#anyway i found this postcard while i was cleaning up my house and knew i had to redraw it

[ishgardianskypirate]

Corporate needs you to find the differences between this picture and this picture

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #elezen #duskwight #aymeric de borel #fomalhaut vrayes #my art #i've been in such a big art slump that i'm very happy i got something done!! #trying out a new technique helped a lot and i really like how the art turned out! #anyway i found this postcard while i was cleaning up my house and knew i had to redraw it #fomeric

[fakecrfan]

Since you very nicely offered to write me a fic:

Your prompt is: A story about a background character or characters dealing with life after the TMA apocalypse.

It can be set in the OG TMA universe in the post-post-apocalypse, or it can also be set in a different universe that was affected by the events of MAG 200.

Both OCs and characters established in-show are allowed.

This one aligned so well with my interests that I am actually tempted to open my inbox, briefly, in case anyone else has questions like “what is X bavjground character doing after the apocalypse?” so I can make a series out of it and expand on my post-post-apocalypse headcanons.

For now, you can read your fic here, on over here on AO3

---

Sarah doesn't know where she is.

England, she has to still be in England, she thinks. But it's not an England she recognizes. Not the cobblestone streets of London, and not the moors she used to visit on her vacations. The ground is barren, as though all blades of grass but a few have shriveled up and died. There are no trees, houses, or landmarks for miles--just scorched remnants of where they might have been before.

For a moment, the emptiness of it all is a relief after the hotel. But everything is the same on all sides, and she doesn't know where she is or where to go. She's starting to get hungry, too. She never got hungry in the hotel, nightmarish as it was.

She has to sit down for a moment, take a few deep breaths, and think.

Get food. Find shelter. Survive.

Find Alex.

(God, why had she left her child in a hotel room? Little twelve year old Alex who was still afraid to sleep without a night light. He'd begged her to stay, she should have--)

With that in mind she gets up. Doesn't know what direction to walk in, so she doesn't concern herself with trying to pick one. There's nothing to do but walk, keep her eyes open, and hope.

So she hopes.

---

None of our old maps match the landscape, anymore.

The world these days it's... not like in the before times, as I suppose we're calling it. Despite our hopes, ending the apocalypse wasn’t like everyone waking up from a nightmare. The land is...

It's scrambled, I guess. There are patches of the world that--well. They're not the same, but still have infrastructure intact. Electricity, running water, air conditioning. No scorched earth or rubble in these areas. Just a bunch of traumatized people living in an intact town, or city.

When I talk to them, they tell me it's not the city they remember, though. Everything has been switched around, houses and stores not where they remember them. Their neighbors aren't the neighbors their remember.

Those are the lucky ones. And then there's, well... the outside.

Some places have rubble everywhere, jagged steel ripped apart and waiting for someone to cut themselves on it. Some are frozen over, still waiting for the ice they were frozen over with in the apocalypse to melt. Some are scorched to dust. No phones out there, or anything that lets you connect back with home base.

I'm going out there. We need to map it out. We need to figure out our new world, understand it--and we need to get as many people out of the wastes as possible.

Melanie, Georgie--I’ll see you soon.

---

Sarah does find water. That's something. She's hungry still, so hungry, but she knows that the water is more important.

She wonders if she should stay there. She doesn't know if there will be more watering holes in the future, after all, and she has no way to carry it with her. She decides to keep moving on, and hope for the best.

She starts to see blades of grass poking up, along with some sort of metal crap strewn about the landscape. She looks at them a moment--it seems to be bits of an old carousel? Eventually, a giant sit in their shade, for a while. There she takes a moment to look at the horizon, and goes cold.

She recognizes the tower on the horizon.

A  scaffolded tower with two legs beneath it. A sight she'd last seen on a postcard from her brother. The Eiffel Tower.

Is she in Paris? No, that can't be it. It's just the tower out here in the wastes. There are none of the buildings that would normally surround it. It's almost as though its been ripped out of the city and transported here.

Does Paris even exist anymore? Does London?

If she even finds Alex, will there be a home for them to go back to?

---

I have a theory, Melanie. I think lots of people got transported to different places in the world based on what fear they belonged to. Like, a bunch of lonely people were put in the same place, a bunch of claustrophobic people were put in the same place, and so on. All away from the people they knew.

I’m in one of the suburban safe areas now. No one here knows each other. I talked to them all, and all of them remember living in the same house before, but none of them recognized the houses near them or the people in them. When I went from house to house, everyone had a different native language. I talked to a German guy and a French guy who spoke English, but a lot of them… couldn’t talk to me at all.

There was a woman who--she saw me and she lit up. She grabbed me and started talking a mile a minute in Arabic, I think. But I couldn’t understand her, and she--when I tried to talk back to her in English, her face just. Fell. And then she started to cry.

My dad refused to speak it at home, you know. He-- Actually, never mind. It’s not important. 

She ended up shoving me away.

---

Sarah makes it to the ruins of a forest. 

There’s nothing but stumps left of it, along with litter everywhere. She finds water again, filthy brackish water, and she drinks it anyway because she’s so thirsty. She starts sifting through all of the garbage strewn about for something edible. She finds stale bread crusts crawling with ant and eats them anyway. 

She finds a can of beans, and almost cries. When she can’t find a can opener, she screams instead.

---

The death count has gotten to me, honestly.

I’ve found dead bodies even in the towns and cities. Some looked like heart attacks. Some suicides. People who woke up but couldn’t bear the agony they’d just gone through. That’s still not… the worst of it.

I passed a whole field of dead bodies today.

Hundreds of people, I think, all of them lying dead in the soil. But there were... trails. They had been walking, before they collapsed. All walking in the same direction, to where you can still see London on the horizon.

They were alive. They were trying to get help. And they just... starved, it looks like. The walk was just too long.

How many people are going to die from it all, Melanie? How many already have, out where we can't see them?

I left as many jugs of clean water and rations along the roads as I could. I put up signs pointing to London, saying how many miles out they were, where I had stashed food. I gave them your number, so they know who to call to get to the shelter.

I hope it means the next group that passes by won't die.

I hope there is a next group.

---

Sarah can see what looks like a city in the distance before she collapses. 

She tries to get up, but can’t. She’s been walking for days now, it feels like, only sporadically drinking and almost never eating.  There just isn’t enough energy left in her to stand.

She tries to think about little Alex again, running around in his Batman cape, hoping some kind of love or maternal instinct will kick in and give her the last burst of adrenaline she needs to get up. It doesn’t work. Maybe she doesn’t love her own son anymore, really. Maybe it’s just been fear and guilt driving her this far, and that source has already been wrung dry. 

She manages to crawl a few feet, before she can’t even do that. With nothing else left to do, she starts to cry out. “Help! Water, please!” 

She doesn’t think anyone will hear, or show up. But against all odds, in her dimming vision she sees a figure come into view. Backpacked, clutching a water bottle. 

“Help,” she croaks out again. 

The figure gets closer, and she starts to be able to make out the details of his face. He’s her age, or older, with worry lines carved into his forehead and wide eyes. His nose looks eerily like her brother’s nose, and the shape of his jaw reminds her of her old boyfriend, the one who left her with--

She blinks. Maybe she’s hallucinating, or maybe she’s somehow run into a long lost cousin. But then, the man’s eye’s widen and his mouth opens.

“Mum?”

No, no it can’t…

“A-alex?”

No, Alex was a little round cheeked boy. This is a thirty year old man, at least, taller than her. It hasn’t been that long. It can’t be, it’s not--

“Mum?” He’s doing a frown that looks so, so familiar. This has to be a dream. “Mum, it’s--no.”

He sniffles. He steps forward, and steps back. He paces, uncertain.

“No, no,” she hears him mutter. “It’s all fake, all fake. It’s a trap. That’s what they want, the monsters and the face stealers. No one is real. Don’t give them what they want--’’

“Please.” she begs. 

But she hears him walk away, sniffling, and shortly thereafter everything goes dark. 

---

I have a confession to make, Melanie. I was going to side with Jon, back then. I could have lived with keeping everyone here suffering to prevent more of it. But when he said he was going to kill the whole world, not just leave it--that’s what made me snap. 

I couldn’t let the whole world die. Genocide of the entire human species? Anything but that. Surely passing along the suffering would be better, as long as it didn’t lead to the extinction of whole worlds. But… 

I keep finding more dead bodies.

I went back to that suburb I talked about, to restock on all my food. It was a lonely domain before, I think. I’d thought everyone there would be fine, you know. They didn’t have any deadly sicknesses, or twisted flesh injuries. They had food and water and shelter. But when I went back… more of them had died. 

Lots of suicides. Some of them snapped, and started to self injure.

The German guy I talked to had started to starve. He had a pantry full of food and he just wouldn’t eat it. I tried to get him to eat, to move in with someone else, but he said talking to people “made him sick.” 

I gave up, and left. I had to. There were too many people, and too much to do, so I left him. He’s probably dead now, or going to die soon. Because he can’t find the will to live, and I don’t know how to help someone with that.

The Lonely is probably one of the least directly harmful entities, right? This domain was just a suburb, probably the most comfortable you could get during the apocalypse. And yet the victims are still all dying. 

How much worse is it in places without food and water? In the corruption domains that still probably have deadly diseases spreading? In war zones, in flesh factories?

I think about that nursing home we found. All of the patients who'd died of heart attacks a few minutes after they'd woken up. The ones left alive screaming for help where no one could hear them, for days after the fact. All of the ones that died in their beds before we found them. 

I think about that field of bodies I found the other day. I think about the ruins of that Circus I found, people refusing to talk to me or each other--refusing to help because they didn’t believe it was over and thought everyone else was a mannequin. 

I think… I think it doesn’t matter that we saved the world. If people can’t find the will to live, ro rebuild, to trust and help each other again… I think we’re going through a mass extinction event anyway. 

---

Sarah’s in a car, she thinks. Not a moving one. She’s propped up against a seat,There’s something plastic pressed to her lips.

“Come on,” says a woman’s deep, level voice. “Come on. I got you. We’re getting to London. All you have to do is drink.”

Sarah opens her eyes. She sees a dark-skinned woman trying to coax her to drink, holding up a water bottle. 

“Just a sip,” the woman says. “Just enough to make it.”

Sarah closes her eyes, and takes a long moment to consider whether she wants to.

#my writing #tma fic #post post apocalypse #cw: suicide mention #cw: familial separation #cw: mass death #Basira Hussain

[secretradiobrooklyn]

Secret Radio | 7.24.21, 8.7.21 & etc.

“Better, Better, Back” Secret Radio | 7.24.21, 8.7.21 & etc. | Hear it here.

- Mort Garson - “Plantasia”

1. Jean-Pierre Djeukam - “Africa Iyo” - “Cameroon Garage Funk”

The main musician I think of from Cameroon is Beti-Beti, and this is a whole different thing. Endless props to Analog Africa for providing fiery track after track. This is the sweat from their newest collection!

2. Eyedress - “Jealous”

Paige hears something in this and when I unfocus my eyes I do too. (Literal?) high school skate kids gettin in their shallow feels. I will admit that the chorus “time-time” is killer.

3. Nahid Akthar & Tafo - “Takra We Gutt Bhar Le” (I think)

Nahid Akthar’s voice is so completely bewitching that the amazing arrangements almost sneak by. Tafo is the producer of this track I believe, and the narrative structure of the music is just so confident and encompassing. But then also: man, that VOICE. She’s right up there with Ros Serey Sothea in expressiveness and character.

4. Oruã - “Escola das Roas” - “Sem Bênção / Sem Crença”

My thanks to you, Marc, for pointing this band to us. I have fallen in love with this particular recording, it just gets more thoroughly better with every listen. Calvin Johnson mentioned this band in a recent K newsletter — they’re a Brazilian band who corresponded with Doug Martsch as mutual fans until at some point Doug decided his own band needed replacing and he brought them out as Built to Spill and also as Oruã. This track also has shades of Sonic Youth’s “Master-Dik,” one of my all-time ultra faves. It really hits me in the ’90s, and I rilly want to see how some of this music is performed live.

5. Jacques Dutronc - “Le Responsable”

I’m so thankful to have Jacques Dutronc in my life. His rock songs knock me into gear like nothing else — and the whole band has its own very specific flavor. It kicks!

