#today is our last day having a deck and i genuinely feel sick to my stomach over it. ik it’s just a piece of wood and it’s falling apart but

[pepprs]

the renovation starts tmrrw (LOL) and i woke up from a dream abt it crying. awesome

#today is our last day having a deck and i genuinely feel sick to my stomach over it. ik it’s just a piece of wood and it’s falling apart but #omg like… o ur house is about to not be our house anymore. like the deck is where me and my siblings played w our best friends it’s where i #paced back and forth to get fresh air so many times ater losing my shit during lockdown and it’s literally about to be gone…. forever? ok!!! #and then the kitchen is going to go and im going to lose it genuinely. like this house is shitty and rotting and falling apart and its great #that we are getting a renovation finally but jesus christ i have lived here all my life and yeah i hate the kitchen but it’s home and you’re #just gonna tear it down and make jt 3x bigger like it’s nothing??? ok 😂😂😂😂😂😂 #purrs #literally im getting war flashbacks to losing the van which was never gonna drive again but it was my SPACE for all of lockdown and #it got fucking junked after being my sanctuary (as unpleasant as it was) for like 2 years not to mention OUR CAR that we did everything in a #and now we have my grandparents car and there isn’t a backseat so i don’t get room to breathe when they drive. and also my grandparents #house has officially been demolished to make way for a fucking mansion and the near total renovation of my high school is almost done which #means the classroom where i became a human being is gone and the office is going to get destroyed too when that renovation happens and we’ll #have to go make a home somewhere else. i know this kind of thing happens but it makes me want to start screaming. like yeah these #renovations will make life better for everyone (except the fucking mansion it’s bc my grandparents died and the developers are selfish and #cruel lol!!!!!) but the way so many of the spaces that have been important to me keep ending up getting destroyed after im done w them. it’s #comforting in a way bc it’s like oh no one else gets to have it be important but also no that ISNT comforting i want those spaces to keep #being sacred i want them to mean something to other people and i want to be able to go back and soak in the memories again. and everyone is #mad at me for freaking out the renovation but it’s like ok you come into our living space you destroy core parts of my childhood and also #create a situation where we literally can’t like eat or cook anything in the house for months like idk what we’re gonna do bc we don’t go #anywhere bc of covid except work for me and school for my brother so. idk. this whole thing SUCKS. i can’t believe it’s starting tomorrow #and i can’t believe the deck is about to be gone. pain and suffering and pain and suffering and pain and suffering.

[kanerallels]

Good news: I'm FINALLY contributing to Magical March! Today's prompt from @monthly-challenge is Ocean, and I wrote a story about some of my OCs from my Fantasy Adventures With Waffles story!

(@taleweaver-ramblings you showed interest in this universe once and I retain that kind of thing way too easily SO get tagged, feel free to ignore it!)

(for context this is about the fantasy UPS driver and her perpetual stressed out apprentice, original post about them here!)

When Trey woke up on the cot tucked in the back of the shelter on Adelis’s raft, he could tell something was different. What, he wasn’t exactly sure. He’d been traveling as her apprentice for two weeks now, and he was still getting used to the day to day changes.

But there was something off. Trey hopped out of bed. He slept fully clothed, in case they had to make a late night delivery, or a posse of Colin’s exes showed up to kill him and they had to run for it. Luckily, only one of those had actually occurred. Yet.

The wood of the deck was rough underfoot, but Trey was used to going barefoot. It didn’t bother him at all. Stepping out of the shelter, he squinted in the morning light.

Adelis was already up, as she always was. In her steering position she stood tall, her multi-colored cloak fluttering in the breeze. “Good morning,” she greeted Trey, sending him a smile.

“Morning,” he said, holding back a yawn. “Morning, Colin.”

The golden-haired selkie gave a lazy salute from his position lounging against one of the stacks of packages strapped to the deck. Colin liked to give the impression of uselessness, but it hadn’t taken long for Trey to realize that he was always up to something. 

Generally, that something was trying to see how many females of any species he could flirt with in each town. But sometimes it was something genuinely useful and productive.

“Are you hungry?” Adelis asked him. “Colin was just thinking of rustling up some breakfast.”

“You have two choices,” Colin told him. “Leftover soup from last night, or… that’s it. Okay, there’s also dipping into our dried food reserves if you want to ruin your own life. We really need more supplies, Del.”

Nodding as she expertly maneuvered them around a corner, Adelis said, “I know. We should make it to Bethany today. Care to take a guess at how soon?”

Colin frowned thoughtfully. Tilting his head to the side, he sniffed, taking in a long draught of the fresh air. “Hmm… I do smell the ocean. Early afternoon, maybe?”

“The ocean?” Trey said, his eyes widening. Maybe that was what was different— now that he thought about it, there was a slight tang on the breeze. “Are— are we going to see it today?”

“Absolutely,” Colin said, an unusual smile crossing his face. Most of the time it was sardonic or charming. This was genuine, joyful. “It’s been too long.”

“You’ll get your share of it once we get to Bethany,” Adelis told him. “We’ll be taking a coast run, dropping off packages to quite a few of the coastal cities.”

Rubbing his hands together gleefully, Colin said, “Excellent. I can’t wait. Trey, are you excited?”

“I… think so?” Trey said tentatively. “I’ve never seen it before.”

Colin sat bolt upright, his gaze locking onto Trey with utter horror. “You— what? You’ve never seen the ocean?”

“That’s not uncommon,” Adelis assured him. “But I think you’ll like it— you handled the river travel well enough, so you’ll probably be able to deal with any potential sea sickness.”

“Adelis! He’s never seen the OCEAN? But— we live on an island!”

Rolling her eyes, Adelis said, “It’s a big island, Colin.”

“And I’ve never left my home village before now,” Trey reminded him.

“Right,” Colin said, still looking shaken. “Skies, I can’t imagine.” A smile crossing his face, he said, “You’re going to love it.”

As he got up and headed into the shelter, Trey looked at Adelis questioningly. “Am I?” he asked in an undertone. “Or is this a Colin thing?”

Adelis laughed. “A little of both. He’s a selkie, so he grew up in the ocean. The idea of being permanently landlocked is terrible for him— and having never seen the ocean is unthinkable. But I think you’ll enjoy the ocean. It’s a beautiful and powerful sight.”

“What’s it like?” Trey asked.

Adelis thought for a moment. “You know those massive banyan trees that grow near your village? The ones that are so big that three of your tallest men can’t wrap their arms around it, with leaves the size of your face?”

“Yeah,” Trey said.

“It’s like standing underneath one and looking up.”

This told Trey approximately nothing, but that wasn’t really new for Adelis. She could be a little vaguely cryptic sometimes, and said some pretty strange stuff. Colin had theorized that it had something to do with her being half Fae, but Trey thought it was probably just how she was. In this situation, he didn’t really mind, and contented himself with waiting.

The morning slipped by peacefully— the three of them had an unorthodox breakfast and then Trey worked on sorting packages for their next stop in the town of Bethany, while Adelis checked them against her manifest. Colin was put in charge of steering, with dire warnings about what would happen if he started messing around.

They were halfway through their work when Colin, who’d been singing one of his sea songs to himself, stopped short. “Ocean, ho!” he said, his voice delighted.

Trey looked up from his work and followed Colin’s pointing hand. His eyes went wide at the sight before him.

They’d crested the top of a hill. From there, the river wound its way down, cutting a silvery scar across the green treetops. And at one point, it widened out, and the land just… stopped.

Past it was water, more than Trey had ever seen in his life. The sunlight sparkling off of it in dazzling bright diamonds that didn’t diminish the vivid blue in the slightest. Somewhere, out in the distance, the sky and the sea met in a firm, dark line, and it was just so much. Suddenly Trey thought he knew what Adelis had meant earlier.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Colin said happily. “And look— you can see Bethany off to the right!”

Trey took a moment to look towards where a large, walled city followed the curve of the coast. Clusters of white specks moved around it in the water, and it took Trey a moment to realize they were sailing ships, cutting through the waves like a bird through the sky.

“Wow,” he breathed.

“Wait until you see it up close,” Adelis said, her voice knowing. “We’ll spend the night on the shore before we head into Bethany tomorrow— our last night of peace.”

Colin let out a delighted whoop, and Trey almost felt like following suit. The idea of being so close to the vast expanse before them was incredible, if a little terrifying.

Adelis took over steering, and they slipped down the sloping hill with ease, following the curves gently. The mouth of the river was a few miles away from the walled city of Bethany, and Adelis pulled them in on the other side.

At this point, Trey could barely tear his gaze away from the ocean. The deep rush of the waves and the salty taste of the air enthralled him— he’d really never seen anything like it before.

Colin seemed just as excited, bouncing up and down on his heels as he stared out across the sandy beach. He had a familiar jacket slung over one shoulder— his selkie skin, Trey realized, glamored to appear like whatever outerwear would blend in best. At the moment, it was a soft tawny colored undercoat.

“Hey,” Adelis said, pulling both of their attention from the ocean. Looking amused, she said, “Help me secure the raft, and you’re both relieved of duty.”

Colin immediately scrambled to help, and Trey followed suit hurriedly. Before long they had the raft safely secured to the shore and checked to make sure the packages were safe. But even then, Colin shot Adelis a questioning look, edging closer to the nearby beach.

Grinning, she said, “Go already.”

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than he let out a whoop and took off towards the water, sand spraying up from under his feet. Trey watched as he plunged into the waves without removing his clothing, and disappeared into the water a few seconds later.

Glancing at Adelis, he said, “Is he—”

“He’ll be back in a little while, probably with dinner,” she said. “If you want to go, too, go ahead— I have a few things to finish up here, but I’ll join you soon.”

Trey hesitated for a minute, almost tempted to wait for her. But the rhythmic voice of the ocean was calling, and finally he headed away from the raft and towards the sea shore.

The banks of the river had been grassy, but that gave way to soft, loose sand as Trey approached the water. It slipped and slid underfoot, impeding his progress. But it wasn’t long before he made it to firmer ground, the sand wet from the pounding waves and easier to walk on. 

Cautiously, he approached the water. He could smell the salt, as well as a distinctly fishy smell that was just shy of unpleasant. But with the late afternoon sun beating down on him and the breeze ruffling his hair, Trey really couldn’t complain. As he grew closer to the water, he noticed bumps in the sand— shells, he realized, but not like the river oysters or snails he was used to.

Bending down, he picked one up— a creamy white, concave shell— and was so busy studying it he almost didn’t notice when the first wave washed over his feet. Almost— the cold shocked him, and he actually jumped into the air, landing with a subdued splash as the water washed away again. Trey gazed, wide eyed, as another wave came roaring towards him, only to slowly lose momentum as it thundered across the beach. By the time it reached him it was only energetic enough to wash over his toes, lapping at his ankles.

Gazing out at the blue-green expanse before him in wonder, Trey breathed the sea air in deeply, listening to the roar of the ocean. It’s incredible. It’s beautiful, he thought. But it was more than that. It was more than just words could describe. It was simply too big for that.

He caught sight of a flash of movement out in the waves— tawny gold fur and the flick of a tail. Colin, he realized. The selkie was in his seal shape, and was also heading straight towards him.

When the water got too shallow, the seal ducked under one last time, and Colin came up, shaking water from his hair and sputtering. “Tell Del I’m working on dinner,” he said with a sharp grin. “Any chance you can bring her the fish as I catch ‘em?”

“Sure,” Trey said, finding he didn’t mind an excuse to stay by the water as long as possible.

Before long, Adelis joined him, and they spent the rest of the afternoon splashing around the shallows, collecting the fish Colin brought them and overall enjoying themselves immensely.

By the time they’d gotten enough for dinner, the sun had sunk to just above the water and was burning a glorious shade of red-orange. Adelis led the way back to their campsite, Colin still dripping but looking far happier than Trey had ever seen him. He cleaned the fish while Adelis and Trey built a fire, then rummaged around in their stores to see what they had to best cook fish.

Eventually they decided to wrap it in leaves filled with salt and spices and some slices of a rather shriveled lemon Adelis found, then buried it in the coals and waited for it to cook.

As they waited, they watched the sun sink into the ocean, bleeding gorgeous shades of scarlet and gold across the waves. Letting out a long sigh, Colin said, “There’s no sunset like an ocean sunset. It’s even better when you’re out there in the middle of it.”

Adelis nodded in agreement. “The best ones are on the coast of Wrinhart, though. That’s the island where I grew up,” she explained to Trey. “We’ll go there someday soon. It’s beautiful, and these stunning white flowers grow along the shoreline. Sometimes it looks like it’s snowed, there’s so many of them.”

“That sounds amazing,” Trey said.

“It is.”

It wasn’t long before the fish was ready, and they all enjoyed themselves carefully eating the white, flaky meat, trying not to burn their fingers or their mouths. It was one of the best things Trey had ever eaten, with the evening breeze whispering around them and the waves singing to them from a distance.

There were days when he was still scared of the crazy adventure he’d ended up on. Of everything that could possibly go wrong— and there was a lot.

But the days like this made everything else fiercely worth it. There was no question about it.

#monthly challenge #magicalmarch2024 #fantasy adventures with waffles #writing stories is a kind of magic too

[jossujb]

So hod did my birthday in Stockholm vent?

Elton John’s last concert in his final tour in Tele2 arena was exactly as fabulous expected. As you may know, my sister got the tickets back in 2020 cos I turned 30 that year, because of covid and wars and what ever the fucking political shit in Finland the Helsinki gig was cancelled - but our ticked were valid in Stockholm, and we even got upgrade on them for all the difficulty, so we actually had very nice seats all things considered. My favorite song from ELton John is Tiny Dancer, but I think my favorite for the evening was Rocketman, it just went all the places.

Gotta appreciate a sensible man, Sir Elton started sharply and ended on the clock, which I think for largely Swedish and Finnish audience was a pleasure.

After the gig some mishaps started to pile. My sister had reserved our knight in a quite fancy hotel - but a fire broke inside the hotel during the night and since I sleep like the dead I didn’t hear the alarm and my sister had to drag me and it happened so suddenly I rubbed contacts right out of my eye and didn’t see shit when evacuating. But it got under control, nobody was hurt and we got very fancy brekkie in the morning.

Then we went a museum of photography. There was a exhibition of Peter Lindbergh, which I very much liked. Then we went to Stockholm’s old town - I nearly bought myself a Supernatural themed deck of Tarot cards- They weren’t even expensive, Stockholm in general was somehow cheaper than Finland, since the war in Ukraine has inflated priced much much more in Finland for a reason or another. But I couldn’t see any goddamn real reason why I would need more SPN shit, so I let the urge go... I wanted to buy so much comics too, I was eyeing on a deluxe set of Death by Neil Gaiman, but like...I dunno, these days I try to think over what I actually want cos I am running out space.

We at nice foods... my skin was really acting up, and the teeth decay because of years of mild disorders was extra visible in pictures... I looked like I had some sort deadly illness going on the whole time. Felt quite ill too, because of the anemia and stuff, and my sister was quite mean about it. The photos we took in booths are nice keepsakes for sure, but I do genuinely look /very/ ill.

At Arlanda Airport it was news to us that Finnish borders are closed this week because of Joe Biden visits and stuff. Which was no problem otherwise, they just asked to see your passport eve though you don’t really have to show it between Finland/Sweden. For some reason communication about the situation was given so confusingly, like everyone panicked at the airport as if thy were not allowed to fly to Finland at all, so they flight was quite late because of the hassle. 

I had promised myself that I don’t contact my boss during my birthday trip... but at this point I made an exception said that since the flight is late, I might not be able to catch the last train from Tikkurila so if that happens I am gonna miss my schedule on work and need some assistance. But I actually managed to still catch the train and everything was just ok - except my boss went full on pressure/quilting/blackmailing spree and I actually felt quite ill, had rally taught time at work today, everything felt like it had made difficult for me on purpose.

My mum wanted to se me today and hear about the trip and I paid a visit. Unfortunately mum could also see that I look very sick and she force feed me bag of chocolate and sleeve of cookies and I feel so ill, so goddamn ill.

I dunno why the go-to method for everyone to make me feel better is to force feed me. Yeah like, I might have lost a bit of weight, there might be eating-related mental issue on top of it, yeah like my fave looks really ill at the moment, but I am by no means underweight, I just weigh less than you remember. Ad eating garbage doesn’t really make me look any better either.

Anyway, so. I am so happy I got to see Elton John in this lifetime. It felt like history right before my eyes. I wish I had also been beautiful and healthy, and I wish it didn’t ended in just being yelled at, but you know. It was a net positive.

#jossu's random rambling

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

the story of us

this was requested by @fantasylover16. I genuinely had so much fun with this thank you! I hope you enjoy. Also I said nb jack frost rights and I meant it.

masterlist; my links

This is a story about two people.

One died three hundred years ago and has been alive since then. They have white hair, whiter than the stars, than burning light, than heaven itself. They have blue eyes that remind you of cracked ice in melting winter. They have ivory skin, some say like porcelain, it's more like liquid opal.

The other is twenty two years old. He has black hair, like jet fuel, and midnight. He has green eyes that hold oceans lost to time, that hold memories. He has brown skin that reminds you of cool forest floors and water glistened rock.

This is a story about who they are.

"Percy!" His roommate shouts from the kitchen. "Get your butt down here and tell me if the blue skirt goes better with these glasses!"

He laughs as he pulls a sweater over his heads and grabs his phone, slipping it into his back pocket. He feels the press of his pen as he pats himself down to make sure he has everything and when he is satisfied he bolts down the passage and stops short of the kitchen where Hazel Levesque is parading in front of their grand mirror on the opposing wall. She is decked out in black platform ankle boots, white fishnets that draw out the colour of her skin, slightly dark than his, a bright blue skater skirt and a soft pastel blue crew-neck not unlike his own.

"You Hazel Levesque," He grins bright and unrestrained, "Are a vision."

"Yes," She mutters still swopping between two pairs of clear-framed glasses and scrunching her nose, "But is it enough to bring my crush to their knees?"

"If Reyna doesn't bow down to you I think we can assume she's in desperate need of glasses."

"Well then maybe I should take both pairs and offer her one." She muses, pulling at her afro distractedly.

He snorts, turning to the counter and grabbing a bowl and whatever cereal he can reach first.

"Well," Hazel turns to him, he can see the smile she's trying so hard to hide, "Shall we be off then?"

He blinks at her, blinks again, points an unsure finger at his chest.

"Oh you don't expect me to brave Reyna on my own do you? Besides we're matching today it'd be quite ridiculous if we went out separately."

"But—" He looks to his bowl, as barren as the desert, "But my cereal?"

"I'll buy you breakfast on the way!" She waves the concern off, grabbing his hand and pulling them both out the door.

Despite their height difference, she makes it look far less like he's letting her pull him and far more like she has the strength to straight up carry him across the country.

"Hazel," He giggles, "Slow down."

"I can't Percy," She shakes her head vigorously, practically running through the park next to their building and into the bustling streets beyond. "If I don't do this now I'll lose all my courage and spend eternity in self-damned misery." Her brown eyes, turning honeyed as they catch the sun through the round glasses framing her face, flash bright and bold.

He stops them, pulling her in for a hug, unable to stop the laughter shaking his body." You have never been a coward Hazel Levesque. No matter the day, time or outfit you have always been brave enough to stand up and do what's needed. And telling Reyna you have a crush on her is just another battle you absolutely can win." He pulls them apart, setting a steady green gaze on her excited one. "Now let's get some coffee, and a mint tea for you because you're hyper enough as it is, and then we'll go find the love of your life and I can finally show you the google-doc I have for your wedding."

She strangles his ribs in another hug and then takes a deep breath as she steps away. "What would I do without you Percy Jackson?"

"Let's never find out," He smiles, slinging an arm over her shoulder and directing them towards the Chaos House.

As per its namesake, walking into the café is like being lost in a crowd of sleep-deprived, adhd kids all connected to caffeine IVs. In short: it's chaos. Its their favourite place on earth.

Being hit with a wall of noise after the quiet of awakening nature feels like being sucker punched directly in your ear canal. Percy cannot help but grin as he takes in the racing patrons and the sound of coffee beans being ground and the smell of cinnamon and honey and endless activity.

They immediately spot a group of their friends and bolt for the booth they're all squished into.

"Reyna isn't here." Hazels voice is pitched with panic, "Oh gods what if she's sick today? What if she fell in a ditch on her jog this morning?" She stops right in the middle of the café, brown eyes wide. "What if she knew I was trying to do this and decided to stay home today to avoid seeing me?"

He grabs her arms already shaking his head. "My darling, I need you to take a deep breath. You are spiraling."

Wildness is still tracing her expression but he feels her shoulders rise and fall as she gulps air.

"Okay," He says gently, "Now we're gonna go to our table, have a good time with our friends and if and when Reyna shows up you're going to tell her how you feel and I'll meet you back at home so you can let me know when the wedding is."

She smacks his shoulder gently, nervous giggles escaping her. "Alright fine. I hate when you get reasonable. It's very disconcerting."

"Good thing it's rare," His lips twitch, and they finally start towards their friends.

