#it's me....... the Seagull Charmer................

[seagullcharmer]

practice!

#my art #seagull scribbles #the way the seagulls have more depth than the person............. oops #aka 'i got a new sweatshirt and i'm delighted' #with alt reviews such as ivy's: 'this bitch be charming seagulls ig' #self portrait #digital art #twosetviolin #twoset apparel #it's me....... the Seagull Charmer................ #< that feels cursed. it's seagullcharmer all one word #anyway. hai.

[justagalwhowrites]

HEY BESTIE I LOVE THE PROMPTS 21 86 94 114 128 146!!! ❤️❤️

OMG HI BESTIE!

Thank you for submitting these! I plan to get to the others, too, but to start, here's prompt 21! @1soff also submitted this prompt, with a bit of flavor to it. I hope you both enjoy this non-canon bit with Joel and Doc!

Outside

A run outside the QZ leads to a confession.

Based on Prompt 21: "I fucking hate you"

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (Lavender pairing)

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 2.4K

“You’d better be almost done,” Joel growled, pacing. 

“Oh, hold your horses,” you rolled your eyes, going to the next row of medication. You felt him glare at you through the grate separating the pharmacy from the rest of the store. “Not like you’ve got something waiting for you in the QZ to get back to…” 

Being outside the QZ with just Joel was strange. You’d been going on more and more runs lately but it was always with Joel and Tess or just Tess. Joel tended to avoid you like the plague. 

Which was fine by you. He so obviously hated you that it was hard to be anywhere near him. The glares, the stiff limbs, the fact that you wanted him anyway. It wasn’t fun. 

Going with Tess meant there was a buffer. You and Tess had developed a kind of rapport - maybe not friends but at least friendly. Enough that Joel was usually there as silent muscle that you could pretend wasn’t there at all - or you could if you weren’t hyperaware of his every move. 

But Tess was sick - the flu that had developed into bronchitis - and you’d all but demanded that she stay home. 

“Why?” She demanded as she went into another coughing fit.

“For starters,” you’d said as you got some anti-inflammatories out of the bag you’d brought to Joel’s apartment to check on her after she’d been down for the count for weeks. “You’re coughing too much. Clicker will hear you from miles out and then you’re fucked. More importantly, if you don’t watch yourself, this could turn into chronic bronchitis. If you never shake it, you won’t be well enough to do any runs ever again. And, just a wild guess here, but that’s not what you’re after.” 

“Not exactly,” she coughed again. 

“Then listen to your doctor,” you said, slinging your bag on your arm. “And delay the run a few weeks instead of getting yourself killed.” 

“Can’t,” she took a shaky breath. “We’re on a deadline and we’re pushing it already… You two will have to go without me.” 

“No,” snapped Joel, his arms crossed, shaking his head. “No way in hell I’m haulin’ her around outside the QZ on my own. She’s a fuckin’ liability…” 

“Joel,” she snapped before coughing again. “This is the deal, she makes it so we don’t die from getting fucked up out there, we take her out when she wants to go. So fucking deal with it.” 

He glared at you.

“Are you planning to go back to that town anytime soon?” You asked. “Or another one where I can raid a pharmacy within the next month?” 

“Probably not,” Tess said, her breath rattling in her lungs. “Jesus, I feel like shit…” 

“Then you’re stuck with me, Miller,” you shrugged. “Sorry to continue to be such a disappointment…” 

He ground his teeth and stalked off to his bedroom. 

“Still such a charmer,” you said sarcastically. Tess laughed and then coughed. “Take it easy, OK? You’ve made it this far, you don’t get to just keel over from bronchitis. You should at least… I don’t know… Go out in a fight with infected or something. While saving a kid. Really amp up the heroism.” 

She smiled. 

“I’ll do my best.” 

It had been you and Joel on your own for four days now as you worked your way down the coastline. It was a gorgeous view, at least, with the sound of seagulls and waves on the rocky shore and the smell of salt making you almost forget you had a gun at your hip and your surly ex-boyfriend at your back. 

“We’ve been here too fuckin’ long already,” he snapped. 

“Is there a reason you’re worried or are you just trying really hard to ruin my day?” You asked, opening a bottle and looking at the pills inside. They looked to be in good shape and high quantity. You stuck it in your pack. 

“There are signs of people all over this fuckin’ town,” he snapped. “There shouldn’t be, from what we knew, there shouldn’t be a goddamn soul around. So I’d like for you to stop fuckin’ around so we can get moving.” 

You checked the last few bottles and went back to the grate over the counter. 

“Alright, Miller,” you said. “Get me out of here and we can head out.” 

Joel pried the metal up and open and you climbed on the counter, sliding below it, before Joel dropped it and it slammed back down. 

“Lucky you could even get back there,” he muttered. “Shouldn’t keep comin’ on runs like this, you’re just slowin’ us down and it ain’t worth it.” 

“Tell that to the patients whose anxiety medications I just snagged for the next few months,” you said, smug. He glowered after you, pushing past you and out onto the street. The ocean was churning, dark clouds swelling overhead, the wind making the strands of hair that had come loose from your French braid swirling around your head. You just hoped you’d make it to a good stopping point before a storm blew in. 

Joel seemed particularly paranoid as you started back toward Boston. You’d picked up whatever he’d had to come out here for - he’d made you stand near the rusting cash registers of the small storefront he’d gone into while he went into the back because “who the fuck knows what’s back there and I don’t want to get my throat ripped out worryin’ about you” - and you’d also managed to grab some things that were more fun, too. Some more books for your classroom, some DVDs to sell on the black market in the QZ, some jewelry that would fetch a decent price from the few FEDRA people who could afford it. 

It had been a successful run so far. Of course Joel wanted to try to cut your portion of it as short as possible. 

“See?” You said as you neared the edge of town. “All that worry over nothing…” 

“Don’t fuckin’ jinx it,” he replied, not looking at you. You rolled your eyes just as a man emerged from a house at the edge of town. You steps stuttered to a stop and Joel’s arm swept out and all but threw you behind him before both hands were on his rifle. 

“Hey stranger,” the man ahead of you called, drawing closer. Joel raised the gun. “What’s bringing you through our neck of the woods?” 

“Just passin’ through,” Joel snapped. “Best let us keep passin’.” 

“Afraid I can’t do that,” the man said, a few more men joining him as you peered around Joel’s arm. “You’re in our territory…” 

“Fuck your territory,” Joel snapped. “So fuckin’ worried about it, let us through.” 

“There’s shit there that we’re after,” the man said. 

“So?” Joel snapped. 

“Can’t let you through if you’ve got it,” he shrugged. “So you can give us your packs…” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Or we can take ‘em off your cold, dead bodies,” he continued. “Up to you.” 

“Joel,” you hissed, sticking close behind him. 

“Shut up,” he snapped at you before turning his attention back to the man. “Ain’t happenin’. I don’t have a problem killing every last one of you, so do yourselves a fuckin’ favor and let us pass.” 

The man looked back to his men, saying something. Joel looked back at you. 

“I tell you what to do, you fuckin’ do it,” he said, voice low. “Understand me?” 

“Yeah,” you swallowed, hard. There was a crack of thunder overhead. 

“Good,” he muttered, looking straight ahead again. 

The men started forward, rifles in hand. As they drew closer, two levied them at Joel. He adjusted his grip on his weapon. You took a shaky breath. 

“Gonna need your packs,” the man said, stopping just 20 feet away from you and Joel. 

“Run!” Joel yelled as he started shooting. 

You listened, taking off for the nearest shelter you could see, Joel moving the same direction as he fired. 

“Hide!” He yelled over his shoulder at you as you ducked behind a waist-high wall around a yard. Thunder cracked and rain started to fall as you watched Joel get hit in the shoulder, knocking him back. 

“Joel!” You yelled, instinctively running for him, the sound of gunshots making you flinch. He fired two more shots, dropping the last two men just as you reached him, pulling him to his feet just as the sky opened. 

“The fuck were you thinkin’?” He snapped as he struggled to his feet. “I told you to fuckin’ hide!” 

“Yeah, well,” you snapped back. “Too damn bad.” 

The two of you went into the nearest house. You dropped Joel onto the couch and drew the curtains in case there were any more men out there. It was dumping rain now, the branches of the trees outside whipping in the wind. 

“How fuckin’ stupid are you?” Joel snapped as you helped him take his shirt off to look at his shoulder. You ignored him, going into your bag for your supplies. “Hey! I asked you a goddamn question!” 

“What, you want me to just leave you to die in the street?” You snapped. You sat beside him and gingerly touched around the bullet wound to assess it. He hissed in pain, gritting his teeth. 

“The rules are you listen to me when we’re out here!” He yelled. “I’m not gonna keep haulin’ you around if you’re gonna be that fuckin’ dumb!” 

“If I’m so dumb maybe you don’t want me pulling a bullet out of your shoulder,” you soaked gauze in alcohol and started cleaning the wound. 

“You’re a fuckin’ burden out here,” his eyes were narrowed, hard. “Can’t shoot, can’t listen, you’re useless!” 

You gritted your teeth against the tears that were welling up and threatening to choke you. 

“I’m good at putting you back together when you fuck up!” You snapped as you pressed fresh gauze to the wound and taped it into place. 

“Wouldn’t need you to if you weren’t so fuckin’ stupid!” He yelled. “And I’m tired of always having to take care of you!” 

You sat back from him, not able to stop the tears now. He looked so upset but he was still Joel.  You’d been clinging to him for so long. For so long that it felt like it was your entire life. But it hurt so much now, loving him. Being anywhere near him was painful, so much that it felt like something was taking you apart from the inside out. You knew he didn’t care about you like that anymore but, for some reason, you thought he’d always at least respect you. Think you were worth something. For so long it had seemed like he was the only person who thought you were worth something and, it turned out, you were wrong.

You were so tired of it. You were ready to be done with it, done with all of it. 

“Stay put,” Joel snapped, getting up and grabbing his shirt before he went deeper into the house. 

You ignored him, throwing on your backpack and going out the front door. 

There were no signs of any other men, at least, but it was pouring rain and you were soaked in seconds. The wind whipped around you, strong enough that it made you stumble a bit. You wondered idly if it was a hurricane. That would be appropriate, you thought. With some luck it would take you out to sea and you wouldn’t have to deal with anything else. Wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that Joel hated you so viscerally, wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that you wished you could hate him too, wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that you still loved him so much in spite of it all that you’d let him bleed you dry if he just asked. 

“Hey!” He yelled from behind you. You ignored him and kept walking. “Stop!” 

“Fuck off, Joel!” You yelled back over your shoulder. “Leave me the hell alone!” 

“The hell do you think you’re going?” He snapped, catching up to you and standing in front of you, grabbing you by the shoulders. “I told you to stay put!” 

“And I told you to leave me the hell alone!” You threw his hands off you and ducked around him. 

“Hey!” He yelled again, catching you a lot quicker this time, ripping you around to face him. He was dripping wet, hair soaked. “You tryin’ to get yourself fuckin’ killed?” 

“The fuck does it matter to you for!” You yelled back. “You made it perfectly clear what you think of me…”

“Get back in the fucking house!” 

“NO!” You shoved him back, tears welling up again. “I’m done! I’m done doing this with you, Joel! I love you so goddamn much that I hate it! I hate you! I fucking hate you!”

“Well I don’t hate you!” He yelled back, breathless. You just stared at him. “So just come back…” 

“What do you mean you don’t hate me?” You asked, wiping the rain and tears from your eyes. 

“The hell do you think I mean?” He snapped. 

“I don’t know! You just got done telling me how useless you think I am!” You yelled. It felt good to yell at him, to do SOMETHING besides just love him without being loved in return. “You do nothing but try to shove me away from you, you avoid me as much as you possibly can…” 

“Because I can’t handle fuckin’ losing you!” He yelled back, panting for breath. He closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment, calming himself down. “I can’t… I can’t handle losing you, I can’t… I can’t survive that. I don’t want you out here because I can’t watch you get hurt, can’t watch you die. I… I love you too much, I can’t do it.” 

“You love me?” You asked, voice soft, stepping closer to him. 

“Can’t lose you,” he said, taking your face in his hands. “Please…” 

You leaned into him slowly, gently, and kissed him. His lips were delicate but desperate on yours, all the years of denying each other passing between you in that moment. 

“Please come inside,” he said, barely pulled back from you. “At least until the rain is done. Please, Baby.” 

You nodded. 

“Let’s go inside,” you said. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #send asks #follower celebration #lavender

[hotxcheeto]

A date at the ocean/beach whole day then it gets late and bioluminescence swim

x Female Goth punk x Nathan reader please

Fluff cute And she is kind sweet and loyal, bit of a smart ass and street smarts.

Doesn’t care for Nathan’s family money. Even though she comes from money too.

━ 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Nathan Prescott x Fem!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, nate and reader teasing each other, kissing, suggestive ig

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - i got nothing, hope you enjoy!

The sun was setting, slowly, sitting on a bench waiting for Nathan. You knew he'd been having a rough time, it's why you wanted to meet with him. You were his friend, after all.

Then again, after this you might not be.

It was the boy's idea to turn it into a date, not that you minded, almost excited as you crossed your legs looking around, the wind brushing passed making you shiver your shoulders.

It was cool as the night began to show along the sky, oranges and pinks splotched above you. Seagulls squawking as they crossed overhead, footsteps finally beginning to approach you from behind.

"Sorry I'm late. My fucking dad got all up in my shit- fuck." You turned around, watching a very disheveled Nathan look down at his shoe, a piece of gum stuck to the bottom. "Take it easy Nate, it's alright." You watched him scrape it off before standing up and running his hands through his ruffled hair.

"Breathe Nate." You grabbed his shoulders giving him a warm smile. "Now c'mon, I have the perfect place for a night swim." "Could've told me we were swimming." "I texted you, but seems you were a bit busy to respond." You teased, bumping his shoulder slightly while you began your walk towards the edge of the water.

"Don't start." He smiled slightly, both of you quietly laughing as you walked along the shore. "You need to stop listening to him y'know?" "What?" Nathan looked over to you, furrowed eyebrows, but not in any sort of anger. "Your dad, I mean. He's a dick. I say, take as much money as you can and dip. It's what I did."

You laughed quietly, looking at him as he thought while a chuckle passed his lips. Looking over at you, noticing the way the orange sunlight kissed the side of your face. Reflecting off your eyes when you turned to look at him again, meeting his stare.

"Nate... trust me... you don't need him." "Alright enough about Lord Dickwad. You look good." He complimented, glancing down at your dark outfit. "That's quite different from when you used to make fun of me. I'm emo, remember-" "Shut it, y'know I didn't mean that shit." You shook your head as you giggled, taking his hand in yours, though he barely even looked down.

"You promise?" "Promise. Now quit being a bitch and take the compliment." "Always the charmer Prescott." He turned and gave you a white-toothed grin, tugging you a bit closer by your hand.

You both walked silently after that, down the edge of the water, Nathan laughing when you kicked a rock down leaving a splashing path and ripples in the water in its place of destruction.

The sun beginning to fall low beyond the horizon. The cool air brushing passed you both, Nathan though, he barely noticed. Entranced by you nearly the entire walk, not that you didn't know.

"How's school been?" You then asked softly, looking out at the water while he answered. "Rough. Everyone just..." "They don't know you. And you don't let them." He gave you a look making you shake your head, taking in a deep breath and looking off. "I get it, don't say I don't. But you shouldn't keep up the rich boy persona, it makes you look douchey." He shrugged.

"I am a douche, it works." "Eh, well, I beg to differ." He smiled softly at you, squeezing your hand a bit tighter at this. A light coat of pink crossing his cheeks as he looked away and the inky blue-black sky. "It's almost time." "Time for what?" "A biology lesson." Nathan stared at you for a second, blinking while you bit back a smile. "Just trust me."

Nathan nodded but you could see the faux suspicious stare he gave you making you snort. "I'm asking you Natie, trust me." "Never call me that again." "Okay... Natie."

He huffed, squeezing your hand as he shook his head with a smirk. "All will be well Nathan Prescott, until I murder you at least. Don't worry, I'll make it quick." You winked at him hearing his laughter, the sound swelling your heart only making your cheeks hurt from the expression on your face.

"Whoa." Nate's eyes practically lit up, they did in actuality, at the glow of the ocean. "The fungi and algae glows, it's happening all up and down the coast. That time of the season." You scared at the glowing water, letting go of his hand to climb up onto the rock, looking down at the liquid sloshing and crashing against the hard earth.

"Why?" "Bioluminescence you moron. Happens everywhere in certain areas, a chemical causes the glow in the bodies of the algae and fungus. It's like cause and effect." You kicked off your shoes and socks before standing up, staring at him as you began lifting your shirt, throwing into onto a nearby rock exposing the black bra underneath.

You then reached down to your skirt and tights, pulling them down at the same time. "This is the swim spot, and if you keep gawking, I'll give more biology lessons and we can turn this into a study time. Unless, you wanna start getting undressed?" The sunlight had disappeared but the light from water now replaced it. Glowing off your skin and smile as you kept your eyes on him.

"Natie?" "Ye-yeah." He practically ripped off his jacket before tossing it near your clothes. Watching in awe as you jumped into the glowing water. Illuminated like it was just another pool, he climbed onto the rock you were just standing on, looking down at you while your eyes were already on him. "Are you coming in Prescott? Or do I have to come up there and push you in?"

It wasn't long before all his clothes were off besides his boxers, jumping from the rock and into the cool water. "Finally, thought you were never gonna join me, then I'd have to swim alone and that's quite... boring." You wrapped your arms around his neck, his own finding your waist and holding you tightly.

"I've had a pretty good time, Nathan. I'm glad you decided to ditch all your rich boy activities to hang out with the emo." "Will you quit with that shit." He pushed you off but you only gave him a teasing look. "We're friends, more than if we're counting this. Let me have a little fun, besides I know you love me." You set the calf of your leg on his bare shoulder, floating against the ocean, laying your head back on the surface.

"You're lucky I don't drown you." "You wouldn't, because I understand you." You spoke dramatically, moving to stand again. "Besides I'm way too cool to kill off." You kissed him cheek before he grabbed you up and tossed you into the water. Hearing your giggles and you resurfaced.

"You're such a dick." "You love me." "Some days." You splashed him, swimming backwards when he splashed back. He then grabbed your ankle pulling you back causing a ripple effect on the water. "Jesus!" "Don't be an ass." "Well then don't be a dick." You smiled, holding his shoulders for support when he pulled you from the water. Forcing you to look down at him, a strange glint in his eyes.

"Nate, I'm glad you listening to my very generous ask to come out." "It was more of a threat." You put a finger over his lips, signaling him to be quiet making him laugh. "Shh, we don't talk about that part." You both then went quiet, the little sparkle in his eyes not fading, almost growing as you realized your faces were only inches away, if that. His breathe fanning your lips smelling fresh, like he'd just brushed his teeth a little while ago.

