a gift not because he wanted to bribe his way in, but because he was genuinely hoping for some shelter and wanted to be greatful. It also shows that clearly, even if something did happen.. Santa probably isn’t evil. A twist still could’ve come.. but spoilers.. it dosen’t. Santa is genuinely this kind and self sacrificing and noble. He’s just a good person.. and that would ultimately be the problem but we’ve got a lot of subplot to cover.  So Santa parties with what are clearly going to be his elves, and turn out indeed to be elves at the end when the fire goes out and Scrooge is suddenly in buisness.. and he and Santa make a great team, as Santa talks him up and says he can deliver a whole year’s worth of coal all over the world by Christmas Morning, so Christmas DOES exist here, it’s just Santa didn’t which kind of tracks. Well played. I’ll keep my earlier mistake in there though. Keeps me fresh. But Santa offers to help.. after all what are friends for? And Scrooge says their not friends.. their partners. 

And Santa says why not both. And a friendship is forged. And it makes sense.. while i’ts not as tight as it will be, Santa is a warm generous guy who helped Scrooge multiple times just to be kind: He helped him find shelter to repay his kindness helping him.. then helped him sell his coal, when he didn’t have to and while he upsold him on what he could do, did so not out of malice, but so his friend could sell MORE and with eveyr intention of helping. And this friend is someone he just met, is kind of cranky and rude.. but as we all know is a good person underneath and to Santa.. that’s what he sees.. the kind young man who helped him pull his sleigh when he didn’t have to and was already cold and miserable. And that.. that just warms my heart a lot.  But Scrooge being Scrooge has a mystic artifact that could help: The Feliz Navidiamond, a mystic artifact that can seemingly control time he got off a  spanish sailor needing coal. The two head in but encounter it’s guardians. The Magic reindeer! And that’s part of what I love about this episode: besides really getting christmas, we’ll get to that, it has a creative and intresting Santa origin baked into the show’s mythology that also shows off an intresting part of Scrooge’s past. Santa manages to pacify them with jingle bells and our heroes head inside.  In the cavern they find a Giant Snowman.. because this show is fucking awesome and Santa’s attempt to be nice bacfires but Scrooge’s natural paranoia and gumption pull through. It shows off why they make a good team: Santa’s niceties helped them with the reindeer, and netted them future transportation, while Scrooge’s natural grumpus tendencies help when nice just won’t do it. They work well together: one’s a showman and the other hasn’t learned how yet, one is nice the other naughty. It’s easy to see why they worked so well together.. in both senses. They make it past the Snowman and find that the diamond slows down time running on “christmas time!”.. seriously a great pun and one of many this episode. This show had a chance to go all out on holiday puns this go round and they did not blow it. 

But... sadly... and obviously the good times can’t roll forever and when we next return to the story it’s a year later. McDuck and Klaus coal is a MASSIVE concern, and Scrooge is eager to get started... but Santa.. wants to just give gifts instead. To do something Generous. Buisness just isn’t in him and he just wants to do something kind. It’s.. not a bad goal.. i’ts just not Scrooge. To Scrooge it’s a betryal of all he stands for: foreswearing profit to give something for nothing for seemingly no reason and to a younger even meaner scrooge.. it’s an utter betryal.. and a breaking point. Either his daft presents idea.. or Scrooge. And why yes this episode is dripping with ho yay and why yes this does resemble his painful breakups with goldie. And why yes is glorious.. Imean I wasn’t shipping Scrooge with santa before but now? Hot damn. But yeah the two have come to a parting of ways, and Scrooge bitterly leaves, while the elves reveal themselves. And my heart hurts “The Empire Builder from Callisota” bad so thank you and fuck you show.  It also probably shows why Scrooge has exactly one friend, who also works with him so it’s complicated, in present day: He just dosen’t want to let people in... and now we know WHY. The first genuine friend he made, the first person he let into his heart.. betrayed him. It’s no wonder it took decades for Beakly, then the kids to get into his heart again: the guy’s been betrayed by goldie, in his mind betrayed by santa and as we’ve seen his own dad turned against him eventually. He had no one for so long, he built a wall all around him but the wall was too tall and it blocked out all the birds and the son. But this .. is a really damn good story that fleshes Scrooge out and explains his hardness. In the comics it was Glomgold.. here.. it’s much more personal and cuts much deeper. And I absolutely love it. This story could’ve neatly fit into life and times if it made any sense in Rosa’s timeline, and it would be just perfect there. 

PRESENT DAY: Concentrated Awwww

The present day plot is a lot simplier but still fantsatic: Webby slowly warms up to Santa depsite herself.. despite Scrooge clealry seeing she is.. she sees the man is just.. nice. He gives her a new crossbow, a really nice one she probably didn’t even expect to get given you know, everything and knowing scrooge, and appricates the sentiment and slowly sees the man isn’t some monster, but just a jolly old fat man who wants to give presents. Even Scrooge seemingly warms up a little.  We also get tons of cameos during delivery, as they visit tons of supporting cast.. sadly no Darkwing.. but this one was clearly meant to go anywhere and is clealry set before “Let’s Get Dangerous”, but tons of other great bits: We get the Drake recidence with Boyd getting a present.. and somehow also doofus whose filled his stocking full of.. something. I don’t want to know and you can’t make me ask. You can make me ask why the fuck Doofus gets a present, but it could be filled with bees or maybe Santa truly thinks theirs good in him.. which .. yeah tracks. I mean not their being good in him.. I think dr. loomis said it best.. I mean it was about micheal meyers but.. same diffrence minus the patricide?

I mean points for trying though Santa, you mean well you loveable bear in both senses of the word you. But anyways other cameos include Fenton, alsleep with his armor strewn about, aww, with the gizmo armor set to hit people with fruit cake. Thought that was against the geneva convetion but alright. Scrooge’s been hit with worse. We also get them visiting the boat and giving Donald and Della presents, awww. And of course I saved the cameo I put up top for last as Webby visits her closest friend and her gilfriend and gives both an adorable cheek kiss. Though only Lena reacts.. probably because this isn’t the first time Webby’s snuck into their bedroom at night but probably the first time it hasn’t been accidently creepy because she’s still learning boundaries. Also i did not realized they shared a room. Aww. Also it’s the first time we’ve seen their room, which as you’d image from a sorceress and a magical researcher/bookworm, it’s a massive sprawling library from what we see with a skull with a candle in it, a picture of a house, and a calender. IN short it’s perfect and i’m glad we finally saw their room. 