A loud chorus of hellos and how are you’s ring around his head as they get nearer and he feels right at home amongst it all.

"What's up losers?" He flops down next to Jason, pressing a shoulder into the blondes side in a hug.

Annabeth sits next to the blonde, squished between him and Piper, a leg over Jason's thigh and her hand intertwined with Piper's. Frank is on the opposite side, a casual arm slung over Leo's shoulder. Hazel squeezes in besides Leo and sighs dramatically.

"What's wrong Levesque?" Piper frowns, reaching over to clasp the girl's hand.

"She's feeling put out because she had something very important to do today and her plans are being delayed because a certain someone isn't here."

And just as their friends start reassuring and ribbing her in equal parts Percy's phone rings. With a frown he pulls it from his pocket, as he gets up and waves to say he'll be back in a minute.

"Hello, this is Percy Jackson."

He's not paying attention to his surroundings as he listens to the person on the line so when his shoulder slams into somebody he almost topples to the ground. When he turns around to say sorry there is nobody there; his frown only deepens but then the voice on the phone is pulling his attention and he makes his way outside.

This is story about they meet.

The conversation is a whirl of information about his upcoming course and what his supervisor needs from him. By the time he ends the call and tucks the phone back in his pocket his whole body feels like it's taken on the sky all over again. He has the urge to check if another grey streak has graced his hair. Instead he leans against the wall, ignoring the way his clothes catch against its roughness. He can feel the cold seeping through the cracks in the brick and into the threads of his sweatshirt.

He looks down, pulling his arms over his chest in an attempt to keep the warmth in but as he takes his arms away from the wall he sees the frost outline of his fingers. A clear, already melting handprint marking the brick like a graffiti tag. He steps back, away from the wall, to find his whole body outlined. It reminds him eerily of the chalk markings they do at murder investigations. He's not entirely sure this isn't prophetic.

The frost, little beads of ice skittered in shape, is melting at a rapid rate but the colour catches Percy's eye. It's not the usual dulled, muddy ice that coats his windows in the morning and sits atop the grass each night. It is blue, bright and pure, and looks... happy?

He's definitely going insane. The lack of coffee is getting to his brain and he has officially going mad. He should go inside and get warm and sit with his friends and have 3 espresso shots in a row.

But the phone call is still rattling his nerves and he can't bare to face the café without all his wits about him. So he studies the melted frost outline, curiosity moving him forward to trace it with his fingers. He doesn't expect to feel cold like winter mornings and snowball fights and sleigh rides coursing through his bloodstream. It's shocks him right into a new state of being. It reminds him of a poem his mother used to say at the beginning of each winter. The poem was long enough that he was always asleep by the end of the last verse but he recalls the first part clearly now

Jack Frost was in the garden;

I saw him there at dawn;

He was dancing round the bushes

And prancing on the lawn.

He had a cloak of silver,

A hat all shimm'ring white,

A wand of glittering star-dust,

And shoes of sunbeam light.

The thought is so ridiculous Percy has to laugh. It bursts out of him unexpectedly but once he starts he cannot stop. It feels like the world has turned on its side but he's still walking upright. Everything is slightly dizzying but strangely amusing from this angle. He laughs harder, ribs aching, cheeks stiff, and eyes bright. He's sure people are staring at him like he's mad but he cannot stop. Until he stumbles over the pavement and is falling to the inevitable crunch of his facial bones.

It happens almost in slow motion. He sees the ground coming towards him, bubbling up like it's going to swallow him whole. He stared it down, refusing to close his eyes, as if challenging it to hurt him, to take him as he goes. But then hands, freezing cold even through his layers of clothing, wrap around his waist and he is being hauled up in a rush of wind and dizzying speed. He bumps into a hard chest and feels as if he's stepped into a freezer.

"Hey," A voice low and playful crackles through him, "You okay?"

He turns around slowly, and is not at all prepared for the site he is greeted with. There is so much all at once, startling and glowing and fracturing. His eyes catch an warm icy gaze, blizzard white hair, pale skin, cold-kissed lips, hands running with blue veins and silver rings.

"You okay?" The stranger repeats, looking at him with concern.

He honestly doesn't know if he has the ability to talk. His mouth opens, his throat bobs, but words are lost cargo.

"Can you hear me?" The stranger asks, accompanying the question with sign language.

Percy responds automatically, raising a fist and moving it back and forth; his head accompanies the action but still no words come out.

They smile at him, and start signing another question. He doesn't bother to stop them, tell them they aren't deaf, he can hear, he just can't talk. He's speechless.

Are you okay? They sign.

He nods, and the words stuck in his throat finally tumble out. "Yes, yes," It is croaky with overwhelming emotion, "Thank you for catching me. I’m sorry I uh—" He doesn't have any respectable excuse for being mute for the entire first half of their interaction. He is just completely struck by everything the stranger is.

"Ah so you can hear me," The stranger laughs. He decides the sound is what makes stars. "Well I'm glad you're okay. I'm Jack."

Percy snorts. This cannot be real. Ice, him thinking about Jack Frost, and suddenly his saviour's name is jack? What has the universe been doing with its time to plan this?

“I'm Percy," He stares at them curiously studying the snowflakes that seem to cling to their floppy white hair despite the snow season being weeks away, and the blue eyes that hurtle him to the Abraham lake in Canada. A holiday his family had taken a mere year ago and one of the most beautiful places he's ever seen.

His demigod senses are peeking out their window, as curious as he is. The action puts him on high alert. His instincts are usually only alerted when he's in danger or............. in love.

"What are you?" He cannot stop the question. His mouth has a self-controlled function and no way to override it.

Jack raises their brow, "What are you, Percy?" His name sounds like luxury rolling off the stranger's tongue.

But the question throws him off guard and before he has time to drool over them again he is pulling his pen out and twirling it between his fingers anxiously. "Are you here to kill me?"

That barks a laugh from Jack, who looks so entirely amused he can't help but wonder if he can frame the moment to keep with him forever; a brow quirked, a slight dimple on their right cheek as their smile grows, and bunched freckles as their nose scrunches slightly.

"Get a lot of assassination attempts do you?"

“You have no idea," He feels his eyes roll in annoyance, an automatic reaction after all these years.

"No Percy," Jack says softly. It brushes across his skin like cool paint and snowy pine leaves. "I am here because the moon told me to be."

"The moon?" He sputters, "What do you mean the moon?"

"I mean exactly that. I talk to the moon and it answers."

He can feel his legs grow weak. "The moon— the moon— the....... moon," He mutters, staring at Jack.

They are silent as he attempts to compartmentalize his thoughts. "You know what?" He finally speaks, "That's not the weirdest thing I've ever heard. The children of Demeter talk to grain so this isn't that far out of reach."

Jack just looks at him with a patient, gentle smile on their face.

"So what are you? A child of Selene?"

"I am not a demigod." They shake their head. "I was chosen by the moon three hundred years ago. I am the spirit of winter."

The silence stretches between them like taffy. He isn't sure he's heard this right.

"You're—" He cannot even bring himself to say it.

"Yes, I'm Jack Frost."

Percy's legs give our from under him. Jack is not quick enough to catch him but he lands on a pillow of snow right before he bruises his knees. "You're Jack Frost?"

"Yes. And you are Percy Jackson."

"How—how do you know?"

"I've been alive for a very long time. I know a lot of people."

He just hums, trying to wrap his head sound another layer of myth and fable that makes up the fabric of the world.

"Why are you here?" He finally gutters out. "I mean I know the moon told you to come but why?"

"I uh have a theory but I need to ask something of you in order to know if I'm right."

He frowns, staring up at the stranger. No not stranger. Can you even call someone who's been around for centuries a stranger? What are they a stranger to? They have seen and heard and learnt and loved more than he ever has or ever will. It's more like he is the stranger. "What do you need me to do?"

"I just need you to summon water for me."

A thousand questions sit like caught snowflakes on his tongue but he let's them melt instead of spilling them into the world. Instead he gets up and concentrates on all the water sources surrounding them.

A reservoir one hundred miles away, fire hydrants near bursting with unused pressure, a small pond in a small park about five miles south, and of course the ocean in front of them, no more than fifty miles within reach.

"How much do you need?"

"Give me fifty liters."

He closes his eyes and imagines the pond, the water rippling within it. He imagines holding it in his palm as he would a basketball ball. When he feels a cool sensation wash over his skin he opens his eyes once more and sees a swirling blob of water surrounding his hand, dancing to the beat of his pulse.

"Is this enough?"

"Plenty," They smile and then their hands are reaching out and as if the water knows they're calling to it, it bounces over in little bubbles. As it touches their fingers a ray of light bursts from the contact and it turns to ice. Jack sucks in a breath, watching in amazement as the water freezes and hits the ground in a flurry of snow.

"What?" Percy cannot hold in his curiosity any longer. "What is it?"

"The moon was right." They look at him, eyes sparkling with something more than awe or curiosity.

"About?" He prompts.

"We're soulmates."

This is a story about their destinies.

"We're what?" Percy whispers. He has never gotten loud when he was surprised or angry or sad. He has always been soft.

"I usually need my staff to solidify water but if I use elements touched by my soulmate I can do it without aid."

"This is ridiculous!" He sputters. There is absolutely no way this is real. Seriously? Soulmates? He would laugh if he wasn't so outraged.

"You don't believe in soulmates?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe in!" He growls, "This whole ordeal is completely insane."

"What would it take to convince you Percy Jackson?" Jack just smiles, it is shining with happiness like it hadn't before.

"I have no idea because I have never heard of or encountered a soulmate." He hisses.

"Do you know why you can see me?"

He shakes his head, thoughts swirling faster than the hurricanes his further looses.

"Because you believe in me."

"I thought you had control over who sees you and who doesn't?" He raises a brow.

"Only with children. I can choose to show myself whether they believe or not. I have the ability since enough of them do believe." They say. "But adults are different. If they don't believe I cannot make myself appear to them. I am simply a ghost of their childhood past."

"I don't understand." Percy cannot wrap his mind around this. "How do you know you can only make ice out of whatever water I touch?"

Jack looks around for a brief moment before catching sight of something behind them. In a split second they are there and then they're back.

"Watch," He pours the water from the bottom he'd nabbed over his hand. It falls to the floor as liquid as it had started out.

"That doesn't prove anything, how do I know you're not just making sure you don't turn it to ice?"

"I cannot touch anything without freezing it, especially water." They worry at their bottom lip with their teeth, thoughts flying across their face. "It's like your friend Leo." They nod their head towards the café where Percy can still see his friends snuggled into the booth. "He doesn't necessarily turn everything he touches to ashes but he will always leave a warm imprint no matter how or what he has touched."

"How do you know that?" He gapes.

"Immortality gives you a lot of time to know the world." They shrug. "Now do you believe me?"

"I don't know." He answers truthfully. "I mean if we are soulmates..." He tries to form the question into some semblance of sense and order. "Does that mean I'm tied to you? That we have to like I don't know get married and spend eternity together?"

"No," Jack says gently, "No you can deny this bond if that is how you feel. It does not mean anything except that the universe put our souls in the same constellation. We are free to pick and choose who we love."

“And how will it work if we do decide to get together?” He frowns, “I will age but you will always stay the same.”

They look at him, head tilted, ice eyes bright. “But you know that’s not true.”

Everything in him barrels forward like a tidal wave. It cannot be. No-one knows. Not even his mother. “What isn’t true?” He will play this carefully, like the strings of a harp. He will not let his life crash through the ground.

“Why are you hiding it?”

“I’m not hiding anything.” He is adamant in his stance. He will not bow.

“You are denying the life you chose.” Jack considers him. “Why?”

“I’m not denying anything.” He huffs, “I’m just taking it slow.”

A snort bursts of them, arrogant and amused. “You are taking becoming a God slow?”

“I want to live with my friends before they figure it out!” He cries, all the fear and terror and worry burning through him.

Jack moves closer, presses a cold hand to his shoulder. “It is okay to be scared and angry and worried but do not forget that you are worthy of the title and you should wear it like a crown, not a burden.”

“There is always some burden in this much power.” He is bitter. He is right.

“Come,” Jack pulls them together, “Go meet your friends.” The hug is so cold but comforts him to the bone. “And when you are ready to make a decision, just whisper my name and i will answer, no matter where i am, or how far apart we are.”

He studies the person before him, beautiful and strange in an inviting sort of way, like no matter how much he learns about them he'll always want to know more. "Well you are very pretty."

They laugh, and the sound lights up the ocean inside him. "Thank you."

“Live Percy Jackson.” Jack Frost whispers.

And then Percy is standing outside a café, an icy wind dancing between his fingertips, and the impression of a freezing hug still clinging to his clothes. He realizes he feels happy. He feels safe.

This is a story about their love.

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

[image id: a poem by John P Smeeton titled "Jack Frost in the Garden" the poem reads:

Jack Frost was in the garden;// I saw him there at dawn;// He was dancing round the bushes// And prancing on the lawn.// He had a cloak of silver,// A hat all shimm'ring white,// A wand of glittering star-dust,// And shoes of sunbeam light.

Jack Frost was in the garden,// When I went out to play// He nipped my toes and fingers// And quickly ran away.// I chased him round the wood-shed,// But, oh! I'm sad to say// That though I chased him everywhere// He simply wouldn't stay.

Jack Frost was in the garden:// But now I'd like to know// Where I can find him hiding;// I've hunted high and low —// I've lost his cloak of silver,// His hat all shimm'ring white,// His wand of glittering star-dust,// His shoes of sunbeam light"

the background is a light blue and white marble. end id]

Tags: @fantasylover16 @queen-of-demons-and-hell @nishlicious-01​ @leyontheway @caffeinated-croissant

#Jack Frost x Percy Jackson #Crackships keep fandom alive #Jack Frost #Percy Jackson #PJJG fanfic #the story of us #not edited

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

I think i have another request. Well i do i mean lol. It may be a little dark but the idea just came to me... y/n spending Christmas break with the Weasleys (because she is best friends with Ron or the twins?) at burrow because her family are not that pleasant to be around and treat her poorly.. y/n is self harming and no one knows til one day fred (her crush )finds out somehow some way and consoles her and they end up confessing their true feelings for each other?

I just want to say: if anyone needs to talk to someone I'm here. But if you want some sort of therapy or anything there is a app where you can talk it out called 7cupsoftea.

Suicide hotline:[phone]

text hotline: 741741

Love you all. You are loved, please know that.

Trigger warning: self harm, abuse

You spent a lot of time in the background. No one seemed to take notice of you, no one seemed to really notice if you were sick or not. Well. Except for Ginny. Ginny saw you. She actually noticed you and asked Fred and George, who were in your year to keep an eye out. She noticed you, talking to you from time to time and noticing you needed more friends. So who better than to go to than the boys who literally knows everyone including the portraits on the walls.

You seemed jumpy, always nearly dropping things when they appeared. But you appreciated the boys, checking on you and talking to you. George had a surprising lack of classes with you though compared to Fred. After a few... Pranks/possible murder plots? The teachers put Fred and George in only two classes together. So Fred had his with you, always sitting next to you and making sure you were good. He didn't really catch on to anything wrong. He just noticed the long sleeves and figured "so she's cold all the time". Ginny and Luna knew this wasn't the case though. They knew you, truly so. You hid the marks from your brothers and the self inflicted scars. You bared so much and they hated to see you tear yourself apart.

Ginny would always change the subject when your family came up in the great hall, Fred and George always being confused to why that happened. Fred was closer with you than George and knew something was up but didn't understand the extent of it. George could see his brother begin to slowly fall for you, him whispering funny little jokes to you making you smile or laugh. However the thing that everyone seemed to notice was the lack of light in your eyes when you showed positive emotion. You would smile, sure. But your eyes seemed dull and tired.

Fred would sometimes skip class with you, sitting under a tree and talk to you about life in general with his head in your lap. Today was one of those days, it being particularly colder but Fred was warm so you didn't mind. "Hey Y/n... What do you think about spending Christmas with us this year?" He asked. You blinked a couple of times. "Are you sure you have the room? I mean... Your family is massive Freddie." You asked. "We always have room. Plus don't you wanna spend the holidays with your fwiends?" He asked, playfully poking your cheek. You chuckled. "Okay... I'll let my parents know."

You felt a slight relief being able to leave hogwarts and it not being associated with going to your parents house. Molly greeted you with a hug and you seemed shocked to receive affection like that right off the bat. Fred noticed though, when Molly's hands slid from your shoulders to your hands you seemed to flinch ever so slightly at the touch. No one else seemed to notice so Fred kept it to himself. Ginny kept close to you, showing you things all throughout the house. Fred however soon whisked you off with George to go off and see the cooler things. The fields, the places they had to just sit and talk or the test area for a few of their pranking devices.

At night it seemed peaceful. But you had these terrible nightmares where you woke up sobbing and Ginny was always there, comforting you when you did. However tonight was just a silent wake up. Still, you didn't want to sleep in case you woke up again but louder. Ginny was still awake and she looked over. "You okay?" She asked. "Do you mind if I step out for a bit? Just need some fresh air." You asked. "Go ahead." She nodded. So you walked out, letting the cold air hit your face as you sat on the back steps of the house. You pulled back your sleeves and saw the scars, closing your eyes.

Six months clean... Yet the reminders were still there. You pulled them back down and sighed before you noticed someone sit down next to you. "Whatcha thinkin' about?" Fred asked, handing you a mug of hot cocoa. "....Do you ever just want to scream for hours to get out your emotions and be free of the weight on your chest?" You asked before taking a long sip of the cocoa. "...Not really. But we can literally just scream in a field out here if you really want?" Fred suggested.

That's exactly what you did, making sure that no one could hear you before you kicked a fence post and Fred rose a brow. "Any particular reason why you're upset?" He asked. You kept kicking it, harder and harder as you went. "Does trauma count as a reliable fucking answer?" You grunted before really kicking it hard. You were panting by the time you were done. "Y/n... Princess, what's up?" He asked. You shook your head. "I want to be happy, I should be happy. I am surrounded by people who care but I can't stop thinking about my God damn--" you kicked the post again. "Family!" You yelled. The pained expression on your face made Fred concerned. "Do you want to go home--" "That place will never be home." You said, catching your breath again. "Y/n... What's going on, what do you need?" He asked. You shook your head, your hair hiding your face so Fred couldn't see the tears, the angry tears falling. You kicked the post again, Fred finally pulling you back by your wrist making you yelp. He frowned and you looked into his eyes with this upset look. "Help me." You whimpered. He said nothing, letting go of your wrist and pulling you into a tight hug.

You told him everything. The abuse, the nightmares the inability to sleep, the crying, all of it. But you also told him you stopped hurting yourself because of Ginny and him. You stopped because you didn't want your friends to lose you in their lives because you grew attached and you didn't want to be a cause of sadness. Fred brought you back to the living room, both of you sitting on the couch and talking all night.

When Molly found you, you were asleep on Fred who was holding you close. She didn't wake you until much later but Fred was determined to have you stay at the burrow rather than go home. Christmas rolled around and Fred got you this necklace. It had a Demiguise engraved on it after he remembered you saying it was your favorite magical creature. You loved it and for the first time your friends saw you genuinely smile. Like your eyes lit up and everything. You got Fred a new broom, him smiling like crazy telling you that one day he was teaching you how to fly with him.

Ginny noticed the nightmares take a slow down. But when they did happen you asked for Fred and sure enough, he'd come in and lay with you. You two were closer, that was becoming very clear. Nights would come where you couldn't sleep, Ginny would tell him and you two would just play a card game and talk. He listened to you, giving you genuine advice before cracking a joke and making you genuinely laugh.

When you went back to school you were more talkative, you actually participated in events, Fred was proud of seeing you slowly come out of your shell. A day of skipping did come along, you sitting underneath the tree and playing with Fred's hair. "So... How are you... With everything?" He asked. "Almost a year clean." You said with a smile. He smiled, looking up at you from your lap and put a hand on your cheek. "I'm proud of you Y/n... Truly." He said. You looked down at him and smiled noticing a strange tension looking at him. "...Y/n..." He breathed looking at you. You swallowed and looked up, a blush slowly forming. Fred leaned up and cleared his throat. "Sooo. What's our next class?" Fred asked. "This was our last class of the day." You said with a chuckle. "Ohhh.. I really gotta start paying attention." He said making you laugh. "Dinner is going to start in a few minutes, want to go?" Fred asked you. "Mmm.. I don't think so. I wanna see the sunset on the lake." You said. Fred sat cross-legged in front of you. "Then I will too." He said. "Wha-- Fred what about--" "I want to stay here." He said simply.

You pulled a deck of cards out of your binder and he chuckled. "Go fish or Rummy?" You asked. "Hmmm. Let's go simple today and say go fish." He said. You two played two rounds before you looked over at the sunset. "That's so pretty." You said with a smile. Fred smiled looking at you. "It really is." He said as the pink skies seemed to bring out your eyes. You looked over and Fred swallowed. You loved this boy... Didn't you?