"Nate... you should kiss me." He only nodded, breathless before doing a thing. Leaning in and kissing you, hard, taking your own breath away. His lips were chapped, the boy tasting of toothpaste and saltwater. It made your head spin when he pulled away, face pressed against his. "Finally." "Shut it, or I will drown you." "You wouldn't dare." "Try me."

A/n: my back be hurtin

#nathan prescott #nathan prescott x reader #life is strange x reader #life is strange #lis #lis remastered #dontnod #nevy writes

[changingplumbob]

Knightstone Household: Chapter 7, Part 1

Next household for this rotation is the Knightstone household. Just your regular neighbourhood aliens. Hot-headed art critic Adam, toddler Silas and scientist Suzanna. In part 1 the family have a pretty chill Saturday, playing with Silas and doing chores. Then I have the audacity to host a dinner party and send the charmer toddler to bed before the chatter begins.

The Knightstone household. Or as I think of it, the lot where the bird life mod goes manic. Pictured are three different areas where the birds love to pile up.

6am and toddler Silas is up! He's an early riser. He goes in to his parents room and wakes up Suzanna.

Silas: Mummy! *cries*

Suzanna: I'm awake, I'm awake

Adam: I'm not

Suzanna: Liar

Silas: Mummy I sad, made potty mess

Adam: Eww

Suzanna: Don't worry starshine, pops will fix it

Adam: I will?

Suzanna: Just as soon as he wakes up

Adam: *pretends to snore*

Silas: Mummy I did bad

Suzanna: What do you mean

Silas: Big puddle

Suzanna: Come here, don't worry about that now starshine, you're still learning

Silas: Breakfast

Adam: Not cereal, can't trust it

Suzanna: How about some nice yogurt huh

Silas: Mummy, why yoghurt not come with spoon

Suzanna: I don't know

Silas: It should

Suzanna: I agree

Silas: Mummy not sad about my potty mess

Suzanna: Do I look sad *pulls funny face*

Silas: *giggles*

Adam: My squeamish self is sad

Silas: Pops sad

Adam: Don't worry son, I'll be fine, keep up trying

Silas: Pop look bad

Adam: It's those frogs, so slimy

Silas: Don't worry pop, I sing, make it better

Suzanna: How kind of you Silas

Silas: I made this

He launches into a new composition, featuring words such as yoghurt, cube, and frog, mixed with the traditional nonsense sounds. Adam rates it 7/10

Suzanna: What do you want to do this morning

Silas: Outside time

Suzanna: You got it, let me help you out

Silas: Thank you

Adam: Good boy using your manners

Silas: Thank you *beams*

He spins into his hot weather outfit and is ready to have fun while his parents tend to chores.

Adam practices his cooking to stock the fridge while Silas toddles outside.

Silas: Birdies!

The seagulls and pigeons carry on, undisturbed by the tiny alien.

Silas: Come here birdies

And Silas launches himself forward, scaring all the birds away in the process. He laughs it off, funny things happen.

I remembered to set all the plants to blossoming stage so Suzanna is able to harvest her garden this morning.

Silas: Vroom vroom, watch out birdies

Suzanna: Drive careful starshine

Silas: Mummy you want food

Suzanna: Do you have a menu

Silas: Burger, fries, shake shake, it milkshake with extra shake

Suzanna continues tending the garden, whistling away. Silas joins the whistling with his songs now and then before he's finished with the food truck.

Silas: Mummy time how fast I do tunnel

Suzanna: Okay Silas

Silas: I ready

Suzanna: Go!

Silas squeezes himself through the tunnel

Suzanna: So fast

Adam comes to check on Silas as soon as he's finished his work prep task.

Silas: Pops play with me

Adam: What do we want to play

Silas: Adventure

Adam: Watch out, we dropped into a pit! Oh no, I have lost Silas in the dark

Silas: *giggles*

Adam: I hear you cheeky monster. Let's fly out of here!

Silas: Pops have to work today

Adam: Yeah son

Silas: *sulks*

Adam: How about I try working from home, then we can still see each other

Silas: YES. Will I be big brother soon

Adam: Maybe, mummy and pops are trying

Silas: I be great big brother, I fun

Adam: Hello fun, nice to meet you

Silas: *giggles*

Work task 1 is to write a book. Adam has only done columns before. Since he's feeling flirty he tries to craft a romance novel. Silas busies himself playing with toys and occasionally singing to himself. Suzanna has some expert repairs to do and gets a head start on this weeks laundry.

Silas is fascinated with disguises. He tries applying make up to see if he can be disguised without going full human. He seems upset but then he laughs, deciding he looks fabulous.

Suzanna: Who are you? What have you done with my son

Silas: *laughs* It's me mummy

Suzanna: Silas? surely not

Silas: Mummy pretty, can I make more pretty

Suzanna: You want to give me a makeover

Silas: Yes, I very good

Suzanna: Okay then

Silas: This goes on pips

Suzanna: Lips

Silas: lips, and powder make the shapes on face

Suzanna: *coughs*

Silas: Now we do nails, they be colourful like us

Suzanna: Wonderful

Silas: All done

Adam: You are- a vision

Suzanna: All thanks to Silas. Now come on, this vision wants afternoon tea

Adam: Brownie time

Silas: What pops writing

Adam: A romance book

Silas: What romance?

Suzanna: Kissy love

Silas: kissy kissy *blows kiss*

Adam: That's my boy

Suzanna: Let's see what you remember about shapes

Silas: Cube has squares for sides

Suzanna: You got it. What shape is the steering wheel on the truck

Silas: Circle!

Suzanna: And this one *positions hands*

Silas: Tri- Triangle!

Suzanna: You're learning so well starshine

Silas: Learning fun, I fun

Adam finished his book and now has one task left, recommending hangouts. That means it's time to invite over some humans Suzanna knows for dinner. Silas is angry at being fed early and missing out on the fun. He chews angrily while Suzanna introduces everyone to Adam.

Jessica: Aliens in artwork, how strange

Faye: Oh I don't believe in aliens

Suzanna: All finished

Silas: Yes but why I have to go to bed, I fun

Suzanna: You are fun but you're also sleepy and grumpy from the brownies

Silas: I *yawns* I not

Suzanna: Snuggle in starshine, have good dreams

Nalani: This pasta doesn't have fish does it

Adam: No fish

Faye: It tastes pretty good

Kayleigh: Will Suzanna be back soon

Adam: Oh yeah, sometimes it just takes a while for Silas to settle

Jessica: I hope you don't mind me wearing a hat inside

Adam: That thing? I didn't even notice it

*group laughter*

Suzanna: I'm back, what did I miss

Faye: I was just wondering how we're meant to tell your husband Adam and fitness instructor Adam apart

Kayleigh: It seems rude to call one "the other Adam"

Jessica: We can't separate by hair colour

Nalani: Or having tattoos

Human Adam: Maybe bulky Adam and skinny Adam

Alien Adam: Hey, I have some muscles

Human Adam: But dude, I'm ripped

Suzanna: Maybe clean plate Adam and non eating Adam

Alien Adam: Oh shoot I forgot to eat

Suzanna begins to clean up the plates while Adam remembers to recommend some restaurants and museums for the dinner guests. Work task 2, check.

Everyone heads home and the exhaustion hits Adam.

Adam: Pretending to be human is tiring

Suzanna: Having to ask about personalities instead of mind reading

Adam: Ridiculous. You know, Silas was going on about being a brother

Suzanna: He was

Adam: Shall we try again starlight

Suzanna: We shall

Previous Part (Goth) ... Next Part

#sims 4 #the sims #the sims 4 #Rotation7 #ChangingPlumbobStorytime #KnightstoneHousehold #SilasKnightstone #AdamKnightstone #SuzannaKnightstone #KayleighFoster #R0702

[hey-its-cweepy]

Okay so first off, idk if its alright I do smth like this or not, if it is please let me know-

ALSO- I wanted to try my hand at other characters too! So I kinda just yeeted some of my/your ocs into a wheel and hoped for the best lol

Credit where credit is due: Tiam, Mythra, Leroy and Mellow belong to @fumikomiyasaki!

Anyway-

Marinus and Tiam:

As much as I joke around that he'd just violently grab Tiam and drink from the little straw on his head, (,,, which technically isnt a joke bcs he would and then say sorry while feeling really bad, especially if he left bruises,,,) Marinus would definitely still try to be careful to not hurt Tiam real bad- he'd also always thank him for the drink and be apologetic if he scared/hurt him, unless,,,, yk,,,, you like that sort of thing,,,,,,

Bullies? No problem! With Marinus by your side they probably already went "missing" got eaten but if you asked if he'd seen them, he'd just go "Nope, no idea where they could be :)" and then resume gremlin thoughts

Marinus will sometimes forget certain words from time to time, considering his mom didnt even really want him to get an education and just wanted him to be like a feral siren-

Expect minor things like "Holy shit, Tiam, its a bunch of quack quacks!" And they're freaking ducks-

And speaking of ducks- Marinus hates birds (mainly seagulls/pelicans) but ducks are an exception because "They're the only birds that are nice to me" so I dont think he'd get along too well with winged characters like Rubina-😔✌️

MARINUS WOULD NEVER BITE, SCRATCH, HISS OR GROWL AT TIAM- Unless of course he asked him too

Marinus WOULD however h*ld h*nds (how sinful) and Tiam's crooked smiles will be met with a sharped tooth gremlin smile <3

Also yes, you are right, a LOT of characters (my own/discord friend OCS) are afraid of Marinus or wanna fight 😔🤣 (I think its funny-)

However, just because Marinus has people scared of him, doesnt mean he isnt scared of things too! And he will absolutely freak out if anyone/anything covers his mouth (actually, I think being restrained in general could go here), if someone sees him while he's in siren form, etc (I'll probably add on more another time lol)

I almost forgor to mention, but hair is kinda a big thing for sirens (at least in my head, idk if disney will take it and throw it in my face that its not 💀) so, if Mari is comfy enough, he'd definitely be letting Tiam touch his hair, style it, do whatever with it tbh lol and expect him to do the same with Tiam's! (No, he doesnt care if its sticky-)

Im starting to think of ideas that are more dating-like and idk if thats ok so next character

Amos and Mythra:

THE DANCE COUPLE!!!

Probably only see each other on few occasions bc different schools 😔✌️

Maybe they could teach each other new moves too 👀

Amos, however, will dip just as fast as my dad did the moment somebody from her school/dorm walk in 💀💀💀

He's honestly a real charmer tho and knows how to treat a lady :tantrums:

I imagine ears/tails are also important to beast-people (?) just like hair is for sirens (unless Disney will yeet that im wrong in my face too-) so maybe some nice scenario of Mythra petting/gently scratching his ears while Amos purrs? 🥺 And then he gotta dip bcs Sindren 💀/LH /NF

I'll be honest, Amos is one of the newer characters and hasnt been developed as much as older characters that I havent introduced lol

Momo and Mellow

OKAY so- Momo (blue haired plant baby, I have posted him here before but I need to post a ref lol- I WILL DO THAT SOON THO-) has a habit of straight up running away from people that are taller than her, I mean freaking BOLTING the moment someone bigger than 5'10 (177cm) is in her vision-

But luckily, Mildew seems to be smaller than that, so she'll at least stay! :D

In order for them to be friends tho, they'd have to interact without Dallas in the picture (another piss gremlin I have yet to post a ref of, but basically he tells Momo bs to isolate her from everyone and she'd believe it because toxic relationships✨)

Momo would be really shy at first though, but I think it could work! Like a slowburn friendship (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

Momo is a little passionate about art (maybe not enough to go into full on rambles about different styles n stuff but enough to try it out herself although she doesnt usually share her artworks) so he'd probably occasionally glance over and stare a bit if she notices him making something but looking away immediately if Mellow looks back

(some Momo art for reference!)

Dallas and Leroy

I do not know if Leroy understands that Dallas is just being a crotch gremlin because his parents spoiled him rotten (and he's also only like... 15 💀) but regardless-

Dallas would hands down find a way to try and "egg on" Leroy to do something and then play the victim card in front of Crowley like he does to all the "big spooky" OCs

Like bullying the clothes he wears when he finds out its a heating issue and not "because he dresses weird", probably like "You're telling me a little bit of sunshine is going to screw you over? Quit being so sensitive"

HOWEVER, I feel like he'd just end up annoyed at the spiteful pranks and then the tables would turn as now its Dallas being served some humble pie (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

(Some Dallas art for reference!)

DONT LET THE EYES FOOL YOU HE'S A LITTLE TOXIC AND HATEFUL GREMLIN

#marinus aerwyna #amos castro #momo kira #dallas showstage #tiam falldow #mythra cenov #mellow mildew #leroy violet #twisted wonderland #twist #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twist oc #twisted oc #i love them <3

[popurikat]

tagged by @seagullcharmer rules: tag 8 people you’d like to get to know better.

I tag @sheepheadfred, @poptart-1995, @lightsonopensky@cartoonfan7, @scribwibs, @patheticteenagewriter, @taldoren, @hahariehaha, and @khaos-in-eternity; this is totally optional you guys so no worries favorite colour(s): pink last song i listened to: Mr. Brightside by the killers just came onto my playlist as I write this favorite musician: N/A, but feel free to check out Will Connolly, Mystery Skulls, and Anamanaguchi last film i watched: Maze Runner Death Cure last tv show i watched: like completely? Avatar The Last Airbender, but the last show I watched casually was Ed, Edd, n eddy since I've been rewatching the classics on my free time favourite character: HAHAHA. I have many, I could write a list. But I'll stick to my top ten how about it? Jim Lake Jr. (Trollhunters), Hornet (Hollow Knight), Popuri (Harvest Moon 64), Gray (Harvest Moon Friends of Mineral Town), Arthur (Mystery Skulls Animated), Matt (Digimon), Ariel (Disney's The Little Mermaid, Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Saeran (Mystic Messenger), and Karkat (Homestuck). sweet, spicy or savory?: ALL. In specifics: chocolate for sweet, jalapeno peppers or cinnamon for spicy, and BEEF (MSG) or cheesy for savory sparkling water, tea or coffee?: tea any pets?: One cat, her name is Jaspers

#About me #Tag game #Thanks for the tag! #Seagull charmer

[amalthea9]

Work in progress ask: Star?

Thank you for the asks dearest!💖

This one was the last one sent to me! I hope you've all enjoyed the ones I had!☺ special thanks to @ariel-seagull-wings for telling me what her thoughts were on how Styles sees Happy’s eyes.💞💞💞

Happy and Styles' laid in bed together in the rented room Styles had when on shore leave.

"Can ye see Polaris from here, Sean?" Happy asked softly, as she gazed at the stars out of the small window the room had.

She felt Styles shift a little as she rested against him. Styles looked up into the starry sky and nodded.

"Ai, me lass," he smiled. "There it be."

Happy looked up to where her lover pointed and saw a star brighter than the others that surrounded it.

"It shines brighter than the others," Happy commented quietly.

"Not as bright as yer eyes do to me," Styles whispered into her sandy- blonde hair, before he kissed it.

Happy giggle breathlessly as he shifted to look up at Styles and meet his gaze.

"What're ye on about?" she jested, her smile playful.

But Styles was not 'jesting'. His eyes were focused, and filled with adoration as he looked into hers.

"Yer eyes are like the stars, Happy," Styles stated, in a low whisper.

Happy's heart skipped when she saw how sincere Styles was in both his gaze and words. Her smile faded, but the softness in her expression remained.

"I do have Polaris as me guide on the open sea..." Styles continued softly. "But...yer eyes are...yer eyes are the stars that bring me home. Bring me back...always."

Styles lifted his hand to caress Happy's cheek tenderly.

"Call me a fool for sayin' such..if ye must but... Me Happy's eyes... are the stars I see in the sky burnin' brightest. So I always know....which way is...home."

"Oh...me Sean," Happy whispered, bringing her hands up to caress Styles' cheeks. "Yer not a fool for sayin' such things."

Happy smiled lovingly as she tenderly pressed her lips to Styles'.

"Ye are charmer though," Happy whispered against his lips.

Styles chuckled softly as he kissed Happy once again, enveloping her in his arms.

Making love as the stars burned on.

@professorlehnsherr-almashy @ailendolin @twice-told-tales @fyeahmeninroyalnavy

#answered ask #happy x styles #hornblower fandom

[indigosandviolets]

Heyyy if you are still doing inglorious basterds requests could you write something about like how the basterds proposed/why they decided to propose? Love your writing btw!!!

softtt shittt ohhh my god

Aldo Raine

i feel like Aldo, the southern charmer that he is, would probably go for the classic multiple location proposal

like he takes you out to all of your favorite places throughout the day

he decided to propose because you two have been together for about three years and he knew he couldn’t be happier with anyone else

and all of the places you go to are like super significant or where silly events happened

like the restaurant where you had your first date after the war, the beach where you two got chased by a seagull, even the bar where you two got piss drunk and had a very interesting conversation with a cab driver

and at the end he takes you home, makes you wait in the living room for the last surprise, and he comes back holding a picture

it’s of you and the rest of the Basterds, and there you two are in the middle, with his arm wrapped around your shoulders and your head tilted towards his

“Aldo, where’d you get-“

at this time you realize he’s on one knee

and you drop the picture and you almost cry

of course you nod yes and he gets up, puts the ring on your finger, and holds you while you try to stop crying even though he doesn’t mind

knowing that he’s gonna be the man who gets to marry you? he’d be more than willing to let you cry on him for as long as you need to

Donny Donowitz

for all intents and purposes, let’s pretend that the Sox won the World Series in 1946 alright?

you two went to the last game. it was right after you two got back from Europe and it was super intense — it was tied all the way up until the last inning where Teddy Williams knocked it out the park

there’s screaming everywhere, and you two are so excited and happy that he picks you up, spins you, and the holds you there for a second with your legs wrapped around his waist

and you looked so beautiful and happy in that moment, over the screaming, he knows he has to ask

“Do you want to get married?”

“Do I — yes, you crazy bitch, yes!”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“Yes! Two fuckin’ home runs in one day!”

you guys got casual shut the fuck up looks from everyone around you but you didn’t care

cause now you’re getting married

you ended up getting a ring after the game, and it was very simple. the more intricate thing was Donny getting a baseball from Fenway Park with the date on it

he wrote your names in sharpie underneath because he’s not the classiest of guys but it’s still incredibly heart felt

Hugo Stiglitz

so you and Stiglitz were together for about a year before you got engaged

this is because it took your parents a little while to get used to Stiglitz being...Stiglitz

they were eventually comfortable around him and started to like him when he asked about the prospects of marriage

because you two had been thinking about it

instead of doing the traditional thing and asking the father for your hand, he asked your mother because she knows you the best

instead of a ring, she gave Stiglitz her necklace that had been given to her by your father on their first anniversary

her entire thing was you better treat my daughter right or i’ll fuck you up

ANYWAY

he ends up getting down on one knee while you’re on a walk the next day

and you were a little surprised by the necklace until you recognized it

“Hugo, is that—“

“Your mother’s? Yes.”

“Oh my god. Oh my g o d. Yes, yes, of course.”