So yeah things are going well and Webby finally realizes “Shit Scrooge is the bad guy in this scenario” at the end of the story, realizing Santa was just as hurt by the split as Scrooge was and that he had to make the harder choihce for the right reasons. Unfortunately, as i’ve said a lot this review, SCrooge is a dick and only coperated, as he wasn’t using the magical present sack, but his own filled with Coal to teach people about responsiblity. Thankfully, Scrooge realizes he’s been a dick to the globe when he happens upon little Jeniffer, a small pig girl who mistakes him from santa and takes his coal, meant to warm her fires.. and makes it into a doll. And resists his attempts to take “Coalette away”... Scrooge then rants and .. we actually get a good reason for why he’s being such a douche... as a kid he had nothing, and a gift of coal for his fires would’ve been welcmoed. He simply just.. dosen’t get the frivolity. He gets the warmth and joy of the season but not the gift part. And it’s only seeing this small, innocent child, play with a doll, he realizes “A warm heart can keep you going through the coldest nights”. And it’s then he finally realizes why his old friend did what he did.. because as i’ve been saying the real gift.. is in the giving.. of giving someone something that makes their memories glow and their heart warm. Even a lump of coal can do that in the right hands... a toy can get someone through the roughest times and it’s the WARMTH of the gift you remember, not the gift itself. I remember that book I mentioned proudly.. as do I remmeber the copy of the art of the venture brothers right next to me, or the copy of the people’s doonesbury my best friend mike bought me, and so on.. not because of the book itself... but because of the thought and warmth of someone getitng something for you because they care, not for their own reward, but just to make you feel nice this holiday season. That’s the true spirit of christmas.  Naturally realizing the errror of his ways in true christmas story fashion, Scrooge is devistated by his own actions. And Santa is PISSED.. but Scrooge is now regretful.. if also pissed because Santa stormed in there and it turns out this was all a ploy to get his friend back... which destroys Scrooge’s anger as he realizes just how much his old friend missed him and how many years he wasted lashing out at him when , in the end, Santa was right. So with only so much Diamond power left, and time running out, what can they do to right this? Simple, Scrooge suggests splitting resources. 

So we get a glorious shot of the three boys, and the twins riding  the reindeer. Also we get Launchpad! 

Who naturally wonders if he can crash a reindeer while Beakly thankfully stops him from murdering Dasher. So Christmas is saved and Scrooge and Santa exchange gifts: For Scrooge, a set of bells with their old company name.. and for Santa? a garage door opener. While Santa’s confused turns out.. it’s to turn off the traps. He’s welcome any time.. just use the front door. Cue a big hug, and Webby narrating us out as Scrooge wishes everyone a merry christmas once again letting people into his heart.  I have.. the approirate response to that. 

Final Thoughts: Excellent, easily one of the best of the season, the series and possibly of chirstmas show episodes all together, we shall see when I put together my list. And given how utterly excellent Last Christmas already is, it was hard to top.. but they did it. This was a warm, wonderful special that gets to the heart of christmas.. and really why I LIKE santa so much. For all the comercailsim around him.. he’ s a kind generous man who gets kids to belivie in magic for a while, wants nothing in return , with the offering of cookies just there to be nice and thank him for being a good person, and just wants best for people. He’s what’s best about christmas rolled into a person. And the series gets that and makes him the kindest guy around. It ends up being a story abotu Scrooge learning the meaning of christmas, an irony that’s not lost on me, but in a way that’s diffrent and unique from last time and works just as well. It’s just a warm wonderful epsiode with plenty of great gags and adventure and a beautiful, unique story at it’s core that could only be told here with tihs cast and this version of scrooge and that’s what makes it so damn magical. Easily a fantastic note to go out on.  Next time on Ducktales: I don’t know! Next time this blog covers ducktales: We’re going back a few seasons to the only episode i’ve never seen, not even a little bit. It’s the treacherous summit of mt neverest!  Until then, if you liked this review, reblog and all that good stuff, follow for more ducks, and if there’s an episode of any show you want me to cover, my cyber monday sale is still going till midnight central, and even past that if you get in a liittle past it, so you can comission a review of any episode for just 3 bucks right now, 5 if you get to this review after monday. So spend if you have it.. and if you don’t.. happy holidays to you anyway. Have a wonderful season. 

#christmas #ducktales #how santa stole christmas #santa claus #scrooge mcduck #webby vanderquack #huey duck #louie duck #dewey duck #donald duck #della duck #violet sabrewing #lena sabrewing #weblena #launchpad mcquack #bentina beakly #doofus drake #boyd drake #fenton crackshell cabrera

[carry-the-sky]

so delicate the bones

Five months since the hospital. Five months of hearing about him on the news, reading about his exploits in the paper, and unlike the last time he came back from the dead, none of it is speculation now. Frank Castle, the Punisher—

She sees that goddamn skull wherever she looks.

kastlesmutweek 2019 || tantalizing tuesday // ‘i need a place to stay’ + bed-sharing (or couch-sharing, in this case)

+ the following prompts from @spaceismymuse​: the cold, sharp smell of the first frost / the smell of blood / the feeling of fingertips trailing over a bare shoulder blade

also on ao3!

This is the stupidest thing she’s ever done.

The thought buzzes in her skull, or maybe it’s just the sedan shuddering as she hits another rut in the road. Karen tightens her grip on the steering wheel. In five-point-two miles, your destination will be on the right, her GPS had assured her almost half an hour ago.

She flicks her eyes towards it now, tracking the snaking blue route line and the coordinates it leads to. Something constricts beneath her ribs. 

One thing at a time, Karen. Current priority is to not die on this back-country forest service road.

Said road — a very relative term for the narrow, winding stretch of gravel she’s currently white-knuckling her way up — switchbacks sharply, and Karen pumps the brakes. “Shit,” she hisses, and the back tires protest, spinning against dirt, before catching again. 

Stupid. This whole thing is so, so stupid.  

The trees are starting to thin, and between them Karen catches glances of frost-swept hills that arc against a clear, cold sky. She’s reminded sharply of home, how quiet everything was beneath that first blanket of fresh-fallen snow. Maybe that’s why Frank’s here.

Frank.

Five months since the hospital. Five months of hearing about him on the news, reading about his exploits in the paper, and unlike the last time he came back from the dead, none of it is speculation now. Frank Castle, the Punisher—

She sees that goddamn skull wherever she looks.

“In point-seven miles, your destination will be on the right,” the GPS chirps. Her stomach churns, a mixture of nerves from the drive and uncertainty about what’s waiting for her at the end of that thin blue line. Her eyes ricochet between it and the road, heart kicking in her chest as the number of miles slowly drops— point-two miles, point-one— 

There. Nestled a short distance back in the trees is a small cabin. It looks cozy enough, with its snow-dusted roof and smoke curling up from the chimney, and that’s what gives her pause, her foot sliding over the brake pedal and slowing the car to a stop. It’s too cozy. Very much the opposite of Frank. 

Karen’s considering the possibility of turning around, driving out back the way she came and attempting to forget this whole thing, when the cabin’s front door swings open.

It’s him. She’d recognize that stance, those sloping shoulders, anywhere. Even from this distance, she can see that he’s let his hair and beard grow out. 

He hesitates a moment, then lifts an arm in greeting.

Karen’s not sure if she wants to laugh or cry.

.