He felt himself lean forward and you soon felt his lips on yours before you cradled his cheek, pulling away for air and resting your forehead on his. "I-I'm sorry I just reacted and--" "Fred... Please tell me you're going to do that again." You whispered. He chuckled and held your hand that was still on his cheek. "Only if you want me to." He said softly. You nodded with a smile and he kissed you again, feeling his arms slowly slink around you, pulling you almost into his lap.

"Promise you'll never leave me?" You asked. "Never would dream of it Princess."

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley

[miss-tc-nova]

Colds and Cards - Cloud Strife x Fem!Reader

This was supposed to be a series, but I don’t know anymore. That’s also why our “reader/oc” here is kind of specific...Still, I like the first bit even it it’s not really romantic. Dunno if I’ll pick it up again or not. 

~~~~~

                “Hey, you’ve got an infantryman is trying to go out on a mission,” the secretary calls out to me. I look up from my computer.

                “Huh?”

                “Yeah. Kid wants to go out but needs medical clearance first,” she chuckles. “But he looks like death.”

                I sigh, “Okay. Thank you.”

                Ambling down the hall, I pull the clipboard down and look over the patient’s file. He’s young, new, and apparently eager to prove himself having only gone on three missions before this. But supposedly someone noticed he’s sick and now he needs my okay to go into the field. If I’ve learned anything about newbies, they’re pretty desperate for approval, so I may have my hands full with this one.

                I give a brief knock and let myself in. Sitting on the patient’s bed is a young man with wild blonde hair, but the moment he looks up, I know he’s not getting my clearance. His skin was pale and his nose tinted pink; he looked like death. Still, I have to be polite.

                “Good morning. Mr. Strife, right?” He nods subtly. “I hear you’re hoping to go out on a mission.”

                “Yeah. I got a stuffy nose, but other than that, I’m okay,” he says with a clearly sick nasally sound. He’s not okay.

                “Oh, sweetie. I hate to tell you, but I don’t even have to check your temperature to tell you that you’re not going on that mission today,” I tell him, trying to be as gentle as possible in breaking it to him.

                “But I’m fine! I-” He breaks out into a raspy cough. Once it passes, he peers up at me with a pair of begging, beautiful, blue eyes.

                I raise an eyebrow. “Fine huh?”

                The man looks like a sad puppy. “Is there really no way I can go?”

                “Sorry. But a sick infantryman is much more likely to become a dead infantryman and I’m not having that on my conscience.” I set the clipboard aside and pick up my stethoscope. “Now, if you want to get back to work anytime soon, you better follow my instructions to a T.”

                “I thought doctors were supposed to have a bunch of training,” he grumbles. “You don’t look any older than me.”

                I smile at him. “I’m a quick learner, but I’m still technically in training with Dr. Harlow down the hall.” His eyes flicker to me. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m still your doctor and I can handle a cold.”

                “Ugh, a cold?” he groans.

                I don’t intend for it to, but a giggle escapes me. “Yes Mr. Strife. I’m pretty sure have a cold.”

                “But I haven’t even told you my symptoms yet.”

                “Okay, tell me your symptoms. Honestly, now.”

                And he does. We go through the standard check up and I take a swab to send off for testing. When the results return, I go back in with the answers in hand.

                “Well, it turns out I was wrong,” I hum. His head tilts. “You have the flu.” He groans and slowly just collapses onto the bed. “I’m sorry but we’re going to have to quarantine you.”

                “What?”

                “We can’t have you spreading it to everyone in the bunker, so we’ll get a room set up for you here in the infirmary until it passes.”

                “Uuuaaaaggghhhh...”

                “Oh come now. You’ll get a room all to yourself.”

                Despite his all his complaints, the patient doesn’t exactly fight me. I get him situated in his new room and leave him to rest. However when I get a spare moment a few hours later to check on him, I do not find him resting. Instead, he appears to be halfway through a set of pushups.

                “You should be resting, Mr. Strife,” I warn, leaning against the door frame. The young man scrambles to his feet, stumbling backwards into his bed. “Don’t make me order restraints on you.”

                “S-Sorry,” he mumbles.

                “And what did I say about following my instructions? If you keep pushing yourself like this, you’ll just end up staying longer.”

                “Yes ma’am.” I just want to pinch his cheeks.

                “Look, my shift ends in two hours. Why don’t you nap until then and I’ll come visit you after.”

                “Um, okay.”

                I point at him. “But I mean it. Get some rest. If I catch you straining yourself again, I will have you tied down.”

                He tenses. “Yes ma’am.”

                “Good.”

                As I warned, the young man rests, at least as far as I can tell as I casually pass his room. Clocking out, I sign in at the front desk as a guest and visit my patient. I crack the door open with a gentle knock and find him sitting on his bed, chewing on an apple.

                “Hey. How are you feeling?” He sticks his tongue out. I giggle. “The pain killers helping at all?”

                “Yes, ma’am.” He’s a well mannered young man; unusual for Shinra militants.

                Sitting at the small table, I dig through my bag. “You don’t have to call me ‘ma’am’. I’m _____.”

                He scritches nervously at the back of his head. “You can call me Cloud.”

                “Well Cloud, did you nap like I told you to?”

                “Yeah, but only for like an hour.”

                “That’s better than nothing.” I display the deck I keep for my boredom. “Wanna play?”

                He ducks his head. “I don’t know how to play any card games.”

                “That’s fine. I’ll teach you. Come sit.”

                I teach the infantryman a handful of card games and we whittle the day away. He picks up most of them pretty quickly, not that I’ve taught him any of the complicated ones yet.

                “Any queens?” he asks.

                My shoulders drop and I pass him the card. “Beginner’s luck,” I chide.

                His head tilts. “What do you mean?”

                “You got twenty seven pairs. That’s more than half of the deck. I physically cannot win anymore,” I explain, gathering up the pairs I’d collected.

                “Oh.” A little smile lights up his face. He pushes his cards closer. “So what’s your favorite game?”

                I shuffle the cards together. “Hm? My favorite’s speed.”

                “How do you play that one?”

                So I show him how to play my favorite game. Once again, he grasps the idea easily and we start our first game. In about two minutes, the game ends when he sets his last card down.

                I hum, pulling the cards together, “Well Cloud, you’re better than I expected you to be.”

                “You let me win,” he says.

                He’s definitely more perceptive than I thought. Sheepishly, I answer, “I wouldn’t say I let you win so much as I wasn’t trying my hardest.” Those blonde brows furrow. “Don’t be mad. Nobody would play this game with me if I actually tried.”

                “Show me. Let’s play again.”

                What the poor boy doesn’t understand is that card games are my hobby and I’ve had a lot of spare time to play them. Yet while card games are my specialty, speed is my game.

                I deal out the game and let Cloud sort his hand. Once he’s done, we flip cards. Poor boy never had a chance. With some luck and only one flip, by the time my last card is down, he’s played maybe two cards in our twenty second game.

                “Holy shit,” he whispers, staring at the game he’s so miserably lost.

                “Don’t take it personally. I was lucky that round. Plus you’re sick,” I say, collecting the cards. Quickly, I shuffle the cards multiple ways, including one handed, throwing in a few Ben wade flourishes in. I’m very satisfied with the slack-jawed awe on his face when I place the deck in front of me. “And I have too much free time.”

                The corner of his lips pulls back. “You’re a card shark. I bet you let me win all those games.”

                “Not true,” I reply. “I genuinely suck at goldfish. Way too much luck involved. Though I guess I could’ve stashed a few cards down my shirt.” He scoffs at my answer. “Although.” I wave the cards out in a ribbon spread and pluck a single card: the ace of spades. “I always knew where this one was. There’s a knick in the corner.”

                He takes the card from me and examines it closely. “What?!”

                “This is my favorite deck. I’ve had it for a long time.” Returning the ace and stacking the cards, I push them closer to him. “But you can borrow it for a while. Maybe the next time we play you’ll pose a challenge.”

                “Are you sure?” he questions.

                “Yeah. Besides, if it keeps you entertained long enough to get over the flu, I don’t mind.”

                “Aren’t you worried you’ll get sick hanging out with me?”

                “Nah. I had my vaccine shot this year and I’ll wash up before I leave.” I look to the clock on his wall. It’s almost six; I’ve been playing games with this patient for four hours. “I should probably get going. They’ll be bringing dinner around soon.”

                “Okay. Thanks for showing me how to play.”

                I stand. “Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve had this much fun playing.” Cloud winces, pressing a palm to his eye. “Headache kicking again?”

                “Yeah...”

                I stare at him a moment before making a decision. “Can you keep a secret?” Those blue eyes peer up at me. Reaching out, I rest a hand in his hair, briefly distracting myself with how soft it is. With a little focus, a green glow emits from my arm and I feel some of my stamina draining.

                Cloud reaches a hand into his hair when I release him. “What was that?”

                I tap just below my elbow. “Materia. That deck of cards and a single orb of materia were all I had living in the slums. But I’m sure they’ll take it from me if they find out I have it, so don’t tell anyone.” He nods. “Anyway, I can’t really use it to cure the flu but I hope you feel better.”

                “Thanks.”

                I smile. “I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow.”

                He returns the expression. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

                And that’s how I became friends with the sweetest Shinra employee I’ve ever met.

~~~~~ 

The Next Day...

                Knocking on the door, I hear Cloud answer and step inside, only to find my deck of cards scattered around the room and Cloud on the floor picking them up.

                “You forgot to teach me how to shuffle,” he replies bluntly.

                “And I see you learned how to play fifty two card pick up.”

#cloud x reader #cloud strife x reader #ffvii cloud #cloud strife #fem!reader

[queerchoicesblog]

New York, At Last (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele Series)

So, folks, here’s the new chapter of the series. Thank you so much for your support, hope you enjoy it!

Little disclaimer-favor: especially since the tags don’t seem to be working anymore, if you do enjoy it, please consider supporting the author & sharing this. A little gesture that means a lot!

Word Count: 3000+

Zetta x Adele Tag: @storyscaped​ ​ @storyscapefanficarchive​ @marmolady​ @animus-and-anima​ @hayley-carter19 @escako​  @everlastingchoices​ @indescribablechoices​ @ahrielstuff​ @bornonawdnsday​ @nazario-sayeed​  @h-doodles​ @adele-serda​ @marlcasters​ @brightpinkpeppercorn​  @michelleconnoly​ @charliejane-blog​ @ghost-of-yuri​  @choicesgremlin​  @lanzhansguqin​ @orange-elephants​

Zetta x Adele Series Tag: @eternal-langdon​ @nydeiri​

➡️ Ch. 1, Ch. 2/1, Ch. 2/2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8/1, Ch. 8/2, Ch. 9, Ch. 10/1, Ch. 10/2, Ch. 11/1, Ch. 11/2, Ch. 12, Ch. 13

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A thick fog rises and surrenders our ship as we sail towards New York. It lingers there, night and day, as if it's escorting us to our destination. We can hardly see the ocean anymore, we acknowledge its presence by the murmur of the waves, the breathing of the cold water beneath us. The captain must have given order to be careful because we proceed at low speed, "like in a funeral march" I find myself noting one day. I refrain myself from saying that out loud though. We are asked to stay below deck as much as possible as storms are announced. We sail through troubled waters: some of us get sick, others are too shattered to even register the rolling of the ship. The morale on board has crashed since our first day here. Both the crew and the passengers of the Carpathia have offered us help, sympathy and support. Some gave us their coats or whatever clothing item could keep us warm after we lost everything. They didn't ask for anything in return. Others helped searching for missing people: now a list of names is pinned in one of the halls. People check it regularly with a mix of hope and dread: hope to see their friend or loved one again, dread to spot a black cross by the name so dear to them. If someone cannot be found here on the ship is declared perished in the sinking. Unofficially, obviously, the mourning ones can still try and search them when we reach shore but most surrender under the weight of those tiny scribbles. Those black crosses are not just a quick sign on paper, they pierce through their aching hearts.

As our rescue journey is coming to an end, we are all mourning. The lucky ones who were reunited with their families and friends keep a low profile in respect of all those who lost their loved ones. Their grief is overwhelming, you can sense it, even breathe it in the grim silence that fill the night. Poor souls... I feel almost guilty when on our last day on board I accidentally bump into two familiar faces. I was looking for a steward when I collided with...Lawrence. Felix is right behind him. My heart skips a beat as I call out their names. Lawrence smiles at me and I am so relieved that we met again. We hug each other and I inhale the faint perfume of his eau de cologne. They survived, they survived... I repeat those words in my head as I pull Felix in for an embrace too. They both survived: I don't even start imagining what sort of pain would have tortured one of them if the other didn't make it. They wouldn't have allowed it: if there had been no way to save both of them, they would have gone down with the ship together. I know it, I saw it in their eyes when we parted on the deck. They told me how they stayed until there was no time left. Many of those who are here now owe them their lives: they kept directing women and children and even some men to the boats before jumping on the very last lifeboat at the very last minute. I couldn't be more proud of these two unaware heroes I am honoured to call friends. They are going to visit the little boy they rescued and his brother: the woman they entrusted them to is still taking care of them. Others passengers are helping too. No one has understood what language they speak or where they're from, where their parents are but at least they're safe. "That's all that matters now", Felix notes and I agree. If only the world could see what shining beauty my friends hold... Before parting, they ask me about me: could I find a spot on a boat fast? Did I succeed in speaking some sense into the thick skull of that officer? Is James with me? I share my last moments on the ship with them and when I am still in the middle of my answer, Lawrence reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. "Did you find Miss Carrem? Is...is she here?" he asks, concern written all over his face. Felix is grimacing too. Their expression relaxes only when I assure them that yes, we were reunited on the deck and she's now resting with her sister. Lawrence's face color up again as he lets out a deep sigh of relief. "We were so worried, Zetta! When we spotted her on the deck we immediately directed her to the lifeboats and to you...but we weren't sure if you two could find each other in the midst of all that chaos or get on a boat" he explains. "Yes, we pictured the worst...we're so relieved, Miss Zetta, so incredibly relived" Felix continues, smiling. I wonder what I did good in my life to have men like them on my side. Their affection and empathy soothe my troubled soul and make me wish to never part from them. I should invite them more often when we reach shore, yes we should see each other more often...things can change and will change now that we'll be all in New York. I ask them if they want to see Adele: I can wake her, I'm sure she will be more than happy to see them. They assure me it's fine and beg me not wake her. They will visit later maybe but for now they're just happy "she's here safe and sound". "And that you are together again" Lawrence adds with a tired smile. The soft warmth in his voice tells me what I already know: he knows, they know. How could they not? But my secret is safe with them and I am grateful to them for the genuine care they showed to Adele. And well, me. I hug them both one more time then we part ways. I hope to see them very soon. I must invite them over once our lives will slowly go back to a new normal. Maybe this tragedy will make us closer. When I finally find a steward, I am informed that we are approaching shore. "We'll be in New York tonight, ma'am" he announces with an encouraging smile as if to say that our troubles are over. I go back to my group and share the news. Adele and Hileni are still sleeping, only Teo, Jaime and Sabine greet my announcement with a nod but keeps quiet. I know what's going on in their heads, their thoughts are my thoughts: it feels so weird to hear these words after all we've been through. It almost doesn't feel right when so many of us are not here. Even when the news spread among the other survivors I hear no cheer, only sighs: could it be relief or grief, it's hard to tell. Maybe both. A silent question echo in the room: now what? Sabine shakes her head and gives a grim laugh. "I thought I would have been buried in work today, instead..." She looks down at her empty hands: my little Napoleon so efficient and fond of schedules must feel lost now. No scrupulous packing to do, no checking if our belongings are properly gathered or something is missing. She takes her job very seriously and - I realise it now- her job is her life. "Consider this a free day" It's Matteo speaking, he sounds absentminded but then he turns towards Sabine and meets her gaze. "Allow yourself to be the one being served, for once" he adds. He tries to smirk, one of his signature smirk I saw on his face so very often, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He looks tired and troubled just like us. As if on cue, a waitress approaches us and asks if we would like a cup of coffee. I see Sabine barely refraining herself from reaching out to help her: it feels almost unnatural to her being on the other side. The waitress is a young girl, I wonder if she's even twenty. She's chatty: she comments how nice coming home must feel after a journey like ours. She has relatives in New York but never visited the city properly although "it is truly gorgeous, isn't it?". She asks us if it's our final destination and wishes all the very best. She parts from us with an encouraging smile: she will come back later to bring coffee to Adele and Hileni when they wake up. It's evening when we enter the bay and proceed towards the pier, escorted by a scout cruiser. We move to one of the decks only to find it crammed with other survivors. We have to fight our way through the crowd once again to get a spot near the railing. We are all to see with our own eyes if our journey has truly come to an end. If we're truly safe. The lights of New York flicker in the distance despite the heavy rain. Now I know it's over, all the horrors and fears are finally over. A lump forms in my throat at the sight of my city, my home but I shake it off. I reach for Hileni's hand and guide her upwards, pointing her the sea of lights on the shore. "There, sweetheart, look! See those lights? It's America" Three long blasts of the ship horns frame my words. The young girl squeezes her eyes to see better; after a moment, a tiny smile crosses her lips and relief washes over me. "It's...shiny!" she notes. "Shiny is definitely one word for it" I agree, smiling at her naive awe. For a moment, I am reminded of myself, my young self when I first saw the city that eventually became my home. I wager I was around the same age of Hileni. And just like her, that sight filled me with a mix of wonder, adrenaline and vague hope. "Adal, come here, come see! It's New York!" she says, turning and calling for her sister. Adele is right behind. Hearing her name, she immediately approaches us. "So, this is it?" she asks, placing her hands on Hileni's shoulders and pressing a quick kiss on top of her head. "So unimpressed, huh, Adele?" I tease her but when our eyes meet a soft smile is on my lips. "I promise it gets better, give it time" Without thinking twice, I wrap my arm around her waist and move a bit closer. "Welcome to New York" I add and for some reason I feel my eyes welling with tears. My love keeps quiet but a weak smile draws on her face. She rests her head on my shoulder and we both look into the distance, towards our new lives to come. There is a grim irony in how bittersweet the end of our journey is. We were supposed to make a glorious arrival, a triumphant march towards America on the "Queen of the Sea" but there is nothing of that fantasy now. The Titanic sleeps at the bottom of the ocean with many poor souls, too many poor souls and we're proceeding towards our initial destination sombrely in a cold rainy New York night. The fog hasn't lifted completely so we must look like a ghost ship. A ghost ship approaching in the mist filled with us, ghosts among ghosts. The darkness around us is lit up only by the city lights at the horizon and the flashlights of cameras of a bunch of photographers on a tug boat following us to the pier. It goes without saying that the Titanic tragedy will be the talk of the town for weeks, months maybe...but I wish those vultures could have refrained themselves until we reach shore. We proceed in front of them in mournful silence, indifferent to the flashlights hitting our faces. When we finally dock and the vibration of the engines beneath our feet subsides, we all stand in disbelief. It's over, it's truly over now. We're in America. The Carpathia passengers are disembarked first: the Captain is afraid the scene will become tumultuous as we survivors, the main attraction for the press, will appear. His concerns are well founded judging by the loud buzz coming from beneath us. When it's our turn to go I take a deep breath and give one last grateful look to the crew waving us goodbye and whispering good wishes as we pass by. Heavy raindrops run down my face as I walk down the gangway but I hardly notice. As my feet touch land I shiver: I'm home yet...I feel like in a dream. I hold Adele's hand tight and we move cautiously forward into the crowd. I look around and all I see is a multitude of lost souls and flashlights. I don't hear what the men of the press are shouting, what the land officers are shouting back: all around their voices blend together and I can't distinguish who is saying what in this dissonant choir. "Let them pass, give them space for Christ's sake!" "What can you tell us about the sinking?" "A few words for the Tribune, please!" "Blankets, warm blankets, let me give you blanket, Sir" "How many people died?". I keep walking under the rain, following Sabine and Hileni proceeding arm in arm ahead of us. I think back at all those we left behind, like Charlie, my love's poor brave friend, and Mr. Andrews, defeated by his sense of guilt yet fighting till the end. All those desperate people screaming in the icy waters before surrendering to their grim fate. I think back of the upset young woman who was searching for her beloved Henry: I wonder where she is now and I pray a kind soul is taking care of her. We stop to let the medical personnel pass. They're holding a stretcher with a man buried under a pile of wool blankets. There are bandages around his head and his eyes don't seem to register what's happening around him. Another follows with a woman begging through tears the midwife holding her hand to call her husband. I shake away those thoughts before they can pierce my soul and I let my eyes wander through the crowd as we proceed. James is not far and so is Matteo. A few months ago I was standing on a pier just like this one, maybe this one waiting to start my journey. I was so relieved back then to get a break, to run away for a while...to see James again. So curious to see the "Ship of Dreams" everyone was talking about on my return trip. It all feels so hollow and distant now as if it happened in another life. Or maybe it's just me...I feel changed. I turn to Adele. My love looks like a stranded and forlorn Robin Crusoe setting foot on a foreign land: she keeps walking but she's lost, almost afraid of these new chaotic surroundings. She looks so fragile and different from the bold girl who stepped into my suite not so long ago. I feel like I could break her now if I hugged her too tight. I give her hand an encouraging squeeze and it seems to make her snap out of her misery. "Madam, the officers need to get the passengers names before letting everyone go, we asked around" Sabine's voice ground me. She and Hileni are looking at me, both getting soaked with rain. I'm grateful to my ever efficient little Napoleon for taking charge of the situation. "There are so many of us" Adele's sister notes grimly and she's right. No matter how few of us survived the sinking, the pier is packed and the press pushing in is of little help. "It will take hours to clear the pier" I sigh. That's when I notice Hileni trying and failing to hide a shiver. I am eternally thankful to the fan giving me one of her wintry coats on board as tonight New York is getting colder and colder and the rain keeps wetting our clothes, making it harder to fight the chill. I must reward my generous fan, I got her name and address I think... Adele's hand adjusts into mine and it's as cold as ice. She still has her blue jacket on and a thin blanket completely soaked around her shoulders. "You're cold" I wince. She tries to avoid my gaze, dismissing my concerns. She's just fine, she assures me but I know her well enough to detect a lie when I hear it. Even a white lie. "You too, poor thing" I add, addressing Hileni who wraps her blanket a bit tighter around her in full response. Maybe she wants to say she's fine too but I anticipate her. "No, no, we'll do something about it. We have to wait for a while here, huh? No sense in freezing us all in the meantime" I turn towards Sabine and add, with renewed resolution: "They're passing around warm blankets, right? You two stay here, Sabine and I will get some then we'll see what to do next" My little Napoleon gives me a firm nod and addresses some comforting words to Hileni, adjusting her blanket. "You don't have to, we're fine..." Adele voice is low and somber even if she's doing her best to conceal how shattered she feels inside. Her soft yet unconvincing smile makes my heart ache. She'll be good again when we'll be away from this chaos...it will take some time maybe, but she will be fine, truly fine again. I hate the idea of parting from her side but I'll be damned if I won't take care of her and her sister. Please allow me to, my sweet love. I cup her face and caress her damp cheek. She instinctively leans to the touch as if a little warmth was all she needed. "I won't hear it, love. Stay here, I'll be back before you know it" I whisper, a tender smile on my lips. Before taking my leave, I press a quick kiss on her forehead. Then I venture with Sabine through the messy crowd. With one last look above my shoulder I see the Carrem sisters holding hands and sharing a weak smile. Surprisingly, finding stewards with blankets is tougher thanI first thought. People are gathering and looking for other passengers and missing ones, indisciplined photographers pushing their way in to get a shot of the misery of the survivors. As we fight our way through and keep searching, I try to come up with a plan. "Once we sort all this bureaucracy out, we'll find a way to get out of here" I reason out loud with Sabine. I barely hear her answer. "I'm sure your fiancée Mr King is right here waiting for you, Madam-" "Adele and her sister can stay in the blue and green rooms...they should be comfortable there, what do you think?" My mind is racing as I scan the crowd. "The blue and the green rooms sound perfect, Madam. I'll have them ready in no time whe-" "Oh no need to, Sabine! I'm sure they're already in excellent state if I know you" We stop as an officer kindly asks if he could get our names. He smiles when I say mine. "Who wouldn't know your name, Miss Serda? It's good to see you here, safe and sound" A fan, obviously. After Sabine drops hers and he checks both on a list, we ask him where we can find blankets or coats for our friends. Apparently, we're not far from his colleague! We speed up following his directions and I think I can see a man handing out wool plaids to shivering passengers. "This way, Sabine, I see him!" I cheer. Then, out of the blue, a familiar voice calls my name. "Zetta!" I stop and turn towards the sound to see... "R-Richard?" I...completely forgot about him. I don't know how but I forgot about him. It only makes sense he would be here, I would have been to even if... I- I just erased such thought. He pushes his way through the crowd and runs towards me. He's crying, it's not just rain wetting his face. He pulls me into a tight embrace and bury his head in the crook of my neck. I feel awful for forgetting about him when he starts sobbing like a child, unafraid to show his feelings, his vulnerability. I hug him back and whispers words that I hope will make him stop crying and feel a bit better. No need to cry, I'm here. I'm here, Richard. It seems to work as he loosens up his arms and face me. It's the first time I see his face in months and vice versa he mine. I wonder what he sees. His hair are soaked, dark circles loom under his eyes and his lower lip still trembles a little as he cups my face and bring our forehead together. "I was so scared when I heard the news, Zetta, so scared..." his voice is shaky as he speaks. "I-I pictured the worst, I couldn't sleep, I-" "Oh Richard..." I wince. "I tried to get in touch with the Carpathia, to send Marconigrams, I only wanted to know if you survived but the communication lines were overcrowded-" I brush away a strand of wet hair from his face. "It's fine, darling, I'm here, I'm alive, we-" "You don't know how happy and relived I am that you are, Zetta! I don't know what I would have done if you weren't on this ship, if you died that night...I truly don't know-" He embraces me again just when flash powder ignites around us. Journalists. I don't even have to wait for their shoutings to know it's the greedy press. "Zetta, Zetta!" "A word for the press!" "Would you make a statement about the tragedy?" "How is it to be back?" "Is it true that the Titanic collided with an iceberg?" No, I can't do this. I don't want to. I hear Richard groaning like a wounded animal before turning towards them. "Please, leave her be, she's just arrived-" he says but his plea goes unanswered. Journalists are a famelic species and awfully stubborn. "Oh c'mon, you have no decency? Go away, I beg you" Richard rises a hand towards the cameras to protect us from the flashlights. His voice now betrays hints of anger but he's so broken that his words sound more like a prayer. I doubt this will work, knowing those vultures. He reaches for my hand and turns towards me, leaning close to be heard over the shoutings. "Come with me, lets get you out of here. James and his valet are with John, follow me" He pulls my hand gently but I freeze. I freeze as my mind race towards Adele. Adele waiting for me on the pier with Hileni. Adele to whom I promised to be back 'before she knows it'. "What?" It's all I can manage to say. My breath catches in my throat. Richard must think I couldn't hear what he says. He repeats his words and pulls my hand again. I don't move. "No, no I-I can't, I must go back, my...my friends are wait-" I mutter but I'm cut short by those vultures again. A flashlight blinds me: the vivid light hurt my tired eyes to the point I can't see for a moment, I cover my eyes and I'm momentarily surrounded by darkness only. I hear Richard shouting back at the journalist, he's angry and exasperated now. Then he wraps an arm around my waist and guides me away, shielding me with his body from the cameras. "This way, Zetta, Mademoiselle Sabine...." My feet move against my will. I don't wanna leave the pier yet I'm too exhausted to resist. I try though but my attempt is weak and can nothing against Richard's desperate determination to take us away from this mournful chaos. When I finally gets my vision back, I'm standing in front of two cars. John, Richard's right hand, is right there, holding an umbrella for Teo and James. He tips his hat respectfully and say words I don't listen but that I presume are some kind of welcome back, so glad to see you here or things like that. My eyes fall on my travel companions: Matteo displays a dignified yet somber demeanour -I wouldn't expect nothing less from him- and winces at me as I meet his gaze while Jaime...the expression on his face is completely numb. He's distant, somewhere far away from this pier and awfully quiet, the quietest I've ever seen him. Richard encourages us all to go before the journalists are back and guides me and Sabine towards a car, Teo and my nephew will ride in John's one. He opens the door and help my little Napoleon in then me. I throw one last look to the pier before taking my seat but I can't distinguish a single face. The sky is getting darker and the crowd is slow to disperse. I stretch my neck but it's useless...I can't see my love even if I know she's there somewhere out of view. Richard hurries in after me and hastily gestures at the driver to start the engine as the lights of the cameras approach fast. When the car cautiously moves towards the boulevard, he takes my hand into his and rises it to his lips. "It will all be alright, my love, I promise you. I'll take care of you..." I register the kiss on the back of my hand but I can barely hear him. I'm not here. I am sitting here in this car disappearing into the night but I'm not here, not truly. My mind is empty. All I can think of is Adele. My Adele waiting in vain for me in the rain. My Adele...