6. Sleepy Kitty - “Alceste in Silverlake”

At very long last, there is a new Sleepy Kitty album on the way! It’s in line at the record plant as I type this. And this is a song from the perspective of a musician-seeking drummer in LA, crossed with the most brutally honest man in all of France.

7. Sakuran Zensen - “錯乱前戦 ロッキンロール” (I Wanna Rock & Roll)

We only knew one song by this band (that we’ve played here) because the video was rad, but I looked to see what else was there and this song is just freakin great with me. The chords are really cool and his vocal delivery is just so over the top it’s impossible not to love. And the guitar solo is basically a full-on tonefest, which I appreciate more than a bunch of flying fingers. The video helps fill in the picture nicely too, I think, though I like the song while not looking at it even more.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YPCqT3e89SU

- Mort Garson - “Concerto for Philodendron & Pothos”

8. Clothilde - “Fallait pas ècraser la queue du chat”

All hail the French instinct for chamber music instruments as pop instruments, and then as a kind of technicolor weirdness. The orchestration of this song is a work of art in itself, and that doesn’t even account for her self-harmonizing melody. If you haven’t already, picture a brunette bob and deep mascara.

9. Public Service Broadcasting - “Spitfire”

I can’t remember now how I found this music, though I think it might’ve been from Josh’s playlist? This is from 2012, but they have a new album coming out almost exactly a month from now. In Bound Stems Tim and I got really into interlacing snatches of other people’s words into the music we were making, and this is very congruent with that interest. I feel like this song passes tests as it goes.

10. Shocking Blue - “Send Me a Postcard”

I first heard of this band when I was learning everything I could about Nirvana, and I’d heard both versions of “Love Buzz” and knew they were both great, but we only recently caught this track. It’s the bridge between “White Rabbit” and “Territorial Pissings.” 

11. Metak - “Tetrapak”

Our favorite Croatian band! Everything about this song is delightful. I feel like if this song was in English I’d probably cringe at the lyrics, but in this format I can only hear how much fun the song is to play. I am one-quarter Croatian, which means I can’t understand any of the lyrics either but I do see little ghosts of myself in the pictures of the band somehow. It’s weird.

12. Katerine - “Louxor J’adore”

-Anything I could say about this song is eclipsed by this excerpt:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uD7QuV6f_MA

The performance to the cemetery knocks me out

13. Erkin Koray - “Seni Her Gördügümde”

Whenever we’re listening to Anatolian psych, the songs with the most creative ideas and satisfying riffs and great vocal passages are always Erkin Koray. The four-piece arrangements are so good, and then he doesn’t hesitate to step up with his guitar to narrate a passage. Also, I really like how Turkish rock sounds so Indian and also Arabic and also French.

14. WITCH - “Chifundo”

Zambian prog rock! I haven’t heard anything like this track anywhere else in Africa yet. The thing is, this version of prog includes the exact flavor that Yes totally lacks, and thus I really love listening to this track in a way most prog rock doesn’t hit me. The time switches and the lead part over the top are just so smooth!

15. Ezra Furman - “Psalm 151”

We’ve been listening to a lot of Ezra Furman’s music lately, and it’s only getting better and more engrossing with every listen. We toured with Ezra Furman’s band about 5 years ago and every night was a pleasure. They’re finishing up a new album, which makes this a great time to listen to the others. This entire album, “Transangelic Exodus,” is a masterpiece as far as we’re concerned, and I find myself thinking the whole time too about Tim Sandusky’s production. Tim’s such a home town for us, and to hear his full attention on this album is just such a pleasure.

16. Ralph Stanley - “White Light, White Heat”

It was one of my favorite musical influence moments ever when my dad’s bluegrass band, The Prozac Mtn Boys, played VU’s “What Goes On.” Knowing that there is a recording of one of my dad’s true banjo heroes playing “White Light White Heat” is just an endless blessing. And actually hearing it is even better.

17. Kim Jung Mi - “Ganadaramabasa”

I know basically nothing about this track except that she’s Korean and this is from 1973. She’s got a real Diana Ross thing going on, and her band has a real Supremes vibe too… but it doesn’t sound like one of their songs.

18. Penny Penny - “Yogo Yogo”

We just got this record recently, and based on this track I wouldn’t’ve necessarily pictured the remarkable-looking guy who actually made this music. This is from the album “Shaka Bundu.” I’m sure it’s been cranked up and sent through some great house remixes — how could this not be? — but I like how this tempo operates at its own pace. It’s so truly and thoroughly ’80s, very 20th century. In the 21st century this tempo is practically cerebral.

19. Baris Manço - “Binboganin Kizi”

More Anatolian action. It’s really interesting to me how Turkish stuff was always associated with psych music but I didn’t really know how except for the opium thing, and I now understand that it’s in the chord relationships, well, and a lot of the vocal melody and delivery. In that way, Turkish rock pretty much defines what psych music sounds like. Wow. And check out that keyboard solo, so next level!

20. The Velvet Underground - “Countess from Hong Kong”

People are always asking Beatles or Stones and the answer is Velvet Underground. (And the Beatles, and the Stones.) They were just operating along a different balance beam than those other guys — performing different tricks for a different audience. While the Beatles were defining pop music, the VU were destroying it… but then later, they reveal their deep affinity for Western music, even as they never drop in to the blues-centric reading of it. It’s truly punk. I guess they are to punk what the Beatles are to pop — the definition of pop is whatever flows to or from the Beatles; punk is whatever flows to or from the Velvet Underground. Certainly more than any single band in 1976 or 7 or whatever.

21. Bella Bellow - “Denyigban”

The piano phrase that kicks this song off is surprisingly close to the opening of Bound Stems’ “Appreciation Night.” We got that phrase from the demo mode of Radz’s keyboard, and it’s surreal to hear a high-overlap version in a song from Togo. Her voice is so clean in tone and pitch, and what’s strangest to me is that I register the instrumentation in an almost Disney mode — but then realize that’s because Disney will draw on Caribbean and African elements at times as they establish characters and settings. Such an elegant song though!

22. Rail Band - “Mouodilo”

One of the first insights that got us into WBFF was the realization that James Brown had even more fundamental influence on the music of the world than the Beatles did — certainly in Africa. Hearing how his delivery interrelates with so many bands from all across Africa is such a revelation. This track just keeps winding around you til you can’t hardly live without it.

- Asha Bhosle - “Salma Jarir Jhalak”

All I know about this is that it’s in Bangla and it’s from a movie.

23. Unknown - “Chemirocha” - from “Love Is Love”

Several years ago, when African records looked interesting but we literally didn’t know anything about them, we bought a record called Love Is Love, in part because it was a beautiful cover and in part because the music seemed mysterious and full of possibility. Now, when I go to look for it online, I see no sign — I think it’s just a really small pressing from a… pirate group, I guess one could say? But really I think just hardcore music lovers. Anyway, it has this song “Chemirocha” on it, and there’s a story about this song that is really probably just best to link to because it’s so amazing. I guarantee you will find the information in this article worth your read:

https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/chemirocha-how-an-american-country-singer-became-a-kenyan-star

24. Sparks - “Do-Re-Mi”

We’ve known about Sparks, but we’re late to a close listen. We’ve been listening a lot in anticipation of — not the band bio pic but “Annette,” the new film by Carax, one of our favorite directors ever. For that matter: make sure to watch “Holy Motors” by Carax. It’s probably best if you watch “Lovers on a Bridge” before that, but if you have to go straight to “Holy Motors,” dive right in. It’s amazing.

Meanwhile: This take on the Mary Poppins classic is TOO MUCH — I can’t stop smiling at the end, when the bells start tolling over the crashing drums and crescendoing vocal waves as their third finale fades away. How can anyone make this song, the very definition of not-rock, rock so fully?

- Mort Garson - “Ode to an African Violet”

25. Bob Reuter’s Alley Ghost - “She Brought Me to the Wire”

I will forever be glad that we not only landed in a city where we could find out about the person and the works of Bob Reuter, but that we got to know and work with him. Bob Reuter was one of the definitions of St. Louis to us, and when he passed, so did some of that city. But also, he left music and photos and stories in Eleven and chapbooks that I truly hope last forever. He was the hard-living romantic that you hope lives in the heart of every hard-luck case… and in his one instance, it was true. Bless your soul, Bob Reuter.

photos by Bob Reuter from The Pageant and El Leñador

[fantasyoverreality98]

Fight the Darkness

Masterlist

Pairing: Gaius x MC

Author’s Note: Yes, I have written another fanfic about Gaius x MC. I can actually see potential for this one to have more than one part though so maybe I’ll write a continuation in the future, we’ll have to see. There is some sexually suggestive content in this one so just keep that in mind when reading. Anyway, I think I should take a break from obsessively writing fanfic and do something else for a bit. As always, sorry for any potential grammatical or spelling mistakes.

Word Count: 3,333

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

Gaius Augustine was a murderer. He was her murderer. And she had never wanted anyone more in her life.

“Amy, where did you go? Call us back, please. We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She ignored the message from Adrian, deleting it immediately after listening.

The town was small, the chances of him being here were extremely slim, and yet she just knew. Somewhere, probably in some desolate manor, the object of her obsession was lingering.

She felt him more than heard him. Smirking, Amy continued to walk down the empty path, into the trees. The sword on her back served as a comfort. No matter what strange creatures may lurk inside the forest, she could fight them off. Years of training had prepared her for whatever might come.

A branch snapped off to her right, and Amy whirled around, drawing her weapon. She laughed to herself when a rabbit ran out from the shadows. Momentarily relieved, her guard dropped.

That was when he decided to strike.

“Took you long enough.” She spoke with a breathy voice, staring up at the hooded figure. “I was beginning to think I might have to resort to more extreme measures to draw you out.”

“How did you find me?” Gaius kept her wrists pinned against the tree beside her head, his face inches from hers. The hood kept most of his features shrouded in shadows, but he looked just as he had twenty-five years earlier.

Amy leaned into him, her chest brushing against his as she breathed heavily. “It’s a secret.”

He stared into her eyes a moment longer before letting go, taking a step back. “Do your friends know you’re here?”

She rolled her eyes, pushing off the tree. “No. I left without saying anything.”

Gaius looked as if he couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. He pulled his hood back, looking exactly as he had a quarter of a century earlier. “What are you doing here?”

“Always with the questions.” Amy took a step toward him, trying not to grin when she saw that he looked flustered. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m here for you.”

“Amy—”

She held up a hand, and he stopped speaking. “Why is it that I haven’t heard from you at all since you left? You’re a hard man to find, Gaius Augustine.”

He studied her with interest, desire shining in his eyes. So, she wasn’t the only one who had never forgotten those moments on the boat. “I didn’t want to be found. I’ve been moving around over the decades.”

“Well, I found you. It took me a while, but I did it. Good luck getting rid of me now.” She broke out in a grin, and, to her surprise, he laughed.

“Now, why would I want to be rid of you?” Gaius looked as though he was about to reach out for her, but he hesitated, letting his arms drop back to his sides. “We should get out of here. Something evil lurks in these woods.”

Amy couldn’t resist answering, trying her best to maintain a serious expression. “Is that something evil you?”

Gaius scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I am the least of your worries.”

The temptation to continue teasing him was overpowering. After twenty-five years, she felt an uncontrollable urge to torment him with her bad jokes. “Tell that to the mortal Amy that you ran through with Jax’s sword.”

It took a minute for him to answer. “Do you plan to spend all night reminding me of all my evil deeds?”

“Maybe not all night. I did come here for another reason.”

With a long sigh, he turned away and started to walk back toward the town. They’d been walking for a few minutes before he finally spoke again. “How is it that you have managed to stay just as insufferable as you were twenty-five years ago?”

Amy shrugged, her face starting to hurt from smiling so much. Teasing him was just too much fun. Sure, she could tease all of her friends back home, but the sort of ammunition she had for Gaius beat any joking insults she could ever throw at them. The amount of murder jokes she could make was insane.

God was she ever fucked up.

“So, how’s your redemption been going?” Amy wanted to fill in the silence, the idea of them walking without saying a word too serious. She genuinely wanted to know what he’d been up to.

Gaius stared at the road ahead, frowning as he considered the question. “I guess you can say I’ve done a few more good deeds. I’ve been trying my best.”

They ended up walking to an abandoned house on the edge of the town. It wasn’t a manor, but it was close enough. Amy bit her lip to hold back a laugh. The man sure did like to live up to the dramatic.

“Nice place you’ve got here.” She bit her lip harder when he glared at her.

