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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

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His Good Sweater: Chapter 13

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.7k

Recommended song: "Cupid’s Chokehold/Breakfast in America” by Gym Class Heroes

"I have to go."

"Can't you stay five more minutes?"

"I wish."

"Come on, just a few more minutes to cuddle." Pierre flings back the fluffy duvet and holds out a hand. "Please?"

"I have an exam," you say with a sigh but bend to press a kiss to his upturned palm. "I can't skip."

Pierre groans and slings an arm over his eyes. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

"I don't have a sim but I have an old PlayStation you're more than welcome to use. I think I still have one or two games."

"That won't keep me busy."

"I'm sure you'll find something. Just stay out of trouble okay? I'd like to get my security deposit back when I finally move out of this hellhole."

"Okay," Pierre grumbles, sitting up to give you a quick kiss. "What time are you getting back?"

"Four. We can go out to dinner or something." You smooth a hand over his hair, smiling lightly. "Or we can go for a picnic and take a walk through Saint James Park."

"Sounds like a plan." He turns his head to kiss your palm. "I'll be counting down the minutes."

You roll your eyes but your smile contradicts the sass. "I'll be home before you know it. Love you, champion."

"I love you too, mon coeur."

He was endlessly grateful for how easily the two of you had fallen back into each other. When he had shown up at your doorstep he had expected there to be awkward pauses and minutes of tense silence, but there had been blissfully little of either. As the days bleed into each other, your relationship only gets steadier, closer and closer to what it used to be. Maybe it was because you had been the one to break the silence or maybe it was because he had thrown himself into his career into someone's bed- whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. He was simply grateful to be welcomed back into your life. He didn't plan on leaving any time soon.

Pierre allows himself a half hour of lounging in bed before forcing himself to get up and shower. Off weeks were hard; all he wanted to do was rest and recharge but he still had to follow his workout regimen and sleep schedule or he risked falling out of the habit, making it that much harder to get back in the groove come race week.

First order of business: clean the clutter you had shoved in closets and the spare room prior to his arrival the day before. Folding the three baskets of clean laundry took an hour, washing dishes another thirty minutes, and vacuuming the entire flat took twenty. Once the counters are spotless and there isn’t a stray sock to be found, he takes stock of your pantry and notes what staples you were running low on.

Two hours later he trudges back up the three flights of stairs to your apartment, arms laden with reusable bags packed to the gills with food. His legs burn and he's slightly winded from the excursion; at least that could count as his work out for the day.

He's just about to start slicing vegetables for dinner when his phone chimes with a text from his PR agent, Sylvie.

You're supposed to be in an interview now. Where are you?

"Oh shit." He scrambles for his laptop which of course was dead. He manages to plug it in at the dining room table and angle it so the background is mostly neutral, just a band poster framed behind him. He checks his hair before logging into the interview.

"There's the star," the interviewer says, far too chipper to be entirely genuine.

"Sorry, I was having connection issues." He queues up his signature sweetheart smile that gets him out of any squabbles. It works, the woman's irritation melting into a more easy expression.

"Let's just get right into it. Since we're low on time I'll jump right in, if you don't mind."

Pierre leans back. He had an inkling where this was headed. "By all means, please."

"We just saw news of your deal with Christian Horner- if you take seventh in this year's drivers championship, it looks like you're at Red Bull Racing next year. How does that feel after being publicly demoted mid-season in 2019?"

A smirk tugs at Pierre's lips. He had known this exact question was coming. He had debated how to answer it without starting waves and still remaining truthful. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his ability to be diplomatic when others may have let their egos get in the way.

"Obviously I'm grateful that Red Bull has recognized the hard work I've been putting in at Alpha Tauri," he starts. "I think I've been able to push the car as far as I can but I still have pace in me, personally. So moving into the Red Bull would let me loose, so to speak, and give me a chance to prove that Red Bull is where I belong."

"Right, you have had quite a spectacular season so far with a race win under your belt and a few podiums for good measure. What do you attribute that success to? Why is it so different now in an Alpha Tauri versus that coveted second Red Bull seat?"

Pierre purses his lips. The answer he was expected to give wasn't one he was willing to voice. Instead he opts for neutral. "I've been able to focus and hone my driving this season. I've found a groove that works for me and with it has come an insane amount of confidence, which is something I struggled with for awhile after going back to Torro Rosso. I think it's really just that I'm finally comfortable in the car and with my team and that makes a huge difference."

"Thank you for that," the journalist says and Pierre nods. "Shifting gears, I have a few questions about your personal life if you don't mind."

This was the part he always dreads. Questions were often prying and he had to subtly skirt around them in a way that offered a satisfying answer without giving away too much. It was an art he liked to think he had perfected over the years but still didn't enjoy.

"As long as you don't mind me staying silent if I don't want to answer."

The woman laughs, the sound sharp and grating. "Of course. Unless I can bribe you into giving me an exclusive."

"Likely not. But you ask the right questions and we'll see."

"You've been seen hanging around a certain London neighborhood lately- that wouldn't have anything to do with you and your lovely lady, would it?"

He had been waiting for that one, too. When the two of you had returned from Red Bull headquarters he had noticed the man taking pictures across the street. He hadn't said anything to you at the time because really, there was no point in getting you worked up when he had a plan to handle it.

The question played right into his hand, in fact.

Pierre sits forward, folding his hands in front of him. "Actually yes. We recently got back together and if you'll let me, I would like to make a request."

The woman leans back and checks her notes. "Well it's not quite what I had planned but please," she gives a flourish with a hand, "you have the floor."

"I know driver's personal lives are something that a lot of people are interested in and that's great. I don't mind sharing things with my fans or letting them get the inside scoop, but there's some things I would rather be left alone. My relationship is one of them. I know you all took note that she hasn't been around the past couple months and if I'm being honest, it's because of comments and press coverage that invaded her privacy. I think some people forgot she was more than just a name on a screen."

Pen poised to take notes, the interviewer prompts, "You said you had a request?"

He doesn’t stop to assess the damage he had already undoubtedly done. Sylvie was probably already on the phone doing damage control with every news outlet she could get her hands on, if her muted and black square at the bottom of the screen was an indication.

"All I'm asking is that you leave her alone. If you have questions or comments you have to make, just direct them at me. Don't follow her around asking about me. Don't comment on her posts unless you're capable of being a decent human. Just… let her live her life in peace."

Maybe he was a love sick fool, but honestly he didn't care if he lost some support from fans. If they had such strong opinions on his personal life, he would be better off without them anyway. And his team could cut him and even if he was unable to secure a seat in Formula 1 after next season, he would survive.

But if he lost you again, he would be broken. It had taken being apart from you for him to realize it and he'd be damned if he was ever disconnected from you like that again.

"That's quite the speech."

Pierre shrugs. "It was. She's the most important thing in my life, right up there with racing.” Now that he had started down the road of truth, he found it impossible to hold his tongue. “I lost her once because people couldn't be bothered to remember that their words have consequences. I won't let it happen again."

"So you see yourself with her for a long time then?" The woman's eyes glitter with the potential of getting an even juicer tidbit from him.

Pierre’s jaw sets, muscles feathering. "That's not something I'm prepared to discuss."

The woman purses her lips and tips her head to the side. There was clearly more she wanted to say. "Well, I have to thank you for what you've given me here. My boss is gonna love the exclusive. I won't push any further. Thanks for your comments, Pierre."

"Thanks for actually being respectful."

“We aren’t all monsters.” The woman shrugs. “I can’t say I haven’t had my moments but I try to be straightforward.”

“Right, yeah. I get that you have a job to do.”

“Anyway. I look forward to seeing what you can do the rest of this season. Good luck.”

He signs off and instantly anxiety washes over him. If she twisted his words he was screwed. Sylvie would be on the phone as soon as the article was printed, no doubt trying to soothe sponsors and investors. She'd give him an earful about being respectful and not poking the bear but he'd tune it out like he always did.

The sooner he got away from Red Bull, the better.

Instead of dwelling on it he busies himself with cooking. It was one of his guilty pleasures. He always requested a full kitchen when he was staying anywhere more than a few days so that if he had the chance to make a home-cooked meal, he had the option. For tonight he had selected his favorite recipe. Parmesan-Cesar chicken wasn't normally something you would ever touch with a ten foot pole but as long as he was making it, Pierre knew you'd at least give it a try.

Music blasting in the background, Pierre sings along quietly as he unpacks the rest of the ingredients and gets to work. He does a little spin between the island and the sink, rinsing the dishes and putting them right in the dishwasher as he uses them. A clean kitchen is the mark of a great chef, his mom had told him, drilling the phrase into him when he was young.

In the middle of cutting potatoes Pierre gets a call. He only has an hour until you're home so he doesn't bother stopping, just puts it on speaker and continues measuring spices.

"Hey Daniel."

"Heard you're in London," Daniel says, Australian accent thick. "And a little birdie told me you and your lady got back together."

"We did," Pierre says, a smile splitting his face. "Finally."

"Thank god, now I don't have to listen to your drunk woe-is-me rambling anymore."

Pierre laughs and sets aside the measuring spoons. "It's not that bad."

"Oh please." Pierre could practically hear the eyes rolling. "The number of times I had to send an uber to a bar after a grand prix is insane. Charles and I should be entitled to financial compensation with the amount of babysitting we've been doing."

"I can handle myself!"

"Not after a martini you can't."

He was right there. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Oh right- I'm actually in town today too, got some stuff to shoot for McLaren before we head to Austria for the race next week. You guys wanna come out with us tonight? We're heading to a bar or two."

"I actually had something planned-"

"She already said she's coming!" Dan's girlfriend shouts in the background.

“Well then why even ask me?”

“To be polite,” Daniel offers with a laugh. “We’re meeting at the rooftop bar at the Trafalgar hotel at seven. That give you enough time to do whatever you had planned that’s apparently more important than seeing your best mates?”

“We’ll be there,” Pierre says and hangs up. He finishes seasoning the potatoes and pops them in the oven, finally getting a chance to sit while they cook alongside the main course.

He's on his feet a few minutes later, decluttering the last bits of mess around your flat. It was clear it hadn't had a decent cleaning in quite awhile- hopefully you'd keep it tidy now that the effort had been made. The guys would tease him endlessly if they found out he was acting like a housewife.

You arrive home just as he’s setting the table. “God, it smells amazing in here.”

“Salut, mon amour.” Hands full with hot dishes, he settles for a kiss to your cheek. “I made dinner.”

“And you cleaned,” you observe. “You were a busy boy.”

“Pyry would kill me if he found out I was laying around all day. I had to do something.”

You hang your backpack on the hook behind the door and take a seat at the table. “Well remind me to thank him again when I see him. This looks delicious.”

Pierre grins over his shoulder at you. “Me or the food?”

You throw your head back and laugh, loud and unrestrained. “The food, you goof.”

Pierre quirks a brow. "Is that the honest answer?"

"Okay, maybe both."

The meal is filled with your ramblings about your exam and your new hobby- this month it was hiking. You went into detail about all the few trails in the city you’d been on as well as the more challenging ones that dotted the countryside. Pierre just nods along as you talk, already planning on staying up late to learn what he could about the topic so he could be a better conversation partner.

The pair of you work together to tidy the kitchen and put away any leftovers. “Did you bring something semi nice to wear tonight or do we have to make a quick trip to the store?”

“I’ve got some Tauri stuff I can wear. And not just team gear,” he adds when you groan. “You know that cream sweater you love? The one with the logo debossed on the front? I’ve got that.”

“Oh,” you say before biting your lip. Your eyes trail down his frame and back up like you’re imagining it on him. A tingle travels up his spine under your assessing gaze. If you kept that up, neither of you would make it out of the apartment tonight. “My favorite. Yeah, wear that. It’ll be on my floor by the end of the night.”

Pierre places his hands on your waist and grins. “Will it? And what will be on the floor from your closet, hm?”

“Your favorite dress.”

“The orange one?” He realizes half a second too late that you would never know how much he adored that dress from the gala. It had hugged your curves in all the right places and left your back exposed, which would leave him free to trace patterns on your soft skin whenever he pleased. He had missed out on worshipping you in it that night and he wouldn’t mind the opportunity to do so now.

You roll your eyes. “I can’t wear that to a bar.”

“Says who?” Pierre nuzzles his face against your neck, breathing you in. A light undercurrent of sweat from your walk home from classes mingles with the usual bright scent of you, only serving to rile him up further. Never in a million years would he have guessed that a simple scent could do him in, and yet here he was, completely wrapped up in yours.

“Says me.” You sigh, tipping your head to the side when Pierre’s nose grazes your skin.

His lips follow until he reaches your jaw before he pulls back. “What one are you wearing then?”

“Does it matter?” You cross your arms, the smirk playing on your kissable lips tempting him.

“I have to mentally prepare myself.” And if whatever you chose was too sexy, he would need to get his handsiness out of his system before the pair of you met up with Daniel and his girlfriend. The last thing he needed was to be on the front of some seedy gossip column when his plan was to ease back into it.

You smile up at him, broad and unrestrained as if knowing your answer would affect him greatly. “The cobalt blue one that makes you stutter.”

The dress in question was just as form fitting as the orange one, but shorter and decidedly more distracting. It fell mid thigh and the spaghetti straps left your shoulders exposed, which coupled with the low back displayed a downright sinful amount of skin. You had worn it at a Torro Rosso event a couple years back and he had scarcely been able to get a full sentence out around you all night.

“That one’s a close second.” He follows you to your room, leaving you to hunt through the closet while he digs through his suitcase, thankful that he had the foresight to check out of his hotel on the way back from Red Bull and bring his things here.

Because there was no way in hell he was missing a second of being by your side while he was in town. Every moment had to count when he had no idea when he would be able to sleep next to you again, not when the season was nearly over and there were two double headers between now and winter break. When so many variables stood between him and you, he had no problem prioritizing you over a routine workout or a full night’s rest.

Pierre changes into the sweater and a pair of dark skinny jeans well before you emerge from the bathroom. He doesn’t bother responding to Dan’s text that includes an address and reminds him to be on time, instead opting to scroll through his instagram feed. He likes a handful of posts from his fellow drivers, including one of Max actually smiling at something off camera.

“Well?”

Pierre’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. The phone falls from his hand when he drags his eyes over your body, head to toe and back again.

Oh, he was so fucked.

Maybe it was selfish, but with your hair done like that, the barest brush of makeup lining your eyes and in that stunningly blue dress, he didn’t want any other man to have the privilege of laying their eyes on you.

No, you were all his.

The moment you’re within reach, Pierre places his hands on the back of your thighs, just beneath the curve of your barely covered ass. You chuckle and tap your fingers under his chin. “Close your mouth; you’ll catch flies.”

“Just so you know, if you wear that dress I can’t be held liable for my actions.” Up to and including scaring off anyone that wasn’t Daniel or his girlfriend. No one else deserved to be blessed with your radiance. Hell, he didn’t deserve it, and yet here you stood.

“We’ll see about that.”

**********

Daniel and his girlfriend had already made their way through a round of drinks by the time you arrive. It wasn’t Pierre’s fault he couldn’t keep his hands off you and wound up getting distracted on the drive over.

"Late as always," she greets, kissing your cheek. "Dan got us here fifteen minutes early because he wanted the table with the best view."

"Like our names wouldn't have gotten us the table if we asked," Pierre says, wrapping Daniel in a one-armed hug before kissing his girl’s cheek in a traditional French greeting. "The view is pretty great though."

You were already leaning on the glass partition, hands curled over the edge and undoubtedly leaving behind fingerprints on the pristine surface, completely unfazed by the fact that the other patrons were staring. You had eyes only for the London skyline and Trafalgar square lit up below. The bar with its white marble tabletops and strict dress code was absolutely not a place that you should be standing on your tiptoes for a better view, but there was no way he could condemn you when your face lit up like that.

Pierre just places a hand on the small of your back and shoots a look at the bartender currently glaring in your direction, daring the smartly dressed man to say anything. He only raises a brow and resumes filling drink orders.

"You guys know how to pick a place," you say, "I could stand here all night."

"Right," Daniel's girlfriend says, rolling her eyes at Pierre who shrugs as if to say what do you want me to do? He was powerless to deny you anything that brought you a semblance of joy; your smile was everything to him. “Love, why don’t you come tell us about uni? You’re the only one of us currently enrolled, and I’m sure the boys would love to hear about all the drama.”

You and Pierre share a secret grin. You shake your head but allow him to guide you back to the cocktail table. “Drama? I’m an engineering major. The closest thing we have to drama is someone grossly miscalculating a structural load.”

Dan shoots Pierre a mischievous grin. “I heard Stroll might be moving next year-”

Both you and Daniel’s girlfriend groan at the same time. “No racing talk when we’re around tonight,” she says. “I’ve heard enough lately.”

“What’s new in the publishing world?” You ask, leaning into Pierre when he wraps an arm around you. He only half listens to her explain the so-called “top secret” project she’s currently working on, instead opting to get drunk on you.

The light breeze filtering through the surrounding buildings ruffles your hair. You lift a hand absentmindedly to tuck it behind your ear in an attempt to keep it out of your face. Everything you do is amazing to him, snagging his attention even when he should be listening to whatever it was his friends were saying. Your gravity was simply too strong to bother resisting.

“Enough talk,” Daniel’s girlfriend says, waving a hand. “You need a drink, and I want to dance. Let’s go.” Before Pierre can protest, she’s dragging you away to the glass top bar. You throw an apologetic glance over your shoulder and Pierre just winks. He was fine watching you from afar for now.

Pierre’s gaze drops to your perky ass when you lean in to let the bartender know what you want, likely shouting to be heard over the music, your dress riding up a bit with the movement. For having such a strict dress code, this place sure did feel like an upper class club.

You hook your thumb over a shoulder, the bartender’s gaze darting to Pierre before the man nods. The only explanation you offer is a wink, followed by a note on a cocktail napkin and a beer delivered a few minutes later by a server.

This is supposed to be the best beer they have. Just try it.

Leave it to you to constantly push him outside his comfort zone. Pierre tentatively sniffs the foamy glass and shrugs before taking a sip. Not bad, but he still preferred his usual whiskey.

Setting the glass down, Pierre turns back to Daniel. “Congrats on extending your contract with McLaren by the way. Should give you a decent shot at keeping up with the big boys and landing some serious points.”

“Seems like most of us are moving around, doesn’t it? Sainz to Ferrari, Seb to Aston Martin... The only one with any sort of long term commitment is Max and now me I guess.”

“And Charles,” Pierre adds. “He’s stuck in that red monstrosity for the foreseeable future.”

Daniel laughs, taking a swig from his glass. “And you’re moving too, huh? Austria should be interesting,” Daniel remarks, watching the girls at the bar nursing their own drinks. “What with the news of your new contract breaking and all.”

“Potential contract,” Pierre corrects. “Not for sure yet.”

Daniel scoffs. “Come on mate. You won’t have any problem getting up to seventh by the end of the season. Perez is slipping and the news that his seat is in jeopardy will only help your cause.”

Pierre takes a sip of his amber beer and nods. “I’m sure Perez doesn’t appreciate it, but he’s always been a good sport.” You catch Pierre’s eye and lift your fresh flute of champagne in a mock salute. Dan’s girlfriend drags you out on the dancefloor and immediately spins you. Your laugh is nearly audible, the memory of it fresh in Pierre’s mind as he watches you.

“Mate, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Daniel shakes his head and drains his drink. “I really don’t know how it took you two this long to come together. You’ve been dancing around each other for years but neither of you would admit it.”

“I could say the same about you two.”

Daniel shrugs. “Fair point. At least we got it all worked out in a weekend though.”

Pierre rolls his eyes and shoves his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever. Not all of us can have a perfect love story.”

The grin Daniel shoots Pierre is pure sunshine. “How long are you planning on waiting before you ask her to marry you?”

“What?” Pierre sputters, nearly choking on air. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“Oh come on,” Dan says, rolling his eyes. “We all know it’s coming eventually.”

Pierre would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. But he wasn’t sure if it was the time for a proposal, not when you had just gotten back together. The last thing he wanted to do was go through the pain of losing you again because he was too forward.

“One day at a time,” Pierre says finally, dragging himself back to earth. “I just got her back a few days ago. I don't want to scare her off by proposing just yet.”

“Right. Well you might want to get a ring on that hand sooner rather than later,” Daniel notes, gesturing to the two men who had approached the girls. “How long are we gonna let that go on before we step in?” Neither of you paid the men any attention, instead enjoying each other’s company, but the men’s eyes roaming over your body sets Pierre on edge.

“They can handle themselves,” Pierre remarks, shifting on his feet. The weak attempt at self assurance didn’t do much to negate the red tinting his vision. “They’re fine.”

“Her sharp tongue will hold them at bay,” Daniel says, winking at his girlfriend. “For a while at least.” Props to Daniel for possessing inhuman amounts of restraint, but Pierre’s muscles were coiled and ready to interject at the first sign of trouble.