#titanic storyscape #zetta serda #adele carrem #zetta x adele #zetta x adele series

[ladybugsfanfics]

Seven Days [2/7]

→ Pairing: prince!Loki Odinson x pirate!reader

(eventually prince!Loki x pirate!Steve Rogers x pirate!reader)

→ WC:  2.5k

→ Warnings: Smut, some blood gore, idk, awkwardness, nightmares, (countless) sexual innuendos

→ Summary: Prince Loki has run sick of not feeling welcome at the palace and asks to join you and your life forever. You give him seven days to try the new life, seven days to realize how much he loves you. And in those seven days, he learns to know you, and himself (and the first mate) a little better… In the end, he only has one question left to answer. Will he stay?

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Cold wind wakes Loki. He’s drenched in sweat, his heart pounds and his throat feels dry. The cover has fallen off, lying at the end of the bed. Your side of the bed is empty, cold. The imprint of your body lingers behind, a lasting effect of body warmth. 

Loki finds his pants on the floor under the cover. He drags them on in one swift motion and lets his bare feet hit the wooden planks of the cabin as he tightens them around his hips. The planks creek under his weight, feels cold against his skin, but he moves along either way. 

The door is slightly ajar, letting in streaks of light from the moon high above in the dark night. Loki pushes it open enough to slip through and lets if fall back to the little opening it had. 

You stand by the mast, eyes cast out over the black ocean and the starry night that envelops the ship. Against the darkness of the night, you stand out with your white shirt and the sparkling silver and gold in your ears. Moonlight reflects off them, basks in the depths of your eyes and creates an image of beauty Loki wishes never to forget. 

A quiet wind washes over the deck, blowing through your hair. Loki takes in the slight tug of your lips as it brushes your skin, takes in the shift in your eyes. You look calm, content. 

You look the opposite of what he sees when you’re ashore. Instead of the wary feeling of lurking danger, you look light and relaxed. Shoulders down, head leaning against the mast with a dopey smile on your face and eyes that stare into the nothingness of the night. 

With light steps, he traces his way to you. He hoped to be quiet, to make his way there without taking away the serendipity of your expression, but even as you move your head to the side and glance at him, the look remains. Loki smiles as you open your arms in greeting. 

Stepping to you, your arms snake around his torso. Your head leans against his chest instead of the mast, and he slowly begins to stroke long fingers through your hair. In the silence of the night, standing there with you, Loki feels content as well. Just this way, the night feels like it’s everything, and despite knowing there are other people there (still awake and on duty) it feels like it’s just the two of you. 

The silence stretches on for another few moments, until you break it, voice dipped low and barely above a whisper. “How do you like it?” 

He contemplates his answer. The question is open, letting him tell you anything he wants, good or bad, about his first day. However, you didn’t ask if he likes it, you asked how. Standing there in the dark with you, he has his answer. 

“So far, it’s the best choice I ever made,” he replies, “and I don’t believe that to change.”

You let out a small laugh. “Maybe I’ve been too easy on you.”

Loki shakes his head, tugging a little extra on your hair to tilt your face up so he can gaze into your eyes. They spark together with the grin that colors your face. “It’s the best choice, whether I have to hate your first mate or not.”

“Ahh, Rogers’s getting on your nerves, huh?” You nod, letting your head fall back down to lean against Loki’s chest and watch the ocean’s life beyond the ship’s railing. “He has a thing for doing that. Means he likes you.”

Loki shakes his head knowingly, lets his gaze fall in the same direction as you. His eyes trace the steady rhythm of the waves, the small splashes that makes against the ship. Small drops of saltwater rains down on the deck that, every now and then, finds Loki to land on. 

“Can I ask something?” His voice sounds like an echo of his thoughts. 

“‘Course,” you reply, though the same layer of absence comes through your tone. 

Loki takes a deep breath, testing the words in his mind. On his tongue. Formed on his lips. Before he says them. “How did you end up here?” 

You tense in his embrace, and he chances a quick look down in fear he made you uncomfortable. Yet, you only look up at him with a small smile, shoulders relaxed. Your arms comes up to cup his cheek, drags his face down to meet yours, and you press a chaste kiss to his lips. “It’s a long story,” you mutter against them. 

“I have time,” he whispers back. 

You press another quick kiss to his lips. “Good.” You shift in his hold, making to sit down on the deck instead of standing. Even in the shift, you still lean against his chest and as you start to talk, his fingers keep grooming through your hair. 

“I was born on a stormy night. On a ship, just like this.” You take a deep breath. “My father was a sailor turned to the pirate life from necessity. My mother had run away with him a year earlier, from a family of merchants. When I was born, the storm ruined the ship, splintering the wood in such a way that a plank pierced through my mother. That is the only thing I know of her. 

“My father managed to save me. With the captain of the ship, who blamed my mother for the disaster as women bring bad luck, we escaped in a rowboat. To land, my father departed from the captain and set out for a straight life. It was hard, and eventually, he joined another crew. Stark’s father was the captain, and Tony and I grew up together on the ship. Only, I hid as a boy, which lasted for a long time until I started to develop. 

“One day, our ship was attacked by kingsmen. Both my father and Stark’s died. The captain and the first mate. The second mate was a man who hadn’t enjoyed mine or Stark’s presence. Both of us were kicked off as he took charge, despite the crew’s protests. And we were forced to live on little food and the shelter we were provided by kind people. 

“After a year, we set out together to try our luck. I hid my gender, and flew through the ranks of the ship to first mate in two years time. During an attack from an enemy ship, our captain died and I took over. My first order was to reveal that I was a woman, something easily done by flashing my breasts. There were surprised gasps and I told them if they had a problem, they needed to leave. 

“Most did. Except for Stark, and doctor Strange. He never wanted to be here in the first place, but he seemed not to want to leave, much less when I revealed my true identity. We renamed the ship, made changes and set out to find a crew. 

“Here I am today, still captain and with more respect than any other captain of the Seven Seas. Of course, this is leaving out every bloody aspect of it. If you ever need those, I’m not the one to ask.”

You fall into silence, one Loki does not wish to break. His heart beats loudly within its cage, and he tightens his grip around you as he places a kiss against your forehead. You sink closer into him, eyes closing as your hand traces across his chest. The sensations tingles Loki’s skin, and he lets a smile play on his lips as your breathing deepens and your hand falls limp at your side. 

With the energy he can muster, he shifts and picks you up. Carefully, he makes for your cabin, and pushes the door open with his foot. He puts you down on the bed, getting the cover from where it lies at the end of the bed. Loki lies down next to you, pulling you into his chest and letting his eyes close and the night floats away. 

 ---

The boy looks at him with wide eyes, mouth agape and fascination written across his face. “Really? You met other kings? Were you supposed to marry some other princess, too?” 

Loki nods, though the memory is not one he likes to remember. “I did,” he says eventually. “But I promise, princesses are not what they are told to be.” 

Peter nods understandingly. “Why?” he asks. The genuinity of his voice catches Loki off guard, but he still does his best to answer, without being too mean to the ones he’s met. 

“Most of them are rather spoiled, probably same as I was. And many of those I met were mean-spirited, all favoring my brother.” He chuckles slightly, though there is no happiness in the laugh. Loki shakes his head, and see you talking to Steve on the main deck, a smile on your face despite the teasing glimt in Steve’s eyes. “I only have one princess I like anyway.” 

The kid turns around, following Loki’s gaze to where you stand. He turns back, a fond smile on his face and nods. “You really like her, don’t you?”

Loki nods. 

“Mr. Stark told me you were her toy, but he also said you aren’t like the others. He said you’re special.” Peter nods as he talks, yet presses his lips together as if he said something he wasn’t supposed to. With the look of a kicked puppy, he meets Loki’s gaze. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” 

But Loki doesn’t mind. He knows there have been others. He knows you can’t only have him, at least not when he wasn’t traveling with you. Even if it does sting, he still asks. “Could you mention some of the others? What am I measured against?” He shoots the kid a smile, just to let him know he said nothing wrong. 

It has Peter light up. “We can’t talk too loud, because both Mr. Stark and Dr. Strange told me not to tell you anything, but you’re asking so I think it’s okay.” He leans forward, closer to Loki and lowers his voice to an almost whisper. “Most of the ones she’s been with, I don’t know the name of. They weren’t special, and she doesn’t take a lot of them on board, or really no one unless they already are here.” 

 “So, the ones you know she’s been with are part of the crew?”

Peter nods. “That’s why some aren’t too happy with you being here. You’re competition, though only to those that haven’t gotten the pleasure. But, anyways.” He waves his hands in the air, looking much more comfortable and casual compared to when they had first started to talk. “The one you’re really asking about is Mr. Rogers, right?”

Loki presses his lips together, but he still nods slowly, reluctantly. 

“I can tell you, yes. He’s probably been the most frequent.” Peter nods with a little grimace Loki supposes is him thinking it through. “I’ve also seen Mr. Barnes, and I believe I saw miss Romanoff once, but I’m not certain.”

“That’s alright. I didn’t ever expect anyone to tell me.” Loki smiles at Peter, though he knows it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you. Now I know who I can confide in.”

Peter nods. “Yeah, well… there’s one more thing.” 

Loki cocks a brow. 

“The captain asked me to help you to your job. She said you have to find your place in the crew, and that you have to start where anyone new does.” 

The way Peter looks away from Loki, and shrinks in on himself, has an uneasy feeling travel through his veins. “What does the job entail?” 

“You’re gonna work in the bilge, emptying the water that fills it that doesn’t reach the pumps. It fills up every now and then, and there’s always someone going down there. It’s been me many times.” Peter hides away a little more, waiting for Loki’s reaction. 

However, the prince doesn’t give the one the boy expects. He sighs and looks back in your direction. You laugh, leaning against the railing and looking out over the rest of the crew. Steve talks beside you, and Loki knows you’re listening, but he can’t help but smile when your gaze meets his and your smile widens. His heart beats faster and faster, and he doesn’t care that he has to empty water from the ship. 

Anything is worth it with you by his side. 

 ---

Anything is not worth it with you by his side. 

Bare footed, pants rolled up to his thighs and shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Loki wades in the water. The bucket he holds stinks, the wood of it rotten. He’s been there for longer than he can count (he lost count somewhere after the first two bells). 

Outside, the sun settles down on the water’s horizon. He can feel the sweat wade down his back, and make his hair drape to his forehead. Even if he doesn’t regret coming along with you, he does regret not just being your lover. He would rather spend the days in your cabin, reading a book, or maybe get to know more people of your crew. 

Footsteps comes closer to where he is, and moments later he hears you call for him. He can hear the smile in your voice as you tell him he can stop and get some food. 

Moments later, he finally gets to sit down at a table with you. Salty meat and a bottle of rum he shares with you sits in front of him. The table is shared with Steve, you, Stark, Dr. Strange and Barnes. Loki wishes he could change Steve with Clint, but it’s not something he can control. 

“So, how was it, prince?” ask Stark with a smirk. 

Loki sighs. “Could be worse.” 

“Really now?” Steve studies him with a cock of his brows and a teasing glint in eyes. “Then you could do it again, right?”

You snicker at that. “How did you react after your first time, Rogers? Wasn’t it you who said the job was the easiest here and that if you were stuck doing it the rest of your life, that would be okay?” 

The table laughs at that, even Strange. Loki has the feeling the doctor might just be shy, or maybe not a people’s person. He makes a mental note to talk to the doctor alone sometime, ask him about what it’s like here. 

Steve’s face goes red, and he shoots you a glare. “I don’t have to, do I?” he asks, and though it sounds a little like a statement, Loki finds the question in it. You have the final say. 

“Right now I’m considering you two doing it together. The only ones except the kid that doesn’t complain about it, and the kid doesn’t for another reason than the two of you.” You press your lips together, taking a bite of your food. 

“Retaliation,” says Stark, “and against the first mate of all people.” He shakes his head and glances Steve’s way. “We already know it’s bad for you, but this has to make it even worse.”

The glare the first mate sends Stark’s way makes Loki realize the implication of the sentence. His gut churns at the thought, but he also has to suppress a smile knowing you’re his, and no one else’s.

permanent:  @devilbat @adefectivedetective @gamillian @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @heartislubbingdubbing​

loki:  @iamverity​ @satanskatze​ @timetravelingsociopathicwalker​

seven days: @marvelc00kie35​ @southernhoney21​  @senpaiweird​ @britkane-shsl-librarian​ 

#loki odinson #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki #loki odinson x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #marvel #marvel fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel fanfictio #pirate loki #pirate au #pirate reader #prince loki #loki au #polyamourous #poly relationship

[pink-hao]

a thousand years ~ j.w.

Summary/Author’s Notes: Confession time. I seriously am so in love with Jackson Wang! I have so many ideas for him, but this one is my oldest so I wanted to see it come to life. Please enjoy! Love youuuuu <3

Pairing: Jackson Wang x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: None :)

masterlist

“I’ll wait if I have to~,” he said 6 years, 3 months and 22 days ago. Not that you were counting.