“Are you coming, or are you going to stand out here making horrible jokes all night?” Gaius looked like he regretted bringing her back to his house. If it could even be considered a house. It was more like a ruin.

Amy followed him inside, taking in the decaying structure. Her nose wrinkled when she studied what looked like a petrified animal corpse. “This place is absolutely disgusting. Not exactly the romantic or sexy reunion I was hoping for.”

“We had sex in a tiny room on a boat. I have trouble believing you would be opposed to this place. Your standards don’t seem very high.”

“Hey!”

Gaius didn’t look at her, but she could see him fighting back a smile. He started to chew on his bottom lip, turning his face away from her. She watched him attempt to clean, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Fine, I guess I deserved that.” Amy sat down in a chair. It immediately broke under her weight. Scowling, she struggled to her feet, brushing the dust off her clothes. “Did you really have to pick the setting of The Haunting of Hill House for your temporary home?”

He still didn’t look at her. “Is that a film? None of your references make sense to me.”

“Forget it.” The problem with hanging around a three-thousand-year-old vampire was that they never understood pop culture references. For the first time since finding Gaius, Amy missed Lily.

Lily. Her best friend who was probably going insane trying to find her. They had barely spent any time apart since defeating Rheya. Amy would have to send a postcard one day, just to let everyone know she was okay.

The silence inside the house made the situation more awkward. Both of them knew, though neither of them had said it, that Amy had come here because she wanted Gaius. And not in a friend kind of way.

“So, do anything badass lately?” Amy couldn’t get any lamer if she tried.

Gaius stared blankly at her. He blinked, looking like he just might answer, before he shook his head and went back to ‘cleaning.’

Wind howled outside. A storm was on its way. The sky had been full of dark clouds when they were walking back to the house, the air chillier than it had been when she’d first arrived right after sunset. It was probably past midnight now.

“Why are you really here?” Gaius finally stopped pretending to clean and looked up at her, throwing a broken chair leg over his shoulder. Something else fell from the projectile, the sound of shattering glass filling the room. “You can make all the murder and sex jokes you want, but I think we both know that you came here for a reason.”

Amy crossed her arms over her chest, pacing the length of the room as she searched for an answer. It had been stupid to think he wouldn’t question her. No normal person traveled around the world searching for someone they should do their best to stay far away from. Just because she decided to give him a second chance didn’t mean that the two of them would remain close.

Rain started to fall on the house, the cracks in the roof allowing water to drip down onto them. Amy ignored the ice-cold raindrops that fell on her, sliding down her spine. “You know why I searched for you.” The vagueness of her answer would no doubt irritate him.

“That does not answer my question, Amy.”

The storm outside seemed to slow for a moment. Her eyes flickered over to Gaius, who was standing near a crumbling fireplace. Finally, when she figured she could only put off answering for so long, she turned to face him. “Because I have feelings for you. What else do you want me to say? And don’t lecture me again on how it’s wrong because I know. I know.”

Gaius didn’t answer her. He stayed beside the fireplace, watching her without a word. Amy wasn’t sure whether she should feel relieved that he didn’t react to her outburst, or if she should worry that it meant he didn’t feel the same way. The worry slowly turned in annoyance, then anger.

“Can you just say something!” Her voice boomed, the sound startling both of them. Swearing under her breath, Amy closed her eyes, digging the heels of her palms into them, trying to block out the sensation of darkness that had started to sweep over her.

Hands grabbed her wrists, gently pulling her hands away from her face. She waited until the feeling had passed before opening her eyes to look at Gaius. His eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open. The last time she had seen him look so terrified was when she’d broken Rheya’s control over him.

“I thought Rheya’s powers were gone,” said Gaius, looking as though he feared she might snap again. “Didn’t they disappear in the opera house?”

Amy was breathing heavily, trying to shove the darkness back down. “That’s what I thought too. But then one day, about a year later, I got so angry that—” She shook her head, trembling at the memory. If Adrian hadn’t been there to talk to her, she had no idea what might’ve happened.

Whatever darkness that had possessed her inside the opera house when she drained Rheya’s powers hadn’t disappeared forever. For a short time, she had believed it, thought that life would return to a relatively normal state, but it seemed outside forces had other plans. The temptation, the possibility that she might be able to bring Jax back still haunted her. It followed her everywhere she went, a voice that was not her own whispering deep inside that she could do it. All she had to do was embrace the darkness.

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I get it.” Gaius was standing so close to her that his breath hit her face. He inhaled sharply, staring at her lips.

Desperate to both forget about what had just happened and satisfy the reason she had come here, she tilted her head back to brush her lips across his. He let go of her hands, pulling her closer. She sighed when he put his thumb under her chin and tilted her head further back, kissing her harder.

Thunder boomed somewhere in a distant field, the force of the sound shaking the walls of the decrepit house. The rain found its way inside, soaking their clothes. Lightning flashed outside, so bright that it flared behind Amy’s closed eyelids. Every touch felt more intense than it ever had before.

“Is there a bed in this place?” she mumbled, holding back a laugh when she felt Gaius frown against her lips. “Just curious.”

He shook his head, pulling her with him to the battered couch a few feet away. “Those beds have several inches of dust on them. And other unappealing things.”

“Couch it is, then.” Amy laughed when Gaius pulled away to look at her, running his fingers along her face. “Don’t look so surprised. You were the one who said I have low standards.”

Before he could retort, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back to her. He fumbled with her jacket, moving without complaint when she shifted to be on top. Amy’s chest heaved as she slipped the jacket off, pausing for a moment before she pulled her shirt over her head immediately after.

Gaius started to breathe heavier, his eyes drawn to the place where he had stabbed her so many years ago. The scar had mostly healed, but the skin was slightly discolored. It had always struck her as odd that a scar remained, but she guessed it was because the wound was from before she’d been Turned.

“You’re looking a little overdressed.” Her voice was lower than usual. It had been so long since she’d been with anyone. Years, she was sure.

Gaius smirked, letting her undress him as he lay beneath her. She ran her hands down his stomach once she’d got him out of his clothes, digging her fingers into his skin as she ground herself against him. He moaned, sitting up to kiss her.

The rain continued to beat against the house, the only sound in the room besides their heavy breathing and the occasional quiet moan. Amy pulled away long enough to slip her underwear off, her heart pounding harder than before when she straddled Gaius’ lap again.

They moved at a slow pace, his hands running up her back to unclasp her bra. She threw it on the floor, trying her best not to think about how filthy it was. The couch itself wasn’t any better. But she didn’t care.

“Amy—” Gaius spoke her name with a sigh, brushing his lips across her chest as she moved above him. He swore under his breath when she picked up her pace, his nails digging into her skin as he gripped her hips and helped her to move faster.

One of his hands made its way between her legs, and she bit her lip as she felt herself getting closer to finishing. His name slipped past her lips as a whisper, her forehead resting against his as her breathing grew ragged.

Amy took a trembling breath, moaning quietly, and stopped rocking her hips against him, the two of them sitting in silence once they’d finished. The pitter-patter of rain filled the house, the storm finally coming to an end.

“This was one of the reasons why I came here,” Amy said, a breathy laugh escaping her when Gaius rolled his eyes. He sat up and pulled her off of him, running his hands through his hair.

“You make it hard for me to focus.” He turned to look at her, not looking like he was too concerned about focusing. “Do you plan to stay long?”

She rested her head on his shoulder, grabbing his hand and lacing her fingers through his. “Who said I planned on leaving at all? You’re the reason I left New York.”

Gaius sighed, staring at the shattered window across the room. “The others will come looking for you. I doubt they would appreciate knowing I’m the reason you ran away.”

“Who says I care what the others think?” She stood from the couch and slowly got dressed, feeling him watch her the entire time. “They won’t ever understand the way I feel about you. I gave up thinking they would get it a long time ago. I wasn’t happy there. I belong here. With you.”

He stood and got dressed, turning to face her, the tension that was between them when she first arrived now gone. “I will never understand how you can even stand to look at me after everything I’ve done.”

“The conversation we had on that boat changed my perspective. I like the real you a whole lot better than the person you were under Rheya’s control.” She reached out to run her fingers across his face, and he leaned into her hand. “Plus, the whole having sex with you right after that kind of helped you win me over.”

Gaius laughed, his teeth gleaming in the dark room. “You are irresistible.”

Amy grabbed his shirt and tugged him closer. “I thought I was insufferable.”

“One can be both irresistible and insufferable.” He cut off her response with his lips, dragging her back to the couch. A puff of dust shot out from the cushions when they dropped down, and Amy coughed, making a mental note to find them a more suitable place to stay the next night.

Eventually, the rain stopped, the world outside growing quiet. Amy struggled to keep her eyes open, wanting to enjoy every second she could with Gaius after twenty-five years apart.

“How are you feeling now?” His question startled her. She had thought he might have fallen asleep.

With a shrug, she continued to trace random shapes on his chest. “Okay. The darkness went away, if that’s what you’re really asking.”

Gaius shifted, and she lifted her head to look him in the eyes. “Does that happen often?”

“What? The whole earth trembling, voice booming thing?” She could see that he didn’t appreciate her attempt at making another joke. Amy sighed, rolling onto her stomach to look at him properly. “No. It only happens when I can’t control my emotions. The last time it happened, I was thinking about Jax again.” A figure jumping in front of her to prevent Rheya from turning her Feral flashed in her mind and she closed her eyes, trying to rein in the pain.

“Do you—” Gaius gulped, the fear in his tone not going unnoticed. “Do you think you could ever get as bad as you did in the opera house again?”

Amy didn’t have an answer to that question. The thought of ever returning to that state of mind terrified her. In that moment, she had felt truly unstoppable. A lust for power had overwhelmed her. If that ever happened again, she wasn’t so sure she would be able to resist it a second time around.

For over two decades, the thought of what if had haunted her. Almost as much as she missed Gaius, she missed the feeling of invincibility that Rheya’s power had given her. To bring Jax back, to help her friends in whatever way she could…power like that was irreplaceable. It was tempting beyond belief.

“How long are we staying here?” Amy forced a smile, a hint of hunger starting to creep in. She couldn’t be completely certain if it had anything to do with thinking about her hidden powers.

Gaius watched her, curiosity shining in his eyes. “I move every few weeks. I planned to leave in a few days.”

“Great,” she answered, putting her head back on his chest, shutting her eyes before the conversation about Rheya’s power could continue.

Twenty-five years ago, Amy had absorbed the power of the First Vampire. For a fleeting moment, she had felt the fate of the world placed in her hands. Then, mere minutes later, she had made the decision to choose love. The love of her friends had overpowered the hunger for power. And she had been content. Most of the past twenty-five years had passed without incident.

But Amy could feel a darkness gathering deep inside of her. It came in flashes, brief moments where she lost control and her voice shook walls. The endless possibility still flowed through her veins. One day, she feared it might burst. Darkness could only be contained for so long before it enveloped everything in its path.

Ignoring the claws that seemed to dig themselves further into her heart, Amy closed her eyes, reminding herself that she was with Gaius now. The years of pain were over. She would overcome this thirst for power in no time. It was nothing. She would be fine.

Just fine.

#choices: stories you play #choices fanfiction #bloodbound #bloodbound 3 #gaius augustine #gaius x mc #gaius augustine x mc #the amount of fanfic i've been writing can't be healthy #i should really be doing my school work

[honeyhan-123]

Say Thank You IV

Series Summary: Nearly five years have passed since Steve Rogers saves your life without so much as a thank you. When he sees you again by chance, he makes sure that he’ll never let you go and maybe teach you some manners in the process.

Series Warning: This will be a dark!Steve fic with stalking, kidnapping and manipulating as well as non-con and dub-con situations. Please don’t read it if you don’t like that sort of thing.

Chapter Warning: Kidnapping and drugging. 

Word Count: 1.9k

I. New York II. Madrid III. The Apartment

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

IV. The Trip

‘So Stevie, where’d you disappear off to last night? I thought you said you were headed back to the hideout but you didn’t get back ‘till what? Two in the morning?’ Bucky looked to Nat as though asking her for confirmation about Steve’s night time practices over breakfast the next morning. 

‘Nah Buck, I reckon it was more like three when he finally came in.’ The red head locked eyes with Bucky over her coffee mug. ‘I mean, if I didn’t know better, I’d wanna say Steve was out at some booty call’s last night coming in at that time. I know I always like to get a fix after a mission.’ 