He has to pause to remind himself he doesn't own you. You could make your own decisions about who you spoke with and who you entertained as long as he was the one to take you home. He didn't care if you wanted to flirt; he knew it meant nothing and if you got a free drink out if it then so be it. But those were the rules: flirting, no touching. He'd step in if need be if someone took it too far.

But that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

Pierre watches tight lipped as you politely chat with the man, your body language closed off and dismissive. Pierre hates that you even speak a word to him. He knows it shouldn’t bother him because he trusts you, but the stranger is a wild card. Pierre watches like a hawk as the man inches ever closer, slowly interesting himself into your personal space. He waits for you to take a step back, to grant him that silent permission to come over and insert himself in the conversation and get his hands on you, this proving you weren't on the market.

One of the men shouts something at you over the music and you leer back at him, clearly disgusted at whatever he had said. Whirling on him, you open your mouth, likely to snap out a profanity lined retort, when his hand latches onto your arm.

"Oh, fuck no."

Half a second later, Pierre is stalking across the dance floor, no thoughts other than teaching the asshole a lesson. His hands are already curled into fists, ready to swing if the man hadn't moved by the time he arrived. Tolerating someone hitting on you was one thing, but blatantly ignoring the clear dismissals and laying a hand on you? No way in hell was he standing by and letting that happen.

The resounding crack of your open hand hitting the man’s face has pride swelling in Pierre’s chest. That’s my girl. You’d solved the problem before he’d even arrived. You jab a finger in the man’s face, Daniel’s girlfriend right there with you to back you up.

“Fuck off,” you were saying as Pierre approached, “or do you need to go back to kindergarten and learn to keep your hands to yourself? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before laying a hand on a taken woman- or any woman, for that matter.”

Driving your point home, Pierre slips an arm around your waist and pulls you in until your back is flush to his chest. You crane your neck up, the tense muscles beneath his fingertips and the fury contorting your features confirming just how rattled you are.

The lines creasing your brow are soothed away when you realize who holds you. You open your mouth to say something but Pierre places a hand on your throat, thumb and forefinger framing your jaw as he cuts you off with a kiss, his eyes locked on the guy still standing off to the side holding his cheek.

You taste like the champagne you’d been sipping all night. It’s the only thought in his head outside of the jealousy licking through his veins like wildfire as he claims you then and there in front of the crowd. Mine, his heart sings. He flexes his fingers, taking advantage of your surprised gasp to slide his tongue against yours. Mine, mine, mine.

Pierre lets you be the one to break away, lips curling in a smug, kiss-swollen smile as you address the men. “In case you still don’t get the picture, I’m not interested. And neither is she.” You jerk your chin, indicating your friend and Daniel, who had indeed followed Pierre and since mirrored his possessive stance, one arm wrapped tightly around his own girlfriend.

The two men reluctantly slink away after mumbling something unintelligible but undoubtedly indecent. It had been a week and a half since he had been on track and he had plenty of pent up aggression to get out. He didn’t normally opt for using someone’s face as a punching back as a stress reliever, but rulers were made to be broken. Your hand splayed on Pierre’s chest is all that stops him from following and asking them to repeat themselves.

“Just let me hit him,” Pierre says, voice far more level and put together than he had expected it to be. “Just one punch. That’s all I would need.” His knuckles smart like he had already connected them to the man’s face.

“And let you throw away your contract? I don’t think so. The last thing you need is a blurry photo of you knocking someone’s teeth in hitting the front page of every gossip mag in the country. I’m fine, so you can cut the bravado.”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

“I was wondering how long you were gonna leave us out here,” you say, trying to regain Pierre’s attention. When it doesn’t work, you grasp his stubbled chin and force him to look at you. “I didn’t expect to be stranded for so long.”

The eye contact is what finally calms his racing thoughts. Seeing the trust reflected in your face is enough to have his grip on your waist loosening to allow you to face him. “Someone convinced me you could fend for yourself. And while it seems that’s true, I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

Your satisfied hum is swallowed by the pounding bass but Pierre feels it rumble in his chest. “Sometimes even a queen needs saving.”

Though his point had long since been proven, Pierre’s hand slides down your back to rest on your ass nonetheless. “I knew you going out looking like this would cause trouble.”

You tip your head to the side, feigning innocence as you press your hips to his. You grin, noticing the hard on that had been bothering him all night. “Looking like what?”

“Drop dead fucking gorgeous,” he says, accentuating his point by sliding his hand up your thigh and under the hem of your dress. “You know I’m tearing this off you the second we get home, right?”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

The sound that escapes him is primal and possessive. The presence of bystanders does nothing to prevent him from palming your ass and kneading the flesh. He presses his lips to your neck and mumbles between kisses, “To torture me.”

You push lightly at his chest, laughing although your eyes dart around the space in search of cameras. Old habits were hard to break. “That may have been part of my motivation. But you’ll have to wait. I haven’t seen Dan in forever and I would actually like to have a conversation with him before we sneak off somewhere.”

At least you knew he wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to get between your legs. “Fine,” he grumbles, hands settling on your hips. “Only because I love you.”

You beam up at him. “Love you too.”

Arm still slung around your waist, Pierre nods at Daniel and follows the other couple back to the table.

After two more drinks, you and Daniel's girlfriend are singing along to the music in lilting, off key voices, simply enjoying the night air. A stray breeze catches your hair just as you turn to look at Pierre and his heart damn near leaps out of his chest.

To his credit, Pierre’s cheeks are rosy from more than just the charged glances you throw at him as the night wears on. He was on his fourth beer, far more than he usually drank these days, and the buzzing in his head was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. When he has to squint to tell the time on his watch, he figured that was enough.

"I should probably get going mate," Pierre says, turning to Daniel. "Early flight."

Daniel laughs and beacons for the girls. He kisses his girlfriend's cheek when she returns with you in tow. "Are we leaving already?" You pout, and Pierre had half a mind to stay simply have your smile make an encore appearance.

"Car coming," he murmurs, dipping his head to give you a proper kiss. God, you were stunning in that dress- he might not be able to string together words coherently, but he knew that much.

"Fine." You cross your arms for a split second to convey your feelings on the matter before wrapping your friends in a hug and saying your goodbyes.

Pierre's hand is already on your ass before you're in the uber. Get a few drinks in the boy and he let his guard down. You laugh and pull out of his embrace to usher him into the sleek black suv. If he had been coherent, he probably would have chatted with the driver about the specs of the engine or maybe even racing if he was a fan. Instead the ride is filled with stolen touches and sloppy, wet kisses to your neck.

"I can't wait till we're home," he mumbles. "You're gorgeous. How did I snag you? You're so far out of my league. No way should you be with me."

"I have a thing for guys that go fast in circles on the weekends."

"Really?" Pierre frowns. "Should I be worried?"

"No. You're the only one I have eyes for." His head is fuzzier than when you left the bar but your laugh breaks through, his stomach flipping at the melody of it. "And we are home."

Pierre blinks, realizing he does indeed stand in your kitchen, with no recollection of climbing the three flights of stairs between the street and your flat. "Oh. When did that happen?"

"After I half dragged you up the stairs." You bend over to undo the straps of your heels, giving him the perfect view. He lets out a whistle that ends in a hiccup.

"Take me to bed, lover," he says in what he thinks is a husky voice. It should be impossible for you to resist.

You roll your eyes and wrap an arm around his middle. "That's the plan. I'll take you to bed, strip you out of that sweater, and you'll be asleep before your head hits the pillow."

"Nnnnnno," he protests, hand sliding down your exposed back to settle at the base of your spine. "I wanna make the most of tonight. I leave tomorrow."

"You don't leave until noon," you point out. "Plenty of time to nurse your hangover and have fun before then, after you drink some water and get some sleep."

"But baby-"

"No buts. Do as I say or I'll send you off tomorrow without a goodbye kiss."

Even in his half drunken state he knew it was a swiss cheese lie, spotted with holes and completely stale. You'd never let him leave without a kiss goodbye because neither of you knew if it would be the last time. He was a race car driver after all, and that came with risks.

But he sighs anyways and slips off the cream sweater, letting it fall to the floor. At least one of you kept their promises.

After confirming he was settled into bed, you retreat to the bathroom. His heart aches at the absence, even though you're mere feet away with nothing but a thin door separating the two of you. He registers the sound of the tap turning on and your soft, off key humming of the last song he remembered hearing before getting out of the uber.

"Mon amour," he croons when you re-emerge in a set of silk pajamas. He reaches out his hands for you and you slide under the covers, immediately slotting your body against his. A leg hitches over his hip, tugging him closer until your middles touch.

"Mmm," he mumbles, nuzzling into your neck. "Je t'aime. Tu es l'amour de ma vie et nous vivons d'amour et d'eau fraîche."

"I have no idea what you're saying," you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. "But I like it. Feel free to keep going."

"Tes baisers sont du feu et je fond à ton toucher." He presses his lips to your neck before resuming his mumbled French. "Je pense toujours à toi. Je veux être avec toi pour toujours. Tu as mon cœur et je ne voudrais pas qu'il en soit autrement."

"I like the sound of that." You press a soft, sweet kiss to his forehead. God, that tenderness was why he loved you. That, and your personality, and your eyes, and your… everything. "Dormir, my love. I'll be here to listen to your pretty words in the morning."

The single word of his mother tongue on your lips has him smiling. "Oui, tu le feras. Parce que tu es à moi et je suis à toi."

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates!

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #my writing #formula 1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #f1 rpf #formula 1 rpf

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momentsofbllove · 4 years

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I watched The Untamed on Netflix and fell in love. Much to my delight I found out that there’s an entire genre of BL shows and series that I never knew existed!

Now I'm neck deep into BL dramas and I can't contain it any more. The people who follow my main blog have forgiven me for the 147 The Untamed posts that I stuck in my queue, but I doubt they'd stick around for the 500 posts about all the other dramas I've watched recently.

So... I’ve made a side blog, yay!

(My personal ratings: loved it 💜, liked it 💚, won't watch it again 💔

Shows I'm currently watching:

Noblemen Ryu's Wedding - 1/6 I love literally every second of this show already... but. I feel like we're only getting half the seconds! Every scene just jumps from one to the next without any transitions or explanations in between. It's like the writer's had a whole bunch of little scenes they wanted to create, but no actual way of tying them together. It's a bit discombobulating. Now don't get me wrong, this is a historical fake relationship story, with two great actors, comedy and a touch of sensuality that was done *chef's kiss* so beautifully! I love it... but it's definitely missing a lot. 💜

Fish Upon The Sky - 2/12 I'm liking this one so far. It's silly, and there have been more than a few cringey moments, but it stays in the 'cute' side of that more often than not so it's okay. I like the three main characters (the side ones are there for comedic effect only, so I'm trying to judge them only on that, they're where most of the cringe is coming from) and the story is moving along at a good pace. This is true University BL at its finest. I'd put it squarely on the lower end of 'loving it'. 💜

Lovely Writer - 8/12 Well, Aoey is back to being a boring, one dimensional antagonist with no actual story of his own. And I finally realized what frustrated me so much about Sib. He always makes sure to get consent and be respectful of Gene PHYSCIALLY, like asking for kisses, telling people not to take his picture without permission, etc. But he doesn't respect his agency in any other way. Refusing to leave the apartment when Gene asked him to, following him to his house despite being told Gene wanted space, MOVING IN NEXT DOOR after Gene asked for him to leave so they could start over and Sib could earn his trust back... none of that is respecting Gene's choices or personal agency and it bothers me so much! Also that comment Sib's brother made about Gene not being able to escape Sib was disturbing. 💚

History 4: Close To You - 5/? I love literally every second of Muren and Licheng and Xingsi... and every time the brother comes on the screen I want to start throwing things. It is such a dampener to the rest of what is actually a really good show. I'm disgusted that Xingsi forgave him and that the show is referring to r*pe as 'taking advantage*. Uhg. But I'm loving Licheng more and more and his pursuit of Muren is adorable and sweet and very sexy. So I'll keep watching. And thinking about the perfect poly triad that my boys could have been if the writers hadn't been awful. Think about, no one has done a three way friends to lovers story before! That would have been way more intriguing that r*pe apology. (Despite the fact that I love and adore 3 of the 4 main characters and one half of the couples I still can't give this a higher rating than the broken heart. What the brother did was unforgivable and it's so gross that they're portraying it in a romantic light. Most BLs keep their consent issues in the realm of 'dubious'. This one crossed a line I just can't forgive.) 💔

Y Destiny - 3/15 Okay, definitely liked this couple better than the first one. Although, despite the fact that this is supposed to be comedy, Nuea breaks my heart a little because he is obviously desperate for attention and it seems like the only way he knows how to get it is with his money or his sexuality. But the fact that Sun went from 'this kid is an arrogant brat and I can't stand him' to COMPLETLEY ENAMOURED with him in all of like 20 minutes was cute as f*ck, so I'm looking forward to the next episode. 💚

Hidden Love - 4/? This show is so fucking awful why am I still watching it?!! 💔💔

Manner of Death - 12/14 If I never watch the last two episodes, then I never have to admit that Tul and Max are probably never going to work together again, right? 💜💜

Shows I've watched so far:

(ones with links will take you to my personal in-depth reviews, this link will take you to a general review of all the shows I watched in 2020)

The Untamed 💜💜

Until We Meet Again 💜💜

Love By Chance 💚

Tharntype 💚

Why R U 💚

Together With Me 💚

Where Your Eyes Linger 💜

Because of You 2020 💜

HIStory 1: Obsessed/Stay Away from Me/My Hero 💔

HIStory 2: Crossing the Line 💜

HIStory 3: Trapped 💜

My Engineer 💚

Mr. Heart 💚

YYY 💔

Tien Bromance 💔

Roommates The Series 💚

En of Love 💔

#MyDay 💔

Quaranthings 💔

The Effect 💚

Dark Blue Kiss 💚

Theory of Love 💜

3 Will Be Free 💜

Craving You 💔💔

My Gear and Your Gown 💔

Like In the Movies 💜💜

He’s Coming To Me 💜

Oxygen 💔

Wish You 💚

Cherry Magic 💜

Life - Love On the Line 💜

Ingredients 💜💜

Color Rush 💚

Follow My Sunshine 💔💔

We Best Love: No. 1 For You 💜💜

To My Star 💜

Sotus 💜

Nation’s Brother 💔💔

You Make Me Dance 💜

A Tale of Thousand Stars 💜💜

We Best Love: Fighting Mr. 2nd 💜

Shows I want to watch:

2gether/Still 2gether

Sotus S

Bad Romance/Together With Me: TNC (maybe. i've heard things about these ones that are 😖 but also MaxTul have such amazing chemistry so I'm like 🤷‍♀️)

Long Time No See

A million more that I can't think of right now

Shows I need to come out immediately:

Between Us (WinTeam was the beginning of my intense love of side couples, so getting a whole series focused on them is a dream come true!)

KinnPorsche (I am so freaking excited about Jeff and Gameplay being together again! And Mile and Apo have incredible chemistry together. If they don't go too camp with this show, it's going to be amazing!)

Not Me (OffGun reuniting for a series that's not set in uni? Sign me the f*ck up!)

Bite Me (this looks really cute and I'm excited to see Mark in a role that doesn't make me hate him 😆)

Golden Blood (I've been intrigued by this one for a while, but that trailer... oh man, this looks right up my alley! Please give us a released date!)

Any way! Come into my message/ask box if you want to talk about literally anything BL related!

#thai bl #bl drama #bl dramas #korean bl #taiwan bl

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tripstaysnoided · 4 years

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Flow Just Like Water

youtube

Story and writing-related transparency update and my many shames...

The Question on Everyone’s Mind

“Hey you haven’t updated No Stars over Uptown in almost a year...”

Hmm, I hate it when you’re right. (This section has been rewritten ad-nauseam to curb back the bitchiness by the way)

So back in early/mid 2018, the idea was to divorce Uptown from a person who influenced it (and myself) heavily. She was my most important audience member, the closest friend I ever had, and unfortunately someone who used her power to bully, ostracize, and hurt others with my help. I cut contact when the hurt + some self-awareness finally reached me. Apologies were made and I feel like my work will never be done with it, but there was still Uptown.

Between censored comments, entirely recasting Axel’s save, different plot threads, and a load of disclaimers, there was nothing that would scrub her influence from the story. There was no way to cleanly drop everything because of how deep her influence went. It disgusted me to look back at it, and I had to private the blog because I feared what it endorsed, even if just in the past.

I pulled back from that sims writing community. I had its main thread on the Official Forums removed too (I guess if that was a mystery to anyone). It was a surrender that I never wanted to do, but I had it in my mind that if I was gone, then she wouldn’t be there either. Uptown became this cursed item, and as I quietly retired it, I noticed that she went quieter too. Not gone, but enough to make me sleep easier at night and even occasionally say hello to old friends.

And I hope deep in my heart that no one else is getting hurt in my place, but now this is gonna haunt me all day huh!

The two paths forward...

1) Complete Uptown rewrite that I’ve been threatening everyone with all year. While it won’t ever be clean because I can’t undo time, I do have a sound outline for a story that is much more true to my actual vision and how I’ve evolved, with a few necessary boundaries in place that are going to be there for all stories moving forward: no more casting calls and no more collaborative efforts. I am not going to open myself up to this happening again, even if the people have changed.

2) Same as above, but I continue the original Uptown as a favor to loyal readers alongside the rewrite. I would try to put the effort into it that I initially did, but with no promises on an update schedule and no advertising. I did ask myself “is there Patreon but without pledging money, just the private posts function” but it could operate as part of a private forum, a members-only part of a website, etc.

Also readers of the original would be beholden to a rule of “don’t spoil the rewrite for new readers, c’mon guys”. I mean, not really, but it is a good courtesy to extend to people.

Priority on this isn’t high but you at least will see what is!

I will probably make the blog public again either way due to the many broken links on my Tumblr but we’ll see. There are other things to deal with as I shall list!

Where Life’s Been Regardless

Been spending more time with my grandpa every weekend. Life’s pretty good and he’s warming up to my dogs.

Shiny New Webbed Site

Cucumber Fields Forever is a site I own now. We have a full domain, cucumberfieldsforever.com, a blog with one post, and the framework needed to host stories the way I want to and still through WordPress. The functionality of likes, comments, and following should still be the same but you know...I’ll take feedback too...

The main blog still has an undefined purpose though I do have drafts sitting around about:

The maybe/maybe not hoax band that was on the Metal Archives and the history of Funeral Doom Metal.

The curious case of when Sims 4 babies get their genetics and my only collaboration (read: was talking about it with a friend and might quote her if needed, it’s actually a bit of a doozy)

Amazon.com’s fake dried udon noodles, an actual issue by the way.

Things I’m reading! (This’d be a monthly feature if so)

For the sake of unity, I am thinking of solutions for hosting old and shameful content there including Uptown and for the real fans in my followers feed, Eight Cicadas...a world I totally have plans for too (not really). I don’t want them to be front-and-center, and that’s why I mentioned forums/members-only content. I finally have that power! Maybe.

Ooooh but what are the costs? Not too much to handle, that’s what. 😉 (Like really, I don’t need any hand-wringing about this, I can manage my finances)

Project Queue (In Order of Confirmedness)

Outrun the Scythe: have you seen me post out-of-context Sims 3 pictures? Did you want more? Did you hope it was Linda in Custody? If the answers are yes, yes, and “meh, whatever you want”, then you’re in luck.

Outrun the Scythe is a Sims 3-based tale of a young gay man and his zombie grandma, as they are both offered separate roles of being the undying intermediaries between the world of humans and the influence of a race of space daemons. It’s pretty familiar if you’ve been following me pre-Uptown, taking some cues from stories I’ve kept under lock and key like Eight Cicadas, The Chains of Lyra, and the not-so-locked-up Ironstar Immortals (of which Outrun is just the direct sequel to sans any retconning...ah the smell of early 2013 and performative heterosexuality)

Ah, back to my roots.

It’s a hybrid of gameplay, story, and lore about my little race of daemons with a lot of my own idiosyncrasies that I’m not really ashamed of: basing it off a super-polarizing Sims 3 challenge from a site I moderate, using a lot of EA’s pre-made townies and their genes, lots of unnecessary posemaking, stupid references. It’s a comfort to have in my roster.

While the first few chapters are in the middle of revision, I have around six in the queue and will be making this public when I have ten. I’m guessing December then?

Undocumented Black Widow Challenge: I just did this for fun/forum kudos (yes, in fact I have joined many forums), there was going to be a short story but it was quickly becoming something against my code of ethics. I mean, sims die and all. (read: I had to choose between “heterosexual widow” and “widow with some same-sex marriages that still end in tragedy, reinforcing negative stereotypes to the public for the sake of me not getting bored and detached during gameplay” so there were no good choices. Except for her affair with the mailwoman, 10/10) I hope to finish this before October ends and get my medal on Boolprop, I’m pretty far through it all. I might upload the sims involved anyways. This is for TS4.

I mentioned it because it’s keeping me busy. But not for long!