Jackson wang, one of the funniest, most handsome, all-around amazing guys in your life. No, the funniest, most talented, all-around amazing guy in your life. That’s what he said before you boarded your flight to America, after your last kiss. You know, that cliche, “I love you so much more than words could explain” kiss in the romantic movies. Life with Jackson Wang was something out of a movie. But, like all good movies, it came to an end. You were forced out of the country and into America by your parents so that you could partake in an internship that would help you to one day take over the family company. But that was then, and this is now. 

Right?

Meanwhile, in the present...

“Again, Z?” you sighed annoyed, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at the white clock on the wall in the kitchen of the nth time today. 3:17 in the afternoon. We should’ve left the house at 2:30.

“I’m sorry, I am,” Jiho started. “I just hate going to the barber because Jongdae is always fucking screaming, Hyo-seob looks like he’s gonna murder anyone that walks through the door, Sana always fuck up my undercut, and Jisoo is always-“

“Flirting with you, I know. You never let me forget how much Jisoo and every other girl flirts with you, Z. And Hyo-seob is sweet.” you whined.

“I’m sorry, but a guy that looks like that is not sweet,” he stated.

“Z, we are already over an hour late. I just want to go to the party. Not to dance, or even to talk to our friends, but because I’m hungry and I know the food is gonna be the bomb.” 

“Well, no shit. I mean it’s at Taeyong’s house. That kid can cook,” he said, focused on the face looking back at him in the mirror while he styled his newly blonde hair. “Get my gel from the top drawer in the bathroom please?” he asked with a cute smile. you rolled your eyes.

“You baby.” you walked down the narrow, slate-colored hallway decked out with pictures of cherry blossoms and band posters from over the years. Jiho and you have lived together ever since you moved to America. He was your first friend and your number one confidant in everything. Your parents and his know each other very well, they’ve been business partners for years. You figured out that one of the main reasons that your parents brought you here was to arrange a relationship with Jiho. Naturally, they were more than excited when you two got close. Over the moon when you moved in together. The truth is, neither of you had ever lived alone and didn’t know many other people so you decided to rent together. Your parents loved this idea since it meant you would be together 24/7. And sleeping together. But you and Jiho are nothing more than friends. you don’t even sleep in the same bed. you combed your fingers through your slightly faded magenta hair for what must have been the millionth time today waiting once again for Jiho to finish styling his own. 

“How do I look?” he asked what felt like years later.

“Like you got electrocuted. I love it. Let’s go.” you said unenthusiastically.

“And that, my best friend, is why you don’t get any penis action, whatsoever,” he stated, grabbing his keys.

“I can get action if I wanted it. I’m sorry no guys come onto me so strongly the way you claim that girls come onto you.” you scoffed.

“I don’t claim, I state. And it isn’t my fault that girls love me. I guess I’m just... irresistible.” he shrugged.

“Yea yea, shut up or I’ll smack you.” you joked, locking our apartment door.

Taeyong’s house is one of the nicest places you've been to. No matter how many times you come back it never ceases to amaze you. Jiho pulled his black Audi i8 in the barely vacant semi-circle parking lot directly in front of the pearly white mansion. It was nearly 9 when you got there, so the strobe lights that the neighbors hated were on. Parties at Taeyong��s always last into the early hours of the next day. As you walked through the threshold and into the usually spacious living room, you were overcome with the smell of tobacco, alcohol, and bad decisions. A true party at Taeyong’s.

“Hey, Zico!” someone shouted from across the room. It was a short girl with bangs and hair the color of corn, she was wearing a forest green romper that was on the shorter side of the scale. She was waving at Z, showing a smile that seemed quite genuine amongst seeing him. you knew her, you'd met her before. 

“Look, it’s Seung-Wan. She seems happy to see you,” you said poking at Jiho’s shoulder. He looked over his shoulder and searched around for little Wendy, and when he finally found her, you saw something in his eyes. He smiled slightly and let you know that he was going to make his way over to her, and without a moment’s wait, you were all alone. you looked around to see if you could find a familiar face but it wasn’t working out as well for you as it did for Z.  

“Where are drinks when you need ‘em?” you ask no one in particular. Much to your surprise, a man answers you.   

“I’m no Einstein, but I think they might be in the kitchen?” A lanky, emo-looking dude answers. He sounds very tipsy, but he’s cute. Kiddy cute though, and you can tell he’s younger than you.       

 “There’s a bar where the island was a couple of hours ago. I would know because that’s where I made my grilled cheese sandwich. Want me to bring you there baby doll?’ drunk emo stranger asks.   

 “Uh, who are you?” you ask not so nicely.

“My name is Yugeom, but you can call me whenever you want to beautiful.” he smiles at you, swaying his head a little. He kinda looks like he’s gonna vomit.  

“Okay kid, maybe you should go home. Where do you live? I can help you.” you ask. Even you are taken aback at your comment.

“Oh? Oh, oh. I get it, you want to take things back to my place? I mean it’s a little sooner than I expected but I’m down for it anytime, any place baby.” he slurs. You are wondering why you’re still here entertaining this guy when there are probably still some of those amazing fajitas that Taeyong makes in the kitchen, but something is telling you to take care of this guy. You think it’s something with the way his eyes twinkle in the poorly lit house, how they remind you of someone you used to know. You’re not sure exactly who but you want to find out.                        

“Come on, let’s go. You need to get rest and be careful. Do you live close?” 

“Oh, yea yea yea I’m really close to everyone here babe. I’m a pretty popular guy,” he smirks. 

It’s gonna be a long night.

So he did not live close. At all. 

It took you over an hour to get to his apartment. It would have taken half the time, but Yugeom kept playing around and giving you bad directions. After finally pulling in to the complex, Yugeom jumps out of the car so fast he gets sick all over himself. At least it wasn’t in your car, and no one is around right now. 

You groan trying to help him into the building, asking what room he lives in. 

“What floor?” you ask heading into the elevator.

“7. Its room 707.” he moans. He’s clutching his stomach and you’re trying your hardest not to breathe in the smell of his sickness. Trying to tale your mind off the still kind-of stranger next to you, you look around the nice elevator with mirrors on every side. Your hair looks a little bit messy, but your outfit is still okay and your makeup is relatively unscathed. Yugeom, on the other hand, is not looking too great. He’s got some puke on his blue button-up, his right thigh, and all over his expensive-looking shoes. His jet black hair looks all tousled and undone, and his eyes look like they’ve been robbed of sleep for days. His arms are pretty muscular though, and you're holding his side, which also feels fit. He must be one of those gym freaks. You hate the gym. The most you do is run and a little yoga.

The elevator doors finally open up to the seventh floor, and you scramble to find room 707 so you can leave this guy. At first, you felt like this was something you had to do, look after this kid, but now you just want to go back home and drink alone. Similar to how many other nights have been playing out lately after Jiho started hanging around the frat guys at Nu Chi Tau.

Opening the door to his apartment, you realize that the seventh floor must have been the penthouse floor. Yugeom’s living room was almost as big as your apartment, and his bedroom had the most welcome looking California king bed. You brought him over to his master bathroom, and he thanked you for everything sorely while closing the door. He told you to use the other bathroom if you had to, and get something to eat from the kitchen if there was anything you liked. 

Walking back to his kitchen, you wonder why you’re still here. Should you just leave him? He is in his house now, and even though he’s kind of young, he can take care of himself here, right? Your heart tells you to stay a little longer for some weird reason, so you take your jacket off, placing it on a stool by the beautiful island with a double sink. Opening the fridge, you see so many fruits and vegetables. Sighing, you grab an apple and some baby carrots. You haven’t had baby carrots in years. You look at the packing bag, seeing the JYP FARMS logo on it. He used to love these carrots, you think to yourself.

You don’t know how long you stood there, eating baby carrots and staring at the bag, remembering your past, but a sobering Yugeom shows up in a new striped shirt and some black sweatpants. 

“Do you, um... Do you need anything else? Something to drink, or uh... A place tonight? It’s pretty late, maybe you should just stay here? If you aren’t comfortable sleeping with me I can take the couch, it’s not as bad as it sounds.” he says smiling slightly. Sober Yugeom is very different from drunk Yugeom. Huh.

“Uh, I don’t know. It’s only..” You grab your phone from your back pocket. “It’s only 11:45. Maybe I can get back to mine before too long.” You pull up Maps on your phone and type in ‘home,’ just to see that your apartment is over an hour away. You sigh. “I can take the couch if you want.”

“No! Never! A guest does not take the couch! I insist that you sleep in my bed.” he says.

“Well okay, but how are you feeling?”

“Better. Thank goodness I didn’t stay longer at Tae’s party, I would’ve made a fool out of myself and ended up who-knows-where for the night. Thank you.” he says to you. He sounds pretty genuine, which throws you off for some reason.

“I was you once. No one saved me in my story, so I guess that's why I felt the need.” You tell him.

“What happened?” he raises his eyebrows.

You aren’t sure what time it was when you ended the conversation with Yugeom. You two spoke for a while about a bunch of little things. He was a second year in college, and he knew Tae from a mutual friend. Mark, the sweet dorky guy you met a couple of months back. He was sweet, and so is Yugeom. 

You weren’t sure when you walked into the bedroom, or what time you fell asleep. But nome of that mattered. What did matter was the fact that there was a man in your bed. In Yugeom’s bed. And it wasn’t Yugeom.

#jackson wang #got7 #kpop #!!!

[nextstarblazers]

EPISODE 19

“We all know Homer pretty well, and his outburst this afternoon sort of bothers us. He said things I’m sure he didn’t mean--but still, he did touch on what’s worrying all of us. Just what are our chances, really, of getting to Iscandar and returning to Earth with the Cosmo DNA?” -- Mark Venture

This is the last of the smaller, more personal episodes that make up the spine of the middle section of the first series of STAR BLAZERS, and it’s a good example of how the human drama was just as important, if not more important, than the space battles and pyrotechnics in the success of the show. Once again, it’s a bit blunted from its source material, but it still packs an emotional wallop, and is about greater considerations concerning faith and hope and fortitude than any other show during this time period was delivering.

The episode opens by immediately establishing its point of human drama. Homer, the Star Force’s communications officer, is at his wits’ end, and so he goes to visit Doctor Sane. He complains of a constant ringing in his ears, and he can’t eat or sleep. Recognizing the twin signs of homesickness and stress from being cooped up aboard ship for several months, Dr. Sane recommends a session in the Holography Room, a concept that had been set up in one of the earliest episodes of the show, but not touched upon since.

This was more than a decade before STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION made the Holodeck a recurring locale and plot point of its series, and it functioned in much the same way. Nova projects Holography Tapes that Homer recorded before the ship left Earth, reconstructing Homer’s home town. (Presumably, these films were made before the Gamilon bombing, as they seem to be taking place on the tranquil surface.) But when Homer sees his elderly mother gathering wood, he has a full-on emotional breakdown. Nova is mystified as to what is going on with him.

Part of Homer’s stress, it seems, may be due to a new development. Under mysterious circumstances, and despite now being 70,000 light years from Earth, the Star Force has discovered that it can once again communicate with its home planet. It’s a source of much joy among the crew as the recovering Captain Avatar calls in to Earth Defense Headquarters to update them on the Star Force’s mission (In YAMATO, a number of specific details are listed that STAR BLAZERS omits, such as the fact that their mission is presently 51 days and 61,000 light years behind special, but that by warping twice a day for a distance of 1,200 light years each time, he believes they can be back on Earth in 152 more days.) but some uncertainty to, as the crew becomes aware of just how bad conditions are currently on Earth.

Adding to this, Homer bursts into the room and has a full-on meltdown: “You’re all a bunch of idiots listening to that! What are you all doing here? Do you like being fooled? Don’t you realize no one here knows anything at all about where we’re going? Captain, have you ever been to Iscandar? Every space warp takes us further into the dark unknown! We’re on a fool’s errand, and Gamilon is waiting, and waiting, and waiting! They know all about space! They’re playing with us! They let us go a little ways, then pounce! Like a cat with a mouse! You don’t know how bad things are on Earth! They won’t tell you!” It’s a tour de force performance by Homer’s voice actor. When Captain Avatar asks Homer about the source of his information, the communications officer hyperventilates and passes out. 

Morale continues to break down for the Star Force crew that evening, when Captain Avatar invites the senior staff to dinner, to thank them for their assistance during his recovery period. Rattled by Homer’s outburst, Mark Venture takes the opportunity to voice what is running through everybody’s minds at this point: is Homer right? Is their mission to save Earth doomed? What, really, are their chances of success, alone against an overwhelmingly more powerful enemy force? STAR BLAZERS makes an interesting and positive choice here, to eliminate the upbeat cut of music that plays over Venture’s monologue in the YAMATO episode. It’s one of the few times that I can think of where the American show drops music from the soundtrack--but it lends a greater sense of weight to venture’s question.

It falls to Captain Avatar to try to put the crew’s mind at ease, even while he must be holding some of the same misgivings himself: “Venture, we’ve come this far together. It’s true we don’t know what lies ahead, but no one knows tomorrow. There are no guarantees. We know we’ve been entrusted with the life of Earth. Only the Star Force can save Earth. To do that, we must believe in a future for all of us. To do our job today. If we don’t, we’re lost. Earth is lost.” The rest of the meal passes in silence.

At this point, as they did a few episodes ago, the production team on STAR BLAZERS chooses to shuffle a few scenes from the source material, to more clearly convey what is going on. So at this point we cut (with a bad slice on the music cue) to Balan, where an aide reports to General Lysis that their communications relay satellite is allowing the Star Force to contact Earth, and that this is all a psy-ops strategy to destroy the morale of the crew (while also gathering intel about the Star Force, I’d assume.) In YAMATO, this scene doesn’t show up until much later.

As the previous music cue fades up again, we see Homer awaken in the middle of the night and make his way down to the communications room, dismissing the crewman who is on station there. With nobody else around, he contacts Earth--and specifically, the home of his elderly parents. He’s been doing this routinely, we learn--and his father is extremely ill. 

Actually, he’s quite a bit more than ill, but STAR BLAZERS cuts out the harshest portions of this next bit from YAMATO, as Homer’s mother tells him that Food is growing scarce and that riots have become a daily danger in the underground cities. In order to provide for his wife, Homer’s father went out into one of the riots to secure them food, and was terribly injured as a result. (STAR BLAZERS chalks up his conditions to fatigue from having worked so hard to build the underground cities.) 

As his mother turns the viewscreen to the bed in which her husband lies, so that he can see his son Homer one last time, Homer’s father tells him to get back to Earth, that his mother needs him--and then he dies. Again, STAR BLAZERS conceals this death, having him simply pass our--but you can see the sheet covering his face in the very last shot in this sequence, as Homer turns to discover that Wildstar has learned his secret. Almost insane, Homer bolts from the room.

Homer races to the bridge where, for some reason, Venture is the only one on duty, piloting the Argo. Homer begs Venture to turn the ship around: “Venture, we’ve got to get back to Earth! Turn around! It’s not too late yet! Please! I’ve been talking to Earth! My family--my father’s sick! My mother--s-she cried! Look, I’m begging you! We’re never gonna make it! Turn back!” Again here, Homer’s voice performer really sells the genuineness of the moment. But it’s to no avail--Venture will not chance course, and so Homer races out again, just steps ahead of Wildstar, who’s been pursuing him. 

The pair call down to Conroy on the flight deck, who saw him creeping around near the space suit lockers. YAMATO provides a bit of ill-timed fan service at this point, as Nova comes out of her room in her nightgown. She was looking out of the porthole in her cabin and saw Homer drift past, scaring the hell out of her. From here, we get a wonderful shot of the very end of the standard Argo fly-by, with Homer left in its wake, trying vainly to swim through space back home.

This is the point in YAMATO where the narrative switches to Balan and General Lysis explains about the communications satellite he’s set up to follow the Argo and allow them to communicate with Earth. STAR BLAZERS instead has another rough music cut as the Argo, amazingly, comes to a halt and the Black Tiger squadron is dispatched to fly a search patrol for their missing crewman. It’s a very human gesture, but given that the fate of all mankind is at stake, it’s a bit astonishing that the Star Force puts the mission on hold this way. 

Meanwhile, Homer is floating through space, experiencing a full-on nervous breakdown. He hallucinates the Earth in the distance and half-passes out trying to reach it. Amazingly, he floats crash-bang into the relay satellite that’s been following the ship. It’s a pretty huge stretch given the size of space (and the fact that STAR BLAZERS never establishes that the relay satellite is literally trailing the Argo) but we’ll go ahead and give it to them. Recognizing the satellite for what it is, Homer realizes the implication and the danger to the Star Force that it represents. But he has no way to contact them. (You might think that, being the communications officer, he could use this enormous transmitter he’s sitting on to send them a message. But no such luck.)

Fortunately for Homer, Wildstar comes across him just a few minutes later. Now snapped back to reality by his discovery of the relay satellite (YAMATO spends a few seconds and some repeated footage in making Homer’s sudden recuperation feel more earned) Homer tells Widstar what the satellite is all about, and they destroy it using the guns in Wildstar’s fighter.

Communication with Earth is now once more cut off, but perhaps that’s for the best. “Our next message, we’ll be on our way home, “ says Homer, “with good news from Iscandar!” It’s quite a turn-around for the young officer, whose language almost makes him seem a bit Born Again. But it makes for an upbeat ending, and that’s what’s called for her. As the pair and the rest of the rescue team returns to the Argo, narration tells us that there are still only 255 days remaining for all life on Earth, so the mission must go on!

#Star Blazers #Space battleship Yamato #Yamato

[notforconsumption]

For the prompt thing: How would Abel treat your Five on her birthday?

This is such a genuinely sweet prompt and since I’m in late Season 3 I almost went very dark with it but then…

This fluffy thing happened. There’s a little bit of angst but it’s mainly sickly sweet domestic nonsense. I’m sorry it took so long to respond to this, life happened, then it kept happening. What a nuisance, right? Real life, ugh.

(Also, for the record, when I said my Five is an arsehole, this is kind of what I mean.)

It was raining over Abel Township, a heavy, constant rainwhich had been there all day and showed no signs of stopping.  It being an English November, this wasn’texactly unusual.

Sometimes they had dry Novembers, with crispy leaves slowlygiving way to sweet rot, but this was not that kind of November. It had beenraining when Runner Five had woken up that morning, it had been raining whenthey’d gone out for their decoy run, their supply run, their liaison with NewCanton. And it was raining now, still heavy, still constant.

It was almost enough to make Runner Five feel sorry forEugene and the couple of other Abel residents who had originally come fromoverseas. When people described England as ‘wet’ they didn’t always explainproperly, she thought. Saying that a place saw a lot of rain didn’t prepare aperson for this. Not for the solid weeks of downpours interspersed with periodsof light, cloying drizzle. Not for the burst riverbanks or mud splashing overyour wellies.

But she didn’t. Feel sorry, that is, for anyone.

Despite how the water seeped into trainers and sometimes gavethe runners horrible blisters, Runner Five loved it. The feel of the rain onher bare shoulders, in the tangles of her hair, running down her face then downher neck. It was cold and so very clean. One of the few things that hadn’tchanged.

On this day, a couple of years ago, there had been a massivestorm over where Five had lived at the time. No warning, no trace of it in theforecast. Just sudden, heavy clouds that fell into the dip her town sat in onthe coast to unload an orchestra of thunder and pounding rain and forklightening.

Five remembered laughing that day, hysterically, almost. Shewasn’t laughing now but nor could she control the silly smile on her face.

She had made it through the day without anything going wrong.It was near enough a miracle, given her track record of birthdays.

They tended to start off well, and then go horribly wrong asif to mock her for daring to enjoy the day. Sometimes they began badly and onlygot worse as the hours ticked by.

Come the end of the world, no one knew her birth date anymore, so Five had allowed it to slip away from her, uncelebrated, unacknowledged.Sam had asked, once, and Five had shrugged. He hadn’t pressed. There were somethings now that people wouldn’t pursue. They were all far more aware of eachother’s open wounds than they used to be, which worked just fine for Five.There was already enough attention on her as it was these days.

The sound of someone striding through the deep puddle that hadgathered on the quad, the ground too saturated to absorb any more, ousted Fivefrom her thoughts. She opened her eyes and blinked the rain out of them.

“Runner Five, is that you?” Even through the rain, Janine’s voicewas clear and clipped. She was dressed for the weather, decked out in longwellington boots and a leather bushman hat atop a heavy raincoat. It made her silhouettesolid against the slanted rain, unlike Five who stood barefoot in her just her runningshorts and vest top. “You look like a drowned rat.”

“Thanks, Janine. You look like a sensible and well-dressed individual.”Five replied, turning around to face her and splashing more than necessary,just because she could.

“Um,” Janine started, thrown off. “Yes, well, the last thingwe need is one of our runners coming down with pneumonia so I have been sent tocollect you.”

“I don’t get sick,” Five said and she wasn’t exactly lying. “Wait,someone sent you?”

“Yes,” Janine sighed, casting unsubtle glances back at thefarmhouse.

“No one sends you, you send people.” Five said and the peaceof the evening began to wane from her mind. If it was something serious enoughto force Janine out into the rain it was probably unpleasant.