Wilhelm Wicki

so you guys weren’t initially planning on getting married married lmao

like you were going to spend your lives together and you both knew that, so a legal marriage wasn’t really what you were worried about

until you got pregnant

you two had been together for almost seven years at this point so you weren’t surprised

but your parents were PISSED because you weren’t married and that was a whole issue

so one day while you were asleep he got up very early in the morning and went and got you a ring

but when he tried to get back in bed without waking you up, he woke you up

“Wicki? What are you doing up?”

“Go back to sleep, it’s alright.”

Instead of doing that, you role over and look at him

“You’ve been out for an hour. What’s wrong?”

He looks at you, thinks for a moment, and then pulls out the ring. “Everything except you. Since everyone is already thinking about it, let’s do it on our own accord. Will you marry me?”

“Wicki, I love you. I love you so much. Holy shit.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yeah, Wicki, that’s a yes.”

Smithson Utivich

you and Utivich were together for two years when he proposed

he did it right after Operation Kino

well not right after but as soon as you two were over American lines and riding in the douche and a half

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“How the hell did we make it out of this?”

“I don’t know. But I’m glad we did.”

you two are holding hands the whole time

and Aldo is driving and he sees how nervous Uti is and this guy says, “Jesus, Utivich, just ask her.”

so he does

“Do you want to get married?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“To me?”

“That’s implied, Utivich.”

he doesn’t have a ring on him, but of course Aldo had a brilliant idea. he had a bottle cap and (WHILE DRIVING) and cut out a hole to serve as a makeshift ring until you two got back to England

and why is Aldo a part of this, you may ask? well, Aldo has been rooting for the two you since the day you guys met. those are just the facts.

Gerold Hirschberg

you two got engaged about six months after the end of the war

Hirschberg sent you on a scavenger hunt type deal with sticky notes around your house and in your work

it started in the kitchen with a note on the coffee pot to your car to the typewriter in your office to the inside of your lunch box, each with notes about how much he really loves you

and then the last one was on the front door and it told you to go to the back porch for your final sticky

and low and behold Hirschberg is there with a fancy dinner all set up

so you two eat and you ask about the final sticky note cause you’re curious damnit

and he hands it over, and it’s a little crumpled, but it reads, ‘Will you marry me?’

and you look up and you see that he’s not in his seat anymore but he’s on his knee, with a ring

“Well?”

“Gerry, you — yes, I’ll marry you.”

and after he puts the ring on you tell him, “You could’ve asked me without the whole note thing, you know.”

“But it got you curious, and now we’re engaged.”

“That we are.”

Omar Ulmer

okay so you and Omar didn’t really have a proper proposal?

you had been together for four years after his confession of love right before Operation Kino and you were already planning a future together

and one day you two are cuddling on the couch in the morning and he just asks about it nonchalantly

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanna get married?”

“Sure. When?”

“Hmm. What dates work for you?”

“June 6th is free.”

“I think my schedule fits with that.”

“Great. What time works for you?”

“Anytime you want.”

very casual but very loving and i think that’s the kind of guy Omar is

#inglorious basterds headcanons #inglorious basterds #aldo raine #aldo raine x reader #donny donnowitz x reader #donny donowitz #hugo stiglitz #hugo stiglitz x reader #wilhelm wicki x reader #wilhelm wicki #smithson utivich x reader #smithson utivich #gerold hirschberg #gerold hirschberg x reader #omar ulmer x reader #omar ulmer

[dat-town]

to all the boyz you’ve loved before | sunwoo

You love the beach.

You love the way Sun warms the soft sand underneath your bare feet. The sound of seagulls in the early morning.The orange and pink hues of sunset when the night comes. The sweet flavour of cotton candy in the air. The coldness of ice cream in your hand. The music in the earphones from one side. The lively atmosphere and how unchanging yet new it is every single time. You could list your favourites about the beach because you love it all but one thing is for sure:

You love nothing more than the feeling of Sunwoo’s slightly rough, ink stained fingers intertwined with yours, his shoulder brushing against you as his laughter echoes in your mind as you both listen to the same song you are fond of through the earphones with one bud in his ear, the other in yours. You adore the way he always refuses to let go of your hand even when he has to pay for the overly sweet dessert he insisted on buying. You giggle into his shoulder and thank him, eating bits of the soft sugar that melts on your tongue.

“You spoil me,” you coo cutely watching the shyly content smile spreading on the boy’s lips as if this simple statement could make him happier. You wonder whether you could make his sun kissed cheeks similar to the color of his crimson locks with compliments but to be honest whenever you tried Sunwoo was quick to turn the tables and instead he made a blushing mess out of you. No wonder you fell for this boy and no, not because he was a charmer, good with words. But because he makes you feel good in your own skin. He accepts you the way you are, he appreciates you and never fails to drop unexpected comments like loving that mole beneath your left ear or when a dress you chose looks good on you. But he cares about a lot more than just your looks. He is your number one supporter, your personal cheerleader squad, and he always has something to say that makes your heart warm.

“Because you deserve it,” he singsongs and presses an overly cheesy kiss onto your cheek exaggeratedly which makes you both laugh.

Sunwoo is just so caring and giving that sometimes it makes you wonder whether he can feel the amount of love you have for him but always reminds you that you gave him so much already.

When he first came to this little seaside town, bitter and lost, looking for inspiration, you found him in the rain and called him into the place you work at for a herbal black tea. He scrunched his nose in dislike at the sound of it but ended up liking the taste. He kept going back to there, sitting outside on the patio whenever the weather was good, ordering the same thing over and over again while he was scratching something in the notebook he was always carrying with himself. You have been enamoured from day one, just by the sight of him sitting there, musing, dark looks fanning over his eyes that always seemed so puppy-like whenever you took his order.

It actually didn’t take you too long to walk up to him after one of your shifts and ask what he was writing and you found it cute that he got so flustered by your straightforwardness. When he told you it was lyrics, for a mixtape actually, you were already in awe. So curious like always, you asked whether you could hear it, so he lended you a bud of earphone and leaning close over the table, you listened to him rap. The way he spat rhyme, the flawless flow, the fast speed and the meaning behind the hushed words, it all took your breath away and you looked at him wide eyed.

After that he showed you more of his songs - more of himself - and you gradually got closer. You soon learned just how cheeky he could get with people around whom he felt comfortably. You got to know the childish side of him after the mature one. You also realized just how smart he was, not book smart but you didn’t care about that, he was really something else and before you knew it, you fell for him already.

You are still falling day by day. Happily.

“A race up to the shores?” you look up at him once you finish the cotton candy and without waiting for his answer you sprint off. You can hear Sunwoo’s laugh from behind you and his warning about catching you. When he indeed does, loving arms embracing your figure, lifting you off the ground, you just giggle, melting in his embrace.

Because you have loved the beach since you were a child but you love this boy more already.

♡ to all the boyz

#the boyz fluff #tbz sunwoo drabble #tbz sunwoo fluff #sunwoo fluff #boyfriend sunwoo #the boyz drabble #series: to all the boyz #stories

[foryouandbits]

WIP - The Cold

So @bardofspades had a really good idea that since OMGCP as a comic will be finishing up in April, we should in some way post a WIP to get it out there and hopefully resurge our community a little bit.

I signed up for a reverse bang in early 2019 with the thought that I could not only write a fic based on someone’s art in a short amount of time, but I could do it with a newborn baby, AND I could do it for a ship I’ve never written before. What I learned from that was a) writing with a newborn is hard, b) writing a ship outside your comfort zone is hard, and c) I absolutely cannot write a fully-fledged fic from inception to posting on someone else’s timeline. 

I still feel guilty about having to drop out of this bang and I promised myself I would write this someday. That someday may still happen, but in the meantime, here is the introduction and 1.5K summary of a NurseyDex fic I never finished, where the frogs + Farmer are glaciologists studying the effects of climate change on glaciers in Antarctica. Hope you enjoy this peek into my writing process - every fic I’ve ever written starts with this type of summary that turns into the posted story you read. 

Skype Group Chat [email protected], [email protected], [email protected]

C.Chow I hope you don't mind us messaging you like this. Your dean gave us your contact info.

C.Chow We read your paper on glacial decay in Antarctica (and LOVED it!) and wanted to know if you had already planned another trip to study irreversible decline?

W.Poindexter Thanks. I haven't planned another trip. My research partner moved to Arizona to study geology.

C.FarmerChow We proposed a research study of the same topic to our university and they're willing to send us for two weeks in early January, before classes start. If you could swing another trip by then, we'd love if you could accompany us.

C.Chow I'm Chris by the way. Dr. Chris Chow.

C.FarmerChow I'm Dr. Caitlin Chow. If you want to look me up, my research is under Caitlin Farmer.

W.Poindexter Let me guess. Just married?

C.FarmerChow A month now. They just updated my email.

W.Poindexter Congrats.

C.Chow Thanks!

W.Poindexter I haven't brought up the return to my university yet, but I know they'd support another project. This is interesting timing, though. I just got an email from someone else yesterday about the same thing.

C.FarmerChow Oh really? From who?

W.Poindexter Dr. Derek Nurse at Columbia. I haven't responded to him yet.

C.Chow I've heard of him! He's got a cool paper on ablation zones on some glaciers in Canada.

W.Poindexter Yeah I read it. It was interesting.

W. Poindexter Where are you guys thinking of going?

C.FarmerChow Taylor Glacier and Blood Falls, probably. I recently read that Taylor was classified as irreversible.

W.Poindexter Let me see if I can swing it.

W.Poindexter And if Dr. Nurse wants to go.

***

UNEDITED SUMMARY

General Story Summary: Chris and Caitlin Chow, recently married glaciologists at the University of Washington, read a paper authored by William Poindexter of the University of Maine on the study of healthy glaciers in Antarctica. The paper cites a desire to extend the research to unhealthy glaciers to determine the point of "irreversible decline." If successful, this research can be shared with others globally to truly determine our rate of glacial decay. After contacting Dr. Poindexter, they discover he has been in contact with another glaciologist at Columbia University in New York, a Dr. Derek Nurse, who is interested in the same topic. The four agree to go to Taylor Glacier near McMurdo Station in Antarctica.

They spend the first two-three days setting up their research tools but also decide to explore. Dex has been on this sort of expedition before but none of the others have, so he is their guide while hiking, kayaking, and skiing. He shows everyone the beauty of the continent but is very cautious, knowing how dangerous it is. This is their first encounter with the penguins, as they discover there is a colony living about a half a mile away from them down a slope near the shore.

Dex and Nursey immediately do not get along; Nursey doesn't listen and takes risks while exploring, which gets under Dex's skin because he knows how dangerous it is. In his previous expedition his fellow researcher fell through ice and they almost lost him -- not just under the ice, but from the resultant hypothermia -- and had to leave early to ensure his safety. This is why Dex wanted to come back, to finish the work they started, and also why Dex is alone, because his friend refused to come back and has since relocated from Maine to Arizona as he can no longer handle the cold. Dex does not tell this to Nursey until later - until this conversation, Nursey just assumes Dex is an uptight asshole.

Dex and Nursey argue a lot over the three days of exploration, argue about how to conduct their research. A few days into this, while they're drilling through ice, they have their second encounter with penguins. Nursey points them out and Dex looks over, and while they're watching the penguins being amusing, the ice underneath them cracks. Dex panics and screams and it looks like Nursey is going to fall through the ice, but Dex catches him at the last minute and his leg gets soaked but that's about it. They immediately return to camp - time is of the essence for Nursey's foot. He needs to remove his pants, dry his leg and change his clothes immediately, and warm it up. Every moment it's wet and exposed, they're in danger of losing it. After Nursey's pants come off and Dex dries off his foot, they have the conversation where it's revealed that Dex's friend nearly died. They have a civil conversation, with moments of heat as Dex tells Nursey it's not chill, he could have lost his foot [”We were 15 minutes from the camp! If this was winter, you'd have lost your leg.”], and Nursey says he can't think about potentially losing his foot. If he doesn't keep his cool he'll lose it completely and never get it back.

Dex and Nursey respect each other a lot more now after the incident. Nursey is more careful, Dex is more patient, and they grow together over the course of the next two weeks while they continue their experiments. On one of the nicer days near the end of their trip they're sitting outside eating lunch when a rogue penguin finds them and is staring at their food. No one knows much about penguins and what they eat or if they're aggressive, but the penguin is waddling forward. Chowder gives him food and Dex groans, "They're like seagulls, you know. Now we're going to have the entire fucking colony over here begging for food." To which Farmer says they're much cuter than seagulls, and Dex eventually agrees that yes they're much cuter than seagulls. The penguin is friendly after they feed it and it lets Nursey pet its little head; Nursey laughs and looks at Dex, who's smiling at him. The penguin, realizing there's no more food to be had, nips at Nursey and catches his finger. Nursey yelps and Dex makes him remove his glove; he has a cut but nothing serious. The penguin wanders away and Nursey and Dex go back inside so Dex can treat Nursey's cut. Dex cleans it and puts a band-aid on it, slightly worried about infection, but Nursey tells him to chill, and Dex rolls his eyes. They have a conversation about how cool it is that the penguin just walked right up to him and Dex says that Nursey looked adorable petting it and Nursey ribs him for the use of the word "adorable" so Dex says "I can't say sexy, you were petting a penguin!" and Nursey asks if Dex thinks he's sexy and Dex gets serious and says yes, and Nursey kisses him, and they go into their bunk and have sex. There's no privacy in their shelter; Chowder and Farmer know they're doing it and at one point when the door opens and they enter, Chowder is about to enter the room to ask how hard can it be to put on a bandaid when he realizes they're doing it and Farmer says "Christ, about time!"

After lunch they go back out to do more work and Dex is red from head to toe. Chowder and Farmer are chirping them about doing it; Nursey is chill but Dex is not but they catch eyes and Dex calms down. After a successful test they go back to the shelter, have dinner, and settle in for the night - Chowder and Farmer in one bunk, Dex and Nursey in the other. Dex and Nursey mutually attack each other (Charmer has done the same in their bunk) and then afterward they're snuggling and Nursey asks if Dex hooked up with his friend who fell in the ice. Dex says yeah of course, they were alone together for two weeks, of course they hooked up, and Nursey asks more pressing questions - were they in love, did they continue to hook up after they got back and he got better, and Dex says no, no, no to all of it. It wasn't like that. They were in the middle of nowhere, it was legit winter, they were bored and people change in these sort of extreme situations. They never once mentioned what happened when they were trying to keep each other warm. Nursey asks if that's all they're doing, keeping each other warm, and Dex hesitates. 

Nursey gets angry and loses his chill for the first time (they've argued before but Nursey always is chill. Combative, but chill) and gets dressed and makes to go outside and Dex is yelling at him that he's crazy, he can't go out in the dark alone, but Nursey storms off with his backpack and Dex starts to get dressed. Chowder meets him in the living area; whatever he and Farmer were doing they stopped when the yelling began, and Dex is gearing up to go outside. Chowder says he's crazy and Dex says Nursey is the crazy one, who's already out there. Dex, Chowder, and Farmer all go out to find him and they eventually do after an hour. Nursey's fine but very cold. Dex calls him reckless. Nursey says he would have been fine if he'd brought his compass so he could find his way back. Dex asks why he couldn't just look at the stars and Nursey says "Not all of us can navigate by the stars, Magellan," and Dex smirks and ribs at him because there actually aren’t stars since it’s the middle of summer and it’s never truly dark. They head back toward the shelter; Chowder and Farmer first, Dex and Nursey dawdling behind. Nursey admits he doesn't want this to end, that he's not just trying to stay warm, that he cares about Dex despite the fact that Dex is infuriating. Dex admits that he might have had feelings for his friend but his friend didn't want anything to do with him after they left the cold and Dex didn't want to get hurt again. Nursey says he would never hurt Dex, not intentionally, but he admits it won't be easy. They're so different. Dex says not really. We like the same things when it comes down to it. We both came to fucking Antarctica for Christ's sake, and Nursey agrees. Yeah, yeah they did.

Possible epilogue of Dex and Nursey sharing an office at Samwell, which is halfway between NY and Maine and fighting about coffee mugs before Nursey makes a joke about storming off into the darkness and they kiss.

#WipItGood #omgcp #nurseydex #my fic #wip #the cold

[trying-write-fanfics]

overhaulXreader part 29

 The worst days were the days Y/n saw her parents. They were never proud of her. They could hardly accept her choice of man, of course they never said anything bad about Kai for obvious reasons, but they wanted their daughter to expand, meet new people, forget the yakuza past that was so ingrained in her. If she did have plans to see Kai afterwards, she would be very quiet. She wasn’t mad at him. It’s just hard to own every decision you make. She loves Kai and he loves her, but she loves her parents too. It was worse to not see her after her parents though. She’d be pretty silent, he’d tell himself she would be busy, but it was clear her mind would be racing. On happy no parents days, she would text him things she found funny like having a customer name “Merlin” or tourists, or strange orders. He knew when she had bad days. 

 It would make him question if Y/n would leave him. The baby question is buried, but can easily be dug up. What if he had dinner with her parents? He’s no charmer, and they already know him. They want grandkids, a family that pays taxes, and sweaters and Christmas cards, and so many things that weren’t him. 

They laid in bed together, her back was turned to him. He knew before she fell asleep she was questioning if this relationship was something she really wanted or if she was wasting her best years on some childhood crush she never grew up from because getting your fingers cut off really stunts your mental growth sometimes. Maybe he was questioning that. Sometime later he noticed her shoulders flinched. Her breathing changed as she began to sniffle. He checked to see wha she was doing, only to find her crying in her sleep. He couldn’t even keep her night terrors away anymore. He got out of bed to find tissues. He pressed one on her eye and she almost elbowed him. 

“Missed.” He said. 

“Sorry…” she realized what she did and began willing her face up. “Sorry for waking you.”

“I never feel asleep, anyway.”

She nodded as she tried to clean her face up. There was no reason for her to explain herself since he knew her so well. Kai wanted her attention, he yearned for it. He’s been ignored too long. He reached out and rubbed her cheek.

“Kai…” she held her hand over his.

“I love you.”

Her eyes avoided his gaze. Oh. 

“I’m going to get going.” She said letting go. 

“Hey, it’s already too late to catch a train.”

“I can’t do this right now.” She said looking for her day clothes.

“Why do you care so much about what they think? They’re the ones who sent you away.” Kai was no longer playing nice.

“They’re my parents Kai, I never got to see them growing up and now that I do all I ever do is disappoint them.”

“Am I disappointing you then? Am I not the perfect boyfriend?”

“I never said that-“

Kai left the bedroom first and shut the door. He needed time to think about this argument. Her parents are bad people! When his parents left him he never went back! They abandoned her like his parents did to him! So why is it so hard for her to see that! If all she ever does is disappoint them they’re telling her they don’t love her! They may have never loved her. Kai was ready for round two, but found Y/n had already left. 

He went into a robot mood after that night. He worked, he worked, he avoided conversation. No text, no call, no plans. Was this it for them? He refused to think about it. If it was he would still work, if it wasn’t he’d still work. That’s all he was going to do. After returning back to Pops’ place he found his parental figure stressed.

“What’s up old man?” Kai asked.