The cabin is— nice. Really nice. When Frank had called her a couple days ago, asking to meet and giving her these coordinates, she’d pictured him holing up in a shack somewhere. She’d pictured guns and a dingy mattress, not a fully-furnished living room and pictures on the walls.

“Lieberman?” she asks, inspecting the closest photo. David and his family, she’s assuming. All four of them are laughing, looking at each other and not at the camera.

“Yeah,” Frank says. He’s watching her in that way he does, like he can see every thought rattling around in her head. “His place. Mostly uses it in the summer, with the kids. He, uh, didn’t approve of my last apartment. Called it a ‘murder lair’.”

Karen laughs. “Sounds like a smart guy.”

“Too smart,” Frank snorts, but he’s grinning. Karen thinks abruptly of the photo of him at the carousel, arm slung around Maria and Frank, Jr., Lisa’s bright smile, all teeth.

It’s a little strange, seeing him smile now. The thought makes her sad.

“You want a beer?” he asks.

“Please,” she says, settling herself on the couch in the living room.

She lets her gaze follow him as he moves around the kitchen with the fluidity of someone who’s comfortable with this routine. He seems so at ease, so calm. Something just sideways of anger simmers under her skin— hadn’t she offered him this? A normal life, a way out, together? Somewhere, somewhen, it could’ve happened. There was only one problem—

I don’t want that. 

“You find the place okay?” Frank asks, returning with the beers.

“Okay enough,” she says. “I used to drive roads like these all the time back home. Guess the city’s made me soft.”

"Where’s home?”

"Middle of nowhere, Vermont.”

She doesn’t elaborate, her unspoken question filling the silence that follows. Why am I here, Frank?

He takes the hint.

“I owe you an apology,” he says. “For the hospital. I shut you out, after you stuck your neck out for me. I’m sorry, Karen.”

She just looks at him for a moment. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see him fidgeting, his knee bouncing. “I can handle rejection, Frank,” she says. “We’re not in high school. What disappointed me was the reason why.” She hears how tight her voice sounds, and takes a breath before continuing. “You know, you know how I feel about— what you do. You deserve more, Frank. We both do.”

It feels good, saying all of this, feels good knowing hers aren’t the only heavy shoulders in the room. Frank’s been thinking about this. He’s been thinking about her. 

“I thought—” his eyes dart away, then back. “I thought the war was what I wanted. Thought I needed it, yeah? I needed it, wasn’t myself without it. There’s a part of me still buried in that desert, Karen. I need you to understand that. That’s the part I gotta live without. Thing is— the thing is, I didn’t think I could ever be Frank Castle again. He died that day in Central Park, right, every last bit of him, dead, gone. I had to be someone else. I had to be. Putting on that vest— it was a choice, but it was more than that. It was a necessity. That vest kept me alive, Karen. I know how batshit that sounds, I know it, but—” his eyes bore straight into hers, as if willing her to understand what he’s saying. “That’s why I shut you out. You make it so goddamn easy to forget, Karen. When I’m— when I’m with you, it’s hard to remember that Frank Castle’s dead.”

He’s watching her so intently she feels like she might split in half beneath the weight of his gaze. The beer is long-forgotten in her hand; she feels the condensation, now, beads of it slicking her palms.

“You’re not—” she swallows, hard. “You’re still—”

“Still the Punisher, yeah.”

“So where does that leave us, Frank?”

“I don’t know,” he says, his face darkening. “I don’t know, Karen.” 

For a horrible, swollen moment, she wants to yell at him. She wants to scream at the top of her lungs, scream until her throat burns. They’re right back where they’ve always been— the skull in one hand, Frank Castle in the other, and yeah, maybe asking him to choose between the two is unfair, but so is this—

Karen blows out a breath and the fury follows, gone as quickly as it hit.  

“Well,” she sighs, waving her beer bottle, “looks like we’re we’re gonna need something stronger than this to figure it out.”

.

The rest of the night is a honey-colored blur. Frank discovers a bottle of Jack stashed in the cabinet above the sink, and they pass it back and forth as the sun dips low in the sky. Karen starts to feel it halfway through her third glass, warm and tilty like the world’s slightly off its axis. City-living has made her soft — she’s a fucking lightweight, now — but if Frank notices, he doesn’t say anything.

They skirt the nebulous, looming elephant in the room, and instead take turns filling in the blanks from the past year. Matt, Billy Russo, a copycat Daredevil, a leaked NSA disc, the attack on the Bulletin — Frank’s knuckles go white, gripping his glass.

“Don’t,” Karen warns, just as he’s opening his mouth to say something. “You’ve apologized to me once already, Frank, and I appreciate it, but you don’t need to again.”

Frank laughs harshly. “That’s bullshit, Karen. I should’ve been here, I should’ve been here for you.”

She hesitates a moment, neither agreeing or arguing. “You mean a lot to me, Frank,” she says. “But I don’t rely on you. I can’t. Every time you come back into my life, I wonder if it’s the last time.”

Frank tilts a glance up at her, his face a tangle of emotion. Suddenly self-conscious, Karen tears her eyes away and turns to look out the window. It’s now completely dark outside; even if she wasn’t on the other side of tipsy, there’s no way in hell she’d attempt to drive down that road in the middle of the night.

Frank must read something in her expression, because he crosses the room and starts digging something out of the hall closet. When he returns, Karen sees a pile of blankets in his arms.

“You sure?” she asks, hesitant. It’s not like either of them planned this, but it still feels like they’re stepping over a line.

“C’mon, Karen.” Frank jerks his chin towards the couch. “I’ll sleep out here. Bed’s too soft for me, anyways.”

“How chivalrous of you,” Karen says, or tries to, before her words dissolve into a cavernous yawn. She hadn’t realized how exhausted she was until now. 

“Bedroom’s just through there,” Frank says, gesturing down the hall.

“Thanks.” Her body’s moving before she can talk herself out of it, rocking up from the couch to lean in and kiss him softly on the cheek. “Goodnight, Frank.”

“Night,” he rasps, low in his throat. He’s so close she can taste the Jack when he exhales, can see the flecks of green in his eyes. Her pulse is thunder in her ears. She should move away, she should move away now—

“Karen,” he breathes, and a warmth entirely unrelated to her buzz unfurls in the pit of her stomach. She wants to hear him say her name again. She wants to kiss him, and so she does, pressing her lips firmly to his.

This, this right here, is the stupidest thing she’s ever done, but she can’t bring herself to care, not when he’s kissing her back. His mouth is softer than she expects, but she doesn’t want soft. Emboldened, she snags his lower lip between her teeth and nips.

He hisses through his teeth, pulls away, and her stomach plummets. She fucked it up, how did she fuck it up already—

But then she looks up. He’s staring at her in a way he never has before, with a wild hunger that sends a thrill skittering down her spine. He’s looking at her like he wants to pull her apart, make her beg for it.