“Sara requested that I retrieve you,” Janine said. She crossed her arms with a squeak of wet fabric. “And Iagreed that I would have been in remiss of my duties as leader of the Township hadI allowed you to carry on with whatever it is you are doing. And you canexplain what you were in fact doing on the way to the house.”

The tension that was climbing up Five’s throat receded. IfSara was involved this increased the likelihood that nothing was wrong or, ifit was, then at least Five wouldn’t be facing it alone. That was the true calamity.“I was standing about,” she said, starting off towards the house. “I thoughtthat was kind of obvious.”

“Five.” Janine ground out in what some of the runners likedto quietly call her ‘authority voice’ as she fell into step beside Five.

“I was just enjoying the rain, Janine.”

“If I’m not mistaken it’s no higher than two degrees out,Five. I’m not sure there’s much enjoyable about this.”

“It’s relaxing.”

“It’s awful.”

Five threw her hands up, flicking water into the air. “Janine,you can genuinely find it within yourself to play FIFA, and even enjoy it. I’mnot sure you’re allowed to talk about awful.”

“Video games are, by definition, supposed to be enjoyable.”

“So are romcoms, and yet they remain the worst thing to everhave existed. Any yes, before you ask, I am including zombies in this analogy.”

“You have a point,” Janine said after a pause that was a fewseconds too long not to be suspicious. Five peered up into her face, eyesquesting for some kind of tell. Janine stared forward, her focus fixed on the glowfrom the farmhouse’s windows.

“Oh my God. Oh my entire God,” Five laughed and skipped forwardso she could walk backwards, facing Janine. “You like romcoms. Janine De Luca, fearlessleader of Abel Township, enjoys horrible, cringeworthy romcoms.”

Janine’s face turned thunderous and Five couldn’t help her snickering,imagining Janine curled up in a pair of fluffy slippers and a bath robe,sobbing into a bowl of popcorn at the predictable climax of a big-name,low-effort chick flick. Her laughter lasted until her back hit the door to thehouse and Janine closed in on her, looming over Five with her broad rimmed hat blockingout all else.

Behind tangled strands of hair, Five looked up into thetight-lipped, stony expression of one of the most dangerous women she knew. Theintimidation lasted until Five’s imagination conjured up the image of Janine devouringicecream straight from the tub as she watched some housewife heartthrob beg hissweetheart to take him back.

She could barely stifle giggles trying to bubble up.

“Listen,” Janine started, and whether she was about to denyor threaten Five wasn’t sure, but then the door opened behind Five and she stumbledbackwards into the dry, airy boot room of the farmhouse. Someone caught her bythe shoulders and whirled her around, the heat and light and movement dizzying.

“Five’s here!” Evan called over his shoulder, towards thekitchen, where someone repeated his message and the quiet murmur of conversationrose to a chatter. “God,” he said, running his hands down to Five’s elbows. “Yourskin is like ice, what were you doing, going for a dip in the pond?”

“Nah,” Five smiled from under the mess of her fringe. “I only go skinny-dipping on Tuesdays.”

Evan sighed and stepped back, dropping a towel over Five’shead that he’d apparently been carrying for just this purpose. Strong hands,Janine’s, Five realised, rubbed the towel over her head quickly and efficientlywiping away the worst of the water. What Five had told Janine was true, she wasenjoying the rain, but being suddenly in the warm had made her realise how thecold had snuck into her bones. Her skin was so pale it was practicallytranslucent in the electric lighting, blue veins stark as if they were drawn onto her with marker.

“Here.” Evan said when Janine deemed Five dry enough to passinto her home, holding out the jumper he’d been wearing a moment ago.

“Are you sure?” Five asked, humour dampened suddenly. Shewanted to take it and maybe not give it back, but didn’t want for it to begiven unwillingly. Or out of some sense of duty. Whether that was as Head of Runners,or because someone knew what today was and Evan felt pressured. Birthdays didthat to people.

“Five, your lips are blue. I’m far more attached to you,still breathing, than I am this jumper.”

“You might not want to say that in front of Runner Four,” Janineremarked as she passed them and vanished into the house, pushing the damp towelinto Five’s arms as she passed. “It took her a while to repair all those holes.”

“Then, thanks,” Five said, taking the jumper carefully as ifit would break should she drop it. There was a running joke amongst part ofAbel about Five’s propensity to wear (and steal) other people’s clothes, butshe never took without knowing the owner was actually comfortable with her borrowingways. Even if they didn’t see it the same way, to Five it wasn’t just clothing. It was personal, something she approached with caution when it was someonenaturally reticent and private, like Evan.

Turning her back on Evan, Five wiggled out of her soaked topand wrung it out over the doormat before hanging it up on a coat hook to beretrieved later. She briefly considered taking off her soaked bra, but thatmight have come off a bit weird. Not to mention that the jumper was woollen andFive did not need that level of discomfort in her life.

Scratchiness aside, it was warm from body heat and wonderfullydry when Five pulled it on. She remembered anew, as she always did, how thesecond-best part of rainy days was getting warm afterwards.

When Five turned back, Evan had put a hand over his eyes outof some peculiar respect for her modesty. Peculiar, because on various occasionspost-runs they’d showered in the same containment block with only a thin partitionseparating the halves of the building.

“Done,” she announced, waving with one sleeve-engulfed hand.Comfy as it was, the sweater was made for someone Evan’s size. That was,someone about twice Five’s size.

Evan removed his hand and scanned her briefly. With such animpassive face it was impossible to tell whether she’d annoyed him or not. Fivedecided to believe ‘not’ until otherwise proven since he hadn’t actuallycomplained.

“I know it’s a bit large, but it’ll do until you warm up.Come on through, everyone’s in the kitchen.”

“Everyone?” Five asked, following him through the corridor.Her stomach dropped. This was obviously not an urgent situation butsome kind of social occasion. Five just hoped it had nothing to do with her,not on this day. Any good was always followed with so much more bad.

“Mhmm,” Evan agreed unhelpfully, and then they were throughthe heavy oak door and in the kitchen’s stifling heat.

As they entered Five saw Janine, attempting to oust Sam fromthe carver chair that was her favourite, and Sam, holding his ground the besthe could under her glower. At the table also sat Jody, hands working away atsomething as they so often were, and Maxine who watched her with a mug claspedbetween her hands and sleepy eyes.

At the huge stove there was a general clattering as Sara beatsomething fiercely in a large ceramic bowl and to her right Simon, someone Fivenever expected anyone to let near the antique cooker, was ladling somethingfragrant and steaming into a chipped mug.

“Five!” He called, brushing past Sara to push the mug intoher hands. “There you are. We were starting to worry you’d been washed away.Gone to the great puddle in the sky.”

“No, well.” Five shrugged and the jumper slipped down one ofher shoulders. “Not yet I haven’t. Give it time.” Simon grinned and flickedsome of Five’s fringe out of her face.

“Come sit down, Five.” Sam called from the table gesturingto the empty seat to his left, ignoring Janine’s sour stare as he continued tooccupy her chair.

“What’s the occasion?” Five asked as she manoeuvred her wayaround the table, careful not to spill her drink. It was something that smeltsuspiciously similar to a hot toddy and therefore was too precious to waste. Samsmiled genuinely at her as she sat, but Five saw concern in his face, too. Forher generally dishevelled condition, or for other reasons?

It could have been just paranoia, but if so it was justifiedparanoia. Over the years correlation had resolved itself into something thatfelt too much like causation and Five was not in the market for anothercalamity any time soon.

She had good reason to keep this date unmarked anduncelebrated.

“No occasion,” Sara said as she poured some of the battershe had been making into a hot pan with a sizzle. “We just thought, well, it’sbeen a week of rain so everybody’s feeling a bit dour. Then, on my run today Ifound a few things I haven’t seen since the early days of the outbreak. Thoughtwe could all do with some downtime.”

“The grog was my idea,” Simon said as he flopped into thechair opposite Five and Sam, leaning as far as he could across the tablewithout crawling onto it. “I’m not sure it’s proper grog without cinnamon, butI think you’ll find I’ve done a pretty bang-up job. Even if I do say so myself.”

“It’s not like we have much in the way of options,” Evansighed as he slid into the chair between Jody and Five. “Especially not withall the strong stuff vanishing straight into the hospital.”

“Hey,” Maxine perked up from where she was half dozing overher mug. “Those are vital medical supplies. I didn’t hear you complaining when Istitched up that gash in your arm last week.”

“No, no, I’m very grateful. It just seems like a lot,especially since it’s not everyday someone has a run in with a zombie wrappedin razor wire.” Evan rested his forearms on the table and Five glanced overthem, having not noticed a cut of any kind before. His shirt sleeves obscured anywound, but five did note his empty hands. He was the only one at the table withouta mug of something spiked and steaming. It was, Five supposed, the price ofcriticising Simon’s brewing skills.

Or just the price of being Evan around Simon. She wasn’tsure what Simon’s issue was there, but she supposed it was equally possibleEvan just wasn’t drinking. Five wasn’t about to make it awkward by asking.

“Yeah, and didn’t Five and Sara find eight bottles of whiskeythe other day? Really nice, old stuff.” Jody chimed in.

“Would have been worth a fortune,” Sara said without turningaround, still working at the stove. “If money still meant anything.”

“Eight?” Maxine asked, looking a little more awake all of asudden. “I’m pretty sure it was only five bottles they found.” She frowned and,seeing as Sara’s back was to her, she focused on Runner Five who was suddenlyvery invested in the swirling mist of her grog.

“Um,” said Jody. Her knitting slowed to a near stop.

“Five? Were there eight bottles? What happened to the otherthree?” Maxine asked. All of her drowsiness had vanished as if blown away by aquick breeze. Five wondered if it was too late to go back out into the rain.

A clatter of crockery saved her as Sara deposited a stack ofplates on the table in front of Maxine and dumped a handful of cutlery in thecentre of the table.

“Be a dear and pass those around, would you,” she said as shepicked up the large serving plate she’d set beside the stove and brandished afish slice. “Pancakes are ready.”

“Pancakes?” Five sat up ramrod straight and felt the anxietyshe had been dousing with grog be completely turned over by hunger. The hungerfor pancakes, as everyone knew, trumped all else.

Sara laughed as she doled out thin, crispy miracles onto theplates Maxine was passing around to those at the table. “While I was rootingthrough an abandoned shelter I found a few cartons of almond milk which, luckyfor us, doesn’t ever really go off. The chickens are laying well, and what elseshould I find in my search but this.” Sara held up a small green bottle with ayellow cap and Five’s heart jumped.

“Sara,” she said and could not find it within herself to feelthe least bit embarrassed by the near-religious reverence in her voice over asmall bottle of lemon juice. “You are the light of my life.”

Winking, Sara turned back to the stove to put on another batchand from there the evening lulled into a comfortable rhythm of sticky sweetnessand laughter. At one point Sam got up to refill everyone’s cups and Janinestole back her chair while pretending not to be smug about it at all, and as ifshe hadn’t been waiting over an hour to do just that.

The spell remained unbroken throughout. No one mentionedanything about birthdays, though Five was sure Sara knew, or knew something wasup at least. There was little of substance Five could keep secret from her, butshe had her own tells. A particular way she smiled when she knew something sheshouldn’t, for instance.

Evidenced perfectly by the warm smirk she was currentlywearing as she bustled around, as at home here as when she was crushing heads.

But she didn’t say anything. Not when she joined them at thetable, defending the virtues of banana pancakes against the united front ofJody, Five, and Simon. Not when she straightened Five’s slipping neckline andmussed her hair to say goodnight before slipping out into the rain.

She never said anything and Five didn’t cry, but she almostwanted to. Midnight came and nothing was ruined. There was no cliff at the endof this incline.

When Five curled up to sleep on one of Janine’s sofas thatnight, wedged between Simon and Jody, she did so still in Evan’s jumper. Shereasoned she wasn’t invoking birthday privileges, not really. Not if she didn’tgive it back the next day, either.

(She didn’t.)

#whirly-wind #okay so pancake disclaimer #I know they're different in America but in England we eat crepes with lemon juice and sugar and they are the b e s t t h i n g #those who smear nutella on their pancakes?? heathens #come the end of the world I'd prolly kill for a crepe #and what does Sara know?? #at the end of the day Five got pancakes so she doesn't care #Runner 5 #Sara Smith #Janine De Luca #Evan Deaubl #they're all here because my Five is selfish and wants all the friends #Zombies Run #GingerbreadWrites #ZR

[buckybabybaby]

Everything Backwards (Epilogue 3/3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 2974

Warnings: None, just fluff <3

A/n: This really is the end now!

And just to be clear, 'two years later' is two years from chapter twelve, not the second part of the epilogue.

Previous: Epilogue Part 2

Everything Backwards Masterlist | Masterlist

Epilogue Part 3: Two years later.

Sarah sits in front of you before the mirror in her room, patiently reading a book as you attempt to style her hair so it resembles the photos she's shown you, a simple enough design on paper. But in reality it's not happening as easily as you hoped.

You're unwinding the last braid and pulling the bands out for the third time when she meets your eye.

“Would you still be our nanny if you and Uncle Bucky weren't a couple any more?”

A cold flush washes over you as you take in her question. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” she shrugs, going back to her book, barely reading two words before she's looking up again. “But would you?”

Putting the comb down, you shuffle around so you are sat face to face. “Sarah, why are you asking?”

“Just wondering. I think I don't really need a nanny so much now I'm so old-”

“You're eleven.”

“Exactly. But Joe's still a baby so we'll still need someone to look after him. And I don't want you to leave any way. So, would you stay?”

What does she know that you don't? “Why do you think we're not going to be together? Did-did you hear us arguing?”

The way Sarah's face falls convinces you she hadn't. “No! Oh dear, what were you arguing about?”

Comparatively to other people your first fight with Bucky last month was pretty tame. It started after you'd been on the website for Bucky's school, looking at the adorable photos from the trip he'd volunteered as chaperon for, and stumbled across the advert for a new science teacher. When you had suggested he apply it escalated very quickly. He ended up walking out, leaving you in tears at the kitchen table, but he'd come back two minutes later equally upset and apologised. Even though it was over so fast you never want to repeat that experience. But in the end it all worked out because he had applied and next week he'll be the newest addition to the full time staff.

You try to summarise it for Sarah.

“But he did his teacher training, in that evening course thingy! Why did he do that and then not want to be a teacher?”

You begin to brush her hair again. “I think he was slightly-”

“Scared?”

“Maybe. It is such a big jump from his old job.”

“I think Uncle Bucky doesn't think he's good enough sometimes.” It breaks your heart that she's picked up on that. “And I think that's why he's nervous to ask you.”

“Ask me what?”

“Nothing!”

She jumps up, forcing you to follow to finish pinning the loose strands in place. You want to know what she's talking about but before you can get a word out she's running from the room and down the stairs. You trail after her, grabbing the new hair clips Bucky had given her for her birthday a couple months ago, and descend to the living room where her parents have just arrived home. Getting a suddenly very excited Sarah to stand still is an effort, but eventually you're able to slide the sparkly space themed accessories into her hair and when she checks it out in the mirror over the fire place she must deem it more than acceptable judging by the hug you receive. She can squeeze you a little harder now she's older but you don't mind one bit.

It is such a pleasant surprise that the two boys are already waiting to leave, actually ready for once before their parents, in anticipation of the family's weekly 'treat'. Standing on the front steps, you wave until they turn the corner and disappear from view, and then go and hunt down Bucky who's been conspicuously absent all afternoon. Now the house isn't full of children's chatter you can hear the crashing from behind the door to your little 'apartment', and you frown when you turn the handle only to find it locked.

You shout his name louder than you mean to in your worry, and he opens the door immediately, covered in what you think is flour, hair a tangle on top of his head.

“Um, can I come in?”

He moves to block your view. “Nope! But if you need anything, I'll get it for you. Phone? Book? Another jumper?”

“No, no, I'm good. What are you doing in there?” You try to see around him but he closes the door more so you can hardly see him, let alone any thing else. “Are you making a mess?”

He wrinkles his nose. “Maybe a bit. I'll clean it up, promise! Now you need to go relax for an hour, or two, probably. Don't worry, everything's fine.”

He slips through the gap in the door to kiss you briefly before disappearing back inside. He doesn't lock it this time, trusting you to adhere to his wishes, which you do reluctantly, moving back to the living room and flopping down on the sofa.

As the bangs and crashes start up again, Sarah's words about Bucky being nervous come back to you, and your mind goes over all the incidences in the past week where he'd been strange with you; distant, distracted, unlike himself.

The time crawls and you start to believe you should be worried too.

Exactly ninety seven minutes later Bucky comes to find you. You know this because you've been staring at the clock in the corner of the TV, stuck on the news channel because you can't bring yourself to move and change it, instead just counting the seconds as they tick away. You're so deep in your own thoughts that he has to stand directly in your eye line to get your attention, and even then he needs to wave a hand in your face to finally make you look at him. You slowly turn your focus back to him. Bucky's changed, now wearing a clean outfit rather than half of whatever he was making, and he has also managed to neaten his hair, but you can't appreciate how good he looks because you feel sick.

“Are you breaking up with me?” You hadn't planned to just ask outright like that, but in the last hour and a half you've had more than enough time to think of plenty of reasons why he would want to end this.

You really need to know if any of them are true.

“Am I what?” Bucky opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, staring at you. “No! Y/N? No. Where's this come from?”

“You're being weird, and Sarah seems to think, that maybe...”

“Seems to think what?” Bucky coaxes gently, stroking your hair as he crouches before you.

You shrug shakily. “She asked if I'd still be their nanny if we broke up. How am I meant to interpret that?”

To your surprise he chuckles. “I don't know if I should be offended by that. I didn't realise she had such little faith in my ability to not mess this up.”

“Mess what up?”

Instead of answering he just takes your arm to help you up, leading you through the house towards the back door. The blinds on the french-windows are closed, and Bucky carefully positions you directly in front of them, and then flings them open in a dramatic fashion to reveal the completely transformed garden.

Fairy lights, everywhere. Some you recognise, others that you don't, strung across the patio and up the trellis against the wall, as well as around the branches of the cherry tree above the flickering fire pit. On the table beneath the lit up leaves, candles dance. The path from the decking is illuminated by the lanterns you'd bought for that exact purpose, finally laid out and looking even better than your thought they would, the perfect finishing touches to the summer grotto.

It is such a pretty scene.

But prettiest of all is Bucky, standing quietly in the doorway as you take it in, watching and waiting for your reaction.

“Did you buy the flamingo lights yourself?” You ask, genuinely interested.

That evidently wasn't the response he expected. “Err, yes? Why?”

“They're cute. Very you,” you tease.

He rolls his eyes then tackles you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you into his chest. He tilts you forward and you squeak, face too close to the grass for your liking, but in a practised move you've yet to get used to he spins you in his arms so your staring up at him.

“I hope you mean I'm cute like they are?”

You reach up and stroke the back of your hand across his cheek. “Definitely.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, but then he can no longer hold the faux glower and a wide smile breaks out on his face. “Apart from the flamingos, do you like it?”

“I do like the flamingos! And I love the rest too.” He helps you stand straight again. “How long did it take you?”

“Not that long really. Michael and Joe helped. And Sarah was meant to distract you.”

You hit his shoulder. “Oh my gosh, no! Was that why she made me do that horribly complicated braid?”

“I just told her to keep you busy.” He kisses you properly for the first time today, soft lips making you forget everything for a second. “Was it worth it?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“Completely. What's it for though?”

“Dinner.”

“Very fancy for dinner?”

“Well, it is a very fancy dinner.” Walking you to the terrace, he slides a chair away from the table and helps you into it. “Made by yours truly, and when are they anything but?”

Of course the food he prepares is amazing, because it's Bucky and everything he ever does is, but somehow he manages to out do himself this time with the most delicious pudding.

“How did you get the middle to be all runny like that?”

“A lot of practice. And a lot of failure.”

Giggling around the last spoonful, you notice he's not as into it as you are. “Do you not like it?”

“No, I do.” He runs a hand through his hair. “It's just I, I didn't realise I'd be so nervous.”

“Nervous about what?”

Shaking his head, he waits until you finish your mouthful, and you rise too when moves to stand in front of you. Guiding you on to the lawn he stops in the middle, positioning you so you're facing him and he's silhouetted by all the lights.

“I hope you know how lucky I feel every day to be with you,” he begins, staring straight at you. “I never thought I'd get to be this happy, Y/N. I never imagined I find someone like you, or that, if I did, that they'd be patience enough to deal with all the baggage I come with.”

“I don't think I can possibly tell you just how much I appreciate you, how much I need you, how much I love you.” He swallows thickly, then lowers himself to one knee. “So here I am trying to show you.”

As your breath catches your hand comes to cover your mouth, eyes watering. It's such a clichéd reaction, but there is always an element of truth in how the movies depict these sort of situations, and Bucky looks every bit the romantic lead kneeling before you.

You feel light-headed as you watch him fumble in his pocket, producing a velvet box.

“My heart has been yours for so long, maybe even before I knew your name.” He grins up at you and you choke on a laugh as your eyes fill even more. “The last two years have been more than I deserve, but I must be doing something right to make you happy, and I want to continue to do whatever that is for the rest of my life.”