“We both look like hell.” He sighed. “Don’t worry about me, my daughter just...you go get some rest.”

He didn’t. He researched everything about chemistry he could. He looked at the couch where Y/n was when she first moved back. How she called herself “stinky” and then he made her shower. Kai worked through the night because he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t doze off during the day either.

“You don’t look healthy.” Chrono commented. “I don’t think you should take this meeting with investors.”

“What do you know?” He snapped.

“You have bags and hives.”

Kai checked his reflection in his phone, he was not a pretty sight. 

“Do you even know what to say?” Kai asked.

“I’ve ready the script enough.”

“I’m leaving this to you.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’ll get private research done.”

“Take a nap.”

“I’m not tired.” Kai said walking away. 

Though he was exhausted the pressure of everything was weighing down on him. He hates what the hero’s have done to society, he wants to restore the Shie Hassakai. He doesn’t know how to shake the hero's foundation so he could get real work done. He loves Y/n, but maybe their time together is crumpling soon. She doesn’t want answers right now, she wants an open minded partner. If they had a kid, surely it would too be infected. He’s sure that Y/n wouldn’t want a murderer as a father? Does she know he’s killed? She has to! She’s never asked? Does she know the answer and that’s why she doesn’t ask? Does she care? Probably. Why...why did she have to be sent away? If she never left she’d be his right hand man and have a completely different outlook on the world. She wouldn’t worry about babies, together they would restore the great group! Kai checked himself in the mirror. He did look god awful. The car stopped at the light and Kai watched two seagulls fight over fries. The world was beginning to blur. It had to be from the exhaustion. His body was worn, yet he still refused to fall asleep. 

 Kai found himself in front of a familiar door. While waking from the trance, he knocked on the door. The door opened to reveal his angel. Without warning he hugged her, while collapsing into her arms. He knew she might still be mad, but he needed her. Of course she caught him, and held him for a minute. She was registering if this was still her Kai. She put her head on his shoulder and decided to break the silence. 

“You smell nice.”

“I don’t know if that’s true.” He sighed. 

#xreader #chisaki kaiXreader #chisaki kai #overhaul #overhaulXreader #bnha fanfiction #bnha

[binsofchaos]

At its best, the second volume of the Joni Mitchell Archives—a titanic effort to sort through six decades of her musical dustbin, beginning last year with the innocence-losing early days of Volume 1—dispels such notions of effortless grace or any other divine spark. It, instead, documents Mitchell’s deliberate, determined progress as both songwriter and performer. She toils over tunes just to discard them. She wrestles with minuscule but monumental shifts in language. She tries complicated arrangements only to clear them away like brambles. Meanwhile, onstage, she emerges as a chameleonic charmer, able to adapt to any night’s assorted demands.

With these Archives, Mitchell joins the recent ranks of Bob Dylan and Neil Young, songwriters who have been reductively deified as touched geniuses for far too long and who are showing their work through massive troves of old recordings that dispel those notions of effortless perfection. They have revealed themselves as working craftspeople, made “divine” only by a fawning music press and rapacious record companies. We are haunted by the illusion of their presumed untouchability even now, still elevating gifts and grifts as opposed to craft and commitment. It’s delightful to see Mitchell put truth to that festering lie. Indeed, these 122 tracks capture Mitchell at the moment she went from hitting singles and the occasional triple to clearing the bases with routine grand slams. Spanning the three years between her debut, Song to a Seagull, and her landmark fourth album, Blue, Volume 2 is a monument to real effort.

Nowhere is this clearer than “A Case of You,” her unsparing portrait of love’s sweet poison that’s so canonical it’s been covered nearly 500 times. It debuts here as part of the Blue demos cut in Los Angeles’ A&M Studios in the summer of 1970. The song is mostly there—its staccato dulcimer sway, its “Oh, Canada!” outburst, its defenseless moment where she prepares to bleed. The first verse, though, isn’t. “You’re just as silly as a northern fish,” she sings, replying to the lover who says he’s “constant as a Northern Star.” She laughs self-consciously at this speck of juvenilia.

Just three months later, Mitchell shared the stage of London’s Paris Theatre with Taylor. They were smitten—in a few weeks, she’d pass the holidays with his family in North Carolina, caroling, buying records, and painting his portrait. “I’m not gonna be singing right away, but I might breathe heavy,” mutters Taylor as he tunes, just before they unveil the near-finished version of this song about her ex. There are no more fish in the first verse, only a scathing rebuke to the lover’s swagger: “Constantly in the darkness—where is that at?” she sings, the withering glare almost audible. “If you want me, I’ll be in the bar.” It’s a snapshot of a breakup so crisp and raw you long to stick around to see the wreckage. Mitchell would continue teasing out phrases and contractions before recording “A Case of You” that winter, but at least she had found the mot juste for the song’s devastating premise.

Like the Beatles’ Get Back, these moments on Volume 2 illustrate the ordinary labor involved in making something that ultimately seems extraordinary. During two home-recording sessions in her New York apartment, for instance, Mitchell sits at the piano or guitar to play or sing, searching for a phrase that might spark a new tune. She tries two different strumming patterns (including one clearly indebted to her old friend Neil Young) for “Midnight Cowboy,” an early character study of a cosplaying and hopeless urban outlaw. Both missed their mark; until now, the song never made it to record.

And in a moment of vulnerability, Mitchell admits during her Carnegie Hall debut she’s “just begun to pick out a few tunes on the piano” but has only one finished. (The exquisite version of “Blue Boy” that follows her confession was actually recorded two weeks later.) It’s strangely reassuring to imagine a moment where Mitchell is just learning to write at the piano, not yet a master. She was conjuring fundamental new paradigms for herself on an instrument that soon became critical to her career.

Mitchell was contemporaneously drilling down on the precise language and arrangements that marked the best work of her first four albums. Several early songs here border on logorrhea, with verses overloaded in alliteration and internal rhyme and rafts of florid images that crowd out the song’s conceit. Recorded within a four-year window, both “I Had a King” and “River” deal with former partners who have been dispatched. During that gap, though, Mitchell shaped the sense of economy that made possible a self-indictment as sharp and simple as “I’m so hard to handle/I’m selfish and I’m sad.”

Early in the set, Mitchell adds overdubs of peacock harp to a home demo of “Roses Blue,” its prickly notes meant to reinforce the song’s spooky mystique. She replicated the effect on 1969’s Clouds, but she soon dropped the desire to overcomplicate her songs. Time and again on Volume 2, the alternate versions of Mitchell classics—“River,” “Urge for Going,” “The Fiddle and the Drum,” “Blue Boy,” “Ladies of the Canyon”—include some unnecessary element, like the French horns that end “River.”

Perhaps her 1968 appearance on John Peel’s Top Gear—the only Peel Session of her career, where he introduces her with a review that lauds her as the “yang to Bob Dylan’s yin”—helped convince her that she didn’t need to accessorize her sound. The John Cameron Group cluttered “Chelsea Morning” with bass and flute, distracting from the wild swings of her voice. When she subsequently issued the song on Clouds, it was just guitar and voice, as she even sang her own jubilant backing vocals. Mitchell’s music would get plenty ornate as she marched through the ’70s; her austerity in this era afforded these songs intimacy and, in turn, gravity.

Though most of these revelations-via-revisions arrive through home demos or discarded studio sessions, the lengthy live sets—or occasional excerpts of them—that dominate much of Volume 2 show another kind of growth. Mitchell is dark and alluring at Ann Arbor’s Canterbury House in early March 1968, but she’s at ease in the Ottawa coffeehouse and cultural locus Le Hibou a week later. She’s actively parsing new ideas, working through several songs that never made an album. “Dr. Junk” is the hilarious and tender romp for a Southern dentist who collected spare car parts. “Come to the Sunshine” is a mystic ode to the magic that love may impart, especially the ineffable feeling that you’re temporarily connected to some kind of cosmic wonder. “Share in the quiet of knowing,” she urges.

Jimi Hendrix sat at Mitchell’s feet that night at Le Hibou, twiddling the knobs of his new tape machine as he recorded her set. “Fantastic girl with heaven words,” he wrote after they stayed up late, partying and smoking and listening to recordings he’d made. (His tape machine and her performance were stolen the next day; the reel miraculously resurfaced just as work on Volume 2 began.)

That anecdote of colliding young superstars is a reminder that this is Mitchell in sheer ascendance. Less than a year later, after all, she made her Carnegie Hall debut, her parents and Bob Dylan among those in attendance at a masterful $5 gig, included here in all its glory. Fans throw her love notes, protest when she suggests the concert is almost done, and sing along to “The Circle Game.” A year after that, she strums her strings and pushes her voice to such extremes during “Big Yellow Taxi” you worry she may break both. The take comes from the 1970 benefit concert that helped launch Greenpeace, so Mitchell is emphasizing the environmental seriousness that underpins (and also undermines) the refrain of a song so gleeful it can scan as a gimmick. Witnessing bits of Mitchell’s stepwise transformation into a public figure—occasionally fleeting, sometimes reluctant—is Volume 2’s other point of true inspiration.

The live performances may start to seem repetitious or perhaps like filler, especially when taken alongside Volume 1. How many slightly different versions of “Conversation,” “Gift of the Magi,” or “Marcie”—just a few of the staples that appear on both sets, sometimes multiple times—must one endure before hearing unreleased gems like “Hunter” (a great song about a stray cat) or “Jeremy” (a great song about a stray addict)?

To date, the lone flaw of these Joni Mitchell Archives is that they often feel like monstrous information dumps as opposed to carefully constructed paths on which you might wander and delight. Even Cameron Crowe’s longform interviews, which shape the bulk of the liner notes for both sets, feel burdensome. There are amazing tidbits, of course, like Mitchell’s contentious but caring relationship with Georgia O’Keeffe and her disdain for David Crosby. They’re often surrounded by loads of routine Mitchell lore.

That, of course, is picking the tiniest nits. It is good to read Mitchell speak, which she rarely does publicly as she nears 80, and to hear her search for her own essence at this pivotal moment, even when it feels like déjà vu. Given the famous vulnerability of her first half-dozen albums, which she actually laments during an on-tape conversation during Volume 2, how much more could there be?

“I felt like a cellophane wrapper on a pack of cigarettes,” she later told Crowe in Rolling Stone of this era. Whatever else remains unheard may feel like Mitchell’s very marrow, something much too intimate for any of us to know. There’s so much to hear and ponder on the generous Volume 2; even if it leaves you wanting more, that absence of deeper secrets is crucial to the set’s humanizing effect. At last, Volume 2 shows the work behind the beginning of Joni Mitchell’s masterworks, at times so seemingly effortless even her collaborators wondered if it existed.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9CPf4wOjCtY

#joni #joni mitchell #archives volume 2 #pitchfork #kennedy center honors #brittany howard #herbie hancock #clouds #both sides now #river #help me #cameron crowe #dan levy

[hiraeth-doux]

A Road Paved In Gold (7/?)

Summary: Steve Trevor was never meant to die in the sky above Belgium for the reasons much bigger than he could ever imagine, and when he didn’t, it seemed like a miracle.

However, surviving came with a price that changed the course of his life, making him wonder if he deserved it.

A/N: You’re going to yell at me...

AO3 |  Fanfiction.net

Themyscira, 1945

“Am I human?” Steve asked Hippolyta before she’d finished their conversation and left him alone in the cavernous room, the words tasting odd in his mouth and the concept so wild he couldn’t believe he’d even thought of it.

“Of course, you are,” she responded, surprised. “What else would you be?”

What else?

He was mulling over her question now, sitting on the sand a few hours later and watching the sun sink into the ocean, bright orange, making the water rippling beneath it look black. Arms resting on the propped-up knees and toes digging into the soft white sand, he stared at the blinding sliver of light until it started to feel like he might go blind. Until it disappeared completely, and the dusk settled around him, turning the sky pale-blue near the water and deep indigo above his head, and inside him, there was emptiness the likes of which Steve never knew before.

What else… He was on the island surrounded by women thousands of years old; women who might have witnessed the creation of the world as he knew it, strong and vigorous, possessing the qualities beyond anything Steve could ever imagine. Beyond anything he could understand even now, even after all this time. He was in love with a demi-goddess capable of bending the laws of life and death to her will, a surge of power coursing beneath her skin every time he touched her. Was it really that wild to assume that he might be more than what he always thought he was?

Did he want to be more?

“There you are.”

Diana’s voice pulled him to the surface before the vortex of thoughts threatening to suck him into the void from which there was no way out accomplished doing just that.

Steve looked up and saw her walk toward him across the strip of sand, smiling that soft smile of hers that was making his heart squeeze in his chest every single time without fail, like some kind of Pavlovian reflex, no less. There was no sword in her hand, no shield behind her back, her step easy, relaxed. A warrior still, but more than just that, too.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Thought you’d escaped,” she teased him, lowering down to sit next to him, the light breeze tugging at the wisps of hair that unraveled from her braid and that were fluttering around her cheeks.

From this close, he could smell scented oil, grass, and something sweet on her skin, feel her warmth in the pleasantly cool evening that was a nice reward for making it through the stifling heat and humidity of the sunny afternoon, and mixed together, they were entirely intoxicating, making everything inside him ache.

“That’d be a very long swim,” Steve noted, turning to her, feeling the wind push his hair back from his forehead and snake through his shirt. “I just needed to…” He started and trailed off.

It was dark enough now that her face was almost completely obscured, the light from the town not reaching this far back and the whisper of the surf swallowing all sounds save for the breath of the trees that rustled gently nearby and the whoosh of the waves lapping against the sand echoing in nooks and crevices of the cliffs towering above them. How on earth she knew where to look for him Steve had no idea. He could barely navigate this place even in proper daylight.

“Escape?” Diana offered, amused.

He chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah, I guess.”

It was easier that way, when she couldn’t see him, when the night could hide the secrets that he knew his face would betray. The key here was to continue breathing like nothing had changed.

For a few moments, they simply sat there, looking at the waves that were nothing but a mass of black fringed with foam. And then she leaned closed to him and rested her chin on his shoulder, her hand curling around his bicep, warm through the sleeve of his shirt.

“What have you been up to today?” Diana asked softly, her words nearly drowning in the voice of the ocean and her breath warm on his cheek.

“Not much,” Steve muttered, the things that he was planning to tell her, everything that Hippolyta revealed to him – because she needed to know, had the right to know even more so than he, perhaps – choking him, lodged in his throat.

“I knew you’d get bored here,” she noted. He could hear her smile.

“Not by a long shot, I promise you.”

She brushed her hand through his hair, her fingers skimming lightly over the shadow of stubble on his cheek. “Is everything okay, Steve?”

He nodded slowly, and then once again, with more enthusiasm. It was so easy to forget sometimes how effortlessly she could read him, if only because there wasn’t often any need for it, his thoughts, his life an open book; at least with her.

“Yes.” He placed his hand on top of hers.

“Then what is it?”

“How did you leave this place?” Steve whispered, his gaze skimming over the barely visible stretch of the ocean, its whisper lulling him into thinking that all was right in the world. He turned to her again. “It’s peaceful. Safe. You can have everything here. You’re happy.” He paused, his thumb running in circles over her knuckles. “I can’t imagine you wanting to leave again.”

Diana moved closed. Her lips brushed lightly to his chin before touching his mouth, feather-light. She leaned her forehead against him temple. “I can.”

---

Italy, 1945

Peace, as it turned out, was a fleeting and fragile thing. They might have stopped dropping bombs on one another, but at times it felt like the war had never ended. Like it merely paused to give him a moment to catch their breaths. At times, it felt like the world would never stop needing to be saved. The conflict was not as open anymore, but no less intense nonetheless, all under a cloak of secrecy and darkness, hiding in plain sight but always there.

In an attempt to escape this never-ending battle for something or other, for what was good and right, Steve took her to Italy, and while Diana didn’t see any particular romance in riding gondolas, claiming that if there was any love to dark, murky waters of the channels, she didn’t want to have anything to do with it, they immensely enjoyed strolling along narrow, foggy streets of Venice, watching the swans from the bridges that seemingly kept the place together, stopping the houses from floating away.

There was beauty in simplicity, to living in the moment - something that neither of them was used to. It turned out that being sucked into the war and waiting for one for centuries wasn’t that much different after all. And not having to deal with either felt pretty damn incredible.  

Steve bought bread from tiny bakeries tucked away narrow alleys, and they fed it pigeons and seagulls on St. Mark’s Square until their cheeks turned pink from the cold. There was peace to wandering around the place they knew nothing about, where every turn of the street held nothing but anticipation of something new.

They ate gelato despite chilly November wind and drank hot chocolate sitting in tiny cafes that were half-empty because of the foul weather. They held hands to keep them warm and talked about nothing, the sound of their voices somehow more important than the words that were being said. He kissed her cold fingers and smiled because she was smiling at him, uncertain how a person could contain so much hove within them without their heart bursting from this fullness.

And in her smile, he found his salvation.

They drove southward where the fog was less persistent, and the green of olive groves remained intact even though the trees were mostly bare this late in the year, and rented a house for several nights from an old woman who scolded them grimly for the absence of wedding rings. Ever a charmer, Steve smiled and offered her a few compliments while Diana struggled not to burst out laughing, standing next to him, and the key traveled from the woman’s hand and into his. He could almost feel her judgement, her frown somehow making it all the more exhilarating.

“What was that about?” Diana asked him later when the door to the guest house, one of many scattered along the seaside, closed and he crouched in front of a fireplace to start the fire to warm the place up, poking at the logs until the spark caught on while she shrugged off her coat and draped over the back of an armchair.

“We’re not married, see,” he chuckled and shook his head. “In these parts, it’s frowned upon… for an unmarried man and woman to spend the night together, I’m guessing.”

Diana’s eyebrow crept all the way up to her hairline. “Is this why you called her divine and enticing?”

Steve stood up and pulled her to him for a lingering, thorough kiss that left them both breathless, her hand curled over a fistful of his shirt.

“I figured you wouldn’t want to sleep in the car,” he muttered.  

Diana draped her arms around his neck. “If memory serves me right, this was exactly why you didn’t want to sleep with me on the boat that night when we left Themyscira,” she noted nonchalantly.

Steve groaned. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to,” he started and stopped himself, very aware of the fact that his cheeks grew hot, and knowing that Diana noticed it, too, undoubtedly enjoying it. “I was trying to be respectful. The lack of wanting had nothing to do with it. Because I did, I wanted to--” He took a breath and looked up, studying the white ceiling. “I need to stop taking now.”

He tried to step away from her, not quite certain what it was what was making him so flustered. It wasn’t like he hadn’t see all of her so many times he’d long lost count, and his desire was barely ever a secret.

“Now I feel bad about taking advantage of your virtue,” Diana sighed dramatically, tightening her hold on him just enough to keep him where he was, although it was her words that got Steve to cock his head, his eyebrow quirked – challenge accepted.

“My virtue?” He echoed, mock-appalled, his hand running absently over the small of her back.

“Don’t you remember? I had to practically beg you to share a pile of blankets with me,” she pointed out.