NaNoWriMo 2020: Dipping my toes into that again! It’s not sims-related, just a tale of lesbians, nosy neighbors, a haunted beach house, and some light murder and kidnapping. And I actually got my brother to scout out locations for me this weekend. If there’s any demand, I can share chapters as the rough drafts are finished, especially for the sake of proofreading.

Not saying I’m publishable, but wouldn’t it be nice? Will keep me occupied for much of November.

Untitled “Dear Diary” Challenge: Tired of feeling left out of the fun on the Boolprop forums, their “Dear Diary” challenge was the one that appealed to me the most on first glance. Why? Probably once I found an idea that let it be set in the early/mid-2000′s to begin with and explore some interesting characters through diary entries (which I have mixed feelings on as a literary device but I think that’s just me saying “well I didn’t like Dracula”, yes you get bonus points for writing it like a diary)

Also writing is the one skill I’m good at across multiple games. Wanna hear me bitch about the cooking skill tree in TS4 or riding in TS3? I’ll spare you.

I guess I could have included “spending time on Boolprop with old and new friends” in where my life has been. It’s a nice lil community if also a place with its own idiosyncrasies as well. So it doesn’t feel like I’m promoting another community if/when I make a thread there for Outrun the Scythe, I want to have a couple chapters of this ready to go by Outrun’s release, though it’s not gonna be the highest priority compared to it nor as long because I think I can blast through the gameplay quickly.

This one will be played in TS4 due to it having the easiest writing skill/I dunno variety is the spice of life. And hopefully another December release.

Defunded or Forgotten?: Oh shit I actually released stuff in 2020 and told no one? I do have a “mortifying ordeal of being known” sinking feeling whenever I get a site hit because it’s not my best work (but good enough) and veered sharply into issues I may be over my head in, though I try to be a good noodle with research and listening. Maybe hiding is bad after all.

Being based off a very flawed and incomplete Sims 3 challenge I found in the annals of the Official Forums, there’s a lot of behind-the-scenes work just making sense of things. And I’m scared of working on reconstructing the house but I haven’t abandoned the project yet. The story has eight chapters so far and is pretty game-based with some additions here and there. Scared of how long it could be though!

Date for this unknown.

Untitled Sunlit Tides Decadynasty: another year-long abandoned TS3 project with a much stupider reason why. Last update was about Hua getting ready for her wedding, and I wanted to do some poses for a bait-and-switch wedding chapter because to put it mildly, her real one was an absolute disaster.

Blender decided to fuck up its interface again, I got discouraged (this probably does account for some of the Uptown delays too), and when I decided to plow forward, it was for other projects instead.

Meanwhile I played all the way to Gen 5′s teenhood and the only thing stopping me is time (it takes almost 30 minutes to load the file right now, though they’ll be looking at moving towns in a couple gens) and maybe fear of the Logic skill.

Date for this also unknown but it’s easy to pump out updates once I’m in the groove for it. My third heir had a difficult life so maybe I’m just trying to bury it.

Also I just noticed the view count there was really good and probably because I linked it here on Tumblr last year. Thank you so much guys. I can’t really fret over views on Carl’s forum these days thanks to the years-long death spiral pretty much every forum anywhere has been riding on. But it’s a nice surprise. And it’s an alright little challenge recap to read during your lunch break or whatever.

The Wawas

I figured I’d end on the real news everyone wants! Both the chihuahuas are a year and a half now and reached their adult size around a year ago. For the most part, they are happy and healthy dogs.

#state of the uwunion #long post

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fortheheavenssake · 4 years

Text

MM Anon 6

Jan 1, 2020

MM ANON ……… “ I don’t want to go back!!!”…… “ get him a title”………… “ a monthly periodical” ……… “mental health and well-being” ……… A brief synopsis LG……… “ I’ve prepared a small dossier ma’am”…… “One has no choice”……… “I’ll contemplate it”………… “ Somewhere warm Catherine”……… keep a low profile ………… he’ll do what he’s told!!!! ………… perhaps a state visit??………… “springtime with Boris in harmony” ……… “Mmmmmm, god help us”

————-

Jan 2

MM ANON ……… Drip, drip drip……… Drop ,drop drop……… back to school soon 🏫 ……… a successful 🌍 ……… Sophie steps up…… a stable stable ………a tad overconfident ……… “ sooner she falls off the better!!” ……… “ Mmmmm, quite the young man!!”…… “resuming play” ……… it’s the open!! ……… “a bit of an obsession!!” …………”it’s another course Catherine” ……… “be careful!!”…… “ we’ll have to send an envoy ma’am”. ……… “yes, it’s a disaster “.

—————

Jan 3

MM ANON …… “They will return… eventually!!”…… “mummy, it’s school Monday!!”……… cry-sis, 😭😭what cry-sis…… “from our house to Bauhaus”……” there together sir”………… “ one needs the quiet time “……… take the pulse of the populace ……… “ overwhelming support ma’am” ……… “football George,football!!”…… “O god!! He’s on another planet”………… “ A quiet few weeks would be welcomed” ……… I received the memo. ………” poison chalice old boy, poison chalice”

—————-

Jan 3

MM ANON, The Suck-sexses are said to be contemplating a return to the UK, I don’t think so, they have made it quite clear that they have nothing but contempt for the BRF and its citizens. They probably will visit LA and try to get some free PR via OW. Nutmeg will begin to blab more word salad about her “Snoozpaper” and how she’s living this perfect life with archificial and himself. WHO PAID FOR HER SIX WEEK VACATION???? THE BRITISH TAXPAYERS

————-

Jan 3

MM ANON , Mmmmm ,RA has a point, no recipes from Harry except (photoshopped images) ? My own gut instinct is that all the misinformation has muddied the waters of confusion. As you say this site is for “ entertainment purposes” and your unique in that respect. No body posts the amount of information that crosses your blog from anonymous sources to real time situations, even the national press visit “Skippy” to fuel its veracity for copy. As they say “A diabolo,qui semia dei”

A diabolo, qui est simia dei. Where god has a church the devil will have his chapel.

Thank you MM Anon😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

—————-

Jan 4

MM ANON ……… a list of all her discrepancies!! ……… sex, lies and video tapes, my god!!……… metoo Monday …… “actually darling it’s now the safest local”…… “I’d love to play in a tournament” …… “ great backhand!! “ ……… Duty calls…… first things first!! ……… “an environmental tour??” ……” eventually,with the children” ……… no chance to cry racism ……… no protocol left ……… maybe frog cott?? ……… we start building in the spring ………” it won’t last long”.

—————

Jan 5

MM ANON, ……… 🎼I’m ready, ready ready ready,I’m ready🎼…… “No your not”………… vinegar and brown paper ……… activate the broken record ……… same old, same old ………” from my window I can see Frogmore House” ……… A short reflection on residency ……… home delivery …… another Sunday service , beautiful!! ……… she’s got this one in the bag. ………”The children aren’t participating!!”……A REASON, A SEASON A LIFETIME. ………

——————-

Jan 6

MM ANON … RICKY , RICKY ,RICKY!! …… respect!! …… A HANK-kerchief full of platitudes …… 🎼a speech full of sugar helps the Meganson go down🎼……… 🎼Oh happy days 🎼………… “SHE CAME, SHE SAW, SHE CONNED-CURD…… …”………… “ this must end soon !! very soon”…… We have the technology ……… “Ahhh , The elusive tape”……… Timing is everything!! ……… DM loading it’s guns……… print and be dammed!!

—————-

Jan 6

MM ANON, Ok , a sycophantic visit to Canada 🇨🇦 House tomorrow in a packed London, they’ll be met by the Ambassador and no doubt Harry will be the customary three steps behind his 43 year old companion who will smile on queue and fake waves to nobody watching. After the same old same old they’ll disappear into the same car and return to the elusive residence somewhere in England. Don’t expect a rush towards the crowd.

—————

Jan 7

MM ANON, ……… she’s the (arm) pits……… go home Yank…… he’s a stone lighter ……… get off my f#@£%land ……… “ come to my birthday, never!!” ……… A state of emergency …… who dares bins ………… 🎼return to lender🎼……… “ it’s a struggle old thing”……… “ stop swearing at the tourists”…………… “ bloody tourists” …… Sydney!!……… “ I’m looking forward to next series” ……… “new stamps??”

—————

Jan 8

MM ANON ……… 🎼”And she must face the final curtain 🎼 The problem with NOT WEARING your wedding ring opens all conversation towards conjecture ………… 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 the firm always wins. Numerous whores and courtesans have tried to put a dent in the Monarchy over the past 2000 years most were decapitated. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

—————-

Jan 10

MM ANON. .…… GSTQAOBC …… don’t rock the bloat. …… pain-t stripper …… past, present and future ……… hide-a-Weymouth ……… W&K rule……… make a list ……… common- wealth……… nutmegs strange grandiosity ……… feed the handbitten …… king baby ………… love in a cold climate ……… NO MORE MONEY ……… a fall from race ……… Harry has left the building

—————

Jan 10

MM ANON, BP has just denied that M&H were frozen out. And where did she accumulate £500 million. Something really really stinks. All her life she’s grifted and whored. TPTB should take her down before the BRF are involved in her elaborate deception. DM poll on side of RF and PH, want MM to leave Britain and never return.

—————

Jan 11

MM ANON ……… blowing up a GAIL……… “ it’s like de-programming sir” ……” better have them inside the tent pissing out……… “it’s her pattern of behaviour” ………… back in the day ……… W&K step up……… William refuses to play ball……… that’s weak Charles …………” it’s all about money with her”……… “ all I’m saying is,you’re powerful family “ ………” another snifter LG”……… “ hold the calls Sydney”.

————-

Jan 12

MM ANON ……… 🎼I don’t like Mondays🎼………” turn her bloody ugly face orf”. …… “ your call William!!” ……… bad advice ……… A military absence ……… “ yes,Pontcius Pilate” ……… Charles, The weakest link ……… “ your over generous ma’am”. ……… “ let them go, f**** em” ……… The taxpayers won’t like it ……… Canada caves……… RCMP……… BO offers a net- flick……… 🎼money,money,money 🎼…………… royal dis-appointments. ………… a tabloid tornado looms.

—————

Jan 13

MM ANON …………… take it or , take it!!……… no negotiation ………… Harry walks out ……… threats and lies ……… no comment…… tabloid carnage ……… more talk,talk. ……… commonwealth ambassador??? ……… no loss of financial support ……… MM gives up title ……… Harry keeps HRH. ……… archificial tells all……… W&K hold a huge party 🥳 🧣🤣🥳🥳🥳👀……… PP gives Sydney a knighthood ……… PP& Sydney get drunk. …………George bakes a cake. ……… Lottie has another sleepover. ……… Nanny gets a surprise

—————

jan 14

MM ANON ……… para-sight……… “ O ma’am, cunning very cunning”………… “ William is made of sterner metal”……… ( behind every great man) ……… spring offensive, the children!! …………” Lotties the key”……… the holy trinity ……… “freeze them out”………… “it’s all a smokescreen sir”…… “ yes, full steam ahead, ask Camilla “ ………… “ circle the wagons LG” …………” Burn that f**** olive branch, once bitten”………” a Canadian tour , with the children, OMG! Touché!!……… inde redire eruditionis Habes

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

Jan 14

MM ANON … She new well in advance of Markle V Markle, that’s why she ran , doesn’t want the dirty laundry washed in view of a few hundred yards of BP. HARRY, You married trash. Trash whose father is going to testify against her. Goodness sake Harry, didn’t you see this , or weren’t You briefed by the intelligence service about her family and sordid history.

————-

Jan 15

MM ANON …………… OUR BEAUTIFUL DUCHESS OF CAMBRIDGE …………… ONE DAY OUR GLORIOUS QUEEN ……………WELL DONE KATE , YOU ASTOUNDED THE CRITICS ……… ONLY ONE CLASSY DUCHESS. 👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑

—————

Jan 15

MM ANON, MARKLE V MARKLE, won’t get to court, she will not Dare. She won’t bring the firm into disrepute. Unless she really wishes to harm the royal family and that’s a possibility. Will she permit her resentment for her father to drag her dirty washing through the royal courts of justice in the Stand. Is she that psychotic. Yes , I think she is, will Harry approve, I don’t think so.

—————-

Jan 16

MM ANON,……… sea-plane PR. ……… where’s Harry?………… “ leaves 15million mansion visits poor shelter 🤣🤣🤣………… so broke,(woke)……… Paternal hurricane ……… Royal courts of Justice ……… “ write me a roll”………… “what Megan wants, Megan forgets”:……… Calipornia politics? ………… “she can be the new AOC” ……… she’ll campaign for Dems……… “OW ,tell all coming”. ……… negotiations,negotiations!!! …… W&K kill it !!!

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Jan 16

MM ANON,……… laugh and carry on……… isolation desperation ……… W&K leapfrog ……… not jaw jaw …… pseudo Trudeau ……… re-distribution …………” just scrapping by ,sausage” ……… LA NA. ……… gizza job……… ahhhhh’ the ubiquitous tape……… brotherly shove ………… “ the tour will proceed” ………… Diamond Dogs……… 🦂🦂🦂………… twice shy

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imhereforbvcky · 5 years

Text

Team Re-Building - Part 1

Summary: (Sam Wilson x reader, FalconCap humor/fluff) After the events of EndGame, the remaining Avengers head out on a mandatory team building exercise at your cattle ranch. The week turns out as unexpected for you as the idea was for them.

Prompt/Request: “Is that a horse?! Do I look like a cowboy to you?” For mine and @justsomebucky’s Cap² Challenge. I separated the prompt a little for flow, but I think I kept the spirit of it.

Warnings: None. Probably swearing. I’ve got a mouth and I can’t control it.

Word Count: 2061

A/N: This is just a little 2 part series. Part 2 is totally done. I’m planning to queue it to post in just 2 days! yay! 2 in 2 days, that’s easy to remember.

“Are you sure this is it?” Bucky muttered. His eyes followed the wrought iron banner propped between two enormous raw logs rising to form the arched entry. Dead center, the flying K brand stood dark and resolute against the bright afternoon sun.

“No,” Rhodes grumbled, “I haven’t seen a road sign for at least fifteen miles. Just dirt and tumbleweeds.”

The group held a collective breath when the modified jeep rattled over the cattle grate beneath the arch. The all-terrain vehicle had been waiting for them at the tiny regional airport when they’d landed. Now it made sense. The road went from grated dirt to a rugged two-wheel cut path over hill and stone.

Sam tried to convince himself it was all part of the experience, but frankly, the kinds of experiences he preferred usually involved a cold beer on his patio or a jog along a beach. The mountains were, admittedly, something to see. Jagged stone fingers clawed out of the hills, reaching unknowable heights into the unending blue sky. The photos on the brochure hadn’t done it justice.

Still, he just wished he wasn’t seeing them with clenched teeth and fists tight around the roll bar of the jeep as it hauled them all further and further from civilization.

“Why are we doing this, again, Sam?” Wanda asked, her arm darting out to his shoulder to brace against the jostling.

“Team building?”

“And there’s no ‘team building’ in New York?” Bucky complained, leaning past Wanda to glare at Sam.

“Couldn’t we have done a trust fall or something?” Rhodes agreed with a smirk on his lips at his own joke.

“How long’re you gonna hold that over my head?” Sam complained.

“'Til that face you make stops being funny.”

“Well, that’s exactly why we’re here.”

“I still don’t see why we had to be here,” Bucky insisted.

“Look, if any of you have figured out how to skip out on Maria Hill’s orders, you let me know the magic words and I’ll get us out of shit like this next time.”

Before too much longer the little caravan had made its way over the foothills and pulled up to a large cabin. It looked old, like the stones had been there as long as the mountains themselves, but the logs were freshly sealed and the chairs on the sprawling porch looked deep and inviting with soft leather cushions and bright red pillows.

“Hi there!” The voice that greeted them sounded like it was made there in those hills. It rolled gently and warmed like the sun on the breeze. “Welcome to Kestrel Point.”

“Thanks for accommodating our crew,” Sam stepped forward, offering his hand. “Sam Wilson.”

A laugh tumbled out. “I think we know who you are. All of you.” Your smiling eyes darted to the group behind him, still righting themselves after climbing down out of the jeep.

Sam wasn’t quite used to that yet. Sure, he’d been an Avenger for years now, had worn the armor of a hero. But after the Decimation… after the fight in upstate New York… after he picked up that shield… Being known had a different weight to it; sat just a little heavier on his shoulders.

“Right,” he shook his head and glanced back at what was left of the team, at those who’d survived, who hadn’t been left too worn to continue the fight. It was his team to lead now, his to rebuild and hold together.

You watched the struggle dance across his features and saw it echo in the furtive glances among the others. But you didn’t remark on it, nor did you hesitate. It was your job to help them find their rhythm and rebuild their strength, not to dwell on the present cracks in the armor.

Offering the same wide smile, you introduced yourself and a few of your staff before clapping your hands together, brows leaping with excitement. “Well let’s get started! My guys will take your bags to your rooms, and if y’all will follow me, we’ll get you matched up and get you started.”

When you turned toward the barn, nodding for them to follow, there was no argument. At least not that you saw. Mainly because you didn’t wait for one. That didn’t mean there weren’t protests. There was a flurry of wide-eyed glances exchanged from everyone but Clint.

For once, Clint felt right at home. He’d made a beeline for the stables and perched up on the split-rail fence with all the ease of familiarity. They might be thick western saddles here instead of the sleek black tack of his memory but the sound of twisting leather and long swooshing tails took him right back. With a distinct brand of nostalgia, he recalled rows of agile white Lipizzans, practically glowing under the circus tent lights. Visions of children gawking at larger-than-life Percherons filled his head and a slow grin eased over his face.

While your ranch hands tied the last of the horses in a row before him along the fence, ready and waiting, you lead the rest group inside. They weren’t quite ready.

“Is that a horse?!” Sam balked as he approached. It suddenly all clicked for him what Hill had been planning and he was not a fan. He liked the smirk on Barton’s face even less as watching him stroke a hand down the nose of a particularly antsy Quarter Horse. “No. I think there’s been a fundamental misunderstanding on our end.”

You laughed as he backed away. “Miss Hill warned us this was not the most uh… experienced group,” you tucked your worn leather utility gloves in your back pocket and gently slipped your fingers around his bicep, easing him forward. “You have nothing to worry about Mr. Wilson. We’ll take it slow.”

You were meant to be comforting him, but the moment he felt your contact and looked down at you with the softest, deepest umber gaze you’d even laid eyes on and it was your breath that caught in your chest. The words suddenly vanished on your tongue and it was all you could do to mimic the slow pull of his smile at your playful word choice.

“Do I look like a cowboy to you?” he asked, teeth flashing that smile.

You coughed on a laugh and looked at your feet. Boots. That’s right. They needed boots, that’s what you had been doing before. Before Sam Wilson and his damn smile.

“Not yet,” you agreed, shrugging one shoulder. “But we’ll take care of that.”

It took three full days to get everyone sufficiently steady on horseback. By the morning of day four, you’d decided it was sink or swim. The herd had nearly eaten through the winter pasture and before long the creek cutting across the valley would be swollen and racing with snowmelt. If you didn’t drive the cattle up to the newly sprouting summer lands soon, it would be too late.

A little instruction on the trail, couched softly in teasing and laughter might get the team where they needed to be skill-wise. If not, your own team flanked the Avengers, just in case. They might fight aliens and save half the galaxy, but they had never chased a scared new calf down a ravine.

Well, maybe Clint had.

He was, of course, a natural. Animals were his thing. Particularly large gentle ones whose affection could be bought with food. He’d spent his down time near the stables, figuring out what Apollo’s favorite snacks were and had stuffed his pockets with broken carrots.

The others… well they were lucky if they’d encountered a horse at a petting zoo before that week.

Bucky hadn’t seen a whole hell of a lot of cattle in Brooklyn between 1917 and 1943. And after that, war and survival had pretty much been his sole priorities until very recently.

Rhodes had no interest. He was a modern military man with his own Iron Man suit. Let’s face it; he had a better ride and more pressing matters anyway.

Wanda spent most of her life in a concrete cell. You weren’t sure if she had ever even seen a horse in person before climbing out of that jeep on your ranch. But she took to it pretty well. Those with a gentle demeanor usually did. You’d paired her with a sweet old mare that didn’t spook easily. Eventually the slow sureness of the horse seemed to have a calming effect for Wanda. She found herself enjoying her time away from so many people, away from their thoughts and fears. You could imagine her leasing out a ride now and again when she went home.

Bruce was… well half Bruce and half green and far too big to sit a horse. Didn’t stop him watching and teasing, though.

And Sam. Sam was maybe the most fun for you. He was all city, all soldier. Stiff but determined.

“I know you’re not laughing at me!” he hollered as you circled back and eased to a trot beside him. He looked so stiff and uncomfortable; you just couldn’t help but snicker. “Not again.”

“I’m sorry,” you managed, wiping tears from the corners of your eyes, grin so wide it hurt. “Just… You’ve gotta relax.”

“There’s a thousand pound animal between my legs!”

“And you think clenching up is gonna keep him from throwin’ you?” you teased.