The lid is flicked open with shaky hands, the bright diamond flashing at you as he takes a deep breath.

“I can't imagine my life without you by my side, so, if you'll have me Y/N, make me even happier and please marry me?”

His face is blurry as tears stream down your own, but you can see how pale he's gone waiting for your answer. Blinking to clear your vision, you hold your left hand out to him, trembling just as much as he is. He squints at you, and you nod once, your breath coming in shallow gasps as he slides the ring out of the cushioning and on to your finger. He rises to his full height again, staring in disbelief at where your hand is resting in his.

“So is that a yes?”

“It's absolutely a yes!”

You throw yourself into his arms, squealing as he catches you easily and twirls you around, still very emotional, but he's crying too. Your happy tears mix together as he places you back down on your feet and pushes his forehead against yours.

“You said yes.”

“I did.”

“You said yes.”

“Oh Bucky.” Using your sleeve to dry his eyes, you whisper, “Of course I did.”

“I love you so much it hurts,” he breathes into your hair, hugging you tight.

Swaying your body with his, he slowly loosens his grip enough so you can see the radiant look on his face.

He gazes at you too until his attention is diverted to your lips. “I haven't kissed my fiancé yet.”

You grin at each other at the use of the term 'fiancé'.

“Suppose you'll have to do something about-”

Surging forward and not letting you finish your sentence, he cups your face, kissing you so enthusiastically you have to take a step back to steady yourself. Every kiss is special but this one feels even more so, a promise of forever underneath the passion.

It's almost standard practice now for him to dip you, hands automatically sliding into his hair as he supports your weight and shows you in probably the best way he can how in love he is.

Just as his fingers slips under your top to touch the bare skin at your waist the door bell rings. It sounds again and you pull away, patting his chest apologetically when he tries to chase your mouth. He doesn't let you go completely though, arms around your waist so you have to practically drag him behind you through the house to open the front door.

The sight you're met with is unexpected. “Michael?”

You can feel Bucky tense when you move to reveal his nephew, breathless, and standing alone on the porch. He shouldn't be on his own, so it's a great relief to you both when Peggy and Steve appear over the horizon.

“I ran all the way up the road,” Michael pants, “so I could see if you said yes!”

You can only blink at him, because of course he did. Michael and Sarah also appear out of breath at the bottom of the steps, and you snort, mumbling, “This feels familiar.”

“Get rid of them,” Bucky whines against your shoulder, but his body is shaking with laughter as he presses it into the side of yours.

“You love them.”

You can feel him smile, nipping at your neck. “I do. But is every significant moment going to interrupted by them?”

“Apparently so,” you reply, allowing them a view of your hand and laughing when they all scream and bombard you with questions and hugs, pushing you and Bucky even closer together.

He picks his head up when they start to calm, staring Sarah down. “Hey, trouble. Did you really think Y/N would say no? And if that was the answer, we'd break up?”

Sarah raises her arms in an unapologetic gesture. “I was just working through all the possible outcomes.” She tugs at your hand to see the ring again, confessing to you, “I also asked Uncle Bucky if he'd leave if you didn't want to marry him.”

You snicker, turning to face him. “And what did you say to that?”

“I told her that would be up to you. And it was also none of her business.”

“I didn't think Y/N would say no,” Joe pipes up and Bucky beams at him.

“Thank you! I knew there was a reason you're my favourite.” The other two make noises of protest, and he sticks his tongue out at them to show he's joking.

As their parents offer your their congratulations, the children spot the garden transformed into a sort of wonderland, and as there is nothing you can do to stop them rushing in to see it you let them go.

Michael is adamant that his parents should also see the lights he helped display, and you insist that you don't mind them invading your privacy as you follow them onto the grass. But you are very grateful to them for quickly collecting their children and leaving you in peace.

Bucky grabs you around your waist when you move towards the door. “Aren't we going in?”

“In a minute. I just need to kiss you again.”

You nod, giggling. “I always need to kiss you again.”

Far too soon Bucky breaks away again to catch his breath and you take the opportunity to think how far you've come. The last two and a bit years have been the most eventful of your existence, but you wouldn't change them for the world.

It really does feel like life can't get any better.

And, when he takes you by your left hand to stroke over the ring, grinning lazily at you in the soft light, you find yourself thanking every single star in the sky for the creation of James Buchanan Barnes.

The end! :)

Everything Backwards Masterlist | Masterlist

A/n: I said it before, but this really is the end! I think this ending concludes it a little better than if I hadn't written the epilogue, and I feel less sad leaving it because I think it's complete now, so I hope other people liked it too :) I would like to thank everyone again, especially those who've binge-read it all in the last few weeks! But equally those who've been here a while, I posted the first chapter two months ago today so that's a nice round number... xxx

More Bucky soon!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybabybaby #everything backwards

[fmlfpl]

Lineup Lamentations - GW3

Our Transfers, Captains, and Starting 11s for the week!

—

WALSH

TRANSFERS:

OUT: Aubameyang

IN: De Bruyne

Pretty straightforward swap here removing Aubz after the Wet game was always the plan before GW1 and feel fortunate to be in position to execute the plan. Kevin on pens was the deciding factor over Raz as I had it down to them two as my City guy to get.

Not sure what Raz will be up to with Jesus out now...up top or same spot, but either way Kevin still should be doing the same shit. Hopefully that bonk on the head was nothing much and he's ready to go this weekend.

Probably not a spot I will play with too much unless he gets injured but it feels nice to just get Kevin in nice and early here. Debated many different hit options and in the end nothing looked too attractive. .5 in the bank for a rainy day...we'll see where that belongs next week.

GK:

Ryan (MUN)

Maybe he'll get some saves in this game, unlike the previous. Never feel good for a clean against ManU so I'd take a 3 pointer or something.

Brighton dominating Newc was very promising though - pretty happy that I stuck with Ryan GW1. Could see owning him for a long while and possibly even through my first WC whenever that time comes.

DEF:

Dier (NEW)

Welp.

A clean would be most, most welcome here after no cleans through their first two. They look genuinely all sorts defensively so far and seem to just be all hands on deck throughout their games. Wondering if the disruption of the Thursday games is really fucking them, and I will be watching this one closely. Letting in two to Soton was kinda lucky - it could easily have been three or four - so it would be nice to see a suffocating performance against a team that just managed 0 shots on target last weekend.

Realistically, as long as Dier is starting, I probably won't bin him.

Shaw (bha)

Dunno how I seem to end up with thiccboi in my GW1 team every year but it feels like I do.

He's a really tough player to watch when you own him...very frustrating and just a bit shit. The rumors with Telles intensifying doesn't fill me with hope for the future. Again, like Dier, as long as he's starting I probably won't spend a transfer here and just need to back my preseason thoughts that Mou and ManU would be good for cleans.

Brighton looking a pretty tidy outfit so far this game should be good. Not really expecting a clean, unfortunately, so maybe get lucky with an assist or something.

Trent (ARS)

Trent looked back to being Trent against Chelsea. No Hendo is a bit annoying again so we'll see who is starting on his side.

Arsecast been pretty conservative setting up but we know how teams like to overload Trent to neutralize his attacking impetus which may well happen here.

Either way a win to nil is always on the cards for Livp and Trent is a great player. Good boy Trent.

MID:

De Bruyne (LEI)

Great player gets to play a shithouse team. Love it. One of the few (only?) things I got right last year was picking Kevin early and holding him. Will try to replicate that now. To the first of many happy returns Kev.  

Salah (ARS)

Still a livewire despite his blank last weekend I'm pretty happy to have Mo.

Definitely my safety blanket in FPL and hauls are always around the corner. Looking good and primed to bang. With the sudden increase in penos makes him even that more attractive. Not an easy fixture by any means but it doesn't really matter. Let's go Mo.

Trossard (MUN)

Spent a lot of mental energy on this wee lad this week. Done nothing but impress through two and return in both with the post last weekend away from a huge haul and yet I still am looking for reasons to sell him. I came full circle and despite the rough immediate fixtures I'm going to stand by him. He looks dangerous and even though there are f0dens and podencios around him, he's the one I have and he's the one I shall hold.

ManU were utterly diabolical last weekend and if Matic is out they could still be got at.

Andre-Frank Zambo Anguissa (AVL)

Zambo did the business for me last weekend with the assist and with no better options he gets to go again against Villa. Dunno if Lemina comes in or something with Reed maybe he gets to push up a little more but ultimately he seemed to have a more or less free roaming roving role in the center of the park last weekend...and he bossed it. Absolute class player, Zambo is, and I really enjoyed watching him. He's definitely not showing much to be an actual starter in FPL...but needs must.

Certainly need to upgrade my 11th man soon, but with this good fixture maybe he gets something again.

Fernandes (bha)

Come on Bruno. Nothing would calm me down and my feelings about my team this weekend more than with Bruno points. I am expecting space so hopefully he doesn't get hockey assists but gets actual assists in this one. Feels weird that they played 90 and didn't get a peno as well.....time to revert to the mean with one this game probably too right? Yes.

FWD:

Werner (wba)

Werner been looking good and rested during the midweek so should be raring to go as he still searches for his first Chelsea goal. Hopefully Jorginho is out so he has pens in his locker this weekend as well.. but really just feel good with him in this fixture.

West Brom are bad and I am backing Chelsea to find some goals this weekend. Werner has been looking good, even if his team has not, and I'm just hoping that they click into some sort of gear against the weakest opposition they'll be facing in the league to date.

DCL (cry)

Tough fixture against the team they are tied for first place with in the table.

We will probably do’em but DCL, with the way he's looking, always a shout for getting in and around it. Not expecting a ton here, but am keen to see what Woy does with the lineup at home now that Eze and Bats have been around for a couple weeks. Maybe we play some attacking stuff and are there to be had? Who knows. Either way, DCL - great pick great guy.

BENCH:

Mitchell (EVE)

Brewster (ARS)

Ferguson (lol)

CAP:

Werner (wba)

I'm trying this new thing this year where I back myself for captain picks. I was on him last weekend when I looked at the fixtures and the games so just going to stick with that.

West Brom are bad, and a lot worse than Leicester (even tho Leicester suck), so I feel better about trying to expose heem than go with Kevin. 4 or 5 is possible against WBA and Werner could fill his boots. Playing the fixture here, we'll see how it goes.

—

ALON ON WILDCARD

TRANSFERS:

OUT: wildcard

IN: wildcard

I don’t even know what to write here. I’ve done two pods and a three hour stream today largely dominated by my Wildcard team. I’ve said all that needs to be said! Ended up here and feel pretty ok! Let’s go.

GK:

Martinez (ful)

Like him and rate him and hoping the Villains can be a tight ship and get some cleans. Duno.

TBH didn’t put much thought into this spot just gonna go Emi and not use a transfer until maybe second Wildcard popping 30 gameweeksish from now. GLHF Emi!!!

DEF:

van Dijk and Alexander-Arnold (ARS)

Great guys, great friends, and the epitome of set ‘n’ forget geniuses. Also planning on no transfers here until second wildcard. Keep dominating boys. Up the reds.

Dunne (SOU)

Temporary start over Lamptey’s much worse fixture in my opinion. Hail-mary of a Duon clean here and I think Lamptey ends on 0-2 points. Lamps is also sorta knocked so who knows what goes on there.

Maybe Burnley will sell Tark and Dunne’ll be a guy but mostly just fodder for rest of season...

Lamptey in general is my start every week guy and he is the “pressure point” of my squad for sure but also I’ve LOVED the fuck out of him since he came on the scene with Chelsea. He’s just great. Backing the boy.

MID:

De Bruyne and Sterling and Foden (LEI)

Going in big dick swinging with the City triple up for what should be back to back thrashings in Leicester and Leeds where I know I’ll want as much of their attack as possible and, crucially, the arm-band.

Foden minutes should get a large increase with no Kun and no Jesus and Kev and Raz are world class, not much else needs to be said. Going aggressively for the best attack in great fixtures and then we’ll reevaluate going to other premiums etc for future captaincy and what not.

Rodriguez (cry)

Did fuck around with Rich instead of Hamez but I’m just sticking with the extra 0.5 and my guy... I think it’s possible Rich distances himself from Hamez and has the best season of his career but also just Hamez is such a FML FPL player... oozes class, so confident and smooth and sick, just love him, and love owning him. Sticking by the guy. He’s coming for the assist crown lookout Kevin :P.

FWD:

Werner (wba)

Rolling with Timo and the incredible fixtures. He has a three match window to decide what to do with him and I love him for wba, CRY, SOU, so just letting it wash over me. Still rate him very highly and the goals and hauls are just around the corner. We’ll see if they come now or they come later. Willing to risk it for him before moving to maybe Tony or others.

Calvert-Lewin (cry)

So much love for DCL <3<3<3... Don’t think I need to add much he didn’t leave one single tinker for one second. And hasn’t left a tinker since the game opened pre-GW1. Good sign.

Wood (SOU)

Ole faithful. Not sexy. Not new not shiny not smooth or slick or an attacking team or anything. Just consistent and good... If you’re after MoTD highlight reel Vine merchant legendary screamer thunderbastard kinda guy then Wood isn’t the guy for you... But if you’re looking for a cheap guy to just blindly hold for 30ish GWs then hey Chris Wood is your guy. Good numbers, good consistency, great guy. His cheeks are just soooo red. Let’s go.

BENCH:

Anguissa (AVL) - Nailed and good.

Lamptey (MUN) - Gonna start almost every week for me. Great kid, looks incredible, is incredible.

Mitchell (EVE) - Hey. Whatev.

CAP:

Sterling (LEI)

I guess that I’m the only one concerned with Kev getting an elbow to the head? Fine with that.

Maybe Kev gets swaddled up in bubble wrap and subbed off early once this one is done and dusted? I don’t know man it’s enough of a reason to not captain Kev for me... If both guys were 100% fit I’d probably go Kevin here but Raz is also incredible and is actually 100% fit so I’m going Raz.

I expect complete domination and destruction and yeah that’s that. Didn’t really consider anyone else.

Go on City do the thing.

Wildcard team... ya got this.

#fml fpl #fmlfpl #fpl #fantasy premier league #premier league #fantasy sports #sports #fantasy soccer #soccer #fantasy football #football #podcast #lineup lamentations

[thehangrybi]

Reluctant Princess Chapter 1

The Princess Diaries AU no one asked for:

October 20, 6 PM The Blakes’ fire escape

I’m not really sure why I’m doing this. Really, this journal has been living at the bottom of my backpack for the better part of two years and, until today, I have never felt the need to crack it open. My mom gave it to me when I was fifteen and struggling to identify my sexuality. She said sexuality is a complicated and personal thing and that she wanted me to have an outlet to express those “complex emotions” in case I didn’t feel comfortable sharing them with her. It was a nice gesture but unnecessary. By the time we had had that potentially uncomfortable conversation, I had already come to terms with my identity (bisexual) and knew I could go to my mom with any lingering insecurities.

So, this diary remained untouched. I got my first girlfriend, a senior named Niylah, and I forgot all about this little book littering the bottom of my bag. We broke up six months later when she went off to college and it was fine. I was fine.

Then Dad got sick last year.

I remember getting an international phone call at nine o’clock at night and thinking to myself, “Why the hell is he calling me now; it’s three in the morning there!” Dad and I normally converse via email because of the six-hour time difference between New York and Arkadia, so a phone call was a rare occurrence and typically meant something monumental was happening. I answered the phone with a shaking hand and listened as my dad explained to me that he had cancer. The doctors had caught it early; he assured me that things were going to be fine but…different. I told him I didn’t care if things were different so long as he beat this.

And he did. Chemo was rough on him if his emails and more frequent phone calls were any indication. But he was still my dad and he was still kicking.

There were so many times when I would get the itch to write down what I was feeling. But writing those thoughts felt so final. Like if I committed them to ink and paper, I would somehow bring about a turn for the worse in my dad’s illness. It was a stupid superstition but I didn’t want to risk it. I didn’t want to bog myself in negative thoughts if he was going to turn it around and get better.

So, here I am, sitting on my friends’ fire escape, and writing for the first time ever in this little journal. And not because I am experiencing a crisis of sexuality or my dad is undergoing another chemo treatment. No, I’m sitting here because my mother, Dr. Abigail Griffin, chief of surgery, and generally a crazy-busy woman is going on a date.

My mom does not date.

She and my dad divorced when I was a little over two years old. He had family obligations in Arkadia that, apparently, he couldn’t get around and she would not give up her hard-earned career as a surgeon to move to a foreign country. They called it; my mom kept me here with her in New York while my dad flew back to Arkadia. Despite splitting up and having a literal ocean of distance between them, my parents have managed to remain cordial with each other. Sometimes, one could even mistake their interactions as lingering affections.

I asked my mom about it when I was eleven. “Clarke,” she said, sitting me down and giving me a serious look, “sometimes you can love someone truly, deeply but still not be right for that person. Sometimes, no matter how much you wish otherwise, love isn’t enough.”

Not exactly what I had been expecting her to say.

Since that day, I guess I always expected her to be a single, busy, bad ass mom. If she had sexual partners, they never came around and she never mentioned them. She gave me the impression that romance was nice and all that but unnecessary to her happiness. Imagine my surprise when I came home from school to find her slipping on a pair of decidedly impractical heels and applying lipstick.

“Wow, Mom,” I said as I dropped my books on the kitchen counter. “What’s the occasion?”

She glanced up at me and chuckled her breathy little laugh she does whenever she’s nervous about something. Straightening her skirt, she replied, “I have a date.”

I’ll admit I probably didn’t sound like the most supportive daughter when I exclaimed, “But you never date!”

She gave me this unimpressed look and said something along the lines “no time like the present.” Honestly, I was still kind of reeling from processing this new information and wasn’t fully paying attention. Abstractly, I knew my mom probably hasn’t been celibate for fifteen years, but I have never seen her actively court romance/sex before. It was bizarre.

“So, who’s the lucky person?” I asked, coming back to the present.

“He’s—” Our buzzer rang downstairs. My mom flashed a nervous smile. “Apparently here.” She donned her jacket, riffled through her purse, and checked her reflection in the hall mirror. In a rush she said, “I’ll be back by eleven. There’s leftovers in the fridge, unless you’re going to Octavia’s tonight, then don’t worry about it. Text me if you do go over there so I know. We’ll talk more tomorrow. Love you!”

I walked to the window to see if I could get a good look her date and immediately wished I hadn’t. Several floors below, chatting congenially with the doorman, was the unmistakable, impeccably coiffed hair and beard of my A.P. Government teacher, Mr. Kane. I watched as his face lit up when he saw my mom exit the building. He opened his arms to embrace her, which she accepted with no hesitation and a kiss to his cheek.

I get why she’s drawn to him. I really do. Aside from the luxurious locks and impressive facial hair, Kane is very charismatic. He’s always so knowledgeable about whatever he’s talking about and he speaks with so much passion. Not to mention, he makes himself available to help struggling students, even if it’s not necessarily school-related. All around, he seems like a truly decent guy and my mom deserves that.

However, for selfish reasons, I wish this date wasn’t happening.

Three years in high school and I’ve never quite shaken my unfairly bestowed reputation for being an ice princess. (I blame Finn Collins for that one). If my mom and Mr. Kane became a thing, it would only add fuel to the fire. I know I shouldn’t let it bother me—and most days it doesn’t—but sometimes it gets to me. I guess today is one of those days.

Knowing that my mom was on a date with my teacher was driving me nuts so I grabbed my stuff and headed over to Bellamy and Octavia Blake’s apartment in Chelsea. I’ve known Octavia since we were eight. My mom had taken me to Central Park one day and another boy was picking on Octavia. My over-inflated sense of justice prompted me to go over to him and convince him to stop being such a bully (I was a bit delusional, I’ll admit). Anyway, I ended up getting shoved on my ass before Octavia decked the kid and Bellamy, Octavia’s older brother, broke it up and scared the kid away. She and I have been friends since, although it took a few years for Bellamy to decide I wasn’t a total troll or anything.

Bellamy answered the door when I arrived, bag slung over my shoulder and forced smile plastered to my face. His glasses were askew and his dark curls were a bit rumpled; his tie was loose around his neck and the first few buttons on his collar were undone in a way I tried very hard not find distracting. I got the distinct impression he was not expecting visitors. “What’s up, Clarke?” he asked, his gravelly voice even deeper than normal.

“Is Octavia here?”

“She won’t be back for another half hour. Kickboxing class. But you’re welcome to come in and wait, I guess.”

“Thanks,” I said as I brushed past him. It only took me a moment to realize why Bellamy seemed so harried when he answered the door. Apparently, he had company.

When Bellamy started dating Gina Martin a few months ago, I remember feeling weirdly disappointed. I thought I had gotten over my juvenile crush of mine ages ago. What made the whole thing worse was that I couldn’t decide if I was disappointed because he had a serious girlfriend or because I hadn’t really moved on from those inconvenient feelings. A part of me really wanted to dislike Gina but I quickly learned that that was like trying to climb a waterfall barehanded. She was snarky and thoughtful and genuinely nice. Totally Bellamy’s type.