“You sure about this?” he says, rough like he’s having trouble breathing. “You’re in charge here, Karen—”

She responds by kissing him again. He tastes like Jack, smoky-sweet, and she slides her tongue past his teeth. He groans low in his throat; the slow-moving heat in her belly erupts, and she digs her nails into his shoulder. The other hand darts to his belt.

Frank follows her lead. His fingers move deftly, making quick work of the belt and his pants, and then his hands are at her waist, tugging softly at her sweater. She wrenches it over her head, and his hands slide over her bare skin, splayed just beneath her ribs. She can feel his hesitance, the uncertainty in his touch. Something flickers in the back of her mind, a small warning voice. They’ve crossed a lot of lines together, but not this. Never this. She’s not sure how either of them will come out the other side unscathed.

He’s watching her carefully, pupils blasted wide and his lips slightly parted. There’s a bruise blossoming across his temple, dark circles smudged under his eyes. Familiar landmarks.

Karen reaches up and draws her fingers softly against his cheek. His eyes shutter closed at her touch, his breath swooping out in a shaky burst, and her heart clenches. She meant what she’d said— she can’t, and won’t, expect anything from him after this, but right now—

Frank opens his eyes. Okay? they seem to ask.

She nods softly. Okay. 

They come together again, slowly this time. His hands cradle her waist and she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him down onto the couch with her. His mouth is everywhere, taking his time, lips drifting to the hollow of her cheek, then down, tracing her jawline. She shudders, tipping her head back, and the movement shifts her hips forward, against his thigh.

He growls. In one swift movement, he’s pinning her to the couch, the full-length of him pressing against her. It’s good, it’s better than good, but not enough. She wants more. 

“Off,” she commands, grabbing at his shirt. He wrestles it off and her fingers scrabble at her bra and jeans, tossing both unceremoniously to the floor. Frank settles over her, bearing weight through both his elbows as he stares down at her with a mixture of hunger and awe. One of his hands slips behind her head, his huge palm cupping her skull. The other scours a line of fire down her sternum — she arches as his thumb skims the curve of her breast — and slips under her panties.

God, she wants this. She wraps one leg around Frank’s waist, urging him down, and he complies, pushing himself off the couch and onto the floor as he slowly peels her underwear off. The palm of his hand is hot and firm against her thigh as he slings her leg over his shoulder and lowers his head.

It’s been a while since someone’s touched her like this — more than a while. She spasms as Frank’s teeth graze her inner thigh, and he freezes. He’s got a hand on her leg, still, and his thumb presses softly to the jut of her ankle. A signal-flare, something to say, I’m here.

Karen glides a hand through his hair, tugs gently. I know. I’m okay.

And then his mouth his moving again, his tongue slow and slick. Her heart’s beating so fast she thinks it might burst out of her chest. She screws her eyes shut and tries to breathe. The world narrows, everything going concave— nothing is real beyond Frank and his mouth and the tension winding up in her gut. His tongue is moving faster now, laving up her slick-hot center. It’s too much—

Her orgasm hits like a punch. Karen feels all the breath leave her lungs in a guttural cry, her chest heaving. Frank’s breathing hard too; she pulls at him feebly, and he drags himself up to rest his head against her belly. They stay like this for several moments, her fingers buried in his hair and his breath tickling the plane of her stomach.

He moves first, propping up on his elbows to look at her. “You okay?” he asks, voice hoarse.

Karen grins and stretches languorously. “Fuck, yeah, I’m okay.” She slips a hand down and laughs softly when her fingers graze against the firm bulge of his erection through his boxers. “Looks like you’re doing okay, too.”

Frank dips his head and kisses her, slow and deep. “You gonna do somethin’ about that?”

Karen laughs against his mouth, working him free of the boxers. Her hand glides around his dick, stroking the length of it. “On your back, Frank,” she whispers, pushing him down and straddling his waist.

Frank gazes up at her. She can feel him trembling beneath her hands. The Punisher, at her mercy.

“As you wish, ma’am,” Frank says. Karen laughs harder, and gets to work.

.

Some time later, boneless and sweaty and feeling more at peace than she has in a long time, Karen lifts her head to see that Frank’s eyes are shut, his breathing slow and rhythmic. She’s sprawled on top of him on the couch, their bodies pressed together in a tangle of limbs. Hardly the most comfortable position to sleep in, but here he is, fast asleep. Karen watches him for a moment, committing the way his face looks in this moment to memory. She can hear his heartbeat, and she closes her eyes, anchoring herself to the sound. She’s here, with Frank, and then she’s floating, falling away.

She’s in her old apartment. It’s exactly how she remembers— white walls, white carpet. A blank slate. It’s exactly the same, except—

There’s a man face-down on the floor, and a smell, sharp and metallic, so strong she’s surprised she didn’t notice it sooner. Her stomach clenches. Something’s wrong, this isn’t— this isn’t her apartment, after all, it can’t be. She turns on her heel and starts towards the front door—

There’s nothing there, nothing but a blank stretch of wall. Heart thudding painfully, she spins in every direction, looking— but the windows are gone, too. Turning slowly, her gaze settles on the man on her floor. There’s something, something like a rusty stain on the carpet, framing his head like a halo. How did she not see it before? 

It’s very important, suddenly, that she see his face. She takes a few cautious steps towards him, nudges his torso with her foot, and when he doesn’t stir she reaches down to tug at his shoulder.

The body flops supine. 

No, this isn’t— this isn’t what happened—

Kevin’s empty eyes are staring up at her.

Karen bolts up, then instantly wishes she hadn’t. Her head pulses, bright spots fuzzing in and out behind her eyes. She blinks once, again, and the living room slowly materializes, dark but splintered with milky sunlight. She’s still on the couch. There’s a blanket, twisted between her legs. Frank—

He’s there, the shape of him slumped against the side of the couch. He must’ve moved in the night, but he didn’t leave.

There’s a lump forming in her throat, pressure stinging behind her eyes. It’s too much, this is too much. She needs some air, she needs to be somewhere else.

Moving as quietly as she can, Karen extricates herself from her blankets and searches in the half-darkness for her clothes. She feels around in vain for a few moments for her sweater, then gives up and pulls her undershirt on over her head. Shivering, Karen snags one of the blankets from the couch, draws it around her shoulders, and slips out the front door.

The smell hits her at once, sharp and crisp in the winter air. There’s a thin layer of frost on the ground, dusting the tips of the trees. It makes everything look softer.

Karen curls onto the chair that’s propped on the porch, flinching as her bare legs graze the cold wood. She wraps the blanket more securely around her. The frosty winter landscape before her, while, beautiful, only serves to remind her once more of Vermont, which reminds her of her brother.

She squeezes her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry. It’s been months since her last nightmare, and of course, of course, the night after she’s been with Frank—

Karen doesn’t believe in things like fate, but it does feel like a cruel coincidence, like the universe is reminding her why she can’t have the things she wants. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve to be happy. 

“Karen?”