It didn’t help. Logic flew out the window when fear came knocking. Sam only glared in your general direction, too anxious to look away for long. But you saw him fighting back a smile.

“Alright, well I think Ranger’s been a smooth ride and it’s high time you return the favor,” you tried again, reaching over and untying the lead you’d left on Sam’s horse.

Sam glanced down at his steel grip on the pommel. “What do you mean?” he asked, eyeing Ranger as if there was some lever that would make this all easier.

“You’re ex-military, right? I assume you had to carry a person at some point in your training?”

“Para-rescue. Carried injured friendlies out all the time. How’s that supposed to help?”

“Was it easier if the payload was stiff as a board or if they moved with you?”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled. “I see your point.”

“It’s a ride not a beating. Treat it like a lady,” you joked, encouraging him to push again into a trot and offering advice as you continued alongside. “Move with him. ‘ll be easier on your ass and his back. Relax and let your hips roll.”

“Do you talk to all your clients like this, or am I just lucky?” He was smiling now, still looking down at his horse.

You, however, laughed beside him, relishing in his flirtatious nature. His easy smiles and quick wit had captured you early on. It had been a while since you’d enjoyed someone’s company this much. “You’re definitely somethin’.”

“That didn’t sound like a good thing.” He pouted, but with that little shine in his eyes, that extra roundness to his cheeks that betrayed the grin beneath. Like it was just waiting to erupt and brighten his whole face. The longer you spent near him, the greater the pang deep in your gut at the thought of what that full smile might look like. Would it be better than these secret hidden ones? Would it warm you head to toe? Ignite this heat that seemed to spark from something as small as a little grin?

You needed to breathe, get your head back on your shoulders. With a swift squeeze of your knees your horse notched forward.

The more Sam had talked with you, joked, and flirted, the less he had time to worry about his horse. He relaxed, consciously or not, he and his horse settled into a rhythm.

Satisfied with his ability and desperately needing the distance, you led the way out onto the soft green acres that sprawled beneath the rough granite peaks. Fresh spring leaves quivered in the breeze and blankets of snow still dominated most of the mountaintop.

You pushed ahead into a canter, resuming your duties checking in on the other guests – the other Avengers. But not before turning over your shoulder with a grin just for him, just for Captain goddamn America.

“I think I’m the lucky one this time.”

Part 2 >>

#sam wilson x reader #sam x reader #cap2challenge #samcap x reader #falconcap x reader #sam wilson fanfic #sam wilson imagine #avengers fanfic #avengers imagine #team rebuilding #team rebuilding part 1 #team rebuilding 1

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pink-louboutins · 4 years

Note

Hey! I was just wondering can you check out my blog and see what I can improve. I want to hit 3K by the end of this year, I’ve had this account for 5 years I would love to get myself out there more. Absolutely love your blog

hi! aww, thank you so much! I’m sorry this is so delayed but I wanted to respond to you on my laptop! I’m already following you but I checked out your blog thoroughly and here are some little tips that might help you gain more followers faster!

(Btw, I added you on snap 😝, us maltese Italian girls gotta stick together 💙)

// tips //

keeping your blog style consistent is key (just like a feed on Instagram) similar blogs are more likely to find your blog & follow you back.

change your icon to fit your url & theme. (don’t take this one personally, you’re gorgeous!!) but maybe take a selfie in natural lighting with the ig filter aden. snap chat filters are just aesthetically displeasing (but this is my personal opinion) I’ll be real with you, for the longest time my icon was a selfie with a snap chat filter. But if your icon matches your posts & url, other blogs can find you easier.

be active! I know that’s what every one says but the more you reblog, the more notes you will receive. if you take the time to post daily, you will gain followers in no time. Just be friendly and don’t be afraid to ask other blogs for advice! Send positive asks to some of your favorite blogs. Who doesn’t smile at random asks, am I right?

join a directory! I’m a part of @pink-glam-directory this helps others find similar blogs. I tried to click the one in your FAQ but the link appeared broken. maybe just update it??

// blogging styles //

1) reblogging:

set your queue to 250 posts (tumblr post limit) per day. the day ends at 12am EST & resets

set your queue to post 24/7 so your blog remains active even when you’re not online

tags are not necessary bc reblog posts do not show up in search results

2) uploading content:

always give credit / don’t take credit unless you own the photo

tag your posts so others can find your blog. only the first 5 tags show up in search results

talk to other blogs and send submissions with your uploaded post

I’ve been a glam blog for 2ish years and have 119k followers and I wish someone told me these things when I joined tumblr so hopefully this can help you out 💙

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thedisneydoc · 4 years

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Best Coast: Adventureland

I recently became a fan of the Lost Bros Co’s Oh Boy! The Podcast. I’ve been learning a lot of great things about Walt Disney World (WDW) that I have never heard before, and I am loving the recommendations, tips, and bits of knowledge and nostalgia that they share. Since Disneyland (DL) is my “home park,” it’s always fascinating to learn more about how the other park lives. The Lost Bros also play some pretty entertaining “games” on their show that incorporate their opinions and creative ideas. In one of their first episodes, they play something like West Coast vs. East Coast, aka DL vs. WDW, where they compared the same attractions and rides from each park. To them, DL took the cake on the majority of rides, even though the Lost Bros themselves are WDW locals. After my 2 trips to WDW in 2018, I’ve been comparing the parks myself as well. So as a DL native, “let’s get down to business” and find out what the West Coast thinks as well.

I’m going to go land by land and space each post out, because if this were just one whole post, you’d be reading a full book at that point.

Adventureland (TL;DR Disneyland wins!)

Adventureland is my favorite (follow up post on “Lands That I Love” to follow). When you first walk into the park and go up Main Street USA, you first hit “the Hub” (with or without grass to sit on, depending on your park) where the road spikes off into different directions and your journey begins depending on which land you run to first. Well, I always veer to the left and begin my day at Adventureland, so I’m going to start here first.

WDW: The biggest advantage WDW has is space. There’s TONS of it in Florida, unlike in tiny Anaheim, CA. So it’s great that they have more to work with over there. One of the things I do love about WDW’s version is that they have a whole Pirates of the Caribbean dedicated section (Caribbean Plaza) with this AMAZING scavenger hunt quest game that I will cover in a later post. And they have a whole restaurant devoted to the Jungle Cruise and its dad joke puns, which is one of my favorite things ever. That being said, I still think DL is the winner here.

DL: While smaller, it has much more of a jungle adventure vibe with towering, lush tropical plants and trees than WDW, which is much more open and goes with the desert Bazaar feeling instead. I definitely get the feeling that I’m isolated in a mysterious jungle somewhere, and I’m just a sucker for that old-timey, vintage adventurer and tiki aesthetic. That feeling is just missing for me somehow at WDW. Plus we now have one of the best snack spots ever, The Tropical Hideaway! It’s no Jungle Navigation Co. Skipper Canteen, but I can’t complain. Dole Whip is my favorite Disney snack and I’ll admit that I stan that exclusive chile-mango whip real hard. We also have the major advantage of being home to The Indiana Jones Adventure, which I won’t compare with WDW since it doesn’t really have an equivalent ride. But in my opinion, just having Indy alone puts the DL Adventureland wayyyyy in the lead. Now in terms of comparing similar rides and attractions...

The Enchanted Tiki Room: While I have to agree with the Lost Bros Co and say that the inside show is pretty much the same, I have to say that the DL version still surpasses the WDW version because of its pre-show and its new Dole Whip snack service at Tropical Hideaway. At DL the preshow allows you to eat a Dole Whip and sit down while you watch each of the enchanted Polynesian god totems come to life. The totems each share their name and a little backstory about their part in the Polynesian mythology while giving a specific animatronic performance. The fun part, especially for kids, is the scavenger hunt feeling you get when you follow the totems around the preshow area and try to find out which totem is speaking and from where. Plus the detail inside Tropical Hideaway, from magic lamps and carpets to the infamous missing Rosita telling corny Jungle Cruise-worthy jokes, is top notch. In contrast, the WDW world version has you standing in a little amphitheater setting to watch two animatronic birds share their personal story of the Jungle Cruise with you, which is a little more meh for me. And there’s hardly any space for you to sit and enjoy your Dole Whip.

The Jungle Cruise: This one is a little tough. This is one of my favorite rides ever, not only because it serves me tons of that vintage exploration aesthetic vibe I love, but also because I an unashamedly obsessed with the dad joke script. I’ve ridden this thing so many times, I can recite any version of the script and be your Skipper myself. In fact, if I worked at Disney, one of my dream roles is to be a Jungle Cruise Skipper. I love love love the DL version and its classic scenes, like the ambush from the natives and the piranhas. Plus I’m used to seeing our version of Trader Sam and was shocked to see a completely different guy at the WDW one. According to the Imagineering backstory, they actually ARE 2 different Sam’s! They happen to be cousins who each opened up their own trading business on opposite coasts. There’s also almost never a wait at the DL one, averaging at about 10-15 min whenever I walk by (30-40 min is maybe the most I’ve ever seen). The queue is a little cramped and small, but I love waiting in the 2-story building and looking at all the Jungle Cruise memorabilia on the walls and the cute rooms/scenes set up inside it (reminiscent of Swiss Family Robinson Tree House back when it used to be at DL). It also has a bomb Jungle Cruise logo sign on the front. In contrast, the WDW queue is a more open and airy, allowing those huge, life-saving fans on the ceiling to do their work. There is some interactive element in the line, but less so than many of the other, more entertaining queues at Magic Kingdom (MK). I remember something about a hissing tarantula in a cage near the end of the line, but it was broken when I visited. I also loved the witty menu and accident signs on the dock right before you board your boat. But the wait time always seems outrageously longer than it should be for this ride, and somehow FastPasses distribute quicker than I would have expected. On the ride, I also really liked the temple tunnel at WDW that we don’t have at DL. For those who have never been on it, there’s a decent stretch of river that goes inside the ruins of a temple through an enclosed tunnel. It allowed for some cool effects and scenes in the dark, but cuts off the flow of the Skipper’s script. The Skipper literally has to stop talking because the microphone would echo too much. In addition to the ride, they have claim to a very fun and punny restaurant overflowing with Imagineering secrets and Jungle Cruise memorabilia. Not only is the atmosphere and theming on point, but the menu is DELICIOUS at the Skipper Canteen. Finally, they regularly get a Christmas overhaul for the Jingle Cruise, which is fantastic. I’ve never been to the WDW Jingle Cruise, but they did it only once (maybe twice) at DL that I can remember, and I loved the Christmas decorations both inside and outside the ride. The Christmas puns were also a nice change. But overall, in terms of the ride, I have to give it to DL’s Jungle Cruise for the overall immersive experience and aesthetic, but I might just be biased because that’s the one I grew up with. I also think there’s a richer opportunity for jokes at the DL one.

Treehouse: Ok, when I was a kid, DL is the one who used to have the Swiss Family Robinson Treehouse and it was one of my favorite things to explore. I was obsessed with playing house and going adventures as a kid, so I loved seeing how someone could build a home in a tropical tree. Then it became the Tarzan treehouse walkthrough. The theming is very cool and the storytelling is great, but as a child afraid of loud noises and jump scares, that stupid jaguar, Sabor, and his snarl scared the shit out of me and has traumatized me good. I still don’t like him and have to scoot quickly around him with my fingers stuffed in my ears. But otherwise, the treehouse is a good little cardio climb. So, again, I am a little biased because of a nostalgia factor, and WDW wins since they now have the Swiss Family Robinson Treehouse. But objectively, I can see how that’s really boring to many people without a history like mine, so I will give DL the point for taking advantage of the already existing treehouse structure and turning it into a self-paced story walkthrough based on one of their popular films (kind of like Sleeping Beauty’s Castle).

While Pirates of the Caribbean lives at Adventureland in WDW, I’m going to leave off comparing that one for when I discuss “America Lands” next time.

So that’s part 1 of many many comparisons to come. Again, take my opinions with a grain of salt since I grew up at DL, but you’ll see that there’s a lot at WDW that I love more than DL too. See ya, pal!

PC: the.disney.doc

#adventureland #disneyland #walt disney world #waltdisneyworld #disney parks #disney resort #disney california adventure #disneycaliforniaadventure #magic kingdom #disney life #disney blog #the lost bros #the lost bros co #oh boy the podcast

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njcklenjart · 5 years

Text

Part 2 of the post-fbtcog fic I’ve been planning. The link to the first part is at the bottom, but this can be read separately!

It’s strange to enter his own home again. The lock still jams as usual, the hinges squeaking enough to be noticeable when Newt shoulders the door open, and nothing looks out of place since he left. Yet there’s a sense of wrongness he can’t quite place.

It makes him feel like an intruder, especially so after Paris; what was supposed to be a quick adventure has changed him inside out, opening his eyes to world where Leta is dead and Queenie has abandoned them. He’s different, done things he would never have considered days before. He’s chosen a side.

But, looking at Theseus and seeing his anguish, how could he not?

(“What about your brother?” Jacob had said.

Newt had glanced at the close door. “He’s writing to Mum, I suppose—to tell her about—Leta.” He grimaced, the thought slightly too real for him, and had turned away to gather his case.

A soft touch at his elbow and Tina was beside him.

“I’m fine,” he lies, focused on the stitching of his sleeve while he readies himself for the outside world and the people in it. “We better head off.”)

While Jacob’s already seen his home, Tina takes it in with rapt attention. Does she think it fits him? Did she expect more? Newt tries not to worry over her opinion too much or fixate on the way her eyes roam over each piece of furniture, but nonetheless does a small cleaning spell to fix the mess the nifflers caused during their escape.

“You can leave your coats at the door,” he says, stripping himself of his own. Best make a quick search of the house for escapees that took advantage of his absence, but there’s another thing to take care of first. “Jacob, if you would.”

His friend appears confused when he motions him closer, but his face changes exponentially at the sight of the baby nifflers, snoring peacefully, when Newt carefully takes them from his case. “There’s more of them!”

“Careful. They’ve been known to escape.” Jacob handles the little creatures with utmost care, careful not to wake them. “There should be a small cave filled with coins by the stairs. Make sure it’s locked.” Jacob nods, his soft murmuring floating after him as he leaves.

Tina hasn’t moved much from the front of the house. “It’s nice,” she says when she catches him looking.

Newt rubs the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. Behind her, the vase Jacob had broken upon his arrival looks brand new and it’s then he suddenly remembers. “I have something of yours. Queenie—” He winces and so does Tina. “She dropped a postcard. Yours, in fact.”

Tina’s expression turns tender when he hands it over.

“That’s how I knew you were in Paris,” Newt says quickly, stepping closer and turning his head to look at it again despite the writer being in front of him. “I recognized the way you, um, curl your y’s.”

“Newt…”

Jacob screams and the moment dies, replaced by urgency as Newt and Tina hurry to the basement. There they find Bunty holding the Muggle at wandpoint. He’s clutching the nifflers like they’re pearls and it’s then that Newt realizes that the two never actually met. “What are you doing with them!” she demands.

Before Bunty can threaten him any further, her wand flies from her hands and straight into Tina’s. “Back away from from him. Now.”

Newt sees that they’re seconds away from a disaster. “It’s alright. She’s my assistant!” He quickly steps between them, prompting Tina to lower her wand. “Bunty, this is Jacob and Tina. They’re my guests.”

Bunty blinks up at him owlishly. “Guests?” she says. “You never have guests.”

Newt flushes and tries not to be embarrassed by the implications. “Yes, well, they’re in London for the time being—staying with my brother.”

“With your…” Bunty looks at him like he’s suddenly shooting fire out of his backside.

“It was a last minute arrangement.” Tina hands back her wand with a soft apology. She studies Bunty with a strange expression and Newt thinks they should move past the moment and hurry back to what they came to do.

He pulls Jacob past his assistant. If the nifflers wake up, who knows how long it will take to get them settled and there’s work to be done, he’s sure. “Over here Jacob.”

Bunty follows after him, hovering as they get the little thieves settled. “You said went to Paris. Did you find what you were looking for?”

Newt risks a quick glance at Tina. “I did.”

“A creature?”

“Yes. We’ll have to make space beside the swamps for a new habitat.”

That gets her excited. “What is it?”

“A zouwu,” Tina says offhandedly, peeking into a doorway that opens up to a field in the springtime. “You’ll need the cat toy.”

“She’s rather spirited and friendly.” Jacob makes a noise in disagreement, but Newt ignores him. The zouwu is a kind creature, merely mistreated. He turns to Tina, almost nervous at her opinion of the place. “Do you like it?”

He’s awarded a smile that has his heart quickening. “I love it.”

Newt doesn’t know what to say, happier than he should be over a simple comment, so he merely grins back at her. He spots Bunty closer than expected and he clears his throat and hopes that he wasn’t staring too long. “You can go home now, Bunty,” he says. “We’ll deal with the rest.”

“But I’ve only just started the rounds and the grindylows habitat still needs to be looked over for leeches. Not to mention the stables have to be cleaned.” She steps closer, hopeful. “A-And the kelpie’s better with two.”

Tina sidles up beside her, her sleeves already rolled up. “She knows more about your creatures than me and Jacob. Besides, you could use the help.”

“Alright,” Newt says to her elbow. “Jacob, would you like to help Bunty with feeding the Abraxans?”

“The Abrax-a-what?”

“Abraxans.”

For some reason, Bunty appears disappointed (or, at least, Newt thinks she does), but she merely smiles when he looks at her. She shows Jacob where the feed is stored and hands him a jug of malt whiskey. The Muggle stares at it blankly for a moment. “Uh, I’m not really thirsty, but thanks.”

“It’s not for you. It’s for the Abraxans.”

“You give your horses whiskey?”

“These horses, yes. They can be a bit rough, so try not to get trampled.”

“What do you mean?” Jacob asks nervously, only for Bunty to head for the stables. “What does she mean? Newt?” He runs after her, leaving Newt and Tina alone.

Half a dozen doxies attach themselves to Newt’s shirt on his way to the shed, stubborning hanging on despite his gentle prodding, and Tina finds it particularly amusing. They bring down all the different feeds they’ll need for his creatures, as well as the eye medication for the mooncalves. Tina handles the jars of roaches and slugs without disgust while Newt juggles the mooncalves eye drops and the salve for the kelpie, and working together feels like it did in New York, efficient and comfortable.

In the middle of showing her how to correctly feed the diricawls and explaining that they’re not the most intelligent of species, Newt sees an invisible force pull at her trousers. When Tina takes notice as well a familiar figure reveals himself.

“Dougal,” she says quietly, her expression growing softer at the sight of the silver-haired primate. She extends a hand and Dougal does the same, stroking her offered wrist.

Newt shifts from one foot to another. “He remembers you.”

Dougal skitters forward, his golden eyes never leaving Tina’s. He reaches for her with his gangly arms like a child wanting to be picked up.

Tina looks at Newt for guidance and he nods encouragingly, taking the jar of crickets from her. “Demiguises give the best hugs.”

Very carefully, she reaches for the creature, hoisting him up onto her hip like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Dougal cooes and chitters, resting his chin on her shoulder, not inclined to separate anytime soon, and Tina strokes his fur almost reverently. Newt can see the moment she gives into the embrace, the tension in her shoulders and neck fading, and decides she likes her this way, relaxed and content.

He ushers her to his rudimentary desk, organizing the clutter to the best of his ability, and offers her his chair. Dougal makes a sound when she sits and Tina hugs him tighter. She meets Newt’s gaze from over the creature’s head, her eyes so expressive that New can’t help but crouch before her. Before he realizes it, he’s pried one of her hands away to grasp it between his own. “You can stay here as long as you like.”

“How are you always so kind? Even now?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’m not. Not like you.”

Newt may not be able to read people easy or understand their reasons, but he’s become accustomed to Tina, and so he knows she’s thinking of Queenie. He��s beginning to recognize her expressions and queues almost as well as Pickett’s and so he wills her to see the truth in his. “You are.”

He thinks she does because she gives his hand a squeeze.

There’s a loud crash and Newt turns to see Bunty standing not far off. She hurriedly picks up the pail off the ground, glancing between the two of them. “I’m sorry for, erm, interrupting your…” She blushes. “But your friend… he’s stuck in the water trough and Molly won’t let me through.”

“Newt!” Jacob yells, then shrieks at something. “Would you knock it off!”

Tina laughs, a small sound, one that only just reaches her eyes, and it’s like she’s finally coming alive. Newt stares and stays there a moment too long. This is more like the woman he remembers.

“Newt?” Bunty’s still there.

“Hm? Oh, yes, Jacob.” Newt snaps out of his headspace and jumps to his feet before anyone can comment. “Will you be alright by yourself?”

Tina nods, still holding his hand. “Dougal will keep me company.”

“I’ll be right back,” he promises. It seems like a silly thing, but he means it. It wouldn’t take much to adjust his workload to keep her within view, maybe entrust Bunty to take care of the beasts at the edge of his basement.