“Beg? Well, if that’s what you want to believe,” he made a dramatic pause, for emphasis and all that. “And I’m sorry, but if memory serves me right, I was the one--”

“Not to mention that night in Veld,” she continued.

“What about it?” Steve frowned, alarmed. “Because once again, no begging was required.”

“You really want to talk about who did what?” She interjected with a giggle, and he pointedly clamped his mouth shut.

For a long moment, Steve simply looked at her, taking note of a mischievous glint in her eyes, the playful curve of her mouth, and a very obvious enjoyment radiating off her, and then he cleared his throat. “No, this is literally the last thing I want to discuss.” Diana laughed, and he felt his lips quirk in response, finding it hard to hold back his own smile. “You just made it sound like I was some innocent maiden. Which is not a bad thing,” he added diplomatically. “I just… wasn’t.”

“I know that,” she leaned in, rubbing her nose into his cheek before finding his mouth with hers in a slow, sensual kiss. Her hand moved up from his neck and tangled in his hair, her back arching into him. “I know all about that.”

“You want me to show you again?” He murmured against her mouth and she silenced him with her lips.

Blindly, Steve reached for the wall to turn off the lights, plunging the whole place into complete darkness, the stillness of the night only interrupted by the rustling of the wind in the trees outside and the sound of their clothes falling on the floor.

There was no way of knowing what tomorrow held, or the day after that, or the day after that one. They couldn’t, he’d learned a long time ago, rewrite history. But they could make it, and tonight Diana was his, her hands in his hair, everywhere on his body, her lips hot against his skin, and her whisper making him shiver in the best way imaginable. Nothing else mattered.

Sometimes, rather often, Steve couldn’t remember the life before her.

---

“What are you running away from, Trevor?” Billy, a skinny kid with the face so freckled he looked perpetually tan, asked Steve one night when they were granted a few rare and precious hours of free time before the drills were to resume the following morning, and the whole base decided to drown in beer, catching up on the nights that didn’t belong to them.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” Steve snorted, taking a swig from his bottle and allowing the lukewarm drink to pour down his throat and settle heavily in his stomach in anticipation of the pleasant buzz in his head and the warmth that would make his limbs heavy, his muscles relaxed in that way that no longer felt familiar.

The normally half-empty cafeteria was packed, every recruit who managed to drag his sorry ass from the hangars and sleeping quarters crammed in a space meant for half this number of people, and the conversations were punctuated with outbursts of laughter and an occasional curse when someone spilled his drink or tripped over someone else’s outstretched legs. Not exactly Steve’s idea of a night off, but he didn’t mind, feeling oddly alive and relaxed. In the months that had passed since he’d first arrived here, he’d learned to appreciate the small things and moments of freedom like never before.

Billy shrugged and downed the rest of his own drink – and Steve wondered which one it was, the kid’s eyes already glazed over. Not the first one for certain. Normally, at least five were needed to warrant small talk about something more personal than ‘Got a sig?’

“You’re like a Devil in the sky,” the words came out a little slurred, almost swallowed by the buzz and the clinking of the glass. “Or like you have one chasing you. What is it?”

Steve’s mouth twisted into a smirk, “Your dirty socks, for one thing.” He stood up, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor. He jerked his chin toward his mate’s empty bottle. “Want another one?”

He thought about Billy’s question that night, lying on a narrow cot in one of the barracks, unsure if it was the heat that was keeping him awake or his mind that wouldn’t shut up. The truth was that it wasn’t about the from so much as about the toward, although toward what Steve wasn’t sure even now, after he’d lived several lifetimes in his rather brief time on earth, and yet the answer was still nowhere to be found. Happiness, perhaps. A sense of purpose that remained evasive for as long as he was alive. He’d long lost the naïve delusion about making a difference in the world, about his actions amounting to anything that truly counted - the wars made sure to strip him of that - but the sense of longing for something big never went away, although it dulled just enough for Steve to ignore it now and then.

Sometimes, lying next to Diana at night as she slept, his gaze trained on the ceiling, he could still feel the echo of this old yearning for something he couldn’t put into words resonate deep inside him, but with her, it had ebbed, like she was taking the edge off it. Like she was the where, albeit not as constant or static as Steve ever expected it to be.

Other times, the pull was stronger, the sensation of still being on the run burning through him, hotter than fire. The thing that pushed him to chase the sky in the first place still simmering under his skin.

He found her one morning curled up in an old armchair, a quilt wrapped around her shoulders against the drafts of an old house. Her gaze was glued to the flames dancing in the fireplace, her hair spilling down her back. It was so early the room was almost dark still, the small window overlooking the sea keeping the tentative light of a new day away. There was no surprise here though, she rarely slept past dawn - old habits and all that.

After a failed attempt to coax her into coming back with him for another few hours of rest, Steve squeezed into a tiny space next to her, earning peals of boisterous laughter in response and ignoring her feigned fight for more room until their limbs were tangled, and it impossible to tell what belonged to whom.

“I don’t like sleeping without you,” he said softly, tucking the quilt around them and wiggling underneath it to cajole another smile out of her. “The bed feels too big.”

“But no one is stealing the covers,” she pointed out.

“I’m used to fighting for them,” he countered eagerly.

“And your pillow,” Diana added.

He shrugged, “I don’t mind sharing.”

“No one is kicking you under the blankets,” she was struggling to keep her smile at bay, her head resting against the back of the armchair, watching him not without amusement.

“I’ve had worse things to wake up to,” Steve shook his head dismissively, and arched an eyebrow expectantly, brushing her hair from her cheek.

Diana offered him a small, wry smile. “You were snoring.”

Steve’s jaw dropped comically. “I was not!” He protested, appalled and defensive, his chest puffing at the audacity of this accusation.

“You were, too,” she insisted.

“Are you sure it was me and not you?”

She traced her finger along his jawline. He could see the firelight reflecting in her eyes as he watched her in silence, trying to hear the things she wasn’t saying. She was awfully easy to read sometimes, the amount of openness catching him off-guard now and then, what with his own life being so tangled in lies and secrets that he often didn’t know where to find the ends to unravel them. Not that he wanted to. Sometimes, being someone else was easier. Knowing that Diana could see him for who and what he was seemed to be enough.

There was a small frown lodged between her eyebrows, but before he could pry for more, Diana dropped her forehead on his shoulder, her hand curling around his. She laced her finger through his.

“Are you okay, really?” Steve asked, brushing a kiss to the crown of her head, his voice less playful, very soft.

“Sometimes, I dream of my lasso snapping and my shield breaking,” she murmured into his skin. “After the sword that I thought could defeat a god of war himself turned to dust in my hands, nothing feels strong enough anymore.” A pause. “The time… it runs differently here. It is not as infinite as I’m used to. It will take a while before I can forget—some things.” She lifted her head to find his gaze again. “It will take some getting used to.”

He could see that she wanted to add something else, but instead Diana merely leaned into him. Steve’s arm curled around her as he pushed the questions swarming in his mind away.

He called her fearless once, only half-joking, if only because she was so much more. Surely, their petty, trivial concerns weren’t of any interest to her. The things he’d seen her do left little doubt regarding the extent of her bravery.

“No one is completely fearless,” Diana responded then with a small shake of her head.

“What are you scared of?” Steve asked, watching her closely.

She looked up from the book she was reading and put it away, a shadow of something he couldn’t quite grasp before it was gone crossed her features. Something so achingly sad that it splintered his heart in half a second that he saw it.

“Of losing you,” Diana said after a short hesitation. “I have never seen death until Antiope bled out in my arms. Not a person’s death… it’s different when it’s just a story, isn’t it?” Her voice cracked ever so slightly. “She was the closest friend I had, a second mother, someone I trusted to be alive forever.” She looked away from him, breaking the eye contact as if holding Steve’s gaze was suddenly too much to bear, and rubbed her forehead. “And then you—in that plane… I’m scared of losing everyone that I love. Of being too late the next time something bad happens.”

Steve crossed the room, walking over to the couch where she was sitting, and offered her his hand. Diana raised her glance and took it, and he pulled her up to her feet, his blue eye darting between hers, willing her worry away as if he could fix it with the power of his mind. He looped her hair around her ear, trailing his fingertips down her cheek. He let out an unsteady breath, drawing her to him and wrapping his arms around her – a reassurance that he needed as much as she, if not more.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised.

“It may not be your decision to make.”

“It’s not your job to save me,” Steve told her, meaning it with everything that he was.

“Maybe so,” she didn’t argue, leaning into him, “But it doesn’t make it any less terrifying.”

He was still thinking about that when Diana somehow miraculously dozed off after a while, still crammed into the damned armchair and pressed to him, lulled by the warmth of his body, and Steve watched the fire turn to red embers and die in the hearth as he held her, his cheek resting on the crown of her head. They all feared something, even the gods. Maybe gods more than anyone else, he mused, listening to her even breathing, if only because they’d have to live with those losses for much longer than the rest of them all.

On the morning before they were to leave Italy, they climbed down the steep streets and countless stone steps toward the sea that was steel-grey and moody, the wind throwing sand and sprays of salt water in their faces, and it crystallised on their cheeks whenever they dared to come too close to the surf, the stones lining the thin line of the beach dangerously slippery under their feet.

They were rather close to Themyscira, Steve realized with a start. Closer than anywhere else in Europe, perhaps. Watching Diana watch the angry waves, he wondered if they’d actually be able to see the island from here had it not been hidden from the prying eyes by gods who believed that mankind was not worthy of their protection. At least not enough to know where to look for it.

Her hair was gathered into a braid and the breeze was tugging at the strands that escaped it. She turned to him after a long moment, her face scrunched and her eyes narrowed against the wind. “Do you believe that people can love each other until death?”

Steve brushed a wisp of dark hair from her cheek, his eyes taking in her expression that reflected the stormy sea before them.

“I do.”

---

London, 1947

London was starting to feel like home.

Steve never expected it to, with its unpredictable weather, grey sky that seemed to be keeping the whole place captive for weeks on end, the smell of seaweed blowing in all way from the English Channel, and the often-stale whiff of the River Thames. Crowded alleys and pubs, the jokes he didn’t always understand bouncing along the streets, the beer that tasted differently from what he was used to. A million other things that were alien in the ways Steve couldn’t always grasp that made him feel like an outsider.

And yet, it felt more familiar than the rest of the world. Maybe it was because this was where everything had started back in 1918, a new life as he knew it. Or maybe it was because it was so different from everything that he was trying to forget.

“We could go anywhere, you know,” he had said to Diana once, soon after they’d returned from Themyscira even though he’d assured her that he’d be happy to stay if she so wished.

There was an old globe sitting on the desk in his living room, once belonging to his father, now an antiquity. Diana raised a quizzical eyebrow at him when he pointed at it.

“Pick a place,” Steve shrugged.

She touched it, pushed it with her fingers until it was spinning so fast that the countries were nothing but patches of blurred yellow among the vastness of blue, and then shook her head.

“Belonging… it’s not about a place on the map.”

Steve didn’t object.

What did it matter, really? He doubted there was a corner in this world where he’d manage to forget Hippolyta’s words, pretend that they were never said. Pretend that they weren’t wrapped around him like a vice, squeezing the life out of him.

It wasn’t until Etta retired and chose to move to the south of England, away from the hectic hassle of the city, that their ties to the place began to feel loose, unravelling before their eyes, no longer an anchor so much as a chain keeping them trapped. The stifling air of familiar streets started to feel like it was suffocating them, his restlessness making him want to crawl out of his skin.

He pretended that it was the routine that began to get to him, the things that he’d been stuck with for too long that were wearing him thin now, and that moving away from them was an answer.

He pretended that it wasn’t himself that he was trying to get away from in a desperate attempt to forget.

---

Brussels, 1948

Steve woke up to Diana crying in her sleep, silently, without waking up, her pillow soaked with tears. Her breathing was shallow, her shoulders trembling ever so slightly – the very thing that pulled Steve out of his slumber while her own mind refused to let go of her, her fingers bunching fistfuls of sheets holding on so tight that her knuckles had turned white.

His heart sank, his stomach coiling instantly.

It scared him when this happened, when there was nothing he could do, nothing he could fix, nothing to make it go away for good, to shield her from the things that were hurting her in a way that no one else could see. When her pain was palpable and so real that seemed to take all the space around them.

Diana had told him once that the most overwhelming grief was never loud. It lacked theatrics and expressiveness. Instead, it was silent, still even, barely betraying itself to the outsiders. Invisible. This was what it looked like now – like she was mourning a loss so deep that she was scared it might tear her apart if she’d let it be known. Like her pain was so strong she needed to physically keep it from spilling out and swallowing her whole.  

“Diana,” he whispered softly, careful not to startle her, his fingers light on her arm; pressed a kiss to her shoulder when she didn’t respond and called her again, “Diana…”

Slowly, unwillingly, her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him, disoriented. “What…”

“You were—you were crying,” Steve murmured, trailing his thumb over her cheek to wipe away the tears, a hollow pit in his stomach threatening to turn him inside out. “A bad dream.”

She blinked in momentary confusion, nearly flinching away from his touch, and took in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. Please don’t,” he kissed her on the temple, mindful of how her chest was still heaving, how rigid she felt. “Don’t say that. It was just a dream, it’s over”

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

“Steve…”

He smoothed down her hair, his fingers soothing on her face. She was looking at him, and he was suddenly at a loss, uncertain what was there to do, the words felt empty and useless and not enough.

“Let me get you a glass of water,” Steve murmured, but Diana shook her head, her fingers curling around his wrist, his own heartbeat too loud, almost intrusive. He moved to her and pulled her closer, folding her into the curve of his body until her warmth was the only thing he could feel, his heart hammering fast against her back and his face pressed into her neck. “Want to tell me about it?” He asked when Diana’s breathing evened out, deepening as she’d calmed.

She drew her knees up to her chest, curling in on herself. “I keep losing you,” her voice was muffled and so quiet he almost missed it, barely a whisper even in complete silence. “Every time I close my eyes, you die.”

“No,” he whispered into her skin. “It’s not real, never will be. I’m here.”

“It feels real. Each time.”

Steve closed his eyes, pushing the images away, his grip on her as tight as he could bear.

Hippolyta was right.

He prayed and hoped against all hope that she was mistaken. After all, it wasn’t exact science. If anything, it was merely her speculation at the time, or so he wanted to believe, if only because there had never been anyone like Diana before, no point of reference or comparison, Hippolyta said so herself. And for a while, it seemed liked she was wrong.

For a while, everything was good. So good he could hardly believe that this was his life, making him wonder what he’d done to deserve this kind of happiness – all-consuming, blinding, so perfect the enormity of it was equally exhilarating and terrifying.

Until his demons came back the way they always did sooner or later.

Until they sank their teeth and claws into Diana, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“She would do anything to protect you, even from yourself,” Hippolyta had told him that day on the balcony overlooking the island before she left Steve standing alone there, the weight of her words so heavy it was suffocating him.

Whatever happened to him on the night when Diana brought him back to life after the explosion of gas pulled him to atoms until there was nothing left of him seemed to have forged the kind of bond between them that went beyond his comprehension. Steve was no scientist, not to the degree that counted, but he knew full well what was supposed to happen to him. He made that decision perfectly aware of the fact that it was meant to be his last one, and it hurt so bad to say goodbye to her, to everything that he’d managed to dream up in the time that had passed since the moment when he’d first kissed her. It was worth it, though. It was supposed to be worth it.

Diana was bigger than this, bigger than all of them, than the world itself. She was meant for something greater than anything he could ever imagine. If all he could do was give her a chance to truly save them all, it wasn’t that big of a sacrifice then. After all, he’d never aspired for anything that significant to begin with. And what was his life, really?  

Had he known how it would all end, would be do it any differently? He’d asked himself that, more than once, but the answer was nowhere to be found, no matter how hard he looked for it.

It wasn’t his memories that plagued her, the way he initially thought it worked, but the darkness simmering within him. All the things he’d done that he wished he could forget about. All the things that filled him with self-resentment so strong he didn’t know sometimes how he was supposed to live with them. Everything that made him question the logic of the universe for it made no sense that someone like him was given a second change after the things he’d caused that deserved no forgiveness, be it for the daughter of Zeus or not. The things he’d never told a single soul about, and those who were there to witness them were long dead and buried.  

All the things that he hated himself for had transformed into monsters that kept Diana awake for fear of facing them, all because on a deep, molecular level all she wanted to do was to ease his pain.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again into her hair, his chest tight.  

He never told her about the conversation he’d had with her mother.

Couldn’t.

Didn’t know how to.

The words never came, and those that did were coated in denial and shame and fear of losing her, of Diana seeing him for what he really was. He waited, and hoped, and wished desperately for a revelation, a moment of truth that would make everything clear, each second feeling like a missed opportunity that he owed her – for saving him, having him, loving him.

But how was he supposed to keep living like this? How could he not do what was best for her?

There was something that Hippolyta had said to him that Steve hadn’t registered at first, but that caught up with him after he’d had enough time to run over their conversation in his head. She’d said that he was supposed to die twice, but the France… Diana told him that he was merely unconscious, and maybe more bruised than he liked, but nothing else. Surely her mother was mistaken, and yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was bigger picture he couldn’t see. Had Diana lied to him? She wouldn’t… would she? He never brought it up, couldn’t, for it would mean coming clear about everything else, but it plagued his mind as he tried desperately to find the answers in the tone of her voice, between the words, in every touch of her hands.

He wondered sometimes if it made any difference, if it made anything worse, knowing that it had to, but refusing to believe it.

Selfish bastard…

“Steve?” She breathed out.

“Hm?”

Diana rolled around to face him, looked up, finding his gaze in the dark, her eyes red-rimmed and something akin panic pooling at the bottom of them. “Make me forget,” she whispered.

Steve’s pulse stuttered. “I don’t…”

She pushed up, moving closer to him, hands on his face, in his hair, and slid into his lap, sweet weight in his arms. He could taste the salt on her mouth, on her cheeks, his own touch welcoming her traitorously, seeking the same comfort in her that she wanted from him. Steve pulled her close, hands skimming over her back and under the thin cotton of her sleeveless shirt, and she shivered, a sigh of appreciation falling from her lips.

His heart was hammering against his breastbone as if trying to break free, half-formed thoughts sparkling alive in his mind and disappearing without a trace before he could get hold of them. Diana pulled just far enough away to tug at the hem of her shirt, slipping it easily over her head. Her palms fell on his chest, her eyes locked with his in the dark gleaming with the want that was coursing through her and into him, eclipsing all reason and logic and everything in-between.

“Diana…” he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in this throat, hand reaching to cup her cheek, thread through the veil of her dark hair cascading over her shoulders.

She leaned down, kissed him again.

“I need you,” she whispered, dragging her lips along his cheek, over his jaw, down his throat, her skin hot and electrifying under his touch. “I need to know that you’re real.”

He was more than willing to make them both forget.

---

She fell asleep afterwards, deeply and dreamlessly, curled into him with her arm draped across Steve’s chest, fitted to him curve for curve. He, on the other hand, remained wide awake for hours, staring at the sway of shadows on the ceiling, listening to Diana’s even breath, his fingers running absently over her hair, drawing soothing patterns on her skin.