Frank emerges from the cabin, fully-dressed but barefoot. He has a wild, slightly-panicked look in his eyes. Karen feels a stab of guilt. Did he think she would leave without saying goodbye?

“Hey,” she says simply.

“Are you—” he shifts his weight between his feet, rubbing his arms. “Are you okay? It’s fuckin’ freezing out here—”

“I had a bad dream. Just needed to get some air.”

He nods, but doesn’t press her. She feels a swell of gratitude. Of all people, Frank understands.

They’re both quiet for a beat. Frank’s still shuffling between his feet, so Karen looks at him and says, “You should go back inside before you get frostbite. I’m okay, I promise.”

He looks like he wants to say something, but seems to decide it’s better if he doesn’t. “Okay,” he says, holding her eyes for a second before turning and going back inside.

She’s not sure how long she stays outside. Her thoughts blur, hazy like the thin scattering of clouds in the sky. Finally, aware that she’s starting to lose feeling in her lower extremities, she stands and pulls the cabin door open.

Frank is sitting on the couch, his head in his hands, but he snaps his eyes up at the sound of her coming back inside. Karen moves towards him and settles herself beside him on the couch.

“Hey,” she says again.

“Hey,” he echoes.

She drops her eyes to her hands. The silence that stretches between them isn’t uncomfortable, exactly, but it’s heavy, full of all the things they should and need to say in the aftermath of the previous night.

“So,” she begins, and feels him tense beside her. “Last night.”

When she glances sideways at him, she sees that he’s squeezing his hands together, his knee jittering up and down. She leans over and folds a hand over his, squeezing gently. “Last night was amazing, Frank.”  

His leg stills. “It was, yeah,” he agrees, the corners of his mouth turning up. His eyes search her face, then drift lower, to where the blanket that’s still around her shoulders has slid off her shoulder. He reaches up and drags his thumb across her bare skin. “Will you stay?” he asks, softly.

“You want me to?”

Frank snorts. His thumb is still moving in lazy circles over her shoulder. “Think you know the answer to that.”

“I do, but I want to hear you say it, Frank.”

He dips his head, presses his lips to her bare shoulder. “I want you to stay, Karen.”

She tucks a finger under his chin, lifting it so she can kiss him gently. “I’ll stay, then.”

There’s more to say, but for now, this is enough.

#kastle #kastlesmutweek #kastle ff #kastlenetwork #my fic #my edit #only a few days late ack

[voidsettle]

Around the Baltics

                                                                                                            August 2017

Visiting old Europe is like taking in a breath of history - layer after layer you uncover the epochs blown away, gone with the wind.

Tallinn, the Old City, the Chimney Sweeper monument

Devour your travel; make new experiences an inherent part of your self.

A burning, unsettling desire. Traveling spree. It dawned upon me, and called to arms.

Saint-Petersburg was my first stop. Helsinki - in just one night's ride. Tallinn's across the gulf. Riga. Stockholm. Minsk. Why not make a couple of extra stops on my way home, I thought.

Plan the Basics

Getting lost while on a trip is an easy way to fail your expectations. Spend time inventing a master-plan, answer the three questions: how, where, what.

I started with planning, lots and lots of planning. That's how the travels go - you need to think of the essentials first. How do I get there? Where will I stay? What do I want to see?

We decided to go separate ways, me and my friend. I was near Kharkiv, my friend was in Kiev. I was traveling to Belgorod first to visit my aunt. My friend decided to go through Moscow, to pay her respects to the other great Russian city. Then we'd meet in Peter, go to Finland and Estonia together. A trip of just over a week. Lots to see. Than we go back home and be happy for the next couple of months.

It didn't quite happen as I planned - not after we've completed the 'meet me in Peter' part. That's to be expected in long journeys, and that's the fun of it. No one takes your hand and leads the way. You're on your own, surrounded by unfamiliar city that cares not for you. For me, that's freedom.

Russia. Saint-Petersburg

Peterhof, 'The Sun' fountain

Take your time. Get lost, admire the architecture, spend an hour staring into the waters of Neva - Peter will appreciate your idleness.

It's never an easy city for amateurs - although one of the most beautiful I've ever seen. A true museum under the open skies; it breathes history on every corner, in every building, under every roof.

It's a good thing I've already been there and had a chance to fall in love. Peter has always been kind to me. They say, the weather is awful throughout the year. I say, you need to know when to come. It's best during August, when summer gives away the last of its warmth, but the leaves don't yet start their yellow fall.

Here's a perfect Peter cocktail:

2 parts parks

2 parts museums

pinch of architecture

Mix, don't stir. Sprinkle with slow street-walking a-plenty.

And so I did. Katherine Park and Peterhof are probably best known and a must-see for any traveler. Same goes for the museums - the large complexes of Russian Museum and Hermitage take you on a diverse and serene tour through the history of art.

Aivazovsky 'The Ninth Wave'

Shishkin 'Oaks'

Altman 'Portrait of Anna Akhmatova'

Plastov 'Midday'

And surely, when you visit St Petersburg, you feel nostalgic. That's the bizarre super-power of this city that infatuates you even when you've never been here before. I particularly enjoy the shining spear of the Admiralty, the stoned passions of Anichkov Bridge, and the curve of the bridge to Vasilievsky Island. My bittersweet tears of joy and feather-light melancholy.

I studied Peter in walking miles. The only regret? Not enough time to turn into a couple of true stray cats and walk the shining roofs.

The Bronze Horseman

Tips for travelers

What to see: Nevski Avenue, Hermitage, Admiralty, Vasilievski Island, church of the Savior on Spilled Blood, Anichkov Bridge, Kazan Cathedral, Saint Isaac's Cathedral, the Bronze Horseman, Russian Museum, Summer Garden, Peterhof, Katherine Palace and Park

What to eat: bliny (with caviar preferably), shchi (beetroot soup), cabbage rolls, pelmeni (meat dumplings), kvass (rye bread beverage)

Spend some time in the waiting line for the fried doughnuts with powdered sugar and absolutely hideous coffee on the Great Konyushennaya St. The lovely cats, the nostalgic feel of the Soviet past, and the people around you - it's the oldest place in Saint-Petersburg that sells these buns. The ambiance is totally worth it.

Finland. Helsinki

Sailing from Helsinki to Tallinn

Despite all the planning, we couldn't miss our adventure on the way to Helsinki. We opted for a bus trip - the sea voyage was way too expensive, and also the tickets were much harder to get. Or so we thought.

Getting bus tickets turned into a real pain - nobody wanted to take two Ukrainian passengers across the border between Russia and Europe. Through tears and angst, we got the last 2 from the official bus operator, lucky us.

And so we spent the night in the bus. The transition between Russia and Europe was drastic - the Russian border guards were sleepy and irate, but the Finnish boy met me with a dazzling smile, fresh as a daisy at 3 in the morning. We arrived around 6 AM, and I had not a wink of sleep. After a bit of meddling and harassing the police officer near the Helsinki subway we got to the port and bought a couple of tickets to the boat that'd take us to Tallinn that evening.