Steve could feel the blood start to rush to his face as he tried to remain passive in front of the two super spies. He wasn’t ready to tell them about her just yet, they would try to convince him to change his mind but it was too late. Preparations had already started. Instead he lied, despite knowing what a dangerous game it was to lie to highly trained spies, yet he thought he might be able to swing it.  ‘God Nat, I can’t believe you would even say that. I was just out at a little bar down the street, getting a drink.’ 

Steve thanked the powers at be as Nat’s phone started ringing, signalling their conversation had come to an end. 

‘Oh wow. Thanks for the invite Rogers.’ She rolled her eyes as her finger swiped across the screen and hit the speaker button, letting Sam’s voice fill the room. ‘Hey Bird Brain, how’s it going in Sokovia?’ 

‘Yeah we’re good here. Just calling to let you guys know that Chekhov is on the move, we think he’s headed up to a facility in the north, it seems to be pretty heavily guarded. Wouldn’t mind some assistance with this one, it looks kind of intense.’

‘Yeah sure, we’ll be there in the morning, we just finished up with Alejandro last night so we’re good to move out.’ 

‘Actually Nat, I think we should stay here for a little longer, or at least one of us. We want to make sure all of Alejandro’s men are gone.’ Steve’s eyes met Bucky’s as the latter spoke, and he knew he hadn’t even remotely fooled his best friend, Bucky clearly realised something was up with him but he also knew that Bucky wouldn’t push him, not if he wasn’t ready to share. 

‘Yeah I think that’s a good idea Buck, we really don’t want any of these guys hanging around. How ‘bout you and Nat catch a flight up to Sokovia tomorrow and I’ll meet you there or back in New York after I make sure it’s all clear down here.’ Steve was quick to set his plan in motion, grateful that the others pretty much always agreed to whatever plan he came up with, this way he would be able to easily extract y/n using the quinjet instead of picking her up from the airport in New York and have to deal with bystanders maybe getting in the way. 

‘Sounds good to me. Wanda and I probably don’t need all three of you anyway, I don’t think Chekhov will be too hard. I’ll probably just see you back in New York Cap. Stay safe guys and see you tomorrow.’ Sam signed off the call and Nat put her phone back in her pocket. 

‘Well Barnes, looks like we got some packing to do.’

+

The week passed far too slowly for Steve’s liking, every minute felt like hours and the hours felt like days. Anticipation flooded through him every time he caught sight of you, he just couldn’t wait to have you back at his house in New York, back at his mercy. 

The only upside of the week was he now had more time to watch you. In the mornings he would accompany you on your morning jogs, following slightly behind, appreciating the way your ass jiggled with every step and then sneak into your apartment while you were showering, learning everything he could about you from your living space. Then, he would head back to his hideout and have a shower of his own, his cock in his fist, dreaming about what would happen in mere days as he came, his seed spraying over the tiled walls of the shower, slowly sliding down before pooled at his feet as it disappeared down the drain, his breaths shallow and frequent as he came back after his orgasm. 

Post shower he would spend his days at the cantina, following you with his eyes as you served the customers. It seemed you were working more than normal and he figured it was probably to make up for your trip away, to cover your expenses as he had overheard a conversation between you and the elderly woman who owned the cantina. It was cute, watching your fret over finances while he knew that soon you wouldn’t have to worry about anything other than minding your manners around him. 

He tried to get your attention whenever he could, coming up with reasons to talk to you but due to the air conditioning and the promise of a refreshing drink the cantina was often packed, filled with tourists and locals alike, trying to refute the summer heat, meaning that you often had little time for him, once again filling Steve with memories of double dates with Bucky back in the forties. Of trying to get their attention which was always focussed on Bucky instead of scrawny little Steve. But soon enough, he promised himself, you would be all his. Real Soon.

+

The days passed slowly for you too, despite you being so busy with work and preparing everything for your trip but finally, at last, it was your last day working at the cantina - for the meantime at least. 

‘I’m sorry Señor, but we’re closing soon, can I get you anything before we stop taking orders?’ You asked the strange American who had been coming to the cantina everyday recently. You frequently wondered why he was in Madrid if all he was going to do was sit in the cantina but he tipped well and was nice enough to look at if you had a moment in between customers. 

‘Trust me Sweetheart, there’s a lot I want from you but for now I’ll just take another Americano thanks.’ A chill crept down your spine at his sinister smile, although he may be attractive there was something wrong about this man and you barely managed to smile back as you walked away, the hairs on your neck standing up. 

You avoided the American as best you could for the next half hour before the cantina closed, but being the only one still working made it hard as you still had to serve him. Thankfully, the clock hit ten and you managed to kick him out quite easily except for his promise to ‘come back soon’. You made sure to lock the door behind him, looking out into the night as he walked down the street. There was definitely something wrong about that man, but at least you wouldn’t have to worry about it for the next two weeks. 

You made your way to the back of the shop, most of the cleaning already done as you waited for the man to be finished with his coffee. Knocking on the door to Mariana’s office, you entered slowly, finding her simply reading some book. 

‘Mariana? I just wanted to come say goodbye before my flight tomorrow, it’s pretty early and I don’t think I’ll see you before I leave.’

She smiled and walked around her desk, wrapping her arms around you. ‘Querida, I’m so glad that you’re going through with this. I think it will be very good for you, going back to New York. I only ask that you send me a postcard, something touristy.’

You laughed into her shoulder, not wanting to break away from the biggest maternal figure you knew. ‘Anything for you Mariana.’ 

‘Be careful querida.’

‘Always am Mariana, don’t you worry about me.’ With one last smile you left her office, heading upstairs to your apartment. 

As you unlocked the door and made your way through the small loft, your mind was so busy running through a last minute checklist for everything you still had to do that you didn’t notice that the window you had locked that morning was now open, the curtains fluttering in the breeze. You also didn’t notice the figure waiting for you in your bedroom, hiding in the shadows until his arms were wrapped around you in a vice like grip, one hand covering your mouth as the other held something against your neck. There was a soft prick, and slowly you felt your eyes getting heavier, closing on their own and the whole room faded to blackness. 

+

You slept so peacefully on the quinjet as he flew you over the Atlantic that Steve almost never wanted you to wake up. He knew that it would be a while before you were this calm in his presence again but he could wait. He was a patient man after all. He landed the quinjet just outside of the city, somewhere hidden where it wouldn’t be found and gave you another shot of sedative before transferring you to Natasha’s car. If he had known that he would see you again in Madrid he wouldn’t have ridden his bike out to the landing pad. 

It was a real pain being on the run from every government, it meant doing their job was becoming increasingly hard but the team - or what remained of it - never complained, they each stood by their choice to help Steve against Tony. Ironically enough the best place for them to hide at the moment was actually in New York, one of the biggest cities in the world and the last place Ross would think to look for them, plus if he ever did, Tony always covered for them, claiming a fake sighting in another country, because while he was still hurt but Steve and the other and wasn’t quite ready to forgive them, they were still his family and he would never turn them over like that. 

When he finally made his way back through the city, back to his brownstone in Brooklyn, Steve was kind of shocked that he had actually managed it, he had actually gotten you, right where he wanted you. A smile came over his face as he carried you down to the basement, the modifications he had requested had been made perfectly while he was away. While the room had always been a guest bedroom, he had to make sure that you wouldn’t be able to escape and that he could always watch you, especially in the first few weeks. The new thick, metal door would be enough to keep even him trapped down here and if he didn’t know exactly where to look, the security cameras were almost undetectable. He lay you on the bed, tucking you in, under the soft light grey covers, and pressed a kiss to your forehead before walking away and locking the door behind him. As much as he wanted to stay and watch you all night, there was still a lot he had to do before you woke up.

+

Tags will be added in a reblog

V. The Basement 

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

#say thank you #saythankyou #steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rodgers imagine #steve rodgers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #dark mcu #mcu imagine #mcuseries #mcu #dark verse #honeyhanwrites #capatin america #captain america x reader #captain america

[invertedeidolon]

The Longest Library #3: Griffin & Sabine by Nick Bantock (Or, Eidolon again talks way too much about previous relationships, also, pretty art!)

(This is a series in which I attempt to read and review all (or most of) my library of 297 books.)

Rundown: Postcard artist Griffin Moss gets a weird letter from a weird lady who can apparently see what he's drawing telepathically. They form an ill concieved bond over it. The story is told in colorful postcards and envelopes you can open and then read the mysterious things inside. 4.5/5 for calling me THE FUCK OUT and having some BOMB ASS ART.

I can't give it a full 5 because not everyone is going to have that experience when they read this. It's just going to look very strange and floaty and things won't make very much sense. This book hits close to home with me because it heavily echoes (more like yells about) my first long distance relationship. I'm not really able to see this book through any other lens, so that's what my commentary is mostly about.

So for the part that ISN'T about that stuff though: The art is amazing. Even though it's made by one person technically, both fictional artists have their own, distinct style. Let's be real: The art and the interactivity is the main draw of this book. There are envelopes inside with letters carrying a myriad of little details: Griffin uses a typewriter for his long-form letters, and bits where he's crossed out typos or added in letters with pen, or that Sabine's correspondence is something I now recognize as someone who uses quills or manual dip pens. The inconsistency in the color of her writings suggests she's using a homemade ink, brownish in color, slightly too watery. Maybe it's even watered down watercolor and not even ink at all. They've also made the background of her letters and cards a rich dark gray, while Griffin's is a clean, sterile white.

"Will you explain to me about those geometric paintings you did at Art college? I want to understand their hidden language of color and shape. It's so alien to me."

So this is about the fourth time I'm reading this book since I first got it, and now that I have to write about it, I'm noticing so many more details. Here the line "It's so alien to me."is written in smaller, slightly more rounded letters. The ink is much darker here too, suggesting she wrote this slowly, thoughtfully. What a detail!

Anyway that's it for the objective bits of the book, the rest is entirely subjective from here on out.

"The phenomenon that links us has taught me much about you, yet I am ignorant of your history."

My years and years of suffering emotional abuse set me up to be able to read and predict what was going on in your head perfectly, as well as respond in the most helpful ways with eerie precision, yet I am ignorant of your history, and who you really are (because you use such obtuse floaty language and metaphor. Who were you really? Suffering, but that's about all I could tell.)

"Why doesn't this alarm me as much as it should?"

Because we're already "in". And I "feel safe" to you because I've been trained to be the least offensive, most placating being in the universe. If I could build a business model on conversational comfort, if I could sell my goddamn empathy like the capitalist machine really wants me to, *I'd be so rich*. It would be like, a step down from therapist. Anybody want a virtual friend for like an hour? Gimme 20 and we can watch stupid videos or I can calmly talk you through bread making. It's okay, you can cry. GOD PLEASE LET ME JUST SELL MYSELF SAFELY, I WAS MADE FOR THIS GODDAMNIT.

"I want to hear everything. Write in detail. Tell me all about yourself. I demand to know - please."

This is like fucking CRACK to those with a suppressed self. An unwitnessed self. "Someone who's interested in ME, and won't yell at, ignore, or dismiss me for talking! Holy fuck I love you!"

"Finally I knew who you were. I counselled myself to be cautious and find out what you were like before revealing myself fully."

Sabine at this point is to the reader who I was to Him. A weird mythical creature, the non-human monster of your lonely adolescent imaginings, who is intimately aware of your secrets, "I've been watching you" it says before introducing you to a wondrous world free of the pains of living, where you actually feel loved and all is well forever and ever. Except I wasn't as inhuman as I wished to be.

"Occasionally I'd come home to a re-enactment of The Battle of Britain in the front room. [...] My entrance would make no difference to their dogfight, but when one of them accidentally (and inevitably) knocked over a pile of books, they'd stop instantly and unite to examine the extent of the damage."

The whole 'making light of a not-great home life because it was your normal for so long that you still haven't learned that you need to be horrified about it' thing. As well as passing it off as something funny. Thankfully this character's parents (SPOILER?) get literally run over by a truck and he gets sent to live with his mom's step sister who is really good and lets him ditch school to become a potter's apprentice and eventually go to art college. He never really deals with the grief when the step sister dies, OBVIOUSLY.

"And hearing that my existence eased your pain made my heart race. We have found one another, and I give thanks."

Hearing that my existence wasn't going to be punished but instead, made someone happy? Fucking HEROIN. Downplay it a little with grateful gentleness, I don't want to be punished for being presumptuous or for seeming like I like it too much. If I like things too much they get destroyed, hard.