“I’ll be here,” she says and it’s like a promise of her own.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6| 7

#newtina #fantastic beasts #fbtcog #hp #fantastic beasts: the crimes of grindelwald #fbcog #tcog #crimes of grindelwald #fantastic beasts the crimes of grindelwald #otp: salamander eyes #newt scamander #tina goldstein #njckle

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lifeinahole27 · 5 years

Text

CS ff: “On the Two” (Chapter 1/9) (au)

Summary: He’s one bad trip from ending up in AA, and she’s one performance away from a solid job and moving closer to home. Their paths were unlikely to cross until Camp Hope brought them together. How and why they meet and intertwine is against the odds, and definitely against the rules, but will that really stand in their way? A Dirty Dancing inspired modern au.

Rating: E

Content Warnings: Borderline alcoholism, very brief mentions of past relationships, mentions of the loss of a limb - this fic is primarily tame but I’ll do my best to tag anything that might need tags.

Chapter Specific Warnings: Alcohol use, past injury mentions

A/N: Holy. Shit. I’ve finally found a minute to post chapter 1. Hoping to stick to a Thursday schedule for posting, and I can’t wait for you all to see this unfold.

I have to give shoutouts and love to three very important people to this process. @initiala sent this over a year ago: look i know you're busy and have a lot of fics, but just hear me out: CS Dirty Dancing AU. So. Now you know who to blame/thanks, like I’ve been doing! To @phiralovesloki for the heaps of emotional support and handholding when I needed it. I can’t imagine my life without you in general, let alone my writing process. And of course, my beta, my dancing expert, my sanity: @captainstudmuffin. Thanks for all you do for me, from proofreading to slapping me into action. I’m sure we’re even on boob punches... for now.

Catch it on FFN & Ao3!

Welcome to Camp Hope!

About Us

Years ago, Ruth Nolan operated these camp grounds as a haven for children to explore the fruits of the Earth and come into their own. For fifteen years, she oversaw the summers of thousands of children, all in need of the room to grow and eager to learn the skills of the outdoors.

In honor of Ruth’s hard work, we’ve re-opened the camp to those who still want to learn about the wilderness, explore the rich terrain that this coastal Maine property has to offer, and take the classes you’ve maybe not had time to take in the past. It’s not all outdoors, either! Our staff is composed of very talented individuals that are available to teach you almost anything, from dancing to the arts, yoga and fitness routines, as well as anything you’d expect from the average camp of summers past. You’ll enrich your body and mind and connect in ways you never have before!

A summer camp for adults may seem like an outdated or unconventional thing, but here at Camp Hope, we aim to improve the memories you may have of summer camps long past, or make new ones if this is your first time. Plus, now is your chance to try things like zip-lining without getting a consent form signed! There are plenty of perks to trying new things when you’re old enough to decide for yourself.

Please check our FAQs and pricing packages; your stay can be as short as a week or as long as the whole summer. Our accommodations range from your own private cabin to our brand new, hotel-style lodgings. We welcome you, and hope you’ll enjoy your experiences!

Sincerely,

Snow and David Nolan

Owners, Camp Hope Ltd.

-x-

Sifting through the mail on his table, Killian tosses the pamphlet for some kind of camping place into the stack to be thrown away. It joins the myriad of advertisements and coupons that he doesn’t bother to look at or ever use. Besides, if it’s a camp marketed towards adults, it’s likely something religious or a thinly veiled addiction recovery facility, and while he’s probably edging along the lines of alcoholism, he’s damn well not there yet.

There’s roughly a week’s worth of mail here, as it’s been a couple days since he’s even thought to check his mailbox, but he’s sure Liam will be up his arse any day here to go over his finances. If he makes it look like he’s been keeping things in order, Liam is less likely to give him his Worried Brother speech this month.

He sips at his coffee, pausing just a moment to pop two painkillers before resuming his sorting. When he’s hungover, the phantom pain where his left hand should be is stronger, and today is no exception to that. He hasn’t bothered to put on his prosthetic, content instead to leave it off until he has to go into public.

Days like this, though, he has nothing but time to mindlessly sift through his queue and get day-drunk. It’s been ages since Killian can remember going more than two or three days without a drink. That doesn’t stop him from unscrewing the top of his favorite brand of rum when he pours the second cup before he settles in to watch Netflix. He sprawls across the couch, happy as he ever can be to live off the settlement over the accident that cost him his hand.

There’s a bar down the street that he visits when he needs personal interaction, and if he’s lucky there might even be a woman willing to help with even more personal interactions. That’s what last night had been – him in the bar until closing, a brunette that he can’t remember the name of giggling as she pulled him towards her car. A short while later, a cab brought him home, alone, with a little less dignity than he had before.

The sound of a key in the door announces Liam’s arrival before the man himself calls out a greeting, and Killian is minimally glad for the distraction from the road of self-pity and/or loathing that he was about to embark down. He knew there was a good reason to starting his sorting today. He stashes the bottle of rum beneath the coffee table again, running his fingers through his hair real quick to tame it down.

“Ah, you are awake. Excellent. I thought we’d set your bills straight, and maybe head out for some lunch. Breakfast? What meal are you on?”

“Let’s just call it brunch. Eat first, bills second,” Killian declares, sending his spiked coffee one forlorn look as he realizes he’ll have to go get dressed and act like a responsible adult for a few hours. He takes one more gulp before taking the mug to the kitchen to dump it out.

He’s in his room for just over five minutes, using food as a motivator to get him out the door sooner. The shirt is mostly wrinkle free, and he thinks the jeans he slides on are clean, so he’s at least presentable and won’t have to deal with Liam’s tongue-clicking. He makes sure to snag his sunglasses off the entryway table before ushering his brother out the door. Had he taken much longer, Liam surely would’ve declared that the bills looked quick or manageable, and they’d take ‘just a minute more’ to complete. As it is, he can see his piles have been tampered with, straightened and organized to his brother’s preferences, as he glances back on his way out; he timed it just perfectly.

Halfway through eating, Liam takes a sip from his water before placing it back on the table, steepling his fingers as he rests his hands on the table. “I’ve just had a thought,” he says in a way that really gives away that he’s been sitting on this for a while now. “How would you like to get out of town for a while?”

“When? How long?” Killian asks, preoccupied by the task of trapping all the toppings on his sandwich. He hates using his prosthetic to eat, doing his best instead to wrangle the whole thing with his right hand while his left arm stays beneath the table.

“Over the summer? We could make an adventure of it. Maybe go back home, visit the relatives. It’s not like you’re doing anything here. As my own boss, I can afford to take some time off. We go, we live a little, return in the fall as new men. What do you say?”

The prospect of getting out of the city, away from everything that holds painful memories for him, does sound appealing. Spending the whole time with his brother, however, tarnishes it just a touch. It’s not that he doesn’t love his brother, but Liam has a tendency to be… a little overbearing.

Of course, for a long time after Killian’s accident, Liam probably had every right to be. He’d just lost a hand, for fuck’s sake. Coming just after the loss of his fiancée probably didn’t help, either, but Killian was deep in a hole of depression for so long he wasn’t sure he was ever going to see the surface again. Now, he’s not so much depressed as he is resigned to this life, unemployed due to disability, living off the accident settlement, and drinking away his feelings as often as possible without officially becoming an alcoholic.

The thing is, Liam’s overprotective shadowing of Killian’s life is nothing new. He’s been this way for as long as Killian can remember, and since Killian can only half remember a handful of instances with either their mum or their dad, it’s not entirely out of the realm of possibilities that Liam feels more like Killian’s father than his older brother. Still, every bird has to fly the nest sometime.

And Killian did for a bit. He flew, and was so close to having everything he wanted in his life – a job doing a craft he loved, a woman that he intended to marry and grow a family and home with, and still the taste for adventure on the tip of his tongue if he ever chose. But all good things come to an end, in his experience.

First was Milah’s passing. Her brief but destructive illness soaked up all their life savings, leaving Killian with a broken heart and empty pockets. He didn’t care about the money, and why should he? He lost the reason he was saving it in the first place. He could earn it all again, but he’d never have Milah back. And then, shortly after, as he helped wrap up a custom boat build for a wealthy client, something went wrong. He still doesn’t remember exactly what happened, just that one minute he had a left hand, and the next he didn’t; it really was that simple.

“I’ll think about it,” Killian finally says, abandoning the hand-held option for his food and dropping it back into the basket it came in. He stabs at the pieces of it with his fork and considers the offer. He will think about it, too; he’s not just saying so to change the conversation back to footy and traffic patterns. It’s been a long time since he’s gotten away. He’s set for life on a permanent vacation if he so chooses, but a change of scenery would be welcome at this juncture of his life.

The idea marinates all while they finish their meal, and the whole walk back to Killian’s apartment. He’s so hung up on the possibilities involved that he doesn’t even complain as they sit down with his meager stack of bills. He signs when he’s told to do so, with no remarks about the tedium of the task while they work.

By the time the afternoon is wrapping up, Killian has made up his mind. As Liam stamps the last of the bills and puts Killian’s checkbook back where it resides, Killian speaks up. “I’ve thought about your offer to get away for the summer. Might not be such a bad idea, after all.” He keeps his tone light, nonchalant, hoping that Liam won’t catch on that it’s something he might genuinely be excited about for the first time in longer than he can recall.

“Excellent. Leave all the planning to me,” Liam says as he stands and throws the trash into the bin. “I’ll send you a packing list when I’ve finalized the plans and we can meet up again to get everything squared away for a couple months out of town.”

With a shrug, Killian extracts himself from the couch in order to see his brother out since all their business is complete. In his distracted state, he misses the gleeful look on Liam’s face; it’s an expression his brother was infamous for as they were growing up and meant that Killian was about to be served a life-lesson, and he likely wasn’t going to enjoy it very much. But he’s so lost in his thoughts about all the places they may go – both familiar and new – that he bids his brother goodbye and settles back in for his slightly interrupted day of Netflix.

He doesn’t even slip more rum into his glass until after he’s had his dinner.

-x-

Emma Swan is just as much a part of Camp Hope as the camp is part of her. For the last fourteen years, Emma has been making the journey of varying lengths back to the campgrounds; it’s something a lot like flocking home for the summer, and she’s made the trip from right in Storybrooke – the tiny town closest to the camp – and from as far as Tallahassee, all those years ago.

This year, she’s traveling from just outside Boston along with her roommate, Ruby. While the stories of their upbringings are vastly different, Emma and Ruby have been two peas of a pod since Emma’s first trip.

Back then, she was journeying to Camp Hope as part of a foster kid outreach program. It was two glorious weeks that she and twenty-some other foster kids got to go to someplace new, rather than waste away in a group home or get shipped off to bible camp again. She was fourteen, and while some of the crafts and activities were aimed at kids much younger than her, she still sat at the table and made bracelets, tie-dyed a shirt and bandana, and participated in capture the flag with water balloons like it was her first time, but that’s mostly because it was.

At the campfire that night, Ruby plopped down next to her, showing her the “right” way to toast marshmallows and offering to put red streaks in Emma’s hair so they could match.

Emma passed on the streaks, but the next day when Ruby dragged her to a special meeting for future counselors, it was all history from there. More than just finding a way to spend her summers that didn’t involve wallowing in her own loneliness and isolation, Emma met David Nolan during the counselors program. Upon picking up bits and pieces about her, David decided to introduce Emma to his mother. As soon as Ruth met Emma, she was set on bringing her on as a permanent fixture in their lives.

Having previously thought that she’d never find a place that wanted her, a place that wanted someone old by foster standards and jaded beyond reason, Emma was shocked. Not only was she wanted, she was loved. Despite the three year age difference, and the short time they’d been together, David became her best friend and brother, with Ruby a close second.

There was a shared passion of dancing between Emma and Ruby, and when they weren’t raking in the volunteer hours during the summer, they were saving every penny they earned from their respective guardians to take dance lessons one town over. And that’s the way it went until they graduated.

Remembering what happened after graduation always leaves Emma with a pit of shame in her stomach that feels a lot like indigestion, so when she wanders to the kitchen, she pops two antacids before starting up the coffee maker. It used to be worse, but time heals all, even wounds that don’t feel like they’ll ever scab over.

It’s time for their annual trip back, just two days away, and Emma has too much to do to spend her morning in a guilt trip over things that happened in the past. Instead, she wanders down the hallway to get Ruby up. There’s a whole list for her friend to complete today, and she’s pretty sure she’s also battling with a hangover from being out too late the night before.

She knocks, only twisting the knob and entering the room after hearing the faint groan of invitation. “Hey there, champ. Good morning!”

Ruby groans again, struggling to push her eye mask off her face and groping for the pain killers and water on her nightstand. She’s one of those drinkers that’s always considerate to her morning self – something Emma has always been in awe of. “You’re not the morning person, stop sounding so chipper,” Ruby instructs after drinking down half the water. She hauls herself to sit up, patting the edge of her bed for Emma to sit down. “What’s on your Snow-style agenda for the day?”

“I’m going to clean. You’re going to wrap up the sub-let on the studio space. Graham is supposed to be down there around noon, so you’ve got time, but I need you to grab the costumes we’ll need for performance nights.” She leaves Ruby to get herself out of bed, and calls out that she’ll get breakfast started.

“Don’t break the toaster!” Ruby calls from behind door that Emma closes on her way out, and while Ruby can’t see Emma rolling her eyes, she knows her friend will sense it. It was one time.

Leaving for Camp Hope has always been a little tumultuous for them, but after this many years, Emma thinks they’ve gotten a little better at it. There were a few years where they weren’t going back to work camp, and those are the years that make Emma’s heart ache most – more than the year she refuses to think about.

They closed the camp when Ruth’s health suddenly declined the year after the year-that-shall-not-be-named, and Emma and David only made the journey every week to tend the growing weeds and mend the deteriorating buildings the best they could. With Ruby’s help, they were able to keep the camp from falling apart, but the same couldn’t be said for them. Ruth passed the winter after Emma turned twenty, and she lost the closest thing to a mother she’d ever found.

Luckily, they had one more to hold their family unit together. A year after Emma met him, David met Mary Margaret Blanchard, better known to her friends as Snow, and Emma got to witness fairytale levels of Love at First Punch between them. Down the road, the wedding was a bit rushed, so that Ruth could watch her son get married. Years after the quick engagement and marriage saw them going stronger than ever.

For two years, the camp remained closed, but David and Snow, thanks to an off-hand comment from Emma, decided to reopen the beloved summer camp as an experience for adults. It took a whole other year until they could renovate everything up to standards, but it was worth it. The first year they opened again, it was so profitable and the waitlist was so long that they were easily able to expand and enhance the experiences.

Shaking her head, Emma realizes she’s spending way too much time reflecting and not enough time moving. Down the hall, she hears Ruby’s water start up, and knows she has until the time the taps shut off to get that woman some hangover worthy breakfast. Pouring herself a large mug of coffee, she takes three deep, scalding gulps to get herself going.

She’s just plating up some eggs and bacon, snatching a bagel from the toaster so Ruby can construct her own breakfast sandwich when the roommate in question comes ambling into the kitchen.

This is Emma’s favorite version of Ruby. Stripped of her makeup, without a product in the world in her hair post-shower, wearing an old t-shirt and boxers for her pajamas. Her usual persona is an elaborate mask, with the heavy makeup and killer manicure, flirtation just as exposed as her long, lean legs normally are. The short shorts and low-cut tops are standard everywhere but at home. That’s the Ruby that will likely crawl into her car bright and early in a couple days, but today she’s happy to spend time with average Ruby, and she’s happy when she does not break the toaster again. There are small miracles, after all.

When both of them are settled at the breakfast bar with their food, they start talking strategy, both in prep for leaving and for camp itself.

“Are the costumes for the Waltz demo here or at the studio?” Emma asks as she alternates sips of coffee and bites of her pop-tart.

“The studio, I think. I’ll grab them when I meet with Graham and lock up everything else of ours.”

“Good. Don’t sleep with him this time, okay?”

“No promises,” Ruby says, a wicked grin spreading across her lips even as she tries to hide it behind her coffee mug.

At the very least, they might get a deal on the rent again, which is the only consolation Emma can think of. The rest of their day is a whirlwind, with Ruby taking care of the studio and Emma tidying up their apartment. She packs the bulk of their non-perishable foods to take with them, cleaning as she goes, until the whole kitchen is spotless. She also takes the time to write down the instructions and emergency numbers for Aurora, their downstairs neighbor that’s been kind enough to take care of their plants and fish while they’re gone.

It’ll be weeks until either one of them can make it back to the city, if they do at all, but Emma doesn’t mind. While she loves Ruby and living in the city, she gets her own cabin for the summer. They converted one of the old lodges into a dance/yoga studio, located just a short walk along the west trail from the main lodge. Behind said studio, they relocated one of the cabins and refurnished the whole place to act as the dance director’s housing for the summer. Thankfully, Ruby likes to throw herself into a multitude of activities, so she bunks in the staff cabins up the hill and leaves Emma to have her solitude.

Mostly, all that means is that no one will know that she’s in the studio putting in extra hours. Maybe this will be the year she can quit hunting down bail skippers and be able to focus on nothing but dancing. She can always dream, at least.

Ruby stops in only briefly to drop off a case of their costumes and check in, taking the time to change into a date dress and do her hair and make-up. She gives Emma a wink before she leaves and tells her not to wait up, before disappearing in a flurry of stiletto clicks and perfume. She doesn’t get home until late, when Emma is already tucked in her bed hoping to fall asleep. Her friend is humming and heads straight for the shower.

Emma’s not a bit surprised two days later when Ruby announces that Graham decided to pay more than they originally negotiated, and laughs at the wolfish grin on Ruby’s face as they throw their bags into the backseat and boot of the Volkswagen Bug that Emma’s had for years. They’re actually running on time for once, but Emma doesn’t expect that to last long, especially when, after only an hour, Ruby announces that she’s famished and starts calling out the name of food places they pass.

The trip to Storybrooke, on the coast of Maine, is one of Emma’s favorites. The scenic views from Boston onward are ones she’s familiar with, but that still lift her heart. The trip is only four hours if they don’t stop, but with Ruby’s pea-sized bladder, and her bottomless stomach, it’s more likely they’ll get there in five hours… if they’re lucky.

One year, it took them almost twice as long to make the journey because Ruby was chasing down the International Cryptozoology Museum and her cheap-o GPS meant that the museum (which was on the way) eluded them for hours until Emma screeched that they were done looking and if Ruby really wanted to see it, they’d find it on the way home.

They found it on the first try on their return drive, and Ruby bought her the biggest cone of Rocky Road ice cream they could find at a nearby ice cream stand, to make up for the original disaster.

This job that they do, this ability to go up and demo and teach dances to the souls that will wander through the paths of Camp Hope, is only possible because of the popularity of the camp. The first year, Emma and Ruby would switch off every two weeks, with Ruby piling all her lessons into the two weeks she was home and Emma trying to catch ask many bail skips as possible in between her own lessons and classes. When the popularity of the camp became apparent, they were able to rent out their studio space to a few other dance teachers in the area while they took the whole summer to attend to the camp. It helps that David is able to pay them, and pay them well, for their time and energy.

Along the way, Emma has met the heartbroken and the heartbreakers, she’s met dreamers and lovers, she’s taught cynics and optimists, and she’s danced for every person in between. The two of them together have dealt with perverts and assholes, handsy men and women who don’t take “no” for an answer, and people who have gone on to contact them once the summer ends to continue their lessons in the city. It makes it all worth it, these months away from all the comforts of home, to spend their summers in another version of home.

Plus, thanks to an excellent network of friends in Boston, they never want for anything from home if they forget it. It’s all just a PayPal and overnight shipping away, really.

As Ruby climbs back into the car from their third rest stop, this thought comes in handy. “I left my favorite performance shoes by the door,” Emma groans out as her friend seatbelts in and starts the car.

“Good, because I forgot to grab my sleeping pills off my nightstand,” she says, grinning quickly and dropping the sunglasses back onto her nose.

“I’ll text Aurora now.”

With the promise of a package imminently to be sent their way, Emma relaxes as the last of their journey passes by outside the windows. She zones out to the sights, not perking up again until they hit the Storybrooke town limits. They’ll top off the tank and stop in to see Granny for lunch (second or third lunch by Emma’s count) before heading up to the campgrounds. Her car crawls by each familiar sight, and Emma smiles at the simplicity of it all – the never-changing nature of their sleepy little town. While she only officially lived in Storybrooke for three years, it’s still the only place she’s ever called home.

Granny is already outside by the curb when they pull up, and Emma takes a minute to let Ruby climb out of the car to reunite with her grandmother. It’s only after she sees their hug loosen up that she opens her door, languidly stretching as she unfolds herself from the passenger seat. Then it’s her turn for Granny to gather her up and hug her so hard that Emma’s back cracks. She won’t complain, it definitely eases the travel tension to get a hug from Granny. They’re ushered inside the small diner the elderly (and boy, would be lose her shit if Emma said that term out loud) woman has run for the last billion years.

“When should I expect the first package from your neighbor?” Granny asks after their lunches have been set in front of them.