Hello from Scandinavia, cold but heartwarming. Don't use public transport - Helsinki is tiny, just walk around.

Helsinki Cathedral and the monument dedicated to Nicolas II

The streets of Finnish capital were casually covered in drowsy slumber. It drizzled a bit here and there as we walked from the port to the city center - a surprisingly short stroll. We had a bite and a coffee at the waterfront (at a local fair on the Market Square), and indulged in the shiny architectural flow from Byzantine Revival of Uspenski Cathedral to Neoclassicism of the Lutheran Helsinki Cathedral and Alvar Aalto's Modernism to Nordic Classicism.

We were lucky to catch a free tour around the city center - a young Finnish guide told us about local sights and gave precious bits on information about the city. The best experience during the tour - he guided us into the new library of the University of Helsinki. I have never seen such a frank, explicit example of the Nordic architecture. The candid use of light and curved shapes is unbelievable.

University of Helsinki New Kaisa library

After a lot of ravenous looking around and a short lunch at the Old Market Hall, we headed toward Solo Sokos Torni, the hotel that boasts one of the best cityscapes from the Ateljee bar on its 15th floor. We arrived at 1:50 PM, 10 minutes before the bar opens - lucky again. Coffee up there's pretty expensive - solid €5 for a cup of espresso - but still worth it. The view extraordinaire with scheme explaining what you're looking at, soft wind, people from all over the world (we met an American photographer from Middle West). Besides, it was a useful stop as we decided our route from up above.

Finnish people drink coffee as if it was water. Mind they roast coffee weakly - don't expect anything fancy, you southern squirt.

Helsinki appeared to be much smaller than we'd expected, and so we had some free time before our boat. We could enjoy a traditional Finnish sauna but decided in favor of Kiasma - one of the most influential contemporary art galleries in the world. The feeling I got was vividly similar to the one in NY MoMA - the abundance of art that needs context always slams me into the odd combination of amusement and bewilderment. A nice experience, though, mostly since it was really different from the refined delicacy of the classical art in Saint-Petersburg.

Fighting for food with local seals

Tips for travelers

What to see: Uspenski Cathedral, Helsinki Cathedral, Stora Enso HQ (Aalto), University of Helsinki New Kaisa library, Kamppi Church of Silence, Temppeliaukio (Rock) Church, Central Train Station, Old Market Hall

What to eat: kalakeitto (fish soup), smoked herring and salmon, lohikeitto (creamy salmon soup), venison, rye bread, sultsina (fried flatbread with filling)

For lunch, visit the Old Market Hall and have some soup; bread and water are for free. It's a traditional light Finnish lunch. Also, graavilohi (smoked fish sandwich) is obligatory - don't leave Finland without trying one. Enjoy the typically Scandinavian lunch: small tables with high bar stools in the open, observing the passers-by and letting them observe you in return.

Estonia. Tallinn

Pirita beach at sunset

Don't neglect the call, no matter how minute. Explore the tiny passages - and you'll find the way to the hidden gems.

Meeting new people is always the best part of any trip. It's human interaction that we seek, the warmth and unique relationships we build. We meet new people, however shortly. We learn new things about people we travel with. But most importantly - we study ourselves, as it's in travel that we uncover our hidden flaws and potentials.

It's this understanding that Tallinn gifted me with. Coming here after two great cities, major museums, splendid architecture - what more could have I expected?

Estonians amazed us with reverent respect toward their past. The benign Old City behind the medieval towered walls is preserved carefully and mindfully. Most houses have signs shortly transcribing their history; the whole city gives off the museum feel not even Peter has. The carefully constructed panorama points, the lively yet solemn streets, the hidden gems of Tallinn - I fell for the city head over heels in mere minutes.

Standing on a specific spot on the Town Hall square, find the 5 major spires of the city: Town Hall, St Nicholas church, church of the Holy Spirit, St Olaf church and the Dome Cathedral

Besides, I could feel the familiar spirit. A lot of older people speak Russian, the city outside its old museum part is distinctively familiar: the remnants of the Soviets still wander the streets of Tallinn.

We had two full days in the city, the first spent exploring the historic center, above and beneath the surface (the visit to the underground tunnel starting beneath the Kiek in de Kok tower was unexpectedly chilly), the second allotted to meeting with friends.

Ah, the delight of being taken around the area by the locals! The impressive grandeur of the Tallinn Song Festival Grounds contrasting the cute coziness of the Kadriorg Palace,  the beautiful, grey-blue and windy Pirita beach with soft warm sand and the sun dipping slumberly into the sea. There's probably nothing as wondrous and strange as getting acquainted at sunset, with the masts of the yachts slowly swaying the rising tide on the backdrop of the burning skies.

Visiting friends whenever I go abroad is one of the best odd habits I've ever adopted.

St Catherine's Passage - the arts and crafts at the historical sight

Tips for travelers

What to see: Raekoja (Town Hall) plats, Tall Hermann, Fat Margaret, Kiek in de Kök, Neitsitorn (Maiden Tower), three monks, Aleksander Nevski cathedral, Toomkirik, Freedom Square, St Catherine's Passage, Three Sisters, ruins of XV century St Brigitta church (Pirita Klooster)

What to eat: Rosolje (potato salad), pirukad (salty pastries), leivasupp (sweet soup), black rye bread

Mix the beauty of the Tallinn cityscape with a nice cup of warm capuccino at a cafe Dannebrog near the Maiden Tower. For most exquisite cuisine with a clear waff of medieval recipes visit Olde Hansa - arguably the most authentic place in Tallinn.

Sweden. Stockholm

Stortorget, Gamla Stan

I parted ways with my friend, and headed for Riga. Not for long - intending to come back, I was too anxious to visit another grand capital first.

Traveling around Baltics, one absolutely has to pay respect to Stockholm, the cradle of Baltic imperial grandeur.

Romantika ferry, lounge bar. Photo by Nentsi

Surprisingly enough, the voyage on a cruise liner was less of a stress than I would've expected. I am usually seasick but the huge ship was stable enough that I could get a decent sleep at night. Besides, I enjoyed myself quite a lot. Played my first game of Bingo (no winning though; I never was the one to get it in such feats without real intellectual effort involved). Had an absolutely gorgeous cup of coffee at the lounge bar listening to live blues. Made an acquaintance with a British bard, the fling that ended without even starting properly, hah.

Arriving in Stockholm, I believed to be prepared enough. I memorized the route, knew the things I wanted to see, and had extremely little time for sightseeing along with a detailed, tight schedule to follow. But it wouldn't be a great trip if everything went as planned.

Sweden is unexpectedly reluctant to greet tourists: nobody in Stockholm seems to care the least bit about anything. Swedish people are very relaxed and self-absorbed.

I spent an hour just looking for a subway station. On my way, I unexpectedly picked up a tourist family from Moscow, a very energetic woman with two teenage children. They became my traveling partners for this trip and also the people I unintendedly gave a tour around the city - ironic, given I've never been to Sweden before.