"My kinsmen are responsive to me - but there is no one to reach my heart, and you who are so far away, have been closer to me than any man on the Islands."

This is something I remember. So far all they've done is shared eachother's life stories and gushed about how close they feel now. She (like my past self), has confused the feeling of 'finally, a witness! they're witnessing me! I've been Seen!' with the feeling of attachment. Of course she would feel infinitely more attached to this man. She's witnessed his most private moments as a creator for a good portion of her life. It's been a mainstay throughout her adolescence through adulthood, so of course an unwarranted sense of intimacy is going to be attached to this mysterious figure. The whole thing wrapped up in a dream like sense of mysticism.

"I remember your first erotic drawing; I was trembling from head to foot by the time you'd finished. Was that Sarah? No don't answer; I'm only teasing."

...Unless? (Man the implications hurt to think about. I REMEMBER THIS FEELING. This author has unintentionally called me out. I wonder how much of Sabine’s writing is actually calm, or if she’s reigning herself in almost constantly?)

"I was finding it hard to get over the idea of there being other men in your life when I reached the part in your letter about my erotic drawings. I stopped being jealous. We were lovers and I hadn't realized it. The drawings weren't of Sarah; they were of you."

ow ow ow ow ow ow JUST SAY IT ow ow ow ow, Also, I REALLY wanted her to be like 'bitch that looks nothing like me, what the fuck', but instead she's all like "So you've been making love to me ten thousand miles away - how tantalizing." URGH. TOO CLOSE, TOO FAST. DISENTANGLE YOURSELVES NOW. GRIFFIN GET HELP.

"I had failed to understand how unhappy you are. You cover up with jokes and a front of being self-contained. I'm worried for you."

EVEN SHE SEES IT, GET HELP.

"When you found me, I thought my loneliness had gone for good. I was kidding myself. I desperately desire your company. I haven't talked to anyone in three days. I was sure I was going to start seeing your pictures like you see mine. I've tried so hard. [...] How can I miss you this badly when we've never met?"

BECAUSE YOU MISS HUMAN CONTACT AND YOU DON'T HAVE ANY FAMILY LEFT YOU NERD, GET HELP. DON'T HANG IT ON ONE PERSON WHO IS TOO FAR AWAY TO HELP YOU IN THE WAY YOU NEED.

"Island magic works on island souls. You and I will heal eachother."

ANTIDEPRESSANTS MAYBE UUUUGGGGHHHHH

"I've started to hate this city, this country, all these stupid fucking people [...] I finally snapped. [...] I want to know what you look like."

*HEAVILY RECOILS*

"Why, my kindred spirit, are you prepared to settle for a postcard of my face? If you wish to see me, why not come here? What is there to stop you - you're clearly unhappy where you are. Come."

Yes. I offered and I offered and I offered. What's to stop you from just fucking TALKING TO ME instead of DISAPPEARING OVER AND OVER AGAIN. and then COMPLAINING THAT YOU'RE SO HURT AND LONELY. I'M LONELY TOO. WHEN I HAD THE MONEY YOU DIDN’T TAKE MY OFFER FOR ME TO COME SEE YOU, SO WHAT THE FUCK IS UP KYLE?

"Foolish man. You cannot turn me into a phantom because you are frightened."

This kind of sentiment is what lead to the breakup. This feeling of being large, and dark, and slighted. Being real and supernatural. Make your choice. Say REAL words instead of just flagellating yourself. Do I exist to you?

"If you will not join me, then I will come to you."

Unfortunately, Sabine has what I definitely did not: Mobility, the ability to make things real. She had a job and money and her own life and the ability to travel. I had a shitty little shared room in my parent's house where I spent most of the time partially starved and dodging devils in one form or another. Many many times I wanted to spontaneously show up and give him the closeness that he needed. But I couldn't. And he wouldn't take my words. He wouldn’t take me.

3 down, 294 to go.

#thelongestlibrary #griffin and sabine #nick bantock #origin1 #wri1

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Chapter 40: A(nother) Changeling In Trollmarket

Becoming The Mask

I'll be using a script format in addition to my previous -text between hyphens indicates text messages- method, to make it clearer who is typing in the group chat. (Emojis) will be described in parentheses.

Bold italics are trollish.

I’m also trying out a simple new line divider now that Tumblr doesn’t have an automatic one anymore.

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The second thing Jim did when he got home, after putting his backpack and duffle bag in his room, was dust the house. It hadn't built up much in a week, since dust was mostly human skin cells and Barbara was rarely home in any case, but Jim usually dusted every day. Then he checked the lightbulbs, swept the floors, and scrubbed the bathroom. He wouldn't need to take out the trash until Monday.

Barbara didn't have work that day, and since she'd slept all morning, she was awake while Jim cleaned, which was a little weird – he usually took care of these things before making her breakfast. She half-followed him, helping dust and sweep.

"You know you don't have to do all this," she told him from the doorway, as he was wiping toothpaste stains out of the sink.

"I like taking care of you," Jim insisted. "And I wasn't sure how much you'd trust my cooking now, but this I can do."

"You understand why what you did was wrong." She hesitated. "… Right?"

"I know why it upset you," which wasn't quite the same thing. Jim knew he'd caused his mother stress when she found out about the sleeping potions, but how much more stress would it have caused her to wake up and find her child missing? "I won't do it again." She knew now, that he might be gone in the middle of the night.

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Toby: -So Jim told me something last night that's really freaking me out.- -He's had a plan *since before we were ten* for how to cover up my death if I got killed by a troll.-

Mary: -… I'm sorry but also curious.-

Darci: -You OK, TP?-

Toby: -Just freaked out that my BEST FRIEND has BACKUP PLANS to HIDE MY DEATH!- -Sorry, Darcy.- -Didn't mean to snap.-

Darci: -Understandable.-

Toby: -Also sorry my phone keeps autocorrecting your name.-

Darci: -It happens.- -You're going through a lot right now. It's good to let it out.-

Claire: -Jim said WHAT?!-

Toby: -Yeah, he said if I died and he couldn't make it look like a bear attack or car crash, he'd hack my phone and tell Nana we ran away to be rockstars. He'd come back without me in a few months and say we 'got separated'.-

Mary: -That's nuts.- -I mean I might believe it but it's still nuts.-

Toby: -Back when we were kids he was gonna send a postcard saying we were looking for my parents and his dad.-

Darci: -(wince emoji) That hurts.-

Toby: -It gets worse, amazingly. He said he thinks the rockstar story could also work for you guys if *any* of us die.- -Because Dr L found out about you. Not specifically, no names- -but she knows we have other friends who know about trolls, and she wants to tell your families but Jim said no and Dr L asked what he's going to tell our families if we get killed.-

Darci: -(three wince emojis)-

Mary: -Not to derail but this means his mom's talking to him again?-

Toby: -Yeah she was at my house when we got back last night.- -She let him move back in. That's where he is now.-

Claire: -She trusts him again already? After he kidnapped and replaced her son?-

Toby: -She had this whole speech about how she adopted him and he's her son too.-

Mary: -Aawww-

Toby: -I think she was a little drunk but she didn't take it back when she sobered up.- -She's still mad about the drugging and the lying and everything, she didn't say she forgave him. Just that he can move back home.-

Claire: -So at least you're not sharing a bedroom with somebody with a plan to cover up your death anymore.-

Mary: -OMG Claire I know you're mad at Jim and I get it and you deserve to be, but will you chillax? Yeah, I just used outdated slang. That's how long it feels like you're dragging this out.-

Claire: -I'll *chillax* when my brother's not stuck in troll-hell.-

Darci: -What if we told our parents ourselves?- -You know, got ahead of Dr L and told them what's up on our terms.-

Mary: -That's a good idea. Let's talk to Jim first so he can tell us from experience what not to say.-

Toby: -Jim might have to use those cover stories because I think Trollmarket would kill us.-

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"I don't want it facing where I sleep, but I've no objections to you keeping your trophy here."

"Excellent." Jim positioned Bular's head on one of the basement shelves. "I got called into the Void while I was there. The Ghost Council is really impressed we took him down. Your father wanted me to say that he's proud of you for avenging him."

Draal puffed up at the praise. It made Jim want to pat him on the head or something.

"And I wanted to thank you again for – being here. Keeping an eye on my mom."

"She faced no danger on my watch."

"You know, if you ever wanted to help out around the house, too –"

Draal snorted, making his nose ring flap. "I protect. I do not clean."

"Except for taking care of the recyclables," Jim teased. They'd had this conversation before. Draal rolled his eyes.

Jim's phone chimed. "Toby wants to meet up in Trollmarket for 'strategic brainstorming'," he read. "You want to come along?"

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"What is HE doing here?!"

Jim stared, wide-eyed and jaw twitching, at Enrique, who blew a spit bubble at him from the stroller.

"I told my parents I was meeting friends at the park, and Mom said 'why don't you bring your brother?', and if I said 'no' it would've become this whole thing and they'd think we were really planning to sneak into an R-rated movie or something."

Draal had declined to leave his post, so instead of taking the tunnels and opening the door from the inside, Jim had walked with Toby to the canal. It didn't take long for the girls to join them, accompanied by an undesired extra.

"Okay," said Jim, failing to calm down but trying to at least fake it. "What are you planning to tell your parents if he's discovered and executed?"

"Not everyone spends their time coming up with ways to cover up the deaths of everyone they know!"

"I don't have plans for everyone." That would be absurd and unnecessary. "Just the people I'm close enough to that it would be more suspicious if I didn't at least know they were missing." Jim took a deep breath and let it whoosh out. "Let's get inside. Now I need to brief Enrique before we go downstairs, and that'll be easier if he can ask questions."

Stricklander and Nomura had both been startled into revealing their connection when they first visited. Jim couldn't let Enrique be exposed so easily.

After the portal's arch closed behind them, there was a crackle of green light mixed with the blue glow from the crystal staircase. Enrique unbuckled himself from the stroller and hopped over to Jim.

"Is it supposed to look like a Nyarlagroth's lair in here?"

"Creepy, right?" Jim transformed as well. "It's just the colour of the stairs. You get used to it. Tobes, would you keep watch for us? Just say my name if anybody starts coming up."

Mary snapped a photo of the two Changelings.

"The one you need to watch out for most is Vendel," said Jim. "He's in charge down there. Pale, long curly horns, carries a Heartstone staff; hopefully you won't actually meet him. Blinky, my trainer, you will meet. He's the one who looks like Dictatious. They're brothers. Don't bring that up if you're found out. If he catches you staring, just giggle like the six eyes are funny and –"

"Peek-a-boo routine, I know. I'm more in practise than you are at the baby gig right now."

"AAARRRGGHH is going to be there, too."

Enrique ducked into a crouch, ears up, slit pupils thinning to eyelash width and then dilating.

"But it's okay! He's a pacifist now. He won't attack anybody."

"You're jokin'."

"No, really."

"Why is that a shock?" asked Claire. "AAARRRGGHH's a sweetie. Unlike some trolls I could mention." Jim and Enrique didn't answer her. "Plus, I already told Blinky and AAARRRGGHH about Not Enrique, remember?"

"You what?!"

"Enrique didn't need to know that," the blue Changeling growled, holding the green one suspended in the air. "He can't risk dropping his guard down there."

"Getcher hand off me scruff or I'm taking it off your arm!"

"You guys even keep secrets from each other?" asked Toby, sitting on the top step. Darci was sitting next to him. Both humans were watching their friends over their shoulders rather than peering down below.

Jim set Enrique on the ground rather than dropping him. Enrique growled and reached behind his shoulders, rearranging and grooming his scruff as best he could, but he was glaring at Jim rather than Claire, so Jim counted it as a win.

(If he could keep fights between the Nuñez siblings from turning violent, it would be easier for them to bond, and less likely Enrique would lose his home at Claire's hand.)

+=+

"We want to tell our parents about trolls," Darci said to Blinky and AAARRRGGHH. Since she had come up with the idea, she'd been informally elected the one to tell the trolls about it.

Jim made a shrieky noise. When the group turned to him, he shook his head and waved them off, taking notably deep breaths.

AAARRRGGHH shook his head. "Bad idea. Vendel mad."

"I must concede the point. Vendel would never agree to have more humans made aware of trolls."