Ruby laughs, not even ashamed of the fact that they’re so predictable that her grandmother knows they’ve already left something behind.

“We’ll be back in town over the weekend to get it,” Emma answers.

“I already saw one of the trucks of shipment head up to the campgrounds,” Granny remarks as she refills Ruby’s coffee cup. “Your brother has been up there for weeks getting everything ready.”

“Please tell me he’s at least eating.”

“Snow has badgered him back home a couple times now to eat and sleep, and she picks up meals on the days they decide to stay up there. Sounds like you’re gonna have a full camp most of the summer.”

“That’s the plan,” Ruby says, beaming before she takes the last bite of her sandwich.

Emma waves them both off when they move to go into the back for more family time. It’s not that she and Ruby don’t get to visit ever, it’s just that the stretch between Christmas and camp time can sometimes feel like much longer. The same itch resides just below her skin – the need to see her brother and sister-in-law so strong that she almost slips away before she’s done eating and leaving Ruby to hitch a ride out later with one of the counselors that lives in town.

Instead, she idly swirls her onion rings through her ketchup, taking her time with making sure every crumb is gone from the plate while she waits. She glances around, waving to the familiar faces in the booths and at the counter beside her, and she grins at the large board already propped near the entrance that loudly welcomes the campers to town. Since the grounds are two miles north of Storybrooke, many will pass through on their way. Some will stay overnight in the bed and breakfast while others will stop for a bite and a fill-up before continuing on to Camp Hope.

Thankfully, the business that the camp brings to the town will mean that the owners of most, if not all, of the establishments will have their pockets lined for months to come, making the onslaught of guests and visitors worth it when the summer ends and they go back to something less than a speck on the map of Maine.

Ruby and Granny are back a short time later, while Emma is idly catching up with a sweet yoga teacher that goes by Tink. The name is fitting of the cherub-faced woman with the perfect curly bun of blonde hair on top of her head. She’s new to the staff, but not to the town, so Emma is happy to listen to her excitement bubble over as she discusses all the classes she’ll be teaching for the next few months.

“A little help?” Ruby asks, and Emma finally glances up to see her friend’s arms laden down with several bags of what Emma assumes are home-cooked meals, prepared in advance and packaged for the crew that’s already working on getting the grounds ready for the summer. She moves around the counter to take a few of the cloth totes, waving farewell to Tink as they head out.

The rest of the afternoon passes quickly; they use the main entrance to deliver the food to Snow, who’s waiting for them beneath the welcome sign when they pull up. Emma hugs her tight before transferring two of the bags to her. They make the short trek down to the main lodge where Emma gets to give her brother his own hug, tight and bracing and full of the warmth she misses when she’s away from him for so long. With lunch delivered, Ruby and Emma head back up to the car to move it to the staff parking.

The lodges they’ll each be staying in are much closer to their hidden lot than they are the main entrance, which works out well when they’re unloading enough luggage for four months, and maybe a kitchen sink or two. It takes them three trips up and down the steps leading to the lot: one to Ruby’s space in the staff lodges, one to Emma’s private lodge, and one to the studio itself.

Emma wastes no time turning on all the lights and stepping up onto the vast wooden floor. There are mirrors lining one wall, floor to ceiling, and another has all the cabinets where they store their costumes and gear. The wall opposite her reflection has windows spaced evenly apart, which she immediately starts working open even as Ruby brings in the last tote of their stuff. The air is a little stagnant, but flipping on the overhead fans will get it moving again.

Ruby drops the last container with their gear, rushing out to choose her space and start unpacking as soon as she can and promising to come back later to help get the studio in order. Emma waves her off, already itching to have the space to herself. Her muscles are practically begging to be warmed up, to take advantage of the wide open space that calls her name.

She knows she needs to clean first; the mirrors and windows all have that faint tinge of grime that comes from a long winter of neglect. The air conditioning unit needs to be tended to, as well, and tested to make sure it’s in working order before the summer starts in full. Then there’s the cleaning and organizing and stocking and… and Emma doesn’t care. She rips open the first bag she finds and pulls out leggings and a sports bra – they’ll do in a pinch. She changes quickly before skipping along the path back to the studio.

It’s only a matter of time before she’s selected something with an upbeat tempo, thankful again for the auxiliary port that allows her to play her own music from the impressive sound system. She sits on the dusty floors for a moment to slip on a beat up pair of practice shoes and lamenting again how she’ll have to turn her focus to cleaning next.

She takes her time stretching, making sure to work out all the kinks from the drive up and getting her muscles and body all warmed up. As soon as she’s on her feet, she’s running through swing patterns that she can do on her own. Through lines of sailor shuffles and slides, she dances using the whole dance studio, going from one end of the spacious floor to the other. She doesn’t get this much room in Boston. She doesn’t get this solitude. She doesn’t get this freedom. Maybe this is the real reason she loves coming back to camp so often, and there’s probably something in her psyche to deal with in those regards but it’s nothing she’s willing to look too closely into.

By the time the playlist switches to something for cooldown, Emma has worked up an impressive sweat. She grabs a towel from the same bin she found her shoes in, wiping down her face and neck before dropping back to the floor for final stretches. Placing the towel on the floor, she stretches out briefly, staring up at the ceiling and watching the fans whirl peacefully above her. This is it. This is home for the next couple months. And nothing will change how happy she is to be here.

With that thought, and a beatific smile, Emma changes back to her tennis shoes and hauls herself off the floor. There’s hours of cleaning ahead of her, after all.

Chapter 2

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan ff #cs multichap #sarah writes ff

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yovnette · 2 years

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So, I’ve been on a TWD fanfic binge. Now I have like a million fanfic ideas running through my head. Mostly because I can’t find what I’m looking for- I figured what better to do than post on a site. Y’all be gentle, this is my first time posting fanfic stuff. Plus, as you can tell I’m new to tumblr, well I was a long time lurker.

The first thing I’ve been dying to read is like a magic or supernatural OC. So here are few ideas that have been running through my head. Maybe one day when I feel more secure about writing I’ll write an actual story.

Magic/Supernatural OFC

Angel

I’m thinking like a young or young looking OFC, and is basically an angel. I’m feeling like her “father” or “mother” sent her to TWD to help, since the world won’t survive. As a result she either only looks young or has growth spurts based on experience.

Like in this universe Negan decides to stay with Lucille, and not look for the doctors. He goes to scavenge and runs into Angel. He freaking falls in love with this itty bitty girl who looks like she could be his and Lucille’s kid.

He takes her back, and Lucille treats her like their kid. They teach her things she should have known/basic skills. In fact they have her call them mommy/daddy, since from what she says/act they think her real parents abused and abandoned her. As the time passes Lucille actually starts to get better, not worse. The two have no idea what the hell is going on.

Angel has wings, one set and small for now. That she keeps tight to her body and hidden by her hair and wearing Negan/Lucille’s shirt and jacket. I’m thinking by the time of Rick’s group appearing she has 6 or 8 wings. Like two sets of huge wings, two smaller sets that wraps around her shoulders and hips.

One day Negan is late from a run. Lucille and Angel are about to go look for him when he stumbles into the basement. He was bitten on the forearm, used a belt as a tourniquet but was too scared to cut his arm off.

Queue the crying/anger/reactions. Lucille is freaking out it’s been too long since he was bit and Negan is crying ask her not to let him turn. Angel is watching and speaks in her normal broken sentences “Monster hurt?” “Daddy sick. Like Mommy?”

Negan cries harder and Lucille explains to Angel. Negan is going and won’t be around, basically he’s gonna die. I have like a few ideas about this scene. But it’s basically Angel telling them she’ll heal him or that her father told her to help people and she wants to help Negan. Either way her words make the two feel even worse thinking she doesn’t understand.

They don’t stop Angel as she takes the belt off Negan’s arm and touches the bite. So I’m thinking she like glows gold, her angel wings burst through her shirt and grow big as fuck. When Negan and Lucille can see again Angel is passed out and Negan’s bite mark is gone. In fact he feels better then he has in years. Angel’s wings are bigger and she looks a little older, like 6/7 instead of 5.

I don’t really have any ideas on the beginning and the next part. Which would be a few months later and the family of three have moved on, since the area they’re in has been picked clean.

Here I’m thinking in a few different directions. 1.They run into the biker gang or someone else. And terrible terrible things happen to the girls, they survive but now we have a Negan that’s even worse than the original. 2. Bad things still happen to the girls but Lucille dies before Angel can heal her. Negan is still scary as fuck but his promise to Lucille and caring for Angel curbs some of the crazy. 3.Lucille survives instead of Negan. Either because of the experience or something else she despises men. She creates a community with women as top dog, and men as second citizens. 4.Angel survives and creates the Saviors, maybe meets Sherry and Dwight or Simon that protect her. 5. The gang leave the family for dead, Lucille dies and Negan is beaten almost to death. Angel is in terrible shape but cares and nurses Negan back to health. And he’s both better and worse than Original Negan. 6- Lucille and Angel live, Negan dies. Lucille becomes the new Negan, idk about how similar they’d be.

Just some random scenes that I’ve imagined.

1- Negan still claims the other communities but does it because of Angel. Like if she considers it part of her home, powers will make plants grow better/fast, people are healthier, and the dead tend to avoid it.

2- Sanctuary trades/forces other communities to give them supplies for “medical care”. They can even ‘heal’ walker bites. I’m thinking Angel becomes a kind of deity here, like people in the factory would willingly throw themselves in front of her to protect her. And others from the different groups have no idea how the fuck they’re healing people, especially walker bites. When they’re brought to be healed they’re blindfolded and never see Angel.

3- The line up still happens but Negan has Angel heal Abe and Glenn before they’re beaten to death. To show that he means business but is still forgiving. I’m tied on if they have Angel heal them in or out of the RV. She even heals Maggie, maybe.

4- A kind of cult group forms around Angel. She never leaves Sanctuary, and is treated like a porcelain doll. She still heals and does everything she can to help her people. But sometimes she feels suffocated and tries to leave, maybe they chain her up?

5- Because of how Angel grows/can grow she looks like a young adult in like two years. And starts to have sexual feelings for Negan. I’m thinking in this one he let her call him dad because it made Lucille happy. It’ll be a struggle for Negan but eventually it’s a Negan/ofc story.

Lily

I like the name lily (some flower name) for a nature spirit/Druid/dryad.

So either she lives near the factory or at the factory before the saviors get there/apocalypse.

If she lived there from the start she uses trees, bushes, and other plant life to block off her area. Lily grows like everything in her area, and has animals (since they can tell she’s a safe place/person). Well when Negan sends out scouts for a new place or community they find her place.

For a oneshot I think I’d have it end here, since Negan’s way of doing things would piss her off enough to kill him or his people.

For a longer story, somehow Negan would convince Lily to let his people stay at the factory. He’d do it through guilt (look at the poor children/women/sick), or by seduction.

Which if that did happen, Megan wouldn’t threaten or try and control other communities. I think he’d become the big man on the block by ‘producing’ the most food. Even in winter, never ending food from Lily.

If Lily lives near the sanctuary, I think the humans or a certain human would draw her in. Like Simon/Dwight/Negan, maybe someone else. But a romance blooms (pun intended) and she joins sanctuary, and works as a gardener. Well people start getting suspicious when her plants grow 2-3 times faster and bigger. Lily would be terrible at hiding she wasn’t human in this storyline.

Or maybe one of the saviors see her in the area. And they keep seeing her. Lily makes or thinks it’s a game, hide n seek apocalypse edition. Maybe she leaves gifts/blessings when they see her or spot her in the forest. This continues until a certain point in the series. Like when the communities let the walkers into The Sanctuary. But Lily stops it, or helps protect everyone.

Aurora

So a wolf shifter or werewolf.

She’d be the alpha female of her pack, and is currently in charge since her father/mother (the actual leader) is sick or maybe even dead.

If her parent is sick, she runs into the saviors when stealing medicine from them or looking for medicine. In this version the pack is her, mom or dad, and some siblings. So a few options from here: 1. Negan threatens and kills someone, which results in his death. 2. They work out some kind of deal and join forces with The Sanctuary. 3. Aurora and her family successfully escape the saviors and later team up or help Rick’s side.

If Aurora’s parent is dead, it’s her and a sibling or two and a group of kids she considers her kids. She’s the alpha of the pack, and mother to the kids. From there a few different storylines: 1. Negan or someone somehow makes a threatening move towards her kids. She kills them. 2. Instead of killing the person she shows off her strength, by throwing them or lifting them off the ground. Something. Negan sees this and has her join him. If he wants to marry her, no wives (wolves don’t do polygamy). If she does join I’m thinking she uses her blood to strengthen Negan, maybe some others. 2. Or Negan uses her kids as hostages, this eventually leads to Aurora taking over or joining Rick. 3. This one Aurora willingly joins to have a safe place for her kids, she would hide what she is in this one.

Or scrap everything. In this one Aurora is alone and the whole no pack thing drives her crazy (or almost crazy). She joins Negan’s group, and proceeds to turn some of his people into werewolves or shifters.

Lexi

How about being in Oceanside for this one.

She’s a nymph or protector of children in this one.

Lexi would hide from any adults but she would play/protect/interact with the kids.

Lexi would totally give the kids food or things, which they have no idea how to explain to their parents.

The adults all think she’s an imaginary person or friend that the kids have. Until Simon comes to kill the men. The kids would rush to Lexi for protection. She protects the kids and let’s all the adults die. Or she stops and kills Simon and his men. Maybe after listening and calming the kids she only gets there after all them men are dead.

If Lexi kills Simon, I think they’d all have to flee or Lexi would have to keep killing Negan’s men.

Let’s say all the older males are dead and they flee, Lexi would join them. I’d pair her with someone from Oceanside but I don’t know who.

Lucille

Lucille is totally not human. In her note to Negan she asks him to go to some place important to them. And bam there she is, but she has to explain the whole I’m not human/how am I alive/or something.

I like the idea of her being a tree spirit (Babe go to our tree) and she appears there. Shows him how she used magic/her tree to create a body she could use to leave her area.

Or maybe some kind of being with no body. It results in her inhabiting the bat. Which she uses as an anchor to be around and manifest for Negan. Others can see her. Go the cray cray route, Negan treats his bat like it’s alive because he’s the only one that can see/hear Lucille. I feel like she would manifest at some point, causing a total wtf moment or scaring people shitless.

Lucille could even be a negative spirit or a demon. So she inhabits his bat and corrupts him through it. I’d like scary movie levels of shit. Like her appearing behind people, pushing or scaring the other wives, doing something to protect Negan. Either she protects Negan in his battle with Rick or Rick’s team figures out something they have Father Gabriel banish her with his bible powers.

#twd fanfiction #fanfic #negan imagine #negan smith #fanfic ideas #twd negan #negan x oc #twd simon

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rey-skywalkin-away · 6 years

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Kanera Fix-It Fic I was Talking About

Y’all thought I was joking when I said I had 3000 words of a fic all lined up to fix this, right? GUESS AGAIN. 4117 WORDS. I had to delete 90% of my original 3000 words and re-write it just now to conform to what happened in the midseason premiere, and it took me four hours, but I did it! Anyway, I put myself into the queue to make an archiveofourown account, but that’ll take a month to activate, so until then, I’ll just post this chapter-by-chapter on here. I got part 1 done tonight, and it might be a few days before chapter 2: I have college life and work that’s going to be occupying my time this week. But I’m not abandoning this. I am FUELED BY PAIN.

@secrettunnelyeah you’ve been losing your shit with me, so I hope this helps. @fluffyapplecat thanks for all your support! @commoner64 because you said “please””. @blueboxdrifter you expressed support for this a few weeks ago, so here you go! @brickhawk you gotta help read this shit before the next chapter. I can’t post again without a second opinion.

Um, I hope you all enjoy.

Fair warning to everyone else: this is my first time posting any kind of story online, and it’s as rough as any story can be. I normally spend time editing my chapters, as any writer should, but I was just hammering it out as fast as I could to a) get it done before I fell asleep and b) to give you all a little hope after this agonizing premiere. So I’m sorry if it’s full of errors that I’m too tired to edit right now, and that the format under the cut is kind of wonky. I’m not entirely happy with the content, either–it’s kind of melodramatic and rushed for my taste, but I’m running off pure emotion right now. Hopefully I’ll find time to edit it before I before I post it on Archive. The chapter and some explanations for various things are down below. Happy readings, and everyone be okay out there!

*Writer’s Notes*

First off, I had literally 20 ideas for how Kanan would survive this premiere, and I had “explosion” down for two of them. Here, he survives by basically copying Ahsoka during her fight with the Inquisitors and Force-clapping backwards into Hera’s arms. He gets burned up and spends 3 weeks recovering in a bacta tank. No one’s going into much detail about it in the story, because they don’t want to re-imagine it all over again, but that’s what I was envisioning happening.

Second, Kanan is still blind: him getting to see Hera before he died was painful and sweet, but I honestly felt he had a lot of growth because of his injury, and it needed to stay. (And disability representation is important).

Third, I can’t start calling him “Caleb Dume”, guys, I’m sorry! I’ve spent four years calling him Kanan, and I can’t get into the habit of calling him Caleb.

Fourth, his beard and ponytail are coming back.

Fifth, I have a very large, multi-fandom, decades-long (in-universe) fanfiction world that I’m always playing with and developing to further my own writing prowess, character development, and storytelling skills. I’m going to make references to that multi-fandom work in this story (not a lot, but if there are moments where you’re thinking “where did that come from? I don’t remember that in the show or comics”, well, it might be from the multi-fandom). I’m including this story in my collection of works, and I don’t feel like editing it all over again just to include references to it. So you should all be able to follow what’s going on, but there might be a few odd moments.

————————————–

Chapter 1

Hera checked her calendar again, counting down days and weeks and making notes as she went. Nine weeks ago…captured. Eight-and-a-half weeks ago…rescued. Five weeks ago, we…and four weeks ago…well, I’m now very late. I should’ve started another cycle by now. And on a regular diet for over eight weeks, with additional nutritional supplements to get back to full strength after confinement. And we’re hardier than humans; we don’t get so out of sync after missing a few meals and getting a few electric shocks. So that shouldn’t explain why I’m late. She then checked her star charts for any habitable systems nearby, and winced when there weren’t any. Should I divert our flight path to go to the nearest star system just to buy a test? No, we’re fine on other supplies, and everyone will ask questions as to why I think we need to make a stop. She would’ve killed for a certified medical droid onboard her ship in that moment, but she was out of luck. They’d left the medical system on that nameless little asteroid five weeks ago now, and they were back to their own devices out in space. Great. Just great. Gonna have to go on instinct this time. And she wasn’t liking what she was coming up with.

Hera opened her mouth to say the word out loud, but couldn’t do it. Pregnant. You’re pregnant. You’re four weeks late, and your idiot self didn’t want to think about protection after you were saved by Kanan and the others. And after what nearly happened to Kanan…

After her rescue, after telling Kanan that she loved him, after he nearly died and had to spend three weeks in a bacta tank, the minute he’d showered off and went to his own bunk to be alone, she’d slipped into his room and reiterated her love for him. Free of drugs and pain, she’d finally broken down for once in her karking life and loved him, not as a general, or a pilot, or a freedom fighter. Just him and her, together, as it should always be. To remind herself that he’d been blasted back into her arms instead of dying in the fuel explosion, that he’d survived three flatlines before they could find him a bacta tank. That he’d eventually woken up and immediately began to listen for the sound of her voice. And afterwards, curled up in each other’s arms, she’d whispered that, now that his beard had grown back and his hair was beginning to return, he’d better keep it that way. Kanan had laughed, but they’d clutched each other in the semidarkess and just listened to each other breathe. No, of course you weren’t thinking clearly. He needed you, and you needed him. But look what came of it.

Hera rubbed the corners of her eyes and tried to think past the rising panic in her gut. What am I going to do about this? Pills? A clinic visit? Which is cheapest? What’s safest and gets me back into the pilot’s seat without anyone noticing something was wrong? She thought back to the pamphlets and medical texts she’d memorized when she’d left Ryloth to strike out on her own in the galaxy. Twi’leks were always targeted anywhere one went in the galaxy, and she’d prepared herself for what to do if she was attacked and how to handle any possible outcome. But thinking about the next few steps right now made Hera’s heart hurt. A few years ago, this would’ve been an easy decision for her. Three months ago, she wouldn’t have hesitated. Today…

Hera knew why she was conflicted. Will there ever be a tomorrow? We got lucky this time—will I be next? Or will the Force finally decide to call Kanan back to wherever it is Jedi go when they die? Will there ever be a second chance for us to conceive? She hadn’t given much thought to the end of the war, to her future, but sitting next to Kanan’s bacta tank and listening to his pulse monitor for several hours a day had broken something inside her, and she’d begun to think. A mild, deserted little planet. Not dry and harsh like Ryloth. Someplace cool and wet and green. A little home, with rooms for the rest of the family. Sabine can paint the family room with murals of our adventures. Maybe little tookas frolicking on the baby’s nursery walls. Zeb can carve us furniture with all the designs of Lasat that he’s lost. Whatever he can remember. Ezra…he can have a real bed, not a bunk. And a home-cooked meal that didn’t come out of a ration pack. When was the last time he had one of those? Chopper can have a nice oil bath and shut down without worrying that we’ll wake him up for an emergency. And our baby will run in the grass and will never know war, and…

Hera swallowed back tears and controlled her emotions. You’re dreaming again, Hera Syndulla. It’s one thing to admit your feelings for Kanan and finally be open in your relationship, and it’s another thing to abandon the rest of the galaxy to pursue your selfish dream. How many people want the same dream as you? How many people have the skills and resources to make that dream come true for everyone else that can’t help themselves? Your little fantasy will have to wait. Get rid of this and get back to work.