Mårten Trotzigs gränd (Alley of Mårten Trotzig)

Guiding the tourists in a city you've never been to - that's what I remember about Stockholm best. The short time I had to spend there definitely added to the fun and craziness of the voyage. Being good with maps and preliminary reading allowed me to find our way through the net of narrow winding streets of Gamla Stan - with occasionally picking up of the sights. I had fun looking for the narrowest street in Stockholm, Mårten Trotzigs gränd - fortunately, Swedes speak English pretty great. We witnessed the changing of the guard near the Royal Palace, visited the Royal Armory and the Chapel, got lost and found Riddarholmen, the Knights' Island with the Riddarholm royal burial church dating back to 13th century - pure fascination at the solemn tranquility of its architecture.

Vasa ship, built 1627, sank 1628, lifted from seabed 1961

A rapid tour around Gamla Stan took around 2 and a half hours - we were already past the schedule as we wanted to visit Vasa museum before taking off. Buying public transport tickets in Stockholm turned out to be a real pain but we finally managed to get to Vasa, and the ship met our expectations to the fullest. The number of details on this chef-d'oeuvre, the craftsmanship and input care were as astonishing as the simple realization that hit even me, who has no experience in ship engineering: she was not supposed to sail. The narrow hull combined low landing and overall weight surely wouldn't let Vasa keep on the surface. Yet another thing that surprised me greatly was its preservation due to bog oak. No wonder it is considered royalty among the wood.

All the running around, I barely had the time for food. My wards dutifully fed me some crackers with cheese but I set my mind to having a taste of Swedish cuisine. Best place - indoor markets (because oh the biting prices).

Gamla Stan, the narrow streets and dense building development of older Stockholm

Tips for travelers

What to see: Gamla Stan (Stortorget, Nobel Museum, Mårten Trotzigs gränd, Royal Palace with Armory, Crown Hall and Chapel, Storkyrkan) Ridderholmen and Riddarholmskyrkan, Vasa museum, Stockholm subway

What to eat: meatballs with mashed potatoes, cream sauce and lingonberries, toast Skagen, gravlax (dill-cured salmon), knäckebröd (crisp bread), chives and sour cream, smörgåsbord, prinskorvar (mini sausages), gubbröra (egg & anchovy salad), yellow pea soup and punch, saffransbullar & cinnamon buns

In Stockholm, indoor markets are close to small open-area restaurants in typical Scandinavian style, with high stools facing the aisles between the counters full of improbably good-looking food. What to eat if you only have time and space for one meal? Swedish meatballs, obviously. Tasty, homemade-style and extremely nourishing.

Latvia. Riga

Riga. Old Town

In Riga, I was already exhausted. I left 4 cities behind me, the beautiful spirits. Luckily, I had friends waiting for me in Riga. At the time I was not constrained with the worries of an office job, so I could spend some time exploring Riga and enjoying the company.

After the tight cozy Tallinn and the venerable patriarchal Stockholm covered in the crust of time, Riga appeared almost modern, surely the monument to Art Noveau built at the break of the millennia.

The first day was completely absorbed by the historic Riga - the War Museum located in the older fortification tower, the small Our Lady of Sorrows Church near Riga Castle, the Town Hall Square and the Dome Cathedral with clouds of pigeons swarming in circles. The local air, warm and damp, made my hair curl.

Leave the umbrella behind for the city of slow walks and warm rainshowers. You might get wet but never cold - that’s the remarkable feature of Latvian climate.

Afterwards, the rest I needed could no longer be delayed, and so the spacious expanses of Latvian beaches came to replace the architectural jungles of the historic city. Long beach walks are exactly right for when you’re in the mood to get lonely. Seagulls, tall tidal waves, rare sunbathers, even rarer swimmers, and the dreamy sand dunes that shelter coastline from the chill salty winds of the Baltic sea.

Daugavgriva, Latvia. Finally the beach vacation - although I’m not sure swimming is possible in this cold and shallow sea

Being in Latvia, I wanted to go see Jurmala, the renowned pearl of the Baltic sea. The beach is not exactly for swimming though - it’s that type of sea, where you cannot drown despite your desire and eagerness to try. However, it’s wide strand is great for festivities, or even for exhibiting sculptures unafraid of moisture and temperature differences. The city itself is sleepy and sluggish, covered in the distinctive charm of a resort town. There’re little places able to evoke such a lingering wistfulness with the taste of viscous coniferous warmth.

Jurmala beach. The remnants of the Ligo celebrations

Tips for travelers

What to see: Vecrīga, House of the Blackheads, the Dome (Riga) Cathedral, St Peter’s Church, St John’s Church, Swedish Gate, Our Lady of Sorrows Church, Riga Castle, Three Brothers, the Powder Tower, St James’s Cathedral, Small Guild

What to eat: grey peas with smoked bacon, cold beetroot soup, rye bread, rasol (potato salad), speck, maizes zupa (rye bread pudding), Riga balsam

It was surprisingly hard to find a place in Riga that served traditional food at reasonable prices - but I managed to find one right behind the House of the Blackheads. It’s better to choose a table outside; in colder weather, ask for a plaid and a cup of coffee paired with Riga balsam, a fantastic combination. Tip 10% - for pinchpenny Europe, it’s generous enough to make all the staff cordially affectionate.

Belarus. Minsk

Government House and Lenin monument, Independence Square

My vacation was nearing its end; obviously I wanted to extend it however possible. That’s why I was absolutely thrilled to hear one of my friends was currently in Minsk, and was planning to leave on the same day (neh - by the same bus) as me. Such small world.

The architecture of Minsk is impressively huge and massive - the true hymn to Constructivism and Stalin Empire.

After the dreamless night in a bus taking me from Riga to Minsk, and an absolutely horrid customs control that made me feel at home, I was in Minsk, the grey and enormous city. Broad boulevards, wide streets, bulky gloomy architecture - Minsk was dramatically different from the cozy consistent solidity of the Baltic capitals.

Breaking into the old fire department headquarters

Except for the Trinity Hill; the oldest part of Minsk is very Europe-ish. Same clusterness of churches and cathedrals, same ruffled aggregation of bronze monuments, same distant spirit waffing history down the paved streets. I personally loved the bench that plays Oginski’s Polonaise when you sit on it - a nice touch reminding you about the recent revival of Belarusian capital.

I’m not sure it’s true but we had a theory of conspiracy as it seemed that all red brick buildings in Minsk belong to the government one way or another. A fun thought to speculate when wandering around the city like Minsk.

The newer part of the city is distinctively younger - the beginning of the 20th century at best. Extended solid blocks cascading along the broad avenues reference the mass urbanization and the growth of major cities. Churches and cathedrals that were colossal and sublime before scientific revolution kicked in are tiny and lost on the backdrop of these structures.