"Jim's mom is out to tell them anyway," said Toby. "She already told Nana. Nana thought she was talking about a video game, but still. The only thing holding Dr L back is that she doesn't actually know who to talk to yet."

"But if we tell them ourselves," said Darci, "then we can make it sound a bit less terrifying then she probably would, so they won't try to call in the army or something."

"We're not really asking permission, here," said Mary. "We're asking how to tell them, not if we can."

"… We should discuss this with Vendel," said Blinky. Darci thought his hands might be shaking, before he clenched all four into fists.

They made a tense procession through Trollmarket. Jim practically hovered over Claire and Enrique. AAARRRGGHH, at the rear of the group, made quiet snuffling sounds every few moments.

Trollmarket paid more attention to them than was usual anymore; trolls glancing at them and then muttering or whispering. Darci hoped it was the stroller drawing attention. Though, even if anyone was picking up on the mood, grimness could be passed off as 'some serious Trollhunter matter just came up'.

The stroller's wheel caught in a crack in the ground. Not Enrique made a whiny noise at the jostling, but didn't commit to the part enough to start crying.

"Vendel?" said Blinky cautiously, tapping on the Heartstone to the side of the hollow leading into and under it. "A matter of possible urgency has arisen."

There was a long pause.

"Come in, Blinkous." Vendel sounded tired. "What is it this time?"

He was at a worktable with a number of gems. Darci only recognized a few of the tools; a hammer and chisel, various sizes of tongs, a grindstone. She didn't know any of the crystal names or their properties, even after months of part-time exposure to troll culture, but Toby might.

Darci cleared her throat, and then gulped, and then cleared her throat again. She tried not to let her voice shake.

"We … Claire and Mary and Toby and I, we want to tell our parents the truth. That trolls exist."

Vendel peered at her with his seemingly blank eyes. When she'd first met him, she'd assumed he had cataracts. Now she thought his eyes were opal or moonstone. He could definitely see; she'd seen him reading.

"I suppose I have no way of stopping you. Short of having you executed, or imprisoned here forever … which I daresay our Trollhunter would object to. But know this, young humans. Should you expose the secret of our existence, a secret which you have given your oaths to guard, you will no longer be welcome here in Trollmarket."

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Previous Chapter (Strickler considers summoning Angor Rot)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (Arguments for and against telling the parents)

#Becoming The Mask chapters #Trollhunters #Tales of Arcadia #Changeling Jim #Dr Barbara Lake #Tobias Domzalski #Darci Scott #Mary Wang #Claire Nuñez #Draal #Not Enrique #Changelings #Blinkous Galadrigal #AAARRRGGHH #Vendel #My Fanfiction #Monday is fanfic day!

[howling-harpy]

Peonies and primroses in Pennsylvania fair

Word count: 6780 Rating: G Pairing: Winters/Nixon

Summary: Harry is excited. He’s on a holiday from work, Dick has been discharged from service, and Nix let it slip in a letter that he was planning to visit, so Harry seized the opportunity to tag along and make it a reunion.  Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction based on the HBO drama series and the actors’ portrayals in it. This has nothing to do with any real person represented in the series, and means no disrespect. A/N: This is a sequel to my fic “Dear lover”, found on my blog but not linked here because Tumblr hates links.

*

Summer, 1952

Harry was excited. He had been looking forward to this week since late winter when the matter had been agreed upon via letters, and now that the day had finally arrived, he was ready to go. Kitty watched him with amusement. “I’d ask you if you packed everything you need, but since you’ve packed and repacked thrice, it would be a stupid question.” Harry just grinned at her. She was right: the suitcase had been sitting by the door since yesterday. “Thank you for your concern,” he said, “and for your patient supervision.” 

She huffed a laugh and turned back to the kitchen. “Is your friend going to stay long enough for coffee?” 