Someone was talking very loudly in the apartment upstairs, not loud enough for him to make out the words but the hum of the conversation was a distracting interference, keeping him on the verge of wakefulness. There was music playing somewhere although Steve couldn’t tell if it was coming from one of the other units or from the street, the people making the best of their weekend night vivid and alive before his mind’s eye.  

And none of it was enough to drown his feverish thoughts, the memories of Diana’s hands sliding over his body almost frantically, her kisses that were hungry in a way that spoke of fear, and how she was holding on to him like he could disintegrate in her arms if she let go, each whispered word meant to be seared into them for eternity.

And all the while Steve hated himself for making her feel that way, for not being able to offer her any other reassurance than hasty, desperate kisses, and for needing her as much as he did.

When the sky turned pale blue and the shadows started to grow thin, Steve slipped out of her unresisting grasp, bleary-eyed and exhausted, and yet unable to remain still any longer. He was lucky if he managed to doze off for a couple of hours, but he couldn’t think about it. He leaned down to brush lips to Diana’s hair, careful not to disturb her, but even before he left the room, she’d rolled over to his side, claiming the warmth he’d left behind, still fast asleep.

It was the smell of coffee and bacon sizzling on the skillet that lured her out of the bedroom a few hours later. Wrapped in a thin robe, Diana watched him move between the stove and the counter as he hummed something softly under his breath, his movements precise and effortless, almost graceful. The only thing that was making it look less like a well-rehearsed dance and more like, well, the opposite of it was his comical bedhead, her hands itching to card through his hair – to smooth it down or ruffle it even more Diana wasn’t sure.

Steve glanced up from the skillet when she stepped into the kitchen, squinting in the morning sunlight as she pulled her robe tighter around her body and tied the belt – for his benefit, not hers. The first – and last – time she decided to forgo clothing in the kitchen, he had dropped a coffee pot on his foot, and, according to Steve, it was not funny at all, despite what Diana was saying.

The memory made his lips quirk. Not that any of that was his fault, he reminded himself, amused. Who wouldn’t forget everything and anything looking at her?

“Hey,” Diana smiled, her voice husky from sleep, and ran her hand through her tangled hair, pushing it back from her face. “What are you doing?”

“Breakfast,” he announced, grinning. “Are you hungry? I mean, you should be, what with all the appetite we’ve worked up...”

She snorted and shook her head, looking rather pleased with herself, although the light mood didn’t last.

“Look, about last night…” Diana started, leaning against the counter next to him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “I’m sorry.”

Steve put the spatula down and turned to her. His palm cupped over her face, he dipped his head to kiss her on the forehead. “Don’t. Don’t say that. It wasn’t not your fault, never is.”

If anything, it’s mine.

“I kept you awake.”

“That I didn’t mind at all,” Steve promised, his thumb running over her cheekbone. “Let’s eat.”

“Steve…”

His throat closed up. “I dream of it, too. Of losing you.”

She shook her head. “Never.”

“See?” He offered her a weak, tired smile, his voice dropping. “It goes both ways.”  

He piled eggs and bacon on the plate and handed it to Diana before pouring two mugs of coffee for them and emptying the rest of the skillet on his own plate, grateful for the simple things that made even their lives feel normal now and then. Like food. Like catching her look at him with that small, secret smile that seemed to be carrying all the truths in the universe.  

“Hey, can I… can I ask you something?” Steve started after a while, chasing the food around his plate without much appetite. It turned out that the familiar comfort of making it didn’t spread on consuming it.

Diana scooped some eggs with her fork and nodded when he looked up, chewing thoughtfully.

Radiant in the early-morning sunlight, she was so beautiful it hurt to look. He wondered sometimes how much light one must contain within them to see all the death and pain and destruction that she had in her brief time in his world, and still look like she was the sun, her softness, her kindness no less affected by her experience, by the things that would break just about anyone else. They intensified, even, for there was nothing else that could save them all.

Steve cleared his throat, not trusting his voice not to betray him. “If you, um… hypothetically speaking, if you had to choose between doing the right thing, and doing something that makes you happy, which one would you go for?”

An eyebrow arched, she put down the fork and picked up her coffee, watching him over the rim for a long moment. “And doing what makes you happy wouldn’t be the right thing?” She seemed intrigued, a smile playing on her face, her head tilted slightly to her shoulder.

“No,” he poked his fork at a piece of bacon with unnecessary concentration, all because it allowed him to have an excuse to look away from her. “It’s kind of the exact opposite of happiness. In fact, it could actually—be harmful to someone.”

She picked her fork again, her shoulders rolling in a half-shrug.

“Then you need to do the right thing. It’s simple, no?”

God, of course, it was simple. It was Diana, for heaven’s sake. Diana who decided to fight the god of war without thinking twice, all because there was no one else who could do it; who would risk her own life to save someone without expecting anything in return; who would leave her home because the world needed her more; who believed in the goodness of mankind despite everything she’d seen.

He had never known anyone with the heart as big as hers, with the soul so full of love and compassion. She went against gods and armies like it was nothing, all because the peace on the other side of those battles mattered more to her than her own life.

For her, this decision wouldn’t be a struggle. It would be no brainer at all.

“Steve, what is it? Why are you asking this?” She prodded when he didn’t say anything.

Because I need to know that you will understand.

He stood up and picked up his plate, his food barely touched, to carry it to the sink, still avoiding her gaze.

“It’s, uh… nothing. Just a… a book I’m reading.” Lame. He hated lying to her. “Something that got me thinking.” He exhaled slowly. “It’s easy… it’s easy to imagine that you would step in front of a bullet or sacrifice yourself for someone else until you have to do it, and then it’s—it’s not that simple.”

He had to tell her, he decided. And yet he knew he couldn’t. Not because Diana wouldn’t forgive him for keeping something like this from her for years, which Steve knew he would have no right to hold against her, but because he feared that she would. And he didn’t deserve it. Not when he lied to her after he’d promised her that he never would. Not after she showed time and time again how much she trusted him with everything that she was, completely, unapologetically.

It was despicable, and he had never been more disgusted with himself.

The legs of her chair scraped against the floor when Diana stood up just as he turned on the water, noticing that his hands were shaking, his breath shallow. He heard the rustling of her robe as she approached him, and then her arms snaked around him from behind and she kissed him on the tender spot where his neck curved into his shoulder.

“You’ve done it already,” she whispered into his skin. “Ran through the bullets. Sacrificed yourself.”  

“I think it feels different… every time you face something like this,” he replied.

“Well, you did all the right things last night,” she murmured, and he could hear a smile in her voice, her fingers skimmed playfully over his chest.

Steve turned off the water and turned around, hands framing her face, pushing into her hair, her eyes moving between his, and he wished for nothing more than a hundred years of mornings like this one.

Diana studied him for a long moment, taking in a shadow of stubble on his cheeks and his mussed hair, following the curve of his mouth and fastening on the deep blue of his eyes, stormy in the bright light of the warm morning. He looked tired, jaded in a way she hadn’t seen him in a while, and she reached to smooth the lines in the corner of his eye, her palm curling over his cheek for a second before brushing through his hair.

There wasn’t a part of his body she didn’t know, but his mind was something else entirely, and right now something felt off. Something very fragile, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what was making it seem so.

“What is it, my love?” She asked with a soft smile, her fingers curling around the back of his neck.

She didn’t have anyone closer than Steve, and yet there still were things outside her reach - always would be as this was how it worked, and the enormity of everything she would never truly understand about him scared her on a deep, inexplicable level. It wasn’t idle curiosity that was fueling her interest though, but the desire to know how to chase away the worry sneaking behind his eyes the nature of which she couldn’t grasp.

“I love you, you know that, right?” Steve murmured, tucking a strand of hair around her ear, her expression relaxing momentarily. Whatever it was that was troubling his mind receded to a dim shadow, and she felt the lightness inside her respond in kind. He propped Diana’s chin on his knuckle, holding her gaze. “I want you to always know that.”

---

And so he stalled, unable to tell her the truth because there was no excuse for keeping it from her for so long, and he couldn’t walk away because the very idea was making him wish he’d died in that airplane for it would’ve hurt less.

Late at night, they would lie together in bed, their voices nothing but the softest of whisper as they spoke about nothing in particular, his hands tracing the lines of her face like he needed to memorize the way she felt for the rest of eternity, and in those moments, it was so easy to believe that it was over, that whatever had been plaguing her mind was really and truly gone. That maybe they had both imagined it altogether, and he wanted so fiercely for it to be true.

There were stretches of time – days, weeks, months even - when the demons would retreat and leave them be, and he would start to believe foolishly, desperately, that none of it ever happened at all, that the conversation with the Queen of Amazons was a dream that was meant to start fading any moment now until there was nothing left of it.

And then out of nowhere, it would all come back, and Diana would wake up terrified out of her mind, certain that they were real, unable to break free from the demons haunting her for days on end. It took Steve a few years to figure out that it was his inner turmoil that was at fault, that she was merely reacting to the storms raging inside him whenever his mind would helpfully twist itself into something unrecognizable, triggered by a memory, a smell, a sound. And once that realization had dawned on him, once he knew that it was less about the physical proximity as much as about emotional closeness, he couldn’t help but pull away from her. It hurt and confused her, and the questions in her eyes that Diana didn’t know how to ask felt like he was stabbed repeatedly in his heart, and in those moments, it would feel like the two of them were living in their own hell, unable to break through to one another.

He was torn between the need for closeness that was giving him solace he so desperately wished for and the desire to shield her from the darkness the he was inadvertently dragging her into. Tried to pretend that Hippolyta’s revelation wasn’t haunting him, an ever-present reminder of his selfishness; the consuming bliss of being with her, around her, was often dimmed by how fragile and fleeting those moments were, always just out of his reach.

Steve wondered if Diana was feeling the same profound loneliness that filled him whenever he’d put space between them for fear of making everything worse; the same consuming helplessness that coursed through him on the nights the distance between them grew unbearable and he couldn’t find a way to cross it.

There was no way out, and he felt helpless, and scared, and he hated himself for doing this to her when he could oh so easily make it stop, trying and failing to find what it was inside him that was triggering those things.

There was no other answer except the one that he already knew.

The thing was, he’d lived in this world without Diana long enough to know that he could do it, easily. If he walked away, right now, right this moment, the sun wouldn’t die and the universe wouldn’t implode. He knew that after some time he would even learn to breathe without feeling like his lungs were too small, squeezed by an invisible hand. In his 60-odd years on earth, he’d been through much worse than a heartbreak. Steve knew that he would survive losing her.

The only problem here was that without Diana, he couldn’t imagine life worth living.

---

Veld, 1918

“What else?” Diana asked, quite entertained.

In the fading light of the oil lamp that was mere minutes away from going out, her arm was curled over his chest, her chin resting on the back of her hand as she studied him waiting for the answer. Steve scrunched his face in mock-concentration, and she giggled.

“You think it’s so easy,” he accused her.

“I want to know,” she said with a lazy smile, her fingers carding absently through his hair, tracing the lines of his face, skimming over the faint scruff on his cheeks.  

There was lightness to him that was hard to see when Steve was either imprisoned or running through the rain of bullets, the frown between his brows smoothed out, the lines near the corners of his eyes deeper from the perpetual grin tugging at the corners of his lips, bringing up that twinkle in his eyes that she only glimpsed in passing before. She loved it, loved the way he looked at her, the way he was making her heart feel so full she feared it would leap out of her chest.  

Steve tucked his arm under his head and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling, his lips puckered comically.

“Well, we’ve already covered breakfasts, and newspapers,” he started slowly. “And more food, which actually doesn’t make you feel like you’ve already died.” His hand began to trace slow patters on Diana’s back. Her smile grew wider at his statement. “I’m not joking,” he added, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “That concoction that Chief made the other night was not food, I need you to remember that.”

“I will,” she agreed. “So, people eat a lot. Noted.”

“It’s one of our vices.” Steve chuckled. “You’re cold,” he murmured when she shivered a little, pulling the covers over them, tucking Diana closer into his side.

“No.” She dipped her head to brush a kiss to a spot right below his collarbone. “I’m many things, but cold is not one of them.”

Steve cleared his throat, struggling to keep his thoughts from scattering away – not a small feat when she was doing that. “Well, that’s good news for me, I guess.”

He brushed her hair from her cheek. His thumb traced along her bottom lip, and Diana leaned into his touch, pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand, his eyes growing darker momentarily. It was so easy to get swept away by the pull of her until he didn’t know who he even was anymore.

“Tell me more,” Diana asked, relaxing into him.

Steve blinked and tried to find his breath again. “We have fairs. Um… carnivals.” He twisted a lock of her hair around his finger. “A circus.”

“What is it?” She perked up with curiosity.

“Ah, it’s… like a performance.”

“Like theater?” She offered.

“No, more… for fun, I guess.” Steve racked his mind for more. “It’s flashier. With… glitter. And animals.”

“Glitter and animals,” Diana echoed, a little skeptical, a little amused. “Sounds interesting.”

“And… we travel,” he continued. His hand curled around hers; he lifted it, kissed her fingers. “You’d like that. Paris… Paris is beautiful in the spring.”

“Where else?” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“Anywhere. Everywhere.” Steve paused, studying her for a long moment. And then the light went out, the last drops of oil burned up. In the darkness that descended upon them, everything felt different all of a sudden, his doubts resurfacing. He swallowed. “What’s going to happen tomorrow?”

Diana pulled her hand from his grasp and smoothed down his hair. Her palm slid down his cheek and landed on his chest, right where his heart was beating rapidly. She craned her neck and brushed her mouth to his – a bigger promise that any words could convey.

“I will defeat Ares. And then we will go to Paris.”

---

Paris, 1950

And then all hell broke loose again.

And again.

And again.

Steve no longer had it in him to be surprised. The world was adamant to tear itself apart, it seemed, unable to stop. By then, he’d have seen enough to know that it would never stop for as long as they all lived.

On a sunny morning a few years ago, when the radio in their kitchen came to life with dreadful news, his mind slipped back to the time when he’d first met Diana and how he’d thought that by taking her to the front in Belgium was nothing but indulging her whimsy while he himself was half-curious and half-wary of the woman who wielded a sword like it was nothing. How simple the life was when the evil was the doing of a god, he thought. And how much more complicated it looked when nothing and no one was to blame for the horrible decisions but the people who were making them.

Diana walked over to the radio without looking at him and turned it off, allowing the silence to settle over them, the rumble of the fridge in the corner the only sound hanging between them.

She turned to Steve slowly, her face solemn.

“We don’t have to do it,” he said quietly from across the kitchen. “You don’t have to. You don’t owe anything to us.”

“It’s not the fault of the innocent people that their leaders believe the wrong things,” she shook her head and rubbed her forehead, her gaze shifting to the window behind which the sun was rising slowly over the buildings.

It didn’t care, Steve thought absently. The sun would still rise even when they all fall to ashes, climbing over the horizon, day after day, and the magnitude of something this permanent was both comforting and deeply terrifying.

“You don’t have to come with me,” Diana said when she looked at him again.

“I know,” he nodded.

Just like he knew that he would. Just like he knew he’d follow her to the gates of hell and back if he had to.

“As long as you’ll have me,” he’d told her once, a long time ago.

“Always,” she’d responded simply.

Steve hadn’t questioned it since.

He’d been drawn to her from the moment he saw her on the beach all those years ago, like the planets orbiting the sun were pulled to it. Gravitational force and light, all that she was, and he wondered if he was going to disintegrate without them to hold him together.

Another country, another city, another camp, the same death and destruction, the same loss that was palpable in the air.

“I’m sorry you have to see this,” Steve said, the burlap of the tents flapping in front of them in the wind, a sea of khaki green among pale yellow hills, men and women in dusty uniforms darting from one to another as he surveyed the familiar and yet so different landscape. It was hard to remember anymore when his life wasn’t about this – hard cots and dry food and hoping he would get to see the light of another day. “It probably looks like tearing each other apart is all there is to us.”

Diana slipped her hand into his and squeezed his fingers, her gaze taking in the dreadful view before them. “I know it isn’t.”

There wasn’t much anyone could do. No taking sides, either. Not for Diana when the people who didn’t ask for any of this were dying for nothing.

Endless months of tents and dingy apartments, falling asleep and waking up to the sounds of machine guns and the news that Steve wanted to block out of his mind. Endless months of not knowing if they were going to wake up in the morning or if the or village they were at would get wiped off the face of the earth in the middle of the night. Endless months of trusting Diana to come back to him. Endless months of paralyzing fear that with every breath he took, he was chipping away from her strength somehow, putting her in danger by being, well, him – human, fragile, so very mortal, breakable in every sense.

And in the light of that, it was hard to remember sometimes that they were helping people. Truly helping them, saving lives.

He would clean Diana’s wounds or help her wash the smell of death off her body when she was too tired to move, and kiss her skin in reassurance, and stroke her hair at night, curled around her as if he could shield her from the world, and all the while he would pray that he wouldn’t step on a mine and steal even more from her because while his life was nothing but a grain of sand, she actually mattered - to mankind, to the world.

“Thank you,” Diana whispered one night when he was certain that she was already asleep.

“For what?” Steve asked, wrapping the blanket tighter around the two of them.

Her fingers skimmed over his cheek, a touch so light he almost thought he’d imagined it. “For you.”

It was hard to tell if anything had changed since France, the question he’d asked Hippolyta before they left Themyscira about whether or not the effect of saving him was irreversible remained unanswered. Used to thinking that she was merely an Amazon, not a daughter of a god, Diana seemed to have noticed no difference in how fast she was healing. If she had, she never mentioned anything to him, and Steve didn’t know how to bring it up. Sometimes, not knowing was eating him up on the inside; other times, he was glad to be in the dark.

The day it all came to an end, he felt like something enormous lifted off of him. Like he could breathe at last, his relief so enormous he couldn’t believe it and the victory was palpable on their fingertips.

But that was before the rumors came about the US recruiting former scientists that made the war what it was, the ones responsible for thousands, millions of deaths by the weapons they’d designed and the experiments that were conducted on the prisoners of concentration camps, the horrors of which went beyond human perception. Those cruel and insane things he’d seen Isabel Maru do were like a child’s play compared to the level that her successors managed to invent.

It was like a blow he never saw coming that knocked all wind out of him and made the ground slip from beneath him. The country he was so proud of, the country he was protecting decided to forgo any moral qualms and close their eyes on the nightmares that countless of people had been put through, all because an easy promise of safety gave them access to the most brilliant minds that cared nothing for innocent lives. He couldn’t believe it, refused to accept it, and the disillusionment was so strong it felt like the axis of the world had shifted.

He tried to understand it, see it through the eyes of the people making those decisions – as progress and innovation, and having access to the minds that were decades ahead of their time - but all he could imagine was people being taken apart and put back together, the look of disgust and disbelief on Diana’s face when those facts became known to her, the pain he’d seen and done his best to prevent. In his mind, this was siding with the murderers, with the people who cared for nothing, would stop at nothing, and it was making him sick. Everything he’d ever believed in, everything he’d fought for was an illusion, nothing but smoke and mirrors, and what was the point, then?