Tips for travelers

What to see: Vorota Minska, Trinity Hill, Holy Spirit Cathedral, St Joseph Church, Church of the Hole Apostles Peter and Paul, Independence Avenue, National Library of Belarus, National Opera and Ballet Theatre, Church of Saints Simon and Helena, All Saints Church

What to eat: draniki (potato pancakes), kluski & kalduny (potato dumplings), babka (potato pudding), sorrel soup

Yup, you’ll have potato everything when in Belarus - and it’s no wonder. For a long time, potato was the major export produce, and even now  we, the Southeastern neighbors, sometimes affectionately refer to Belorussians as ’bulbashi’, literally ‘potato people’.

Instead of the epilogue

Coming back home after a journey that takes up over 3 weeks is weird. You seem to forget a lot about your hometown, and yet you feel strangely relieved and at ease. I particularly like this feeling of familiarity as if you own the city around you simply by knowing its every crack, all ins and outs.

Looking back now, even after the horrid marathon of 2 consecutive sleepless bus-riding nights between the three cities of Riga-Minsk-Kiev, this was one of the best experiences of my life. This roundabout travel became the precedent that I will later see as a joyous excuse for extended trips with multiple cities and countries included on the travel list.

Peterhof. The Gulf of Finland

Travel further. Go beyond!

#baltics #saint-petersburg #russia #helsinki #finland #tallinn #estonia #stockholm #sweden #riga #jurmala #latvia #minsk #belarus #peterhof

[capstagehumans]

Scrantonese

Found by our own Jamie Jones, here’s a helpful guide to the Scranton dialect. In 2014, Scranton was in the finals of Gawker’s America’s Ugliest Accent competition!

Kuzzints: Your uncle’s children.

Clozeda light: Will you please turn the lamp off?

Onnakowna: Because (“I got a flat tire onnakowna someone dropped nails on da road.”)

Pellow: Where you put your head when you sleep onnakowna you’re tired.

Buh-uns: Those little white round things on the front of your shirt.

Kupple-too-tree: The number of missing buh-uns you might have.

Hayna: Excuse me, but did I just sound as silly as I think I did? (It really means “ain’t it?”)

Jeet jet?: Gee, I was wondering if you had anything for dinner?

No, jew?: Well, no, golly, but I was wondering the same thing about you.

Jaunt-too?: Do you want to?

Wock: What you take the dog for at night.

Tock: What you do on the phone.

Plimmit: A muted reference to Plymouth, Pennsylvania.

Dee Eynon: Sugerman’s Department Store. (R.I.P.)

Turdy-ate: Used to be WOLF-TV, Channel 38. Now it's WSWB 38.

Up Da Line: Up Scrah-un way.

Nanny Coke: Across the river from West Nanny Coke.

Lannick City: That place on the Jersey Shore where all of the bingo buses are going these days.

Melk: A drink that goes good with cookies.

Da You: The U. (The University of Scranton)

Otto: A car.

Over town: Downtown.

Downtown: Over town.

Tarupe: Throop, Pennsylvania.

Ackamee: The place where you get da grocery order. (ACME R.I.P.)

Haitch Beeyo: HBO, the cable TV all night movie station, I tink.

Baah-ul: That ting dey put Gibbons and Steg in. (A Baa-ul is a barrel, steg is beer)

I totso: I thought so, too.

Corpse house: Where else in the world do they call funeral parlors corpse houses?

Beer garden: The place where you go to pick up a six-pack of Steg.

Wah?: What?!

Tot: What Mr. McArdle tried to do in school :)

Lonn more: It cuts the grass.

Rude aidy: The road that takes you to Penn State.

Atha Leets: Lots of good ones play for Penn State.

Bot tings: What you did with your money at dee Eynon.

Da moll: The Viewmont Mall up on the highway. They’re always having big sales.

Da Steamtown: The other mall over town.

Wadder: Comes out the fosset.

Be-endat: Means “because.”

Hoddog: Tastes great with soss on it.

Fil’em: In some cultures, this is what you say when you bring your empty beer glasses to the bar. Here “fil’em” is the thing you put in your camera.

Arthur Idas: What retired atha leets take Excedrin for.

Burgarly: When you enter a building without permission and maybe take something.

Burgalry: A garbled form of burgarly.

Yuge: Really big.

Zenit: That brand of TV that you watch the Penn State atha leets on.

Swoyerville: Swoyersville. Don't ask why. No one knows.

Hose house: The place where dey keep da fire trucks. Sometimes called a fire barn, and usually found between a corpse house and a beer garden.

Hox: The basketball team in Lanna, Georgia

LCC: LCCC

Axe: Ask

Termistat: thermistat

Bub: light bulb

Winda: as in "closeda winda, da ya live in a barn?"

Haf a cuppa caffee: half a cup of coffee

Up da mall, and down da mall: Viewmont and Steamtown respectively

Karpendale: Carbondale, PA

Sowside Scrah-uhn: Southside Scranton, PA

Nangano: Nagano, Japan, where dey had dem `lympics

Axed: the past tense version of Axe (see above)

Paupack: Lake Wallanpaupack

Quanity: Quantity

Bigmintin: Binghamton

Tumb: (noun) Your thumb; (verb) to hitchhike, example = I tumbed in onnakowna my hog got stolen.

Da boad of em: The both of them.

Ba-troom: a place to relieve yourself

Ba-tree: battery

A couple too tree: How many times have you been on the Coal Mine Tour?

Budaydos: potatos

Chalk-lots: chocolates, what ja buy at Gerty Hocks when yur up da mall, wockin and tockin.

Tinkin: when you put your brain in gear.

Sangwitch: What cha eat when you go up dee Eynon.

dahn tahn DOpahnt: Downtown Dupont, PA

Alla Youz: How you address several people at once

twahny yearce ahgo: 20 Years Ago

radarater: the thing heat comes out of

offah: He knocked da glass offah the table.

roof in the leak: a common saying when water comes down from the roof

nooyourkas: people who vacation in the area (from anywhere outside the area) for the summer, generally found in the Moscow-Gouldsboro area of Lackawanna County

up da mount'n: Montage Mountain Ski Resort, where concerts are held

da rena: First Union Arena, Wilkes Barre PA (also called the "FU Arena")

John: People named John typically don't have last names. They're only referred to by profession as John DaBanker, John DaCarpenter, John DaRoofer (or DaLeaker), or John DaPlumber. A guy named Frank who ordered a cup of coffee in the diner everyday became known as John Caffee. - Dan

warsh: Did you remember to warsh behind your ears? -or- I warshed my shirt.

punkin: Goes well with thanksgiving dinner

doverman: The dog

er wha: or what?

pank: as in if you sit in the snow when you get up it's all panked down, this may strictly be a green ridge thing, but we insist it's a word!

chimley: chimney

pitza frita: fried dough

crick: a place where wadder run truit and ya can go fishen

pie-ano: the music instrument with 88 keys

tray of pizza: tray of pizza

#Family