Harry glanced out of the front window to the driveway for the umpteenth time, still seeing no car, and absently answered: “Uh, I don’t know. You never really know with Nix. I asked him to just pick me up on the way, but he’s never been one to turn down a treat either.” Harry followed Kitty to the kitchen and sat down at the table. There was a coffee cake under a glass dome, baked only yesterday and iced this morning, and it was clear that Kitty wanted to present and serve it to a guest, but whether this was the occasion or not was unclear. Kitty seemed to sense that and directed one of her sharp looks at Harry, tilting her head. “But you’re both very anxious to get on the road to see your friend, aren’t you?” Harry smiled sheepishly. “Yeah.” He didn’t need to explain it to her: he had told her more than enough in the letters he had written from overseas, and shared enough pictures, postcards and letters from Nix and Dick for her to understand. Kitty smiled knowingly. “It’s been some time, hasn’t it?” Harry sighed. “Yeah, I haven’t seen Nix since -45, or Dick since he moved back to Pennsylvania. And now it’s going to be all three of us again.” Just thinking about it brought a bright smile to his face, and again he glanced outside to search for the car Nix had described. “Really, I’m so glad Nix mentioned this visit in his letter. It didn’t even occur to him to pick me up even though I live along the way, that dog.” “He always seemed a bit aloof,” Kitty noted. Harry grinned. “He is, but it’s part of his charm. Dick always says he knew he was in trouble from the moment he befriended him.” Kitty gave an indulgent little laugh, a sound that both joined and separated her from their boyish habits and experiences. After only half an hour, a beautiful blue Buick finally turned on the Welsh’s driveway. Harry could barely keep himself from darting up and running to the door, but managed to stay put long enough to watched the car park and a dark-headed man get out of it. Kitty laughed at him when he skipped to the door and yanked it open before Nix got the chance to ring the doorbell. With a grin on his face, Harry took in the man in his early thirties standing on his doorstep, a finger reaching for the bell and now frozen in surprise. “Lewis Nixon,” Harry said. Nix’s surprised expression melted into a familiar smile, now worn on an older face. “The one and only,” he said, opened his arms and welcomed Harry’s enthusiastic hug. They hugged tight for a good while and gave each other friendly slaps on the back before Harry pushed Nix at arm’s length to properly look at him friend. “You look good, Nix,” he said, “and haven’t changed a bit.” He wasn’t lying either, there was the same mischievous gleam in Nix’s brown eyes that hadn’t faded in seven years, his hair was combed back, and his face was clean-shaven with the bluish touch of five o’clock shadow already there. He might have been older now, more distinctively mature rather than boyish, but Harry couldn’t tell. It was Nix just as he remembered him. The corner of Nix’s mouth tugged upwards in a lopsided smile. “You’re just the same too. It’s good to see you, Harry.” Harry grinned, and Nix returned the expression. When they had grinned at each other enough while hanging on the doorway, Harry remembered himself and with a slap on Nix’s arm invited him in. “Come on! We can be on our way as soon as we’d like, but come say hi to Kitty at least.” “Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Nix said. “I listened to you yapping on and on about her too much to miss the real deal.” Nix didn’t take his jacket off and Harry didn’t offer to take it, guessing that they’d be leaving almost right away, but Nix did take a good look around the house when Harry took him to the kitchen. Kitty was standing by the kitchen counter when Harry and Nix stepped in and came to meet them with a charming, curious smile on her face. “Welcome to our home, Mr. Nixon. I’m Katherine Welsh,” Kitty said and offered her hand in a greeting. Nix gave her one of his charming smiles, took her hand and gave it a graceful shake. “Mrs. Welsh, it’s an honor to finally meet you. Harry spoke of you so much.” “And he wrote about you,” Kitty countered, “only good things, I promise.” “So he lied! Good man,” Nix said and laughed, let go of her hand and put his hands in the pockets of his slacks. Kitty didn’t laugh, only smiled and gave Nix a sharp once-over that he bore with resilient ease. “Will you be leaving right away or would you like to stay for coffee?” Kitty asked, looking between the men. “I baked a coffee cake.” Harry glanced at Nix, still not knowing their plan and wondering how Nix felt about it; he had always been restless when things really mattered, and seeing Nix here without Dick in his tow was strange enough to remind him that this was supposed to be a quick stop on the way. “We do have a lot of road ahead of us still, ma’am, but cake sounds wonderful,” Nix said, swinging on his heels. Kitty tilted her head. “Are you in a hurry?” Nix shifted again, pushing his hands deeper into his pockets. “Well… Not exactly, no. But you see, it has been a long time since we’ve seen our friend, and we did agree to go directly to him, so it feels a bit strange to linger.” Harry took another look at Nix and suddenly realized that he looked tired. It was the same strain he had gotten used to seeing during the war and thus didn’t immediately recognize as unusual now, but Nix really looked like he had been driving all night. A memory surfaced, a whole collection of them, of Nix looking like that, shifting and anxious and restless, and Dick leaning into his space to bump shoulders or just gazing at him with that reassuring calm of his, and Harry wished they were already there so Dick could do it now. Kitty looked at Harry and Harry looked at Kitty, and Kitty nodded. “I’ll pack you some cake and coffee on the road then.” Within half an hour with Harry’s suitcase, packed lunch and cake, some sandwiches, and coffee in a thermos, Nix and Harry were on their way. Nix drove even though Harry had offered to. As soon as they settled on the highway with only smooth open road ahead of them, Nix relaxed with only one hand on the wheel of gestured towards the plastic boxes of Kitty’s baked goods. “Give me some of that cake, will you?” Harry threw him a surprised look but got the box out anyway. Nix had never been a person with a sweet tooth before. “Sure. Kitty’s an amazing cook and baker, I bet you’ll like this.” Kitty had cut the cake into ready slices and Harry handed one to Nix, who took a large bite out of it, neverminding the crumbs falling in his lap. “I bet. I saw that cake the second I stepped into your kitchen and haven’t stopped thinking about it since,” Nix said, mouth full. Harry laughed, filled with pride. “She’s amazing. I think I’ve gained a dozen pounds just eating her food.” “Yeah, I can see that,” Nix noted playfully, eyes gleaming. “I’m the same. Ever since I stopped drinking I’ve been craving pastries. If it’s made of wheat and hopefully chocolate-covered, I will want it.” Harry broke a slice of cake in half for himself. It had a sweet coffee-chocolate icing, and Harry marvelled at Kitty’s skills as he inhaled the rich, spicy smell of the cake. “You quit for real then, huh?” For some reason Nix looked awkward for a moment, swallowing the cake and half shrugging. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. It just… Well. I don’t drink, but I do eat to make up for that.” He gave a laugh, light and ironic. “First when I stopped drinking I lost some weight, and then gained it all back when I started eating. There’s a balance in the universe, I suppose.” “That’s good to hear. Now you and Dick can go about frustrating barkeepers by ordering plain lemonades together,” Harry chuckled. Nix laughed with him, but afterwards started to chew on his bottom lip, almost nervous. Harry watched him from the corner of his eye for a moment and didn’t have to wonder what that was about. Bringing up Dick was like that, and Harry could empathize. All three of them had been so close back then, and that feeling of camaraderie didn’t fade with time, but distance felt weird. When Harry had last seen Dick he had felt it as strongly as before, all of it, like they could just go back to army right then and there, and Harry would still be as willing to take a bullet for Dick as he had been back in Europe. Nix and Dick had been as thick as thieves and close friends already when Harry had joined their posse, so he could only imagine what Nix was feeling right now. Harry looked at the road ahead of them instead of Nix when he said: “So how long has it been? Since he moved out?” Nix didn’t answer right away even though he certainly knew the answer. Hell, Harry wouldn’t have wondered if he knew the exact number of days. “Four years,” Nix said finally. “He moved out four years ago when the job didn’t turn out that well, and he moved back into his home state. We’ve been writing some, but because he was called back in service and all that we haven’t seen each other since when he left New Jersey.” Harry had enough tact to not ask about the job. He had about a hundred theories, but if he was perfectly honest he didn’t want to ask Nix about his family; every time it came up it was like pulling a trigger on one of Nix’s moods. “Well, you were getting a bit old for living together like that," he joked. "I really don’t get it, after army I certainly had had enough of bunking together with other smelly guys.” Nix snorted. “Harry, if all guys are smelly, then how on Earth can you ask your poor wife to share a house with you?” “As a group! Guys are smelly as a group!” “Sure, sure,” Nix admitted but with a smirk on his face. “Lucky for us, two is hardly a group.” “Maybe you’re right there,” Harry said with good-natured humor. Besides, Dick had always been very meticulous with his hygiene anyway, so maybe their living situation had been amicable as long as it had lasted. That brought another thought back in Harry’s mind: “I can’t believe you almost ditched me from this visit!” he said, slapping Nix in the arm. “Hey, ow, I’m trying to drive here!” Nix whined. “And I didn’t try to ditch you, you already saw Dick a few years ago! It’s my turn now.” Harry scoffed, then laughed. “He’s my friend too, you selfish ass! We both used to see him every day, it’s not like once every few years is going to suddenly be enough!” “Yeah,” Nix said, suddenly sighing so heavily his breath trembled. “Yeah, I know.” Harry sensed something strange in the air between them, something dark and aching and impossible to pinpoint, so much like Nix’s moods which he thought had been left behind with his boyhood and drinking. He slapped his arm again, gentler this time. “Oh, don’t be like that. We both know you’re his favorite anyway, so there’s no reason to pout. I want to see my buddy too, is all.” Something about that seemed to comfort Nix, because a smile was back on his face again. Harry took out more cake for both of them. “Come on. It’s not that long a way to go either. We’ll be there in a few hours.” The car seemed to speed up a little bit, Nix straightening up on the driver’s seat. “Yeah.” * Dick had moved back in Pennsylvania, near a small city with lots of open fields and forests around it, and a view towards distant mountains that were blue against the horizon. Nix had a map of the area that he asked Harry to read for him, and when Harry folded the map open, he saw a route already planned onto it with a pen. They drove through the city and into the outskirts, through fields and across a river, past scattered houses with yards and big gardens. Harry pointed out the right turn, a smaller sand road off the main road, lined with giant oak trees, and they drove that road all the way to its end. At the end of the road, surrounded by a meadow and a half wild orchard, was an old two-story house, freshly painted with a sharp dark-tile roof and a homely looking porch. They passed a letterbox that read “Winters” on it, and Nix took the car slowly to the driveway that was only tire tracks in hay and grass. While Nix drove, Harry kept his eyes on the house. It looked nice and large, and he would have bet that Dick had painted it himself. While they were still driving down the driveway, Harry saw the front door swinging open and a man stepping out onto the porch. There was no mistaking Dick Winters for anyone else, not with his unmistakable posture, height and still bright red hair. For some reason Harry had expected him to be wearing his uniform, but despite that thought his blue jeans and plain button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows were a natural fit. The front door left wide open behind him, Dick watched them from the porch with no shoes on and a bright smile on his face. Nix parked the car and while he was still busy shifting the gear off, turning the engine off and gathering his things, Harry was already up and out of the car, waving at Dick. “Hey! It’s been forever, buddy!” Harry greeted him, strode right to the house and jumped the few steps up to the porch. Dick gave him a warm smile. “Hello, Harry,” he said and leaned down to hug him. Hugs from Dick were a rare thing, he was always very formal and proper even amongst friends, but apparently after two years apart and in front of his own house he was much more relaxed, and Harry accepted the hug with joy. “It’s been too long,” he sighed when they pulled apart. “Yes, yes it has,” Dick said in return, and then his eyes darted back towards the car. “Welsh! I’m not carrying your stuff for you!” Nix shouted from behind the car, popping the trunk open. Harry barked a laugh and skipped back down to go get his suitcase. Nix’s impatience was even funnier considering that he had dragged probably three times more stuff with him than Harry had, the small suitcase barely even fitting in the trunk of the car with Nix’s bags and travel chest. Nix was hovering by the car, one of his bags swung over his shoulder and pretty obviously hiding behind the trunk’s hood and the tail light. Harry frowned at the nervous display, and for the first time it occurred to him that Nix himself might not have been entirely blameless in what had caused Dick to leave New Jersey. Harry wondered had there been some sort of a falling out, some bigger crisis or an argument between the two, but immediately after he figured that had it been something serious Nix wouldn’t have come in the first place. And even if there had been something bad between then, it would have taken place four years ago, and now was now. It was all about clearing the air.   So Harry settled on direct action, slammed the car’s trunk shut, grabbed Nix by the lapels of his jacket and dragged him behind him to the house. “Now, wait a moment…” was all Nix managed before he found himself being pulled up the front steps and essentially thrust right in front of Dick. Harry could barely hold back his grin. He glanced at Dick, whose expression was utterly unreadable but his eyes were welling with emotion, and then at Nix who was lingering on the steps, acting almost coy. “Hi, Lew,” Dick softly said, his hand raising in a small wave despite their proximity. Nix looked flustered, looking up at Dick through his lashes. “Hi.” Harry huffed a laugh before striding into the house, leaving the two at each other’s mercy. The house was old, probably from the previous century, but recently renovated, the paint on its walls clearly fresh. It was a nice house with dark wooden floors, big windows and a lot of open space. The hall gave way directly into a roomy kitchen, where Harry could see clearly new cabinets, a large masonry oven and a stove, and by the window a good-sized dining table. He peeked into the living-room as well, seeing a fire place, a tea table and some armchairs, a plush green carpet on the floor and an empty china cabinet in the back. There were stairs in the hall leading upstairs, where Harry assumed the bedrooms were. He set his suitcase down by the stairs and shook off his coat. The house seemed pretty well furnished, but there were also signs of how recent the move had been: various necessary things were still missing. There was no coat rack, for example, only one of the chairs from the kitchen with a pile of coats and sweaters and a few hats on it, there were carpet rolls by the living-room doorway, and boxes stacked up by the stairs. Dick was clearly still in process of moving in and making the house his own, but still it already had a homely feel to it. Harry had his coat folded over his arm and was glancing around when Dick and Nix stepped inside. Whatever had been between them outside had vanished, both smiling easily.     “Oh, just… Put that wherever,” Dick said, spotting the coat over Harry’s arm and gesturing towards the clothing pile on the chair. “I’ve only just started settling in, renovations delayed the furnishing and so on.” “I think we’ll manage,” Harry said, tossing his coat on the top of the pile. “It’s a really nice house, Dick.” Dick smiled, pleased. “Yeah? I thought so. It needed, and probably still needs, some work, but I really liked the location, the garden and the fireplace.” “How many rooms do you have?” Harry asked. “There’s the kitchen, the living-room and the bath downstairs, and four bedrooms on the second floor, plus a small attic chamber.” Harry nodded, impressed. “That’s nice. There’s room for a family here.” Harry’s chest grew warm just thinking about his friend having a family of his own. Dick would be amazing at it, and he would deserve all of it. The garden would be a perfect place for kids to play in. Dick smiled, proud and happy. “Exactly. A family,” he said, glancing at Nix. Harry wondered if family was a sore subject for Nix, but couldn’t figure out a tactful way to express his lack of judgement about his situation. He could only hope that Dick could communicate it well enough with a look, as he often did with Nix. But Nix didn’t look offended or called out at all. He was circling the hall and peeking into the rooms like a dog in a new house he was curiously inspecting. You could almost see his tail wagging. Harry and Dick exchanged a look about him, and then with a fond shake of his head Dick cleared his throat. “Do you want to see the house some, Nix?” Nix started and gave a laugh, a bit awkward like he had got caught doing something forbidden. “Yeah, sure. Although I can already tell you need some curtains here.” Dick laughed and showed them around while also appointing them rooms to put their things down and settle in. The kitchen and the living-room were pretty well arranged, but with a closer look both had a strong mark of generous relatives and a helpful mother on them, and the upstairs were clearly more a work in progress. Still, Dick had his own bedroom, a guest room, and an office with a couch bed. Harry took the guest room while Nix dropped his stuff into the office. They had dinner at home, mashed potatoes with chicken roasted in the oven and a side salad. Dinner turned easily into coffee and biscuits, which continued so long that the day turned into evening, they got hungry again and made sandwiches to take with them into the living-room. Conversation was just as easy as always, now maybe even more so because they all had so much to tell. Only a few years had passed, but many things had happened and changed, and letters could only express so much. Harry talked eagerly about his job in the school system, about all the students and the curriculum he was trying to get approved both by the higher-ups and the teachers, and mused on how he, a former unruly school boy, had now joined the ranks of the school staff and was forced to consider his past antics in a new light. Nix confessed to similar escapades during his school years but without any remorse. Predictably Dick had been a model student, and Nix briefly teased that had they known each other in school he would have lured him in trouble. Dick had a new job in the city and he seemed excited about it. He managed personnel, and getting to use his organizational skills in practice brought him a great deal of satisfaction. He didn’t mention New Jersey at all, and neither did Nix, and Harry didn’t ask. Harry had taken a bottle of whiskey with him, but now found he had no one to share it with. Nix shook his head. “Yeah, no, I quit over a year ago. I think I told you.” “Yeah, you did, but… Completely?” Harry asked, brows raised. Nix shrugged with a half a smile. “Yep. There was really no middle ground there for me. It was either keep drinking or kick the habit for good.” “Damn. Who do I drink with now?” Harry sighed. Nix’s smile was almost a grimace. “It wasn’t really good for me.” Harry bumped their knees together. “I hear you. I’m happy for you, Nix, but drinking alone is no fun either.” Dick took half a sandwich from the plate and turned to Harry. “You may drink in my house. It’s allowed.” Harry considered this. “Well, maybe a glass or two, even though it’s not that fun. It’s not like I drink much at home either.” Dick went to fetch him a glass from the kitchen. Harry filled it, then mindfully placed it as far away from Nix’s corner of the table as he naturally could. “Kitty doesn’t like you drinking, huh?” Dick asked when Harry took a sip of whiskey. Harry smiled fondly and felt a tug of longing at the mention of his wife. “No, she sure doesn’t. We haven’t really talked about it and she isn’t that forward about it, but she doesn’t like to see me drunk, so I limit myself to a glass every other weekend, if even that. It’s so easy to forget about when you don’t do it that often.” Nix scoffed. “Oh, I wish. My first three months dry were hell. I didn’t have a wife to keep me straight either.” Harry smiled sympathetically. “I bet Dick took that upon himself, huh? Wrote you weekly letters of moral support and brought you back in the fold?” The traces of grimace vanished from Nix’s expression and his eyes lit up. He waved his hand dismissively, and that was all Harry needed to know that he had hit the nail on the head. He laughed. Dick grinned too. “Merely simple words of encouragement to support what was already there,” he noted, and Nix’s smile stretched into a grin as well. Dick’s eyes twinkled. “Despite the distance and my service, I always have time for my men.” Nix snorted and shook his head, blushing. “Oh, right! How are the young American soldiers nowadays?” Harry asked. Dick took a moment to think about it, sighed and shook his head. His expression turned nostalgic. “Not like we were,” he finally said. “I don’t think there will ever be another bunch of guys as dedicated and fine as we were.” “Cheers, I’ll drink to that,” Harry said, and Nix clinked his soda bottle with his whiskey glass. “I’m officially discharged now,” Dick said. “That’s it for my time with the army, for real and certain this time.” “Everyone still calls him Major though,” Nix said to Harry, who chuckled. “So, what’s next for you then?” Harry asked. “My civilian career and tending to my garden,” Dick said. Harry rolled his eyes at Dick’s avoidance. “That we already covered. I meant on the social front. Still no date for Dick Winters, huh? No babies about to take up those bedrooms?” Dick had grown up and gained enough confidence around this talking point that he didn’t blush, but instead returned Harry’s look with one of his noncommittal, blank ones. “No kids. I’ve already explained this to my parents, grandparents, aunties and uncles, my little sister and most of my friends.” Harry raised his hands in a peace offering, dropping the subject. It was a difficult one for him as well, so he left it. “How about a wife? I bet there’s a line by now,” he asked. Dick huffed, finally flushing a bit and dropping his gaze. “That would be the logical first step to kids, at least. But no, no wife.” Nix sniggered, slumping down on his chair most likely in order to reach to poke Dick in the shin. “Not from the lack of trying either, on everyone else’s part, that is. His mother and all the nice ladies at his church are taking waiting numbers for their and their friends’ daughters and nieces.” Dick threw him a look and rolled his eyes. Harry joined in the teasing. “Your bedroom is for two, though. Are you sure there’s no one to take up the extra space?” Despite his blush, Dick managed to smirk. “Even if I were to take someone to my bed, that doesn’t make that person a wife.” Harry sputtered and laughed and Nix inhaled his soda, ending up spitting half of it out in the following coughing fit, making Harry laugh harder and Dick grin. The evening went on. They played a few rounds of cards and stayed awake defying their growing exhaustion. Harry downed three glasses of whiskey and with his lowered tolerance dozed off in one of the armchairs, and so did Nix despite not having had a drop of alcohol. Harry kept drifting in and out of dream, vaguely aware of Dick quietly moving about and taking dishes to the kitchen, and even more vaguely aware that when the flowers of the wallpaper started to look like real plants blooming from the walls, he was asleep. He toed that fine line, sinking into the cushions, enjoying the light buzz of alcohol and the joy of being with his two closest friends, and observing the living-room wall bloom with peonies and primroses and deep green wines, covering everything and gently pulling everything into their world. Quiet words drifted into Harry’s dream. At first they didn’t register at all, too soft and nonsensical to be anything but a dream. “Lew. Wake up, Lew... Lew… Hey, hi. Hi.” “Mm hi.” “Shh, Harry’s asleep.” “Yeah, me too.” The words were soft, almost muttered, the voices so gentle and smooth that they seemed to belong in the dream world with the flowers. “How do you like the house?” “It’s perfect. Just… perfect. I love it.” “I’m glad.” A beat of silence, short as a breath and still like hours in the dream. “I wanted to carry you over the threshold.” A quiet laugh. “You are… So much.” “Too much?” A humming sound. “No, just right. Just perfect.” A shifting sound from a chair, the cushions shuffling against clothing. “Come ‘ere.” A deep sigh filled the room, a strangely layered sound, and it took Harry’s dozing brain a moment to realize it came from two people at once. It was a strange sound, both like the air being knocked out of someone as well as a sound of deep contentment. “I’m so happy to see you again,” Nix whispered, his voice strangely muffled. Dick sounded a little strained. “Yeah, you too. I missed you so much.” The words were finally registering to Harry, not only as coherent sentences with meaning, but also as things spoken by familiar voices that he recognised as his friends’. Their voices were quiet and soft, gentle like they sometimes briefly were when they seemed to talk about something just between themselves despite having company, but the words were something Harry hadn’t ever heard from them before and they didn’t fit the picture. Puzzled, Harry listened, and after a moment risked turning his head towards the voices a bit and cracking his eyes open ever so slightly. Nix was still in his chair where he had dozed off, Dick was standing right next to him, and they had their arms around each other. Nix had his arms wrapped tightly around Dick’s middle, his face pressed against his stomach, Dick’s shirt covering half of his mouth and muffling his words. Nix had his eyes closed. “Don’t ever leave again.” “I won’t,” Dick reassured softly, “don’t you either.” Nix nuzzled against Dick, his palms flat against his back. “I won’t, I promise. I won’t ever leave you. I’ll stay right here with you, I swear.” “At our house.” Dick sounded almost giddy. His hands were cradling Nix against him, one sunken into his hair and gently combing through it again and again. Nix smiled and pressed his cheek more firmly against Dick’s stomach. “Yeah. Our house.” Another pained sigh sounded in the room. Nix’s brow furrowed, and like caught in a flood of some emotion he turned to fully bury his face in Dick’s shirt, mouth open in a trembling gasp and his hands grasping at his back. “I’ve been so lonely, Dick,” he said in a small voice. “I missed you. I’ve missed you for years, and it feels like I still do even though you’re right here.” “Oh, darling.” Dick sank down to sit on the armrest of the chair in a fluid motion as if spurred on by Nix’s tone alone, and as smoothly he wrapped his arms around Nix, pressing his head against his chest instead of his middle. Dick’s hand stroked Nix’s back, up and down in an urgent caress, and his head came to rest on top of Nix’s, fair cheek to black hair. “My darling.” They stayed together like that, and Harry watched them through his lashes. They swayed a bit, rocking from side to side while wrapped around each other, tight but gentle, in an embrace that despite everything didn’t seem tight enough for them. They stayed like that for a long while, both with their eyes closed, Nix pressed against Dick and squeezing him to him, and Dick leaning over him like wanting to shelter him. They remained like that even when the flowers and vines faded back into the wallpaper and became just pictures again. Harry was wide awake but closed his eyes again. He didn’t think anything, just concentrated to staying still and inconspicuous, afraid of intruding on this moment that he was definitely not welcome to. “Are you tired?” Dick asked quietly. Nix mumbled something into his shirt. Then, “yeah. I was too anxious to see you again to sleep, and then I drove all day.” Dick hummed, his voice thick with affection. “Poor you. You should go to bed.” “We really should.” “Do you think we should wake Harry and tell him to go to bed?” Harry was uncomfortably aware that both of them were looking at him then. Nix made an agreeing noise. “We probably should. He’ll mess up his back like that.” Despite agreement, neither one made a move to get on with it, and for a long while it was quiet. For such a long while in fact, that despite the tension and the shock Harry felt himself drifting off again. The next thing he knew was that he was nudged awake. Dick was shaking him by the shoulder. “Hey, buddy. You should go to bed.” Harry blinked and looked around. The living-room was dark, and Nix was nowhere to be seen. Harry let himself be pulled up from the chair, stretched until something in his back popped, and then followed Dick upstairs and into the guest room. As he got into bed he wondered briefly if he had dreamed it all. When Harry woke up the next morning and got dressed, he still wasn’t quite sure if he had dreamed it or not. He was almost entirely sure that it had been real, he had been awake to hear and see it after all, but… But. He stared out of the window and felt the gears in his mind grinding. There was some sort of a mental block in his head just refusing to comprehend any of it. He had seen and heard that. It felt like everything had just been called into question, and every single thing, every single interaction and factoid was now re-evaluated in the light of this new information, and all of it formed one mess of a puzzle in Harry’s mind. How had something like this slipped by him for so long? Or how had they managed to hide it? Harry thought about Nix and Dick and tried to see their friendship as something different and more. He had seen them wrapped into each other in a manner that was definitely not simply friendly. Nix hanging onto Dick like that may have been excusable if he was drunk, which he wasn’t, but Dick holding him like a bride, stroking his hair… Harry rubbed his hands over his face. How had this escaped him was the question. Maybe it was because neither Nix or Dick matched his mental image of men like that, but that was a flimsy excuse for not seeing what was going on right in front of him. How had their friendship got into that point? How had Harry missed something like that? He had always known that Nix was special to Dick, that there were Dick’s friends and then there was Nix, but somehow it hadn’t added up. Another disturbing thought arose in Harry’s mind: had he known all along, but chosen not to see it? Was he that cowardly that he would let himself live on in denial rather than face the truth? And if he could deny it, did the truth even matter that much? Or did it matter so much in fact, that denying it was the only way to cope? He thought about Nix’s soft, openly vulnerable voice confessing how much he had missed Dick. He thought about Dick stroking Nix’s hair. Suddenly Harry felt himself flushing. Four years they had been apart and only yesterday been reunited. No wonder Nix hadn’t wanted Harry to tag along, he must have been looking forward to the reunion and wanted it to be private. He rubbed his face again. Whatever the case was, he would have to face them both and go have breakfast. He could tell by the sounds around the house that at least Dick was already awake.   It turned out that he was wrong. Both Dick and Nix were awake, but only Dick was actually preparing breakfast and Nix was sitting at the table, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Good morning,” Dick greeted Harry with a bright smile, ever the morning person. “Have a seat.” Harry did. There was a pot of oat meal on the table, as well as a selection of homemade jams, a bowl of sugar and butter on a plate. Dick was making toast in a pan on the stove and brewing coffee while at it. Harry made himself a bowl of oat meal with butter and a spoonful of strawberry jam. “Did you sleep okay?” Dick asked. “Yeah,” Harry answered and wasn’t lying. It was being awake that was giving him trouble. “Do you want toast with that?” Dick asked. “Sure. Thanks.” “Give it a minute and you can have these slices.” When the toast was done, Dick served two slices to Harry and put two more in the pan. It was a beautiful summer morning outside, and from the way the sun was shining from the blue sky one could tell it was going to be a hot day. Harry watched Dick make two slices of toast for himself, then pour three cups of coffee. Dick set his plate on the table, then brought the coffee cups over. He handed Harry one, then made one cup with milk and sugar, and another with only a dash of milk. He set the other cup in front of Nix, touching his arm to get his attention. Nix opened his eyes and was happy to find a cup of coffee in front of him. They shared a smile, and Nix took a clearly pleasurable sip of coffee, slightly more awake but his eyes still drooping. Dick was leaning his cheek on his hand and watching Nix with a fond smile. Then he caught Harry watching him from the corner of his eye and the smile was contained. Harry took a bite of his toast and shrugged. “Go on, be happy in your own house. It’s allowed,” he said, teasing being an easy and familiar routine to fall back on. Dick cast his eyes down and smiled. He took a sip of his own coffee and glanced at Nix again. “Yeah, I know. It’s not that, it’s just… Well. It’s good to be home, you know.” Harry nodded. “Yeah.” And he did know. He glanced out of the window into the half wild garden that Dick was only starting to tame. It would be a lot of work, all on top of the usual fuss with a day job and maintaining an old house like this one. “You really going to have a family here, Dick?” Dick turned fully to Harry then, perhaps hearing the several layers of the question. Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if he did; Dick was always prepared for everything, after all. But Dick met his gaze head on, steady and unwavering. It looked like he turned the question over in his mind, but just to amuse Harry. He seemed like he had the answer ready already. Dick nodded. “Yeah, I’ll have a family. Maybe it’ll be small, but it’ll be loving and good.” Harry stared back at him and took another bite out of his toast. Dick studied him intensely then, like he was looking for something, and Harry allowed him. After a moment Dick seemed to find what he was looking for, because he nodded to himself and returned to his coffee. “You know what they say, Harry,” he said, “homes are not found, they are built. Families as well.” “Yeah.” Harry tasted his oat meal with the jam. “This is really good.” Dick nodded. “My mother and sister will get the compliments.” It was a warm, cozy kitchen, and the breakfast was sturdy and delicious. Coffee and occasional nudges from Dick together were slowly waking Nix up. The sun was already high up. It was going to be a beautiful day.