In the time that had passed since then, Steve tried to recall how he found out about this – did someone tell him? Did he overhear it in a conversation that was meant to remain private? – but his shock and shame and denial blocked it out, blurring his memory of the moment.

All of this made Steve think – cynically and unjustly perhaps – if any of their fights were worth it after all, if putting their lives on the line meant anything when in the end, the world was willing to close its eyes to unspeakable things for cheap reasons. If human lives measured up to nothing at all, why were they all even trying?

“Remember when you told me that mankind was meant to be good? That Zeus created us wise and compassionate and fair?” He asked Diana one night when it was hard to tell who was having whose nightmares, and the shadows lurking in the corners seemed to be hiding the monsters waiting to attack.

“Yes,” she responded, her hand tucked under her cheek as she watched him stare up. “Why?”

“Was just wondering where it all went wrong,” Steve breathed out.

And then it started again like he always knew it would. Another fight, another thing that needed to be fixed, more death, more blood, humankind tearing at the seams because there was little else they were capable of, or so it felt more often than not.

He couldn’t do it, Steve thought with dismay. Couldn’t spend god only knew how many years being terrified out of his mind and imagining Diana dying before his eyes, because of him, and the mere concept of it filled him with so much dread and primal, uncontrollable fear he could barely stand it.

“Is this all there’ll ever be?” Steve asked wearily and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the mother of all headaches start to build behind his eyes when the news of another tragedy settled in his head, the facts all sorted into their respective slots.

He could see it in her already, could feel the buzz of anticipation coursing through Diana, hear the gears of her mind turn, planning, thinking. Before he’d know it, she would reach for her armour, slipping out of her practical clothes and into a garment of a warrior, her sword sharp, her shield always close by, swift and efficient, ready to save the people from themselves.

And then it hit him, the realization so simple he couldn’t believe it never occurred to him before. Emotional closeness, his vulnerability… He was her Achilles’ heel, and she was his, and the only way for him to keep her safe was to walk away. That was something that Steve knew for a while now. The problem with that plan had always been his inability to leave because deep down, he knew that she wouldn’t want him to, like he wouldn’t have given a bloody damn had the tables been reversed. However, his own disillusionment was a powerful and dangerous thing churning inside him like something dark and venomous, and if he could get her to feel that way about him—

Steve swallowed as all pieces of the puzzle fell into place in his mind.

There was only one way to save her from him, and it was through disappointment and resentment, and he knew just the right buttons to push to make it happen.

Diana paused and turned to him, her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“There will be no end to wars, Diana. People will always find something to fight over, to… be mad about.” He shook his head, his heartbeat fast and hollow. “Is this all you want your life to be?”

“And you want to give up? Do nothing?” She asked, incredulous. He didn’t have it in him to even turn to her, disgusted with himself for feeling that way.

“Aren’t you tired? Don’t you want to…” Steve let out a slow breath, and suddenly those few feet between them felt like a bottomless void. “Don’t you want to not carry all of this on your shoulders? It’s not your job.”

When he finally managed to meet her gaze, she was looking at him like she didn’t know who he was. Like he was a stranger speaking the language she couldn’t understand.

“Do you really expect me to do nothing?” She repeated. “After everything? After we’ve seen how much suffering people are put through? Innocent people who didn’t ask for it, who are not to blame.” Diana’s frown deepened, disappointment and disbelief radiating off her in waves.

“Well, I didn’t ask for it either.”

She nearly recoiled from him. “How can you say that, Steve? How can you ask that of me?”

“Because I can’t do it anymore,” Steve retorted. He shook his head. “Because it’s been too long and there has to be an end to this all.”

Because you’re not invincible. More than most but not entirely.

Because I can’t keep thinking of a thousand ways you can die when you’re doing the things I can’t help you with. Because I can’t.

Because I can’t sit and imagine you never coming back.

Because I can’t watch you wake up in the middle of the night screaming and knowing that I am to blame.

Because it kills me to think that I’m hurting you without being able to stop it.

“Do you really want me to just walk away when I know that I can help?” She asked softly, watching him intensely like she wanted to see all the way inside him, straight through his bullshit.

Part of him feared she might.  

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Steve pressed his lips together for a moment, his expression hard.

“Maybe we’re not meant to save everyone,” he muttered.  

“Maybe we are not,” Diana agreed with a pointed accent on ‘we’, her arms folded over her chest. “But maybe I am.”

He flinched, and her face fell, regret washing over it.

Steve nodded slowly. “Perhaps, you’re right.”

Her shoulders slumped.  “Steve, don’t… I didn’t mean it like that.” She exhaled slowly and rubbed her forehead, visibly conflicted. “If you don’t want to come with me, don’t. Can we talk about this when I’m back? If it’s something that’s really bothering you, let’s discuss it later.”

“And when would that be? And for how long?” He asked. “See, that’s the thing with disasters – they never stop coming.”

“What is it that you want me to do?” She asked with a hint of frustration, and his heart clenched.

He was looking at her, unwavering, hoping that his lungs wouldn’t collapse, his very soul splintering under her gaze. He already missed her so bad that it caused him physical pain, and each word was like a nail in his coffin - about just as final. “Whatever you have to do. Don’t let me hold you back.”

Diana bristled momentarily. “Why are you twisting my words?”

Because I need to have an excuse to save you from everything that I am.

“Because you’re right,” he said evenly. “I mean, how long could this fairy tale last?”

“What are you saying?” Her voice cracked – so slightly he’d almost missed it; anyone else would have, except Steve knew it too well– and she went still, watching him like she could no longer recognize him. Truth be told, he could barely recognize himself either.

She’d be better without him, and that realization was the best and the worst one that had ever occurred to him. It would be easier for both of them if she hated him, if she was disappointed in him enough to make ripping this band aid off in one swift move possible. As painless as it could be, considering. If Hippolyta was right, and Steve didn’t have a reason not to trust her, he would be making Diana a favour of a lifetime by ending this. Here. Now.

He should have ended it a long time ago.

“Where do you think this was going?” He asked, gesturing at the two of them. “You and I.” Steve dropped his gaze, unable to face her shocked expression, and ran his hand through his hair in helpless frustration before dropping his hand to hang at his side. “How do you think this was going to end?”

Diana pursed her lips together, so visibly hurt by his words that he wanted to take them back right there and then, and beg for her forgiveness, and promise her

“I didn’t think it would.”

“Well, maybe it should.” He met her eyes again, willing his voice to remain steady. “Maybe it’s better that way.”

“Is this what you really want?” She inquired, and nodded slowly when Steve didn’t respond. “Then maybe it is.”

---

Gotham, 2017

Bruce Wayne was not used to not getting what he wanted.

Most material goods could be easily bought if he so wished, and people – well, people tended to want to be associated with him. And women… women rarely ignored his interest. He didn’t remember the last time he couldn’t obtain an object of his desire, whatever it was.

But not her. Not Diana.

Thanks for bringing him back to me.

He’d spent months turning her words in his head this way and that. That photo must have meant the world to her if she was willing to risk everything to get it from Luthor. There were few people who dared to go against Lex, and Bruce knew them all. Most of them were dead. He could barely imagine anything to be worthy of going through this much trouble, leave alone a memento.

It must have been the man standing next to her, then.

Him, not them. Not the other three.

And it frustrated Bruce more than he was willing to let on. More than he was willing to admit even to himself. Not quite jealousy yet – she was never his to warrant that feeling, but envy of a dead man who had nothing, not even life, and who still had more to offer her than Bruce could ever imagine.

“Enjoying yourself?” Diana asked, appearing next to him.

Bruce had to make an effort not to stare at the silver dress that was hugging her body in all the right places. Her hair was up, gathered into a knot on the back of her head, exposing her neck and making him want to strum his fingers along it. He forced his gaze up to find her gaze.

She arched an eyebrow and took a sip of her champagne, watching him with mild amusement over the rim of her glass.

Truth be told, he was bored, so much so that had she not been here and had this not been her idea in the first place, he’d long snuck out and escaped to a far more comfortable solitude of his home where a smile plastered on his face wasn’t a part of the dress code.

However, she rarely graced him with her presence these days, and appearing at this benefit was, technically, the right thing to do. And so he hung back, following her along the room with his gaze for lack of other options and trying not to overthink her offer. He was funding half of it, after all. Might as well show some interest.

“Immensely,” Bruce replied, downing his scotch and putting the empty glass on the polished bar counter, a few ice cubes that didn’t have a chance to melt clinking softly as he did so.

“I told you it would do you good,” Diana smiled, a little entertained, a little condescending.

It irked and excited him that she knew him well enough to be right about something like this.

“You did,” he agreed mildly.

She nodded, her eyebrow arched, and suddenly it was too much.

He wanted her too badly for too long. And maybe he had a few drinks too many – god help him, he needed them to make it this far into the evening – but the next thing Bruce knew was that his hand was on the small of Diana’s back, turning her to him, his mouth finding hers.

Bruce Wayne was not used to not getting what he wanted. Nor was he used to considering the consequences of his actions.

---

In the 60-something years that had passed since that fateful afternoon in the sunlit apartment in Paris when he walked out the door after their conversation and never came back, Steve Trevor saw Diana Prince exactly twice.

The first time was some 15 years ago when life brought him back to the city of love. Thinking nothing of what might have become of her since then, he had an afternoon to spare before his flight to Madrid. It was a sunny but chilly day in April and after grabbing a sandwich and a cup of coffee from a street vendor, Steve found himself heading toward the Louvre, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket that was far too thin for this weather and his shoulders hunched against the wind coming from the river.

It was the first time he came back here, the streets still holding too many memories that he didn’t want to dwell on for fear of tearing at the seams if he allowed himself to reminisce of the days long gone.

The pyramids were a new addition, something he hadn’t expected to encounter. They fascinated him, the creativity of the idea and the way the light was filtering through numerous glass panes, breaking into infinite rainbows inside the spacious hallway below the entrance even despite their clash with the original architecture of the museum.

There was comfort to being here, to wandering the galleries that felt like a maze, only half-listening to the buzz of conversations in more languages than he could count. It didn’t take much effort to tune them out completely, get lost among the strangers that didn’t care that he existed.

Steve wasn’t sure how long he’d been there before one of the curators hurried past him, a stack of papers in her hands, the heels of her practical shoes clacking on the parquet floor, as she called out, “Madame Prince, attendez, s'il vous plaît!”

Please wait, Steve translated automatically, the name that fell from the woman’s lips not registering with him until he heard the voice so deeply etched in his memory he would probably carry it inside him for several lifetimes respond a few moments later.

“Oui, Dominiquie?” It made Steve stop in his tracks, his throat closed up. “Puis-je vous aider?”

Steve turned slowly around so as not to attract any attention to himself, not certain in that excruciatingly long moment if he wanted to be right or wrong. He’d made this mistake before, after all, hearing her voice only to find another person speaking. So many times, in fact, that he’d lost count of them.

However, before he could make a decision as to which scenario he would much rather face, it was too late.

It was her.

Standing some 50 feet away from him by the door marked as Réservé au personnel was Diana. Stylish black pants, a high-neck blouse, black heels, her hair pulled into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She was signing the papers that the woman who just ran past Steve offered her, her eyes scanning the pages before scribbling something at the bottom of each one, her mouth moving as she asked or clarified something but it was too soft for him to hear what she was saying. And he craved it, longed to let the sound of her voice wash over him again.

For a long moment, he simply stared at her like she was an illusion, merely an apparition, taking in her small smile and regal profile, the irony of finding her here, of all places, on this completely random day not lost on him.

Then he turned around and walked away – before she saw him. Before he changed his mind.

And the second time, Steve saw her at the benefit gala in Gotham, on a cold November night. Standing by the bar across the room from him, a champagne flute in her hand, she was a kissing a dark-haired man in a suit that probably cost more than Steve’s life, and the five before it, his hand anchored possessively on the small of her bare back and her silver dress shimmering in the light of expensive chandeliers.

It felt like a sucker punch that left him breathless and completely paralyzed. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only stare.

Until he grew unbearable.

“Captain Trevor,” Amanda Waller appeared before Steve like a jack from the box just as he reached the bloody door, and before he had a chance to flee this place, this city, this country, his heart quite possibly no longer beating and his insides coiled into a knot. How he ended up here, how he left the ballroom when his legs felt like they weighed a ton each he couldn’t recall.

He’d completely forgotten about their meeting by now.

If she noticed his distress that Steve didn’t bother to conceal because who the hell cared, she showed no sign of it. Meeting here was her idea. In public – smart move. Although, as she’d put it earlier, he needed to have a look at the ‘best and brightest’ of Gotham, for his own benefit too, whatever that was supposed to mean.

Steve was not so sure anymore.

Regardless, Waller gave him a pleased once-over and nodded, all business. “I’m glad you’ve made it here. Follow me, please. I believe we have something to discuss.”

To be continued...

#wonder woman #wondertrev #steve trevor #diana prince #wondertrevnet #wondertrev fic #this story will be the death of me

[ellanainthetardis]

Meet the Trinkets! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know!

[FF] or [AO3]

10. Seventeen Weeks

Four was strangely peaceful for a District with such a high tourism ratio.

Effie had been there for over a week and she loved it. It was big enough to be anonymous and, so far, she hadn’t been spotted by any crazy fan, hater or reporter. Her pregnancy had hit the news and had remained on the front pages for a few days. Then, the hype had abruptly died down after an official statement had been released – she supposed she had Plutarch to thank for that. People thought she was still in Twelve, shuttered in their house in the Village, and that was just as well.

It allowed her to walk along the ocean front walk in peace.

Nobody really paid any attention to her anyway. She supposed when they pictured Effie Trinket, they still imagined her with flamboyant outfits and vibrant colored wigs… The woman in a simple purple dress, with a blue ribbon belt and a bow at the back that discreetly outlined her pregnant stomach under her apricot open coat, probably paled in comparison.

She had made a real effort to look a little more like the woman she used to be before the war that morning though. She had styled her hair in a crown braid. She was hoping it was fancy enough that her mother would forget to be disappointed by its plain natural color.

She was very nervous about seeing her parents again.

She had hoped the long walk along the beach from Annie’s house to the resort would help soothe her nerves but they were far too frayed.

Haymitch’s behavior hadn’t helped her either relax or reach a decision during the last week. She had spent her time worrying about him being sick, then not taking her calls, and she had finally convinced herself that he was about to kick her out of their house and to leave her on the streets – which was ridiculous on numerous levels but she had decided pregnant women were allowed to be ridiculous and irrational about some things. She had been so confused by his refusals to talk to her… They had parted on good terms and suddenly…

Now she was mostly worried though.

She hadn’t believed he was ill, at first, but the children had sworn he was, he said he was and Eileen had more or less confirmed she had crossed path with him once or twice and that he didn’t look good. She had been toying with the idea of taking a train back but, since the night Johanna had called him against her wishes, he was dutiful about getting in touch every day. He claimed he was doing better and their conversations were becoming less awkward and tensed, more… normal.

Granted they avoided talking about the elephant in the room – or, rather, the shrimp in the uterus – but…

The resort was huge and the beach, in that part of the District, was crowded with people from all over Panem. Despite it being late November, the air echoed with laughter, seagulls and the sound of children running around. She hesitantly made her way to the towering building that gleamed under the sun, feeling strangely out of her depths.

This used to be her world: luxury, four stars hotels, staff ready to bent in four to please her… Now… She felt disconnected from all that.

Habits died hard, though. It was natural to plaster a fake polite smile on her face, natural to nod and demand… She might not look like a billionaire anymore but there was still something regal to her bearings. She had been raised a certain way.

The restaurant’s maître d’hôtel recognized her. His eyes widened a little and he suddenly was very eager to please, despite her less than expensive dress and the not eccentric enough hair and make-up. She tipped him generously and he assured her the resort had a discretion clause, that no one would know she was there. It suited her needs perfectly.

She had made sure to arrive ten minutes early but, naturally, her mother was already there, sitting like a queen at the best table in the room – because only the best would do for Elindra Trinket. It was next to a bay window overlooking the ocean and the view was breathtaking. Water as far as the eye could see, melting into the blue sky in a horizon line so thin it was hard to discern.

“Effie!” Elindra exclaimed.

She sounded genuinely pleased to see her, so Effie relaxed a little when her mother stood up to kiss the air next to her cheeks. There had been more plastic surgeries, she noted in a passing thought, a facelift at least and some Botox injections around the eyes and the mouth. Her hair was a bright orange with yellow strikes – most people had adopted a more subdue District fashion but some still resisted and followed the pure Capitol trends – and styled in a puffy bun on top of her head. Not really inconspicuous. Effie definitely felt underdressed.  

“Mother.” she smiled. “I hope I am not late…”

Her mother waved that away. “Perfectly on time. On the dot. As usual.” A praise. That was unusual. Elindra latched on her hand, preventing her from sitting down just yet. “Let me look at you.” The woman’s blue eyes roamed on her, from her crown braid hairstyle to her apricot heels, stopping for a long moment on her round stomach. “Well. You do not look good. You are far too pale. Not too worry, nothing a good make-over won’t fix… They have wonderful salons in this resort.”

“I have been a bit tired, I must admit.” Effie offered, her smile straining. She should have known praises would be followed by that sort of comments.

“I would expect so, yes.” Elindra giggled, letting go of her wrist to touch her stomach. Effie tensed and instinctively stepped back. Her mother took her hand away as if she had been burned.

“My apologies.” she breathed out, horrified by how rude her own behavior was. “I…”

“No matter, no matter.” her mother dismissed. “Sit down. Let’s have a nice brunch. They have the best chef this side of the country.”

She did as she was told, sitting down and gracefully unfolding her napkin to place it on her lap before reaching for the menu. Her fingers were shaking with apprehension.

“Is Father not joining us?” she asked, after five minutes spent reading without understanding a single word.

“Business meeting.” Elindra hummed. “He is eager to see you. We will stay a few days, there will be time. If you are agreeable, that is.”

Effie peeked over her menu to find that her mother was staring at her instead of perusing her own. It occurred to her, right then, that she wasn’t the only one who was nervous. There had been screams the last time they had seen each other, accusations on both parts… Effie loved her family, and she knew that despite everything they loved her, but they were difficult. It had always been difficult.

“I have no plans.” she offered. “I am staying with some friends.”

“Really? Who?” Elindra asked, leaning a bit closer, like she always did when possible gossip was involved.

“Annie Odair and Johanna Mason.” she said, a bit ill-at-ease. The victors weren’t recluse by any mean, they were well-loved in the District – even Jo who had been adopted despite her less than stellar temper – but they had left the public sphere at the same time Haymitch and the children had and she was uncomfortable discussing them with people who did not belong to their tiny family.  

“Oh, I see.” her mother nodded, cringing a little at the mention of Johanna’s name. Seven’s victor had never been her favorite – too brash and too rude. “I heard Annie had a son…”

“Finn, yes.” Effie provided, a bright smile stretching her lips. “He is a delight.”