She smiled at me when I walked into the living room, blush blooming on her cheeks as she quickly buttoned her pants. “Hey, Clarke. How’s it going?” she asked as she fluffed her chocolate-colored ringlets.

“Fine. You?”

“Alright,” she replied with a grin. “Just on my way out.”

I told her she didn’t have to leave on my account but she assured me it was just because she had a bartending shift in half an hour. As she was leaving, she kissed Bellamy and softly murmured something in his ear that made his eyes get this warm, affectionate look. I looked away and tried my best to ignore the twinge in my chest.

The window to the fire escape was open and seemed to beckon me with the cool October air. I clambered out and dug through my bag for this little book because I really needed to vent; the person I had come to see wasn’t home yet; and I didn’t feel much like sharing with Bellamy at the moment.

Five Personal Inconvenient Truths By Clarke Griffin

1.      My mom, who has been single since I was two, has started dating again

2.      My mom is on a date with my teacher

3.      As much as I’d like to talk about this with my dad, I’m not sure that’d be a good idea because his previous relationship with my mom

4.      I need to start filling out college applications

5.      I will probably always have at least a passive crush on Bellamy Blake

October 21, 1:45 PM My bedroom

Apparently, my dad is in town. I found this out last night when I texted my mom to tell her I was staying over at the Blakes’ and she responded with a long, detailed message about how that was all fine as long as I was home by noon so that I could be ready to meet with my dad at two. I didn’t even know he was in the country, let alone the same city as me. Apparently, he has something important he needs to tell me but my mother won’t give me a clue about what it is. I’m terrified that his cancer has come back. I asked my mom if that’s what this was about to which she quickly said no. But then what else could it be? Why would he fly across the Atlantic to tell me something when he could easily email me or call?

Also, while not as pressing as my dad’s mystery reason for visiting, it is noteworthy that my mom has yet to mention that she went on a date with my teacher. I told Octavia about it when she came home from teaching her beginner’s kickboxing class at the youth center and she laughed in my face. Bellamy, at least, had some insight into what Kane might have been thinking. Bellamy is currently in college to become a teacher and has been student teaching at our school, teaching World History. I’m not sure how much global history is being taught in that class when the vast majority of it focuses on European history, but I digress. The point is that Bellamy saw Kane in the teacher’s lounge earlier; he had been humming to himself. Kane, not Bellamy. I doubt Bellamy has ever felt chipper enough to hum to himself. Anyway, Bellamy asked him why he was in such a good mood and Kane told him he’d recently reconnected with an old friend of his and he was seeing her for dinner.

Mom and Kane knew each other? When? Why didn’t anyone tell me before?

Bellamy didn’t understand why I was freaking out so much. He kindly reminded me that my mom could do a hell of a lot worse. This is all very true but still. I wish someone could have given me a heads up.

Woops! Time to go. I’ll write more later. Maybe.

October 21, 9:50 PM Octavia’s room

I wonder if I can just stay here since I have no desire to go home again.

Number of calls from Mom: 8 Number of calls from Dad: 13 Number of calls from Wells: 3 Number of calls I’ve answered: 0

October 21, 10:15 PM Still Octavia’s room…

O keeps glancing over at me every time my phone buzzes, which seems to happen every five minutes or so. From the glare she keeps shooting at it, she’s either super annoyed or super concerned. Maybe a little bit of both. But so far, she hasn’t pushed me to tell her and I’m not in a sharing mood. What happened this afternoon isn’t something I can just casually tell someone, even someone I’ve known as long as I’ve known Octavia.

It started when Mom and I arrived at the Plaza. We were supposed to meet Dad there and join him for a late lunch. Except, as it turned out, we were not only meeting with him, but also with his close friend, the Chancellor of Arkadia, Thelonious Jaha, and Jaha’s son, Wells.

We were escorted up to my dad’s suite where the illustrious group was waiting for us. They had tea prepared in a formal sitting room like something from Downton Abbey. I could tell something was off then. This wasn’t my dad. My dad, despite being the head of his family business (the details of which, until today, had never been divulged), had always been a fairly relaxed person, preferring lounging with a pint of ale and watching a soccer game with me when I’d visit him at his summer home in France. This stiff, suit-wearing man, who drinks tea like some overly dignified gentleman was a stranger to me.

I caught Wells’ eye and he frowned back at me. Clearly, something didn’t feel right to him either.

Jaha, for his part, seemed perfectly at ease with this scenario. Or at least, as content as I’d ever seen him, the handful of times we had interacted prior to today. “Thank you, Abby, Clarke,” he said, nodding to my mom and I, “for joining us on such short notice.”

“Of course, Thelonious,” Mom replied, “It’s always good to see you. All of you.” She was addressing each of our hosts but was pointedly avoiding my dad’s gaze. At the time, I chalked it up to feeling guilty about going on a date for the first time in so long. Now, I realize that probably wasn’t at all at the forefront of my mom’s thoughts in those moments.

I glanced at my dad, curious to see how he would respond, but he remained oddly quiet, eyes serious as he returned my gaze.

“Well, I’d like to say that this was a social call, but I’m afraid, we’re here for a more pressing reason. Jake,” he said, gesturing to my dad to begin.

I watched him closely. I could see how the year of chemotherapy had left him weathered, exhausted, like a piece of driftwood drying, half-buried in the sand. His blue eyes, which used to twinkle, looked glazed. His mouth, which used to always have a smile for me, turned down in the corners.

“Clarke,” he said, using the same tone he’d use when he was mediating an argument between me and my mom over the phone, “this is going to be hard to hear. And I want you to know that we wouldn’t be here if there was an alternative.”

“Okay…” I said, feeling dread claw at my throat. This was the part where my dad tells me his cancer came back and there was nothing doctors could do this time. I was sure of it.

What he actually said caught me completely off guard.

“I can’t have any more kids.”

Mom jumped in at this point, explaining that one of the side effects of his chemotherapy was that he could become sterile. Evidently, he had. Still, I could not see what this had to do with me and Mom. Also, this felt like a completely inappropriate conversation to having in front of Thelonious Jaha and his son! I know their diplomats, but couldn’t they go out and go do something. There are millions of things to do in Manhattan; they certainly didn’t need to stay in the hotel and listen to my dad explain his fertility woes.

“Do you remember why your mother and I divorced, Clarke?”

“Because of your careers,” I answered immediately. As if there could be any other reason.

“In a manner of speaking. But it was more than that.” Dad paused to collect his thoughts. Meanwhile, I was having mild freak-out inside my head. What the hell was going on? “Your mother, of course, is brilliant and worked hard to get to where she was and is in her career. It was completely understandable why she wanted to maintain that. The problem in our marriage was with me and my obligations to my family, to my…people.”

“What are you saying, Dad?”

“I’m saying, Clarke, that, just like Thelonious here is the Chancellor of Arkadia, I am the…crowned prince. Since I can no longer father children, that makes you my sole heir.”

What. The. Fuck?!

How does one

When were they going to

Why didn’t they tell me?

I mean, I know why they didn’t tell me. They explained their reasons at length. What I don’t understand is how they could go for nearly eighteen years and not tell me about this crucial aspect of my life? Who does that? How could they lie to their own daughter like that?

As I listened to them explain about how my mom wanted me to live a normal life away from all the aristocratic bullshit, all I could think about was what a monumental moron I am. How did I go for nearly eighteen years and not realize something was up? For example, every time I visited my dad over the summer, all the staff gave me deferential treatment. At the time, I thought it was just because I was their boss’ kid. Now I realize it was because I am their sovereign’s kid. I thought about how street vendors would insist on giving me trinkets for free and how boutiques would open early or close late just so my dad’s assistant could take me shopping for clothes that would accommodate my growing pubescent body.

Did the whole damn world know who I was except me?

I wonder if Bellamy knew… He’s a total history and politics junkie; it wouldn’t surprise me.

I’ll slug him if he did.

I sat their numbly through the whole explanation and only when my mom, my dad, and Jaha finished explaining their reasons and what was expected of me from here on out, did I speak. “I need a minute,” I said in a surprisingly calm voice considering how much I was freaking out inside. Without further explanation, I stood, turned on my heel and walked out of the suite, into the elevator, and out the lobby onto the busy streets of Manhattan.

I wandered for a couple hours, reviewing every memory of my childhood under this new lens. Humiliation gripped me tightly, as well as anxiety because everything I knew had suddenly been torn asunder. In the past, when I have felt overwhelmed like this, I have taken to researching the topic to get all the information I would need. I ducked into a Starbucks to use their Wi-Fi and pulled up my browser to search Arkadia. The Wikipedia page for it was disappointingly short, considering how much the internet loves to fabricate. I was about to try a different site when my phone started to ring. And ring. And ring.

My parents had been conveniently reticent about my being royalty for the last seventeen years but now they couldn’t stop trying to talk to me about it. Well, no cigar. I wasn’t interested. It was definitely petty of me, but all things considered, I didn’t feel too badly about turning my phone off and hopping on the subway to go see the Blakes.

A short train ride later and I was standing on their stoop, feeling completely drained. I must have looked as awful as I felt because as soon as Octavia answered the door, the first words out of her mouth were, “Okay, whose ass do I need to kick?”

I smiled weakly and tugged her close for a hug. She patted my back in a manner that I think she meant to be soothing but, if anything, it just left me feeling sore. Hugs have never been her first choice for showing affection.

“Do you mind if I stay here tonight?”

“No problem,” she said pulling away and shuffling me inside. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” I replied. And I still don’t. Honestly, I can’t. Who the hell would believe me?

Weirdly enough, writing it down has helped a little though.

#bellarke #reluctant princess #fanfiction #the 100

[88inpursuit]

It’s a, been a rough year.

Today is the last full day of a two year adventure. 

We woke up to the first rainy day in.... let me go look it up....

This is potentially the only rainy day this whole month. 

In January of this year we were in Madrid, Spain living a wonderfully metropolitan life, and on March 1st we drove back to Bordeaux, France with Mackerel in tow. Within one or two weeks of our arrival the country was in full lockdown mode from a virus called COVID-19. It has many names but the most commonly used is COVID-19 or Corona Virus.  Many globally highly aware of it’s havoc it was causing mostly in Asian countries late 2019 and early 2020. I felt even more familiar with what was going on as many of my students are from Asian countries, South Korea, Japan, China, and Taiwan. Many naive people around the world were thinking that, ‘oh no, it won’t get to us, and if it does it won’t be that bad.’ It is now July 22 and the United States is struggling. New York was hit pretty hard in April. Many lives were lost and so many infected. Hospitals were over capacity and the city was in full lockdown mode. 

Back to Europe. We had escaped the massive lockdown in Madrid that happened only just a few days after our departure. I am so very thankful we got out of there before that. They weren’t allowing people to travel whatsoever. They were reportedly stopping people at the border to turn back. Our living situation was so much better in Bordeaux than it would have been in Madrid. Initially we were staying at an Airbnb for a month that had an outdoor space, despite the house itself being haphazardly put together with a multitude of problems functioning. The bed was super cozy if initially difficult to get used to. Great deck and swimming pool, even if it was too cold to get in. April came and we were able to get into our new, old apartment. The one we were initially staying in when we first moved to France. 

Domaine Maucamp: Avenue de Thouars. An old building from : 

DOMAINE MAUCAMP

202, avenue de Thouars Residence built at the end of the 18th century Maucamp means "bad field"

In 1846, the estate was 24 ha including 7.5 ha of amenities (English garden, fishpond, stream, entrance courtyard, etc.) and 7 ha of vines. In 1920, the estate was mainly made up of pastures. In 1969, only 1.5 ha remained.

En 1846, le domaine était de 24 ha dont 7,5 ha d’agréments (jardin anglais, vivier, ruisseau, cour d’entrée, …) et  7 ha de vignes.

En 1920, le domaine était essentiellement composé de pâturages. En 1969, il ne restait plus que 1,5 ha.

Actuellement, nous y trouvons la Résidence La Pléiade-Maucamp situé dans le parc.

The apartment has high ceilings and curved corners where the ceiling and wall meet. The apartment has been decorated eclectically by our hosts. Modern with some vintage furnishings with no particular region. Our hosts are both professionals in the film and tv industry here in France. They both share a down to earth-ness that reminds me of people who have lived an interesting life. From their experiences to the travel they’ve done. They both have had previous partnerships and share one child with their previous partners. Fany has a son who is close to our age, 25, and Stephane has a daughter who is twelve. They all have such unique personalities but are similar in that they are all quirky and kind, the best combination. Throughout our who time in both France and Spain they have been the most accommodating, kind, sincere people we’ve had the pleasure to meet. They will be friends for life. We plan on coming back next year, well I do intend to the very least. I will miss them very much and am already tearing just thinking about not seeing them in passing or just hearing their voice in the hallway that we share. I will have to do some illustrations of the apartment set up before my memory slips away. 

We have been so very fortunate throughout this whole journey here, and I can’t believe that I am saying this, but I don’t want to go. The reason being is that I was the one probably pushing harder to go home. I think my anxiety from how the world is at the moment influenced my pressure of wanting comforts of home. 

It is now April... in the timeline and well we found out that we were/are, I am pregnant. I still have to let that sink in when I write that out. I knew it a week after I missed my period. It was that gut intuition you get as a woman. The intuition that continues to be socialized out of us, well tries to at least. My husband didn’t believe me, granted a couple times there were false alarms. What I didn’t/haven’t told him is that I didn’t actually think I was pregnant the previous times, but was wishful thinking. This time I knew it in my bones as they say. So deeply that I was as equally excited the way you get when something significantly new happens for me. The type of blindly excited but unaware of the weighty details of the life change. The kind you have as a teenager well into your mid twenties. I would like to think of it as a fearlessness. As the days slowly progressed to the date we agreed on taking a pregnancy test if the red gates unleashed came closer, the fear set in. Fuck. We were living in a country not as familiar to us as our home, I didn’t have a steady job, he was still in school and all job prospects had been dropped when COVID hit. I wasn’t on my thyroid medication for my Hashimoto’s. I have diagnosed clinical depression since childhood. How am I going to manage. How are we going to manage. This list went on and on and on. I didn’t sleep. I would wake up in a panic early, with my mind racing. The day came, it was raining, and he to the pharmacy to get the pregnancy test and micellar water.... why I don’t know. We weren’t out. Not only did he get micellar water he got three bottles, or so he thought, and only one pregnancy test. One bottle of micellar water, two bottles of baby safe cleansing water, and one pregnancy test. I peed in a cup put the stick in on the sick counter, and immediately a thick pink line instantly appeared. I cried immediately and had him look at it to make sure that it was accurate. He said yep, and the tests were 99.9% positive and we were definitely pregnant. I sobbed and that was that. 

Since, it’s been a rollercoaster. The first trimester was full of nausea, bloating, constipation, headaches, irritability, and unearthly cravings for things. Particularly gummy candies, and egg sandwiches. Trouble breathing, sleeping, and no motivation to move. Mood swings galore. 

Our first prenatal doctor’s appointment was well to say the least fascinating. Not only are we in a different country with different sets of procedures but also during a time of COVID. Rory was not able to be with me the whole appointment but for the sonogram and for questions after. Despite being listed as speaking English our doctor knew as much as I do in French. Not great but passable. My expectations were to have my blood pressure taken, my height, my weight, heart rate, the usual. Nope none of that. She asked me my medical history, family medical related issues, and concerns. We calculated the due date, and had a miscommunication that this was my first visit and first child. We did however get to see the baby on through a sonogram, and saw the blob that would later grow arms legs and a penis. Yes, a penis. It’s a boy. The following appointments were similar, sonogram’s galore but no blood pressure, heart rate, or weight taking. Our last appointment was fascinating though. We got to see him clearly defined as a boy and long gangly limbs. He was not as wiggly as the previous appointment, but there was some movement. These sonogram’s have been reassuring despite not having the regular procedures you would expect at prenatal appointments in the US. For one she would tell us what his measurements were, if he was growing well, and that he was okay. The important base things. Additionally it is the only time that I feel genuinely connected to him. Everyday otherwise I feel like many other women who probably don’t talk about it, I don’t feel connected. For me he is just something, well yes a baby, growing inside of me. I feel the same way about my organs, they are in there doing their thing and I am thankful, but I’m not connected to them emotionally. They just exist. I don’t think I am a horrible person for feeling this way, I am neither ungrateful for being able to get pregnant and so quickly, it’s just that this is how I’m wired. I’ve gone over it a million times, still do as to why I feel this way, but I don’t think that I’ll ever have a real reason unless I choose one and stick to it. Some of my reasonings have included: ‘To not be emotionally connected is my way of not getting hurt or broken if something were to happen,’ this is the one I tell people who I know are disturbed by my feelings of disconnected-ness. Another is that I don’t have the mother gene, despite what others are constantly telling me. The fun more irritational one is that I am not actually having a baby and that I dreamt this all. I could go on but I will bore myself. 

Motherhood is a sore subject for me. I had a very rocky childhood largely formed by circumstances that both my mother and I could not have controlled or changed. It is hard to fault her, but it is hard to know that I won’t succumb to issues my mother once and sometimes continues to be influenced by. I just hope that the cycle of disappointment and hurt felt by me, my mother, her mother and potentially her mother and so forth ends with me. I know that I will have moments where a flip will be switched and I will have to remove myself to not cause this cyclical damage. In fact I’ve had and continue to have conversations with him to help me help myself from this happening. I know my strengths and I know my weaknesses. I am afraid my weaknesses are more powerful than my strengths. 

Being pregnant has largely influenced my pressuring to go home. I somewhat am regretting it. A part of me thinks I should have sucked it up and try to make it work here with him. Fought harder to make it work so that our dream of living overseas long term could take several steps forward as opposed to quite of few steps back? I keep running into this strange feeling mindset of, ‘should we do this or do that? should I pursue this or that?’ When did I get so wishy washy? I used to be so strong in my convictions. Anywho we are flying back tomorrow. An 18 hour + journey back to the crisis hole this is America at the moment. 

[rovingsolitarything]

Daily Draw

14/04/20

Focus of query:

What do I need to know today?

Card:

The Star

First impressions:

Ok, clearly it’s time for a refresher. My deck did warn me to leave all the night-owl stuff behind only the other day. Today you will need to focus on ways you can rejuvenate, whether that’s by taking a bath, settling in for a catnap, or just imbibing whatever quantities of caffeine you can (tea and coffee still count as essential right?). Strangely, when I first started reading, I struggled for a while to sense any positivity from The Star; she seemed haughty, sneaky, distant - and indeed there is more than meets the eye. Are you being robbed of anything right now? It certainly feels like it. Try to remind yourself today that there is still hope, no matter how bleak things look right now.

Guided reading:

Loss, theft, abandonment, privation - alternatively, hope and bright prospects, rejuvenation, rebirth, trust.

Reflection:

*Disclaimer: a little heavier than usual today, nothing major (pun intended), but please skip if you’re not feeling it)*

This has felt almost like a cruel joke today. I felt a little restless last night so went back over some of the old family photos we dug out over my brothers birthday. And then again. And again. Checked my phone (nothing though)... And so on. In the end, I didn’t sleep at all last night and finally gave up around 6AM. I’ve always had trouble with sleep so sometimes this happens (once I was up almost four days straight, and somewhere around the 86 hour mark I genuinely started to believe I might die). It happens, it sucks, I deal with it. Such was the plan today. In the spirit of today’s card, I went out for a walk over the moors (fields), taking my allocated daily exercise early in the hopes that cold air would revive me. It was surprisingly bright and busy out, the sun a hollow-white blotch glaring through the sterling sheet of cloud. The wind, when it did come, chewed eagerly into my chest. I felt sore all the way through my bones, but no less foggy for the pang. I just felt echoey and glitchy somehow. Throughout the day, I’ve tried coffee, a cold shower, eating, not eating, standing, sitting, talking, dancing, brushing on mascara - none of it has served to ‘refresh’ me and in hindsight I probably should have called in sick to work (which I’ve never done in my life). So yeah, this felt like a joke at first, but as I’ve struggled over the course of the day to keep my head on and maintain a sense of reality, I’ve realised that this could serve as a reminder from my deck that no matter what’s going on, there is always cause for hope, and reason to have faith. I asked what I needed to know, and the cards have decided it’s time for me to appreciate the fact that optimism, resilience, and a little trust in the universe to provide will go a long way to buoying you up - even at your most desolate, when the rest of the solar system seems remote. It’s a fickle, elusive, sly thing, but Elpis is ours. Things will be better eventually. It’s a mathematical impossibility for the odds to go against us every time, for things to never work out, so we just have to keep looking up for now and the rest will follow - and, in all seriousness, go for a walk, make your favourite hot drink, have a bath or shower if you feel groggy. It’s not exactly magic as you know it, but it does make a difference. Anyway. Goodnight, stay safe; I’m going to get curled up and read until the words glaze as bad as the rest of the world. I’ll leVe you with something different...

hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have - but I have it; NFR!; Lana Del Rey

- CJ

#the star #tarot #smith-waite #lana del rey #14/04/20