Her heart broke as she made up her mind, and a sudden fatigue overcame her. Raw emotion? Something related to the pregnancy? She knew nothing about pregnancy, come to think of it. Or how to be a mother. What makes you think you have time to learn? Especially now? You aren’t ready for this. You know what you have to do.

Hera wearily glanced at her chrono. A few hours until your shift. When I’m back in the pilot’s seat, I can tell the others I’ve got nerve damage from torture, and that I need to see a specialist somewhere. Maybe I could say we all deserve a treat after what we’ve all been through. She shuffled to her dresser and opened the secret panel on the side to check how many credits she had left in her emergency fund. Enough for the procedure and a little left over for the others. This could work. Damn it. This’ll have to do. There will be other opportunities, Hera. Just have hope.

But it could wait. The fatigue was seeping throughout her body, fogging up her mind and turning her limbs to jelly. A few hours to nap, and then it’ll be time to call everyone. In twenty-four hours, this will all be over. A few tears blurred her eyes, and she roughly wiped them away. Either get out all the sorrow now, or sleep and cry afterwards. Hera chose the latter, and she barely made it to her bunk before she collapsed on top of the covers and sank into a deep, misery-filled slumber.

———————————-

It only felt like a few minutes had passed before Hera was startled out of her uneasy sleep. “Who is it?” She rasped. She groggily sat up and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.

“Hera? It’s me.” Hera shivered at the sound of his voice. Every word that he spoke seemed like a precious gift after what nearly happened. But now, after what she’d finally admitted to herself, he was the last person she wanted to see right now. Or, maybe she needed him most. Can he feel it? In the Force? Does he already know? Does he know what I’m planning to do?

“Kanan.” Her voice caught in her throat, and she couldn’t keep going.

“Can I come in? Please?”

Hera hesitated. Either you don’t tell him now, and you don’t involve him at all, or he knows what you’re planning to do. Could she do it alone? Without him? She didn’t know if it would be more painful to involve him, or to never let him know what could have been.

But Hera had made a commitment to Kanan when she’d told him she loved him, and there was no backing out of that commitment now, no matter how she’d chosen to handle her pregnancy. “Come in,” she whispered.

Kanan was framed in the light of the hall for only a second before he shut the door and crossed the distance to her bunk. He sat down next to her, his hands automatically wrapping around her shoulders; he froze when his hands met the rough fabric of her blanket. “Hera? What’s going on? Are you ill?”

Not in the way that you’re thinking, but yes. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, I…” He hesitated. “I know it’s getting pretty old for me to say it, but I feel a…disturbance in the Force. Around you.”

Hera tensed up. Oh karabast. He knows. “Tell me what you feel.” In their first years together on the Ghost, if they had time to rest, they’d park the ship in the first meadow they could find. Stretched out on the hull, in the light of the stars above, Kanan would describe the world to her as he felt it in the Force. A web connecting all living things, from the deadly dance of predator and prey in the grasses below them, the cries of the plants as they cried out for rain, jostled to and fro by the silent paws of some canid beast, to the needy, incessant hunger of newborn chicks in the trees at the edge of the meadow…

This time, she couldn’t control her tears, and Kanan’s fingers were immediately brushing them away from the corners of her eyes as soon as she sucked in a strangled breath of air. “I feel…you’re so unhappy. You’re full of…pain, and despair. Hera, I don’t understand. Why do you feel like you’re losing something?”

He doesn’t know. Oh stars, if there was only another way…But there wasn’t. She gently took one of his hands away from her face and held it in her own. “You can’t understand because you’re looking in the wrong place.”

Kanan cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“You’re looking into my mind…” She held his hand up, paused, and pressed his fingers against the still-flat skin of her lower torso. “Try feeling here, and you’ll know why I’m so conflicted.”

Hera wasn’t sure if he felt something in the Force or if he immediately understood her implication. “Hera–!”

“Only five weeks,” she whispered. “I wasn’t assaulted in prison, so I definitely know it’s yours. And I know the date of conception. But only five weeks. Not that far along, really…” She trailed off as she noticed Kanan’s face shutting down, closing off all emotion. Oh no. She waited a few moments to allow him to process the news, to say something, anything, but he didn’t. “Kanan? Luv? Tell me—what’s going through your head right now?”

He coughed. “Do you have any water?”

“I—uh—yes. There’s a pitcher and some cups on the dresser. To the left of my ‘fresher.” He nearly banged his head on the top of the bunk as he stood up and held out his hand to feel his way along. “No, your left.”

He bumped against the edge of the dresser and winced. “Do you want any?”

This was definitely not the reaction she was expecting. “…sure. I guess.”

Kanan poured two cups of water, spilling what seemed like half the jug before he was done. Hera took the cup from him so he could have a free hand to feel his way back to her side without hurting himself further. She sipped her water while he chugged his straight down and tossed the cup aside. “Kanan. Please. Talk to me.”

He sighed. “I don’t…I don’t know where to begin.”

“I don’t either. But we have to start somewhere.”

“Well then…I suppose…did you ever want to be a mother?”

Hera sat down her cup and wrapped the blanket tighter around herself. “I wasn’t lying when I told you that I hadn’t given much thought about my future after the war. But I started thinking about it when you nearly died.”

Kanan’s breath came in a soft, weak gasp, and he pulled Hera into his arms. She melted into his embrace and felt his trembling. At least he doesn’t hate me. And he knows me well enough to know what my feelings are on this. Somehow, she allowed herself to speak about her dream life after the war: their quiet home together, the rooms for the rest of the family, their child playing in the yard outside. She felt his tears begin to run down his cheeks and drip on top of her lekku, and she knew that he could feel her sorrow in the Force.

“You know,” he said slowly. “I hadn’t thought much about kids, either. But I started thinking about them more when we found the others. Especially Ezra. We’re like their parents already, aren’t we?”

Hera chuckled, in spite of her pain. “We definitely are.”

“And I started to think…it wouldn’t be so bad, to do it all over again. But with a baby of our own…”

Hera closed her eyes and pressed herself against his chest. “But…?”

Kanan swallowed; she could feel the effort it took him. “But I know you. And whatever you choose to do, no matter my feelings…I’ll support your decision. You’re the pregnant one, after all. You’re the one at risk. Its—it’s up to you.”

“What are your feelings, Kanan?”

“They don’t matter.”

Hera sat back and cupped his face in her hands. “Yes, they do. I love you Kanan, and I wouldn’t have told you about this if I didn’t want to involve you, no matter what. So please, tell me your honest, true feelings.”

“Honestly…I’d love nothing more than to have a baby with you. I don’t know when we’d get another chance, with the war…”

Hera sobbed, half with relief and love, half with pain. “This damn war. It poisons everything it touches, including us. Our futures…”

Kanan started to cry again. “I know you. And I know what you want to do. I know it already.”

“I want this baby, too, but I don’t know how we’d make time. We can’t have a baby here, on the Ghost. It would be cruel just to bring it into the world and have it blow up with us in battle. Or die from some sickness.” Everyone knew babies didn’t thrive in prolonged periods in space. “And we can’t send it to my father; you know how dangerous it is on Ryloth.” She’d told him about her brother before, and he nodded. She started to cry again, and they held each other for long, painful minutes. Stang, I don’t want to do this. But I have to. What other choice do I have? I can’t leave the war. Not while others suffer. But at least I won’t have to do this alone.

But, for some reason, she felt tension in Kanan’s arms. Hera pulled back again. “What is it?” Why do you look so…guilty?

“We could leave the Rebellion and raise the baby together. Or get an abortion.” Hera made a sound of assent in the back of her throat. “Or…there’s another option.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What if I were to leave the Rebellion, maybe with Ezra, and the two of us raise the baby while you and the others keep fighting?”

Hera gasped. “Leave? Are you serious?” Was he so upset about what happened at the fuel depot that he wants to run away?

“I don’t know how to put this into words. When I was in the bacta tank, in the coma, I remembered something. Something from…right after Master Billaba died. I’d forgotten it until I was at the edge of death. I don’t remember what happened, but… I woke up with the sense that I was supposed to die at the fuel depot.” He choked on the last few words, and Hera couldn’t have spoken if she tried. “And I feel that, whatever happened in that blank in my memory as I was running away from her body, it saved me. Not…oh karabast, I don’t know how to explain it. But whatever it was, it gave me a feeling: that I needed to leave the conflict, or else I wouldn’t get a second chance to live. For some reason, Ezra’s been getting a weird feeling, too. Not quite the same as me, I don’t think, but he’s been hinting that we need to leave and do more Jedi work away from the rest of the group. Maybe something similar happened to him when he was younger. I don’t know. I haven’t been able to ask. But…”

Hera stood up. “After everything that happened, you were just going to leave us?” Leave me? She couldn’t fault him for listening to his visions, but it stung, especially after she’d finally opened up and bared her soul to him for the first time in years. I give you my love and you leave. “Whatever happened to being careful about listening your visions? Or was that all just a bunch of Jedi nonsense you were feeding to Ezra? Hmm?”

“Absolutely not. This feels completely different from a Force vision. Like…someone physically told me these things and blocked my memory. Not the Force. Not some cosmic energy. A person.”

“So you’re going to run away because of some half-remembered whispers?”

He felt for her hand and pulled her back onto the bunk. “Hera Syndulla, I love you. I love you more than I ever knew I was capable of loving someone. And I wouldn’t leave you and the others unless I was absolutely certain that this vision was something I needed to listen to. It’s going to kill me inside to do it, but I believe it’s what must be done if we want to survive. What if there are other Inquisitors out there? And what if Vader decides to end us once and for all, especially with what happened at the fuel depot? I’m stronger now, Ezra and I both are, but we couldn’t defeat him. And I couldn’t let the rest of you be put in jeopardy because you’ve got two Force-users leaving a trail for a Sith Lord to follow.”

Hera squeezed his hand. Just a bit. “So…you’d leave? And raise the baby? Are you sure you could do it? With your blindness?”

“Ezra could be my eyes and help out. And think about it: we could keep the house while you’re all away, and you could visit whenever you wanted, and keep fighting. And you’d know that there’d always be a home for you to return to, and the minute you wanted out of the fight, we’d be there, waiting for you.”

Hera turned away. “Could you really do that? Wait at home while we risked our lives out on the battlefield?”

Kanan sighed. “I’d be happiest if you were home with us. And I want to keep fighting, same as you. But if we could make some of your dream come true this way…I’d bow out.” His voice caught, and Hera suddenly realized how hard this all was for him. “Just…promise me one thing. Could you do that?”

Hera took his hands again. “Ask me first.”

“If this war keeps dragging on…will you consider finding a window of opportunity to leave? And be with us?”

Could you do that? Leave the fight, even if it wasn’t over? But Kanan was sacrificing part of his happiness, too. He’d be worrying every day, watching their child, waiting for her to come home. And if she never did, all he’d have was their baby to remind himself of how happy they could’ve been. Hera reached over and cupped his cheek in her hand, her heart bursting with love for him. “Yes. I will consider it, Kanan, knowing that you’re waiting for me. You’re the only one who could make me leave this fight. You…and the baby.”

Kanan sobbed with joy and pulled her into a crushing hug. They cried together again, but Hera’s joy was bittersweet. Why can’t I get to fully enjoy my dream? I want to be at home with Kanan and the baby. But I can’t. Not just yet.

But this way, there was a chance to have that future, when there otherwise wouldn’t be. And Hera Syndulla’s life was never fair from the moment she was born; she knew it, and wasn’t one to dwell on it for long. Besides, there were much more wonderful things to think about. A baby. We’re having a baby. “If I don’t miscarry, that is,” she muttered to herself.

Kanan frowned. “What was that?”

Hera wiped her eyes and looked around to find some tissues for them both. “Sorry, thinking out loud.”

“About miscarrying?”

Hera found some tissues and grabbed them. She passed a few to Kanan and blew her nose. “Just…it would be awful for us to go to all this trouble just for me to miscarry after the stress of a fight.”

“Hmm. You’re right. Maybe we could hang back for a while and do some logistics work. At least until you’re further along.”

“I’m going to have to find a way to hide this pregnancy, Kanan. If Inquisitors are still out there, hunting down Force-sensitive children, they’ll come for our baby, I’m sure of it.” She paused. “Is there a chance the baby could be Force-sensitive?”

Kanan blew his nose and she took it from him to throw in the trash. “I don’t know. There was a pretty big taboo about getting pregnant at the Temple, if you could imagine that. But I guess there’s a strong possibility of it.”

“Then we’ll have to hide my pregnancy. No one can know about it. Well…maybe Mon Mothma. But she’s it, outside of the crew.”

“I…oh damn, I think that means that I’ll have to fake my death. Ezra, too, if he comes along to help out.”

Hera banged her head on the top of her bunk. “Ow! What?!”

“Careful, careful—the baby—“

“A bruised lek won’t kill the baby, Kanan. But faking your death—“

“Well, that’s what we’ll have to do if we want to make sure we’re not tracked down. If everyone believes without a shadow of a doubt that we’re gone, no one will come looking for us. And your “grief” will give you an excuse to pull back for a few months, while you need to hide the bump.” Kanan suddenly moved off the bed and ran to the tiny ‘fresher.

“Kanan!” But he waved her away, and she hung back, waiting until he was done vomiting. Then, she found a rag and wet it from the remaining water in the jug. She went over to Kanan, who was still slumped over the toilet. She pulled him away from the bowl and gently began wiping his face. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be getting morning sickness, remember?”

He snorted, but let her keep tending him. “It’s just…we’re going to have to make sure everyone thinks, beyond a doubt, that we’re dead. And that means leaving no body— ” He turned around to retch again, but nothing came up. “And that means—fire, and explosions—“

“Oh, Kanan…” She held him until the panic attack—or flashback, whatever it was—subsided, and he’d calmed down again. “We’ll find a way to make it work. A safe way. If there’s anyone who could do it, it would be Sabine.”

“And how could I do that to Ezra? Put him at risk like that?”

“Well, we have to tell him about the baby, first. We’ll have to tell everyone. But, for right now, let’s just go lie down.” She helped him to his feet and into her bed. They crawled under the covers together, and Hera settled comfortably into his arms. I don’t know how I lived without this for so long. This feels so right, to be here with him.

Kanan’s eyes were drooping. “Don’t you have a shift soon?”

Hera’s fatigue was setting in again. “I’ll just tell one of the others that I have a call to take from someone in Rebel command. They’ll understand. Or Chopper can take the shift.” She yawned and couldn’t keep her eyes open. “I’ll deal with it later.”

They fell asleep, wary about the future, but both full to the brim with love for each other and the life beginning in Hera’s body.

—————————-

Okay, so I promise that this story is going to get happier, okay? There’s just a lot of depressing stuff that needs to be ironed out in this first chapter. It’s not going to be all sunshine and roses, but it will have a happy ending.

I also was originally going to have Kanan and Ezra faking their deaths by pretending to blow up when the rebels attacked a weapons supply store. They were going to dig tunnels underneath and be well-away before the explosion happened, but were going to pretend to be killed by the fire/explosion/falling debris. It hits so close to home in light of the midseason premiere that I don’t know if I can do it.

Or maybe I will. Because I’m kind of sadistic.

Also, the reference to Kanan being “warned” to escape is the reference to my multi-fandom story. There’s some Prisoner of Azkaban-level time travel shenanigans that go on, but it’s not “adult Kanan visits ‘lil Caleb”. It’s a lot more complicated and I don’t feel comfortable explaining it.

#kanera #star wars rebels spoilers #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #swr spoilers #i'll tag more characters as they appear #but here ya go #my rough stories #star wars rebels

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seesarahaccomplishstuff · 3 years

Text

Therapy today helped a bit.

I told my therapist how I’ve been having intense breakdowns since Monday and haven’t been doing okay.

She asked what happened and I told her how I thought the childhood stuff wouldn’t bother me because it was so long ago, but it’s so frustrating to see how much my parents fucked me up. And now there’s this huge list of ways I’m broken that won’t stop growing. And it’s my entire personality. And more people are leaving and that triggered my anxiety, and someone that I’m trying to trust massively crossed a boundary that made my rejection issues even worse.

So she nodded and said “you have a lot to work on. And you really jumped all into it, which is really great, but you’re going to feel like you’re losing for a while. It’s going to overwhelm you a lot. And it’s going to feel easier to lock yourself in your room and off yourself.” (Which I didn’t expect her to say, but she’s right) So I said, “I just don’t fully see the point in trying to fix 30 years of broken.”

“What’s wrong with your personality?” “It’s all fucked up. Everything I do is codependent.” “Sure. Give me an example.” And I couldn’t think of one offhand, so I said, “the thing I realized the other day was I do something for someone because I care right? Which is fine. But also when people are stressed about their situation they get mad. And when that happens I get snapped at and shoved away. So I help to avoid that too I think.”

She was not sold on that. “You used to buy dinner for friends a lot. You did that so you wouldn’t get in trouble?” “No. I did it because I like when people do nice things for me and they don’t always make sure they can eat so I do it so they feel cared about and are healthy.” “That’s just being kind. When you would pay a bill for them they typically pay it right back. So is that codependent?” “No. They need help so I help and they pay it back.” “The times you did it when you didn’t have money to spare. (Which I argued and she called me out lol) The times you let them blow off repaying- that was codependent. You do have a lot of codependent tendencies. But kindness is inherently codependent. You can’t rip apart any time you’ve shown someone kindness. Your biggest codependency issue is not holding boundaries for yourself.”

“You need to repeat the phrase ‘People treat you the way you’ve taught them to treat you’.” “My friend used to say that to me at least once a week.” “Yea well, they’re smart and we’ve covered that you needed to listen to what they’d tell you more than you did. You also need to remember that you don’t control other’s emotions. And other people don’t control yours.”

“People think you’re manipulative and controlling. That’s what they’ve taken from your behavior. You can’t control that. You know it’s not what you intended. You know you’ve been improving for many months. I know you have. But you made them feel a certain way and their opinions didn’t change. You can look at that and acknowledge it and re-examine your behavior like you are. But you can’t change their minds. And their feelings don’t make you that person. So fixating on it doesn’t get you anywhere.”

And then she asked me if I was doing all of this for me or them and I told her I’m having a hard time prioritizing myself. That it pisses me off when people pull the “great pain means great growth. You’ll look back and smile” bullshit. Because the way this feels is terrible and I hate it. So, I know I can’t change anyone’s view of me, but I’m doing all this to try and be who I wanted to be for people who had to leave because of my behavior. And she accepted that.

I also have to start some EDM... pretty sure it’s 4 letters. It’s something to work through past trauma. She said she’d send videos to watch. My alanon group leader asked if she did that sort of thing last week so I guess that’s just where we are. Wait lol... edm is music lemme actually Google the acronym so I seem less ignorant. EMDR, damn dyslexia. Anyway. That.

But basically, I need to really work to not shred myself when I’m low. It’s gotten bad. I also need to start on my books that came yesterday. 2/3 are here. She wants me to try and list my codependent behaviors. I also need to start painting and journaling again. I like this outlet and it’s easiest for my brain, but the way I was doing it all in my watercolor notebook was really therapeutic. It’s just been a bitch of a week.

I’ll be fine and I feel less like having a breakdown or dying. I think I know another thing that is really fucking with me through everything, but I don’t feel comfortable posting it here right now I think. I also can’t do anything about it.

Last night in alanon a woman said “when one door closes another one opens, but the hallway is hell.” And like, yea. Fuck dude. I took a psych class once where the teacher had a gazillion psych type degrees and would open the class with us getting to ask about mental health shit. And one kid asked if it was possible to change personalities. And he said “sure, but you usually see it following a trauma where it rewrites your thought processes. Because it’s hell to do otherwise, and a lot of people can’t handle it.” And I get it now. I thought he meant habits and comfort zones. But it feels like being handed a pile of shards that used to be your brain and given a timelimit to reassemble it. But half the pieces are trauma copies and you have to figure out which parts are imposters, but they actually fit better than the pieces that should be there. And if you fail you lose everything.

Anyway, that’s where I am today. I queued a couple posts last night so you might see random downers, but what I’m thinking of doing is only reblogging positive stuff, and queueing negative stuff that resonated for like, 7am. And I say that because sometimes I rescroll my blog to recount the day or previous day to either feel good with the good posts again or reevaluate the things I’ve said the day before. Since with my mood they don’t always apply still or I may have a totally different approach at that thought. And I do that when I go to bed around 2. So at 7 I won’t be seeing negative shit right before bed. Cuz I’ve fallen asleep and woken up bitter the last few days.