She was fond of the boy. Two years old and already a charmer… Every time she looked at him, she couldn’t help but remember his father. It was bittersweet.

The conversation was threatening to stall to a halt and she was thankful for the waiter who seemed to appear out of thin air. Elindra ordered tea for the two of them – and Effie shouldn’t have been impressed her mother remembered what her favorite was, because Elindra was the perfect hostess and probably knew how everyone in the Capitol took their tea, but she still was – and an indecent amount of food.

“No eggs.” Effie hurried in interrupting when her mother ordered two plates of that. “Please, the smell… I cannot bear it.”

“No eggs.” Elindra amended firmly, before proceeding to order almost everything else on the menu. It was stupid because Effie knew very well she would hardly touch a dish but she didn’t try to stop her. That was her mother’s way. “Are eggs the only thing you cannot stomach?” she asked once the waiter was gone.

“Morning sickness weren’t so terrible and I do not suffer from them anymore… But eggs…” She wrinkled her nose. “I am forcing Haymitch to get rid of them. It is tricky because if we do not eat them, he tends to forget to pick them up. Then, they hatch and we do not need any more geese than we already have, let me tell you. I think the children have been eating omelets and scrambled eggs every morning for the past three months, poor dears.”

A flash of horror passed on her mother’s face and she doubted it had to do with the children’s fate regarding eggs. It was probably picturing her surrounded by poultry.

“I was not aware you were living in a farm.” Elindra commented. It was almost painfully careful.

“We do not.” she chuckled. “The geese are Haymitch’s pets.”

“Really?” her mother winced. “How… droll.”

“It is a peculiar choice.” she granted. “But he has his reasons.”

And she wasn’t about to explain that his dead brother had been fond of animals and that his dream had always been to have a small farm instead of going to work in the mines. Haymitch’s decision to take in a gaggle of geese had been a sign of healing on his part, a way of finally putting his family to rest.

And he was fond of his birds. As annoying and noisy as they were.

Food came to their table, stalling the conversation once more. Effie immediately snatched a blueberry muffin, suddenly starving. Her mother shot her a disapproving look but poured their tea without comment.

“Did your…” Elindra stopped, swallowed whatever she had been about to say back down, and forced a sweet fake smile on her lips. “… victor come with you? Are we to meet him?”

“He stayed home.” she answered and it was difficult to keep her polite, cheerful mask on. “He is unwell. Flu, as I understood.”

“I see.” her mother said, her piercing eyes watching her – cataloguing, she was sure, all the tells Effie wasn’t able to control. “Is everything alright between the two of you? A pregnancy can be unsettling for a relationship.”

“We are fine.” she snapped, more harshly than she had intended it. She looked down at her cup of tea and took a deep breath. “Tell me, how is Lyssa? And her sons?”

Her eldest daughter was a subject Elindra could talk about for hours without pause. Effie made an effort but half of it flew high over her head. The food was good though and she supposed Haymitch would have been pleased by the amount she ate – her mother was certainly not but, to her credit, Elindra didn’t comment on her weight once.

Elindra insisted on them going to the resort’s beauty parlor once they were done with brunch and, since they had managed to go without any attempt at murdering each other so far, Effie accepted. There was nothing of the kind in Twelve and she enjoyed being pampered and fussed over. Her mother was all over her like she usually was all over Lyssa and Effie wasn’t used to that. She was still a bit wary but Elindra was doing her best to coax her into lowering her guard.

For instance, she knew her mother was dying to ask about what they had talked about during their last phone call: about the war and, most of all, the baby. And yet she didn’t jump at her throat like Effie had expected her to. Elindra was bidding her time, that much was clear to her, but she appreciated the respite nonetheless.

Accepting her invitation to dinner after a whole day of mindless activities was easy. And she truly was pleased when her father finally showed up at the restaurant. Tadius, too, had had a few facelifts since the last time she had seen him but he mostly looked the same as ever with his dark dyed hair. As soon as he saw her, he flashed her one of his rare smiles. She was also treated to a hug – a short one but it meant the world to her, she melted in her father’s embrace and it was so good she almost started crying for no good reason.

It was a nice dinner.

As well-behaved people, they avoided sensitive subjects and talked about anything but serious topics. She was happy when she came back to Annie’s house and she was happy when she called Haymitch.

“So it went well, then?” he asked, clearly surprised and, she thought, a little bit wary.

“Yes!” she chuckled. “I actually made plans to go shopping with Mother tomorrow.”

“Don’t overdo it.” he warned.

Minding that advice wasn’t difficult. The way Elindra fussed over her, she would have thought she was Lyssa.

Effie actually managed to relax during the next following days, even though she had a scare one morning because of a peculiar fluttering sensation in her stomach that wouldn’t go away. It eventually stopped only to start again later. She worked herself into a panic at the spa she was visiting with Elindra until her mother, after forcing her to tell her what was wrong, declared she was simply starting to feel the baby moving.

She didn’t know who was more excited about that.

“I missed it.” Haymitch grumbled on the phone later that same night.

“You wouldn’t be able to feel it.” she reassured him. “It is too soon.”

“You’re sure it’s the baby moving and nothing serious, yeah?” he insisted. “You should check with a doctor… Maybe…”

“Annie and my mother are both adamant.” she cut him off. There had been talks about visiting Four’s hospital but she had refused again and again. “I feel fine, I promise. I haven’t lost blood and I do not think anything is out of the ordinary. I even gained a few pounds…”

He let out a deep sigh, pacified but not convinced. “Still… I missed it.”

“I will come home soon.” she hummed.

“You better.” he snorted. “The house’s a fucking mess.”

She pursed her lips, having no trouble imagining it. “I suggest you clean it before I come back or you will get better acquainted with the couch. I am not  your maid, Haymitch.”

She and her mother had developed some sort of routine. They would meet up at the resort for brunch and then go explore the various shops along the ocean front walk.

Elindra was being very generous with gifts and Effie felt a bit bad when she realized she had filled Annie’s guestroom with tons of shopping bags – and she felt even worse when she realized she would be forced to buy another suitcase to bring everything back.

Still, she enjoyed walking around in her brand new maternity dress – a lovely black piece with red dots that she had accessorized with red heels, a red scarf and a cloak like red coat. New clothes and shopping sprees had always lifted her spirits and she had forgotten how fun it could be to do that with someone who actually knew something about fashion.

There were tons of little shops on the front walk, not just clothes but buildings dedicated to fishing, water sports… Everything one could imagine. On retrospect, she didn’t know why she was so surprised to find herself faced with a baby store. She would have walked right past it if her mother hadn’t stopped to peer through the window at the strollers on display. They were on discount.

“Perhaps we should check it out.” Elindra suggested. “Strollers are awfully expensive even in the city. We might get a good bargain.”

Effie’s enthusiasm at the bright sunny day faltered. “Mother…”

“I know, I know…” Elindra sighed distractedly, still studying the two strollers. “It would make little sense to buy one in Four when we can probably find a better model in the Capitol… Nevertheless…”

“We probably won’t need a stroller, Mother.” she snapped. “I told you we…”

She couldn’t say it.

Now that she could feel him in her belly…

It was only a fluttering, the tiniest of sensation, but she had grown used to it awfully fast. She was looking forward to it every time.

It was her baby moving inside her and the idea that she might have to give it up was breaking her heart.

And yet, at the same time, the idea of being responsible for a child…

She turned her back to the store and walked in the direction of the beach and the low concrete wall that separated the sand from the pavement. She had to hop a little to sit there and she was sure that, if Haymitch or the children had seen her, she would have been in for a lecture about overtaxing herself.

“Euphemia, really!” her mother huffed, coming to a halt next to her and throwing an embarrassed glance around. “We could have found a public bench if you insist on sitting down in the street.”

“Perhaps you should go back to the resort, Mother.” she declared. “I think I will go back to Annie’s.”

Elindra studied her, her lips pursed in displeasure at her tone. “Or you could finally tell me what all this nonsense about adoption is about. You were so upset on the phone…” Her lips pursed even more. “It disturbed me. We have our arguments but I never wished you ill, you know that.”

“I do.” she whispered. Elindra loved her. Not well, perhaps, but she knew her mother loved her. And, truth be told, she had been trying to do better in the last few days.

“Tell me, then.” Elindra ordered. “On the phone, you said your… victor…”

“You can call him Haymitch.” she cut her off with a vicious look.

“My apologies, darling, but given your condition I would rather call him your husband.” her mother sighed. “Not that it would give me great pleasure to do so but, at least, the whole situation would be proper. What is he to you? How should I refer to him in society? This is truly an etiquette conundrum and…”

“My everything.” she interrupted again, staring at the line of stores on the other side of the wide walk. “If you wish to know what he is to me, what he means to me, this is it. He is my everything. He is my best friend, my lover, and, if you insist on a coined term, then, yes, my husband in all but name.” She shook her head. “I know you do not like him but he is a good man, one of the best men I know, truly, and I love him.”

“I know you do.” Elindra sighed. “However…”

“I would not be here without him, Mother.” There was a warning growl in her voice she didn’t try to polish into something refined. “He saved me. Times and times again, he saved me. And he takes care of me. Those last two years… I do not think I would have survived without his support. We take care of each other. We are a team. I know you won’t understand but…” She shook her head again. “He saves me.”

She almost expected a lecture about how Effie wasn’t sixteen anymore and shouldn’t behave like a lovestruck teenager. Instead, Elindra studied her with rapt attention. “Are you referring to what happened during the rebellion?”

Effie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had no wish to discuss that part of her life. No wish. And yet…

“He fought to have me found and rescued, yes.” she whispered. “And then, the rebels would have had me tried and executed with the others. He… He bargained for my life but President Coin… She dangled me over his head to keep him under her thumb.” She hesitated to say the rest because her mother was the worst gossip – but she also hoped her mother could make the difference between what to keep to herself and what to disclose. “If Katniss had not killed her, I do not think she would have survived much longer either way. If you understand my meaning.”

Elindra’s eyes hardened but she couldn’t quite say if it was in disgust, anger or approval.

“I understand.” her mother said. “Well. Naturally, he is not what we hoped for you. Nevertheless, he was a key player of the rebellion and that does have its weight nowadays. This is a new Panem, after all. Having been a part of the revolution is fashionable. And he is a Quell victor. It is certainly unfortunate he does not have our social standing but he could still be groomed, perhaps.”

“Good luck with that.” she chuckled. “I have been trying for almost fifteen years now.”

“He has yet to meet me, darling.” Elindra smiled a frightening smile but her eyes soon darted to her stomach. “You said he wants the child.”

“He never wanted children.” she sighed. “But suddenly… Since we have been told I was pregnant he has been…” She rubbed the baby bump almost unconsciously. “I think he wants it very badly. And that frightens me.”

“Why?” Elindra frowned. “Are you afraid he would be a bad father?”

“Of course not.” she huffed and then averted her eyes. “However, I do not think we are the best suited to be parents. There is his alcoholism…”

“Would he hurt the child?” Elindra interrupted her.

“No.” Effie snapped defensively, glaring at her. “You think he is a brute. He is not. He never hurt anyone when he was drunk. It is himself he wants to harm, not others.”

“I see.” her mother answered. “Then, it is simple. Ban alcohol from the house. He can drink elsewhere at his own leisure.”

“Nothing about this is simple.” she scoffed. “If it was only Haymitch… The main problem is me. I cannot… I killed children.”

“Nonsense.” Elindra dismissed.

“Mother, I am sure you think being an escort was very glamorous…” she started only to be interrupted again.

“It was certainly very glamorous.” her mother scolded her. “But you will remember I warned you against accepting that position. I told you you wouldn’t be happy working in the Games industry.”

“Because I was Twelve’s escort and you were ashamed of me.” she accused.

Elindra snorted and looked around, anywhere rather than at her. “Because you were always too softhearted and far too smart, Euphemia. It is easier to drown in the glitter than to look at the scratched veneer underneath.” Effie was speechless. Her parents had always been vocal supporters of Snow. Always. Elindra dismissed her surprise with a wave of her hand. “The world was what it was and we all do what we need to survive. You did not kill anyone, Effie. They would have died anyway.”

“But I was part of it…” she countered slowly.

“Weren’t we all?” Elindra asked in a hard voice. “I cared not for those children and I still do not care, I am only concerned with my own. You will find it horrible, no doubt, but I do not share your rebellious tendencies and your grand ideals. I am more pragmatic than that.”

She stared at her mother, not quite surprised by what she was claiming and yet feeling as if she was seeing her for the first time.

“It was never about ideals.” she denied slowly. “I am pragmatic too. It was all about my family. Katniss and Peeta, I mean. And Haymitch too. The Quarter Quell… If at any point I made a conscious decision to go against President Snow, it was because of the Quell. He threatened my team. He would have had them killed and I couldn’t…”

Elindra pursed her lips, obviously not truly at ease with the subject they were discussing. She kept glancing around as if she was scared someone would overhear them. Or maybe she was worried because Effie was sitting on a wall instead of on a bench. It wasn’t a ladylike behavior and, just like her, Elindra liked her masks too.

“And how does this prove you would be a bad mother exactly?” her mother challenged. “From what you are telling me, you would have sacrificed everything for your victors. The Mockingjay and the boy… You consider them to be yours, you told me so before. You tried to protect them.”

“And I paid the price.” she shrugged, ignoring the reproaching look she got at that casualness. She placed both of her hands on her stomach, almost protectively, her voice breaking a little. “They tore me apart mother. Inside and out. I was a broken doll when I woke up in the hospital. You cannot imagine…” She stopped talking and took a deep breath, blinking away the tears she was certain her mother would scold her for. “I still have panic attacks and flashbacks. Nightmares. There are days I can barely convince myself to get out of bed and others when I do not manage to at all. This is no life for a child. My burden should not be his.”

Elindra watched her for a while, sighed, and covered one of the hands still resting on her stomach with hers. “But you will get better.”

“Will I?” Effie laughed through the tears burning her eyes. “It does not feel like it. We have so much baggage… Both Haymitch and I… This is not just something that will go away, it is something I have to learn how to live with. I am scarred for life, inside and out. Will I always manage to put my child first? Before my own fears and insecurities? I am not certain we should make the gamble.”

“There are other solutions that do not involve you giving him away.” her mother insisted, squeezing her hand. “Your father and I had a long discussion about this and… We would not mind… That is… We could take the baby in.” Effie opened her mouth but Elindra continued before she could cut in. “Naturally we would be delighted if you came too. You would have help in the Capitol if you would rather not be by yourself… And not just with your… With Haymitch. He would be welcomed to stay too if he so wished. As I said, he is famous enough and he knows important people. It wouldn’t be a source of embarrassment, not with a positive spin on it. And we would love to have you home, Effie. Both your father and I. We would love it.”

There was something almost desperate to her voice, a plea that unsettled Effie because her mother was a lot of things but never desperate.

“Mother…” she winced.

“Think about it. Take your time.” Elindra urged her. “Wouldn’t it be better if your child was with family, with his grandparents? This way you would still be his mother. You could take him back at any time. Trust me, darling, it is not so easy to be estranged from one’s child.”

In the end, the only thing Effie could do was agree to think it over and talk to Haymitch about it. She had known how that would go well before she even called him.

She barely listened as he told her about how someone from the Hob had tried to convince Katniss to adopt a puppy – although the puppy had, according to him, already been the size of a small dog. Apparently it was an amusing tale but she couldn’t focus.

She interrupted him halfway through.

He reacted in the way she expected him to.

“You want to do what?” he shouted.

���I did not say I wanted to do it.” she snapped. “I said perhaps we should consider it.”

“Forgot about how miserable they made you already?” he mocked. “Forgot about all the petty comments and the…”

“Haymitch, you weren’t always an example of a well-behaved partner yourself.” she retorted. “Did you forget about those times you called me a bitch if not worse? People change.”

“That’s bullshit.” he scoffed. “Assholes like that…”

“You are talking about my parents. Be careful.” she warned.

“Should have known they wanted something.” he went on. “Well, they can suck it. Nobody’s taking my kid to the Capitol, Princess. You want to go back? Go back. You don’t want us? Fine. Then you leave. But the shrimp stays with me. We’ll be just fine on our own.”

“I never said I was leaving.” she hissed. “Do not put words in my mouth.”

“Can’t you see that’s what they’re aiming at? They’ll lure you back with the kid.” he sneered. “Don’t be fucking stupid. They don’t care about the baby, it’s you they want. They’ll try to marry you off to one of their assholes and…”

“I cannot talk to you when you are like this.” she shouted back, losing her patience. “If you cannot have a civil conversation…”

“How the fuck am I supposed to have a civil conversation about this with you when you’re not here?” he snarled. “You’re the one who left. You’re the one who can’t make up her mind. I’m clear in my head, Effie.”

“Well.” she huffed. “I am sorry to try to put the well-being of my child before my selfishness. Goodnight, Haymitch.”

“Don’t you dare…” he warned.

She hung up.

It was rude but satisfying.

Johanna leaned against the wall, arms folded in front of her chest, lips pursed. “He’s got a point, you know. You can’t trust Capitols.”

“I am a Capitol.” she growled.

“Case in point.” Jo taunted.

It took all she had not to become ruder.  

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #april showers #idk why tumblr wouldn't let me post #you don't even imagine what i had to do #upload in doc #copy paste on mobile #save as draft #come back to computer #NIGHTMARE #get your shit together tumblr

[achiactli-blog]

Hair

Hair as long as she is old. Silky as if spun by many spider’s miniscule efforts. She is dancing to a song I don’t understand. Her hair is waving side to side like snakes for a charmer. They crawl up and start at her head she runs her soft, paper hands through her hair. Grabs a fistful and begins to wrap it up in a sailor’s knot. Taking her time, but almost as if time is slowing for her to take every moment to wrap like a bee’s nest atop her head. She doesn’t even need a stretching hair tie. It stays up in itself. Curling up into a ball like a tiny cat stopping for a moment to rest, tail curled in and all. She turns to look at me and her smile reveals the many other friendly smiles she’s bound to have smiled in her life. It gives me comfort. She beckons me forward and says to me, “child, anew we are again. Friendly forest fires breathe forward new life.” I wonder what she is talking about. Strong myrrh begins to feel the room, my senses begin to overwhelm with the heady and thick perfume that begins to fill my lungs and head. She tells me, “breathe, child. Do not forget to breathe.” She lifts a careful finger and motions for my lungs to grow in size like balloons. My lungs expand before expelling out all the scent in a rushed hurry and soon I am calm again. Seagulls argue outside, cool mist now replaces the thick aroma of the church incense and I am fresh. The wind outside comes hurrying into the house and almost pulls us out, begging us to come out and play and kick up warm, white sand with our bare feet. The floor creaks as I begin to walk towards her. Her head never stopping to sway back and forth, almost hypnotizing. She hums softly as if trying to tell a secret to a friend. The song is one I have never heard before but resonates around me like a scarf given to me by an old lover that I forgot I even had. A warm hand on my shoulder makes me turn around slowly. But I see there is only air. I turn t