We’ll see. I have lots to do today. I’ve been off twitter so no children have reminded me to do my taxes. I also have to get a new phone today so I’m fully out from under my mother. And I have insurance stuff and inspection cleaning to tackle. It’s only 1 and I’m ready to call it a day.

I hope what my therapist said helps anyone else who is struggling. I like hearing the lines that have stuck with patients and really helped them. So when it doesn’t fuck with me I’d like to be open about what I discuss in therapy. I always used to think it’d solve so many of my problems if I could send my friends zoom links of my sessions since I’m so bad at expressing myself lol. So this is also a bit of an exercise for me to be more outspoken about my feelings (if this bothers anyone you can send an anonymous ask) And therapy isn’t accessible to everyone so maybe it gives someone what they need to go forward a bit in their struggles. (Alanon and CoDa are free and on zoom now though! Definitely look into it if it applies to you!)

There’s a line in a bts song. Idk which one honestly, Ik it’s in the BE photo book though I can post a pic. It comes to mind because my friend would write it a lot when they first heard it. And it’s something like “sometimes we get to know that broken is beautiful”. My therapist today said “you are broken, everyone is. And no one is as broken as they think they are.” I hope one day this feels like a beautiful moment in my life and not the purgatory it feels like. I hope I grow enough for it to be worth it.

#4/15 #alanon #coda #codependency #growth #Thursday therapy #pmdd #motivation #broken #hope

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antagonist-chan · 6 years

Text

My plans for the rest of the weekend (which, for me atm, is Wednesday night through Sunday):

Tomorrow, I’ll do a shit ton of work on my room and also take one of my Big Showers (for those of you who don’t know- I try to shower roughly every other day (with the occasional two-day break instead of one-day since there aren’t an even number of days in the week), but once a week I try to take a more in-depth shower where I do a lot more to clean myself). The shower will preferably be after working on the room, since that won’t exactly be the most hygienic thing in the world to do.

On Friday, I’ll work on finally getting my queue up and also going through a lot of my online backlog.

On Saturday, I’ll work more on my homework, my online backlog, and on various art things (primarily, SCP stuff and Byzantium Love and War).

On Sunday, I’ll do yet more intense work on my room and take a Normal Shower.

Every day, I’ll try to get some work done on homework, backlog, and my room (and also on eating right), but the days where I’ve actually specified working on it will involve more intense stuff. Like, for room cleaning, instead of just “go through a handful of DVDs and put away your clean laundry and go through your books to see which ones to keep and which to donate”, I mean like “completely clear out multiple boxes worth of stuff and also finally clear away this particular pile of stuff so you can actually see the floor there again”.

Like, seriously, my room is a disaster area, and I’m slowly working through making it livable again so that I can actually get a decent night’s fucking sleep again.

I’ll also try to make room for the Sims, but I’m not gonna sacrifice work just because I’m worried it’ll cut into my Sims time like I have been for the past few weeks. I know that continuing to play the Sims even when I’m behind on stuff is kinda essential to maintaining my sanity right now, but I can take a short break without falling off the Sims wagon. I still have plenty of things that I haven’t properly explored in that game yet, so I still have incentive to go back once things are a little calmer. Just... I’ve actually fallen a little behind on school (something I promised myself I wouldn’t do this semester, though granted I haven’t fallen that far behind, just a day), my life will become significantly easier once my room is clean, I’m not doing as good a job of keeping up with my hygiene as I want to be, I really want to get something published on the SCP site, and Byzantium Love and War chapter 2 was scheduled to come out at the beginning of March, and it’s mid June and it’s still not here (and keep in mind that chapter 1 was posted at the beginning of February). At least one reader is outright angry that I’m so behind, and at least three more have offered sympathy. The reason the backlog is important is because some of the backlog is Neptunia-related, and going through that backlog will almost certainly give me more motivation to work on BLaW (and part of why I’ve barely worked on it is because I really want to be in the mood when I do it, because it’s a shipping fic and I want to do my OTP right, dammit). Something similar with the queue.

Hopefully, I can have my room cleaned by the end of the weekend and my family can immediately start looking into getting me a new bed. And I want to do this new bed right- my old bed was a piece of shit that annoyed me for just over a decade (since I was seven or eight when I got it, and nineteen when I finally got rid of it) and caused my “dirty room” problem to be even god damn worse because it was so horribly designed AND horribly positioned within my room. And not only that, but also just the sleep quality. I’m pushing so hard for this because I want to get a good night’s sleep, so that I can have the energy that I had when I was thirteen. Did you know that, when I was thirteen, back in 2011, and I had just joined Tumblr, I once woke up at 6:00 AM because I was so excited to start the day, and when my grandfather woke up (I was up at my grandparents’ house) he actually got concerned that I was up so early and made me go to bed early that night? God, I miss those days. And I know that it’s partially because teenagers are just wired to be night owls that that doesn’t happen anymore, but I’m 20, I’m supposed to be growing out of that wiring. And I know that another part of it is just that younger people have more energy and excitement in life. But part of it is definitely that I can’t get a good night’s sleep on my couch, at least not when I do it every single night.

ALSO hopefully, I can get BLaW chapter 2 posted by the end of the month, and get my buffer properly set up so I don’t have to worry so much about getting chapters written on time. And then I can work on the rest of my art again, like my sex game, my original MMD model bases (which will themselves open up a lot of doors for other art!), the Gensokyo’s Heart reboot, and maybe even a Jikankyo revival like I talked about last night!

And once I’m not behind on absolutely fucking everything, I can actually go back to living a somewhat leisurely life, where I can do things like spontaneously decide to play a video game without it being a huge commitment (because right now, deciding to play a video game is a huge commitment), or watch Brooklyn 99 while I’m getting ready in the morning, or read a fucking book because holy shit I haven’t done that in forever, or work on finishing my transition because I am sick of most people thinking I’m a man, or get an actual fucking job so I can get real income with which to actually keep up with video games again. Hey, I might even do jobs that I’ve been considering doing for longer than I’ve even been behind like this- did you know that, basically the entire time I’ve been on Tumblr, I’ve been somewhat considering clearing out the shelves in my room? I never touch those shelves anymore because they’re covered in rotten trash, boxes of shit my parents put there before it was my room and they never took out, stuff I haven’t touched since I was a toddler (or potentially stuff that has never been touched because toddler me never got around to trying them), broken technology, and finally, stuff I actually care about that’s gone neglected because of everything else up there. Those aren’t super urgent or anything, since they aren’t in the way of getting a bed like the stuff on the floor is, but I do want to eventually deal with all that shit (especially since it would probably only take a day or so of work).

And best of all, I might actually get to start experiencing the flow of time again because the days won’t blend into each other so god damn much.

#antagonist gets her shit together: the movie #i am just so fucking tired of NOT having my shit together #i have basically not had my shit together since EARLY EARLY 2015 #and i also didn't have my shit together for a ton of 2012-2014 #so i've spent most of the 2010s without my shit together and it fucking sucks #long post #i did not intend for this post to be so god damn long

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hula-zombie · 6 years

Photo

Soo... I’ve had a lot of these and I am WAY behind. But, I legit love your comments and get so excited when I see them. This is only Part 1- I’ll be doing part two after the queue wraps today because there will be lots of feels based on how this has been going.

Replies to @love-and-sims, @asinglewallflower, @beccalovethings, @germansam, @memesplayssims, @bouquet-of-scissors, @kimsims4300, @socialbunnies, @simphonics, @just-a-sarcastic-simmer, and @sunflowersim

(me when I’m reading all your comments)

Before Snowday Fun

Violet Has Feels~

love-and-sims

:( awww,Violet...

asinglewallflower

Bby nooo... :(

beccalovethings

Poor little baby violet :(

Your girl has been through some stuff... new family, dad she never knew about, learning the truth about her other grandmother, and not to mention things from before before. She’s got some feels, but she’s working through them. I can’t lie though, this will stay with her for some time - mostly because of her choices, but more on that later.

Violet is Gorgeous

germansam

Gosh she's so pretty

Violet is probably my favorite in-game born sim, other than Opal. She was technically generated in CAS, but I did legit little to no tweaking with her (her mouth was HUGE). Still, I l love her, and I love that she has Lila’s nose. She looks like a good mix of the two.

The Lead Up to Snow Ball

memesplayssims

is percy THE boi?

Well, he’s a boi 😉

Violet & Percy (part I)

germansam

How did he even meet Violet is my question???

I think I’ve referenced this, but I’ll put here too. They met when they were young through a class assignment in which they had to peer review other student’s work via an online website. Violet and Percy were paired and they clicked. I’ve been thinking about maybe doing flashbacks to this, but I don’t know if we’ll get there. BUT, I wrote this- so it’s cannon.

Violet & Percy (part II)

bouquet-of-scissors

LighteningTheif and violets_aren’t_blue are the best usernames for them iogjaeiogmroigjmreiojrsoiegjr

Thank you <3! Percy’s name came from me, Kit is totes responsible for Violet’s screen-name (it fits V on a whole lot of levels, lol).

bouquet-of-scissors

also "She was an egg frying without butter" omg

Quite the visual, right? Violet def. has some feels about Percy’s sexescapades...

germansam

I love all of this

germansam

"Darlin" stAHp 💘

If this was vanilla- he’d be from the south- hence, the darlin.

bouquet-of-scissors

okay I've said this before but he's hot? and even tho I love cloverI think I'm rly gonna like him

(also seems fitting based on what we read last night)

germansam

I hear some jealousy in these texts...

Oh... you bet you do. So many feels happening.

kimsims4300

OH SHOOT! YOU'RE SO RIGHT WHEN YOU SAID VIOLET NEVER LEARNS! Sorry for caps I'm just SHOOK even though I saw it coming

Yep... Violet learns the hard way- the same mistakes, multiple times. The way I see it is she’s really just going through the motions. She has thoughts and feelings, but she lives too much in the moment to see the big picture. She’ll get there, but at what expense?

bouquet-of-scissors

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don't worry it's just his cousin >_>

NO COUSINS. XD

germansam

I. Am. Screaming.

Mr. Dangerous / Lover Boy / Persimmon “Percy” Peel

bouquet-of-scissors

safieogjifgmdgmpfgpdigkdfp MR.DANGEROUS???

simphonics

i wanna see his face :O

germansam

Am. Intrigued.

bouquet-of-scissors

Mr.Dangerous name revealed!!!

I hope he didn’t disappoint- it’s been so hard not to fully spoil his face- he has a nice face. Too bad he’s a trashfire.

Percy’s “Work”

bouquet-of-scissors

Boss man :0000

bouquet-of-scissors

They are part of team rocket... calling it now

Maybe not team rocket- but def. not good things. Not good things at all. 😉

Clover & Violet

socialbunnies

💜💚💜💚💜

bouquet-of-scissors

stop

bouquet-of-scissors

it hurts cause he's not Peach.... ;-;

*cough*

simphonics

germansam

Aw no but Mr. Dangerous...

bouquet-of-scissors

"friends"

beccalovethings

No. poor little clove is gonna get a broken heart A

Okay... since Percy has come into the picture, there is a very clear battle going on about who is team trashfire and who is team clover. What I’ve said before is- everyone hurts, sometimes.

Clover

socialbunnies

Clover is so pure. A good boy.

Violet and Family

germansam

"Dad" i cry T_T

Not gonna lie, I did tear up a bit writing the parts before the dance- I’ll talk about more in the next reply post- but Violet is much closer to her father and Peony now. They’re good for her, and will be a part of her life for a long time.

Welcome to Gen 2!

just-a-sarcastic-simmer

I'm so excited to see how this generation is gonna go!

germansam

I wanna know everything!!!

germansam

Rules be damned??????

socialbunnies

#choices

simphonics

CAIT

simphonics

THERE IS GREEN ON VIOLETS DRESS AND GREEN AND PURPLE HEARTS IN THE TAGS

simphonics

why are you doing this to me 🍀💜

mdebunny

I see green on her dress! :O

sunflowersim

I'm so excited to see what you have up your sleeve!!

I am so so so so EXCITED for this gen., and it’s so hard for me to keep the spoilers to a minimum. I think ya’ll are in for a lot of surprises. It might not always seem like that, but where we’re going- ya’ll... we’ll get there and we’ll be okay. Yeah, I think that’s all I want to say. I hope you stick around. After this weekend, Gen 1 will be officially over (all Asher has to do is paint V).

And then.. well, this could go a lot of ways, couldn’t it?

*cough*

#Frost Replies #This one is a long one #<3 #THANK YOU ALL!#Gif

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simnovels-blog · 6 years

Text

So many replies!

You guys are overwhelming me!! <3

First a general reply to everyone reading about the colony because I feel like I should explain my choice for Hunter considering all your comments. In the end there were two very simple reasons I chose Hunter instead of Davey:

1. Violet rolled no wishes regarding Davey but she did roll a wish to go on a date with Hunter.

2. The morning I wanted to make a decision Story Progression prompted me a message that Davey was now in a relationship with Yasmine Aozora. I could’ve broken them up of course without including that into the story, but since I already had such a bad time choosing and because of the date wish, I decided to let the game lead me!

One more thing: the poll did not influence the choice since the chapters published today were written earlier this week before the poll was online. I’ll let you guys know right now that I have 15(!) chapters on queue all the way to december 30. So for example if you comment something right now, don’t expect to see it influence the story the day after or something like that. In all honesty you guys have very diverse opinions so I just go my own way and write what I think will make you guys go FJSDGFSJKFGSDJK in both good and bad ways lol. I hope that those who are suffering right now will forgive me <3.

Now, to the individual replies! --->

@goatkibble replied to your photoset “The Year 2239, Day 6 - Violet’s Journal So about the answer to the...”

Stupid woman.

I added this reply last but further down the road of this batch of replies I kind of agree with you on this lol.

@ktarsims replied to your photoset “The Year 2239, Day 5 - Violet’s Journal Oh journal, where do I start?...”

Katie sounds like a good match for Davey, possibly.

I think they would be a good match indeed. Though Davey seems to have found Yasmine instead as I just explained above...

@stepawayfromthecarrot replied to your photoset “The Year 2239, Day 6 - Violet’s Journal So about the answer to the...”

Noooooo ��

I’m sorry! Blame the game! Don’t blame me! :P e.e *hides*

@ktarsims replied to your photoset “The Year 2239, Day 6 - Violet’s Journal So about the answer to the...”

Ouch. Although, I can't disagree with her. Lopsided relationships are not good. And this relationship would definitely have been lopsided. It'll probably be better for Davey if he ends up in a relationship where he won't be absolutely dependent on the other person.

I completely agree with this statement.

@dandylion240 replied to your photoset “The Year 2239, Day 6 - Violet’s Journal So about the answer to the...”

I thought the vote didn't have anything to do with the results. Doesn't matter thought I voted for Hunter. Just because he seemed the most interesting. I am sad that Davey got his heart broke though.

Yep, that’s right. The vote didn’t influence the outcome as I explained above. I feel very sad for Davey too. He really is the kind of guy you’d almost date just because you want him to not be sad lol.

@rosiesimming replied to your photoset “The Year 2239, Day 6 - Violet’s Journal So about the answer to the...”

*throws hands in the air* You are dead to me, Violet. >.> HOW DARE YOU HURT THAT SWEET MAN. A pox on everyone that voted for Hunter. A pox I say!! XD

You can direct this anger towards the game haha not towards the voters they had nothing to do with this e.e.

@rosiesimming replied to your photoset “The Year 2239, Day 5 - Violet’s Journal Oh journal, where do I start?...”

Violet and Dimitri = bestest friends till the end! XD

I think they could have a really nice friendship, though I’m going to give you something to wonder about: do you think Dimitri is the right person to ask love advice from? e.e

@goatkibble replied to your post “I just wanted to say all your comments on my colony have given me...”

*tantrum brewing*

I’m scared! Forgive me plz. *blames the game and runs*

@kyranyx replied to your post “I just wanted to say all your comments on my colony have given me...”

Kkk you reminds me how I used to act as a dungeon master

Having your readers get all worked up over the events in your story is the best feeling for a writer, don’t you agree? :P

@stepawayfromthecarrot replied to your photoset “The Year 2239, Day 3 - Hunter’s Journal Today was a holiday for all of...”

Dislike! I can see him getting mean and bitter if she goes with someone else though

Mean and bitter Hunter... we’ll have to see if he has a side like that!

@rosiesimming replied to your post “I just wanted to say all your comments on my colony have given me...”

;)

I hope you keep reading even though I made you suffer D:

@stepawayfromthecarrot replied to your post “Man I just went through a total nightmare! I’m going home for...”

That sucks! Hope everything is okay!

I hope so too. My dad will check it out after the christmas days are over.

@goatkibble replied to your post “Man I just went through a total nightmare! I’m going home for...”

It might not be as bad as you think...

yeah, my dad said the tower can take a hit, but you should’ve seen it fall from my bike onto the hard stone street... people turned around to see what happened. And of course my stepdad put some fear in me saying that IF something broke, it’d probably be the harddrive -_-.

@goatkibble replied to your photoset “The Year 2239, Day 3 - Hunter’s Journal Today was a holiday for all of...”

And he seems to think substituting 'passion' for true romance and respect is the way to a woman's heart. I know Violet needs to explore her options but this isn't a good choice.

Violet still has some growing up to do. She’s young, naive and childish and not the kind of girl that has gained such wisdom in love yet unfortunately. I used to be like her and I used to fall for guys like Hunter too. I got my own Davey now though! But who knows maybe Hunter is nicer than you imagine him to be.

@rosiesimming replied to your photoset “The Year 2239, Day 3 - Hunter’s Journal Today was a holiday for all of...”

What are you doing!? No, I refuse. If Violet picks him, she is dead to me. XD

Well... oops D:

@goatkibble replied to your photoset “The Year 2239, Day 3 - Hunter’s Journal Today was a holiday for all of...”

"Oh yeah, I wouldn't mind this bird since the others aren't up to my standard." So romantic *eyeroll*. And I was right. He IS as boring as he is pasty.

You’ll get to see a lot more of him in the following chapters and I’m really curious to see your thoughts on him! heheheh....

@goatkibble replied to your photoset

“The Year 2239, Day 2 - Davey’s Journal Oh my… I know I don’t have any...”

You COULD invite her to hang out with you on your free day you know.... but let's face it, you are going to get your heart broken in favour of Captain Boring :(

I guess you were right about that one...

@ktarsims replied to your post “Some more replies”

It's possible that people like Hunter better because he's a blonde white dude. However, he's also the only other dude who seems to be possibly rather decent, a bit less calculating, and to be a bit more genuine than some of the others. Additionally, he has kind of a 'bad boy' vibe 'but not too bad' going on that tends to appeal to a lot of people. Even his name lends to that sort of thing.

Very true indeed! Hunter is like a more confident Davey though this also makes him a bit more superficial. With Davey, you’re instantly in a very deep and serious relationship. Hunter is a bit less overwhelming and for some (including Violet) this can be a good thing.

@ktarsims replied to your post “Replies!”

Wait, was there an actual poll? LMAO I thought there was just the post and we posted our picks. xD *goes to look for actual poll*

Lol :D did you get tricked into replying that way? :P

@ktarsims replied to your post “Man I just went through a total nightmare! I’m going home for...”

Oye oye. *sends hugs* I hope everything turns out alright!

Thanks <3 <3.

@rosiesimming replied to your photoset “The Year 2239, Day 2 - Davey’s Journal Oh my… I know I don’t have any...”

YAS :D

Aww look, at this reply you were still happy! *laughs evilish and then runs away scared*

@dandylion240 replied to your post “Man I just went through a total nightmare! I’m going home for...”

I have my fingers crossed that it's fixable or at least you can retrieve your files.

Me too! D: We’ll see after Christmas.

@stepawayfromthecarrot replied to your photoset “Poll time! Who would you like to see as Violet’s spouse in the colony?...”

John screams fuckboy, dimitri also a fuckboy (plus don't get on scarlet's bad side haha), jerry would make a great best (platonic) friend but not exactly chemistry there. Hunter is okayyy but I'm not super feeling it yet. Although we haven't seen much of him yet so who knows! Davey does feel like the obvious choice (although I'm sure you'll always make it interesting no matter what!) but i chose him, i think he's the only one at this stage who genuinely cares about her

@stepawayfromthecarrot replied to your photoset “Poll time! Who would you like to see as Violet’s spouse in the colony?...”

More importantly, i can see her and davey totally getting together in a "normal sim world" instead of feeling forced to shack up with someone for procreation. They can be their genuine selves and so they can like each other for their real selves. Also can we TALK about davey's bod?!?!? Yeeees violet get it gurl

Haha Davey is very handsome indeed, but Hunter has quite a body as well, did you check it out? ;)

#ktarsims #stepawayfromthecarrot #dandylion240 #rosiesimming #goatkibble #kyranyx #nonsims

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