#band of brothers #winnix #winters/nixon #mun ficci

[whiskeyxcola]

Yours Truly: Part 1

Summary: Sadie Coleman arrives at the Pratt farm for the summer and discovers she may have signed up for more than a simple nanny job.  Pairing: Chris Pratt x OFC, Chris Evans x OFC Word Count: 1650 Warnings: Mentions of divorce and abandonment.  A/N: Hope you enjoy the first part of the collab with @captain-s-rogers! Don’t be afraid to ask to be on the taglist, and please let us know what you think! Also, keep an eye out for part two, which Ashley will be posting later today! 

Tags: @ellen-reincarnated1967 @crazililwabbit @catching-up-with-kayla

June 1

Caroline,

My first day here at the farm was insightful, to say the least.

The daughter, Layla, is four, and possibly the sweetest child on the face of the planet. And she is so smart! We are going to have an amazing summer, I can tell.

Her father on the other hand -- I’m not entirely sure what to make of him, to be honest. He’s polite but has some rough edges… I suppose anyone would be after their wife left them with a farm and a four-year-old. Although, if he was like this before, it’s no wonder she left. That’s a terrible thing to say, I know. If he expects me to stick around all summer, he’d better work on becoming more personable, that much is for sure.

How is D.C.? I want to hear all about the plane ride and your arrival and the people you’ve met. How is the guy you’re working for? Hopefully he is friendlier than ole Farmer Pratt. Ha.

Layla told me she likes to get up early, so I should probably get to bed. I’m already loving our idea to write letters this summer and only call a few times or in case of emergency. Send me a postcard from D.C.!

Yours truly,

Sadie

The drive from her Wichita home to the Lawrence, Kansas, area was only a few hours, but it was just long enough for Sadie to wonder about a million times if this was really how she wanted to spend her summer. Teaching during the school year was one thing, but continuing it into the summer?

Although, the job description sounded more like a nanny with an education background than an actual teacher. The little girl she would be working with would turn five over the summer, and her father wanted her ready for kindergarten.

In search of a teacher to work with and care for my daughter over the summer. Must have education background and be willing to do tasks around the home. Must be willing to travel, if necessary. More details provided upon inquiry; serious applicants only.

The ad had been posted on a site many teachers in the area used, and had just enough detail to pique Sadie’s interest. She immediately emailed the man who had posted the job for more details and, even though she knew right away there probably would be more caring for than teaching involved, she took him up on the offer in return for negotiated pay, and room and board.

“Perhaps it will lead to something else,” Sadie thought to herself, thinking of the new job she would need to find for the next school year. Her job in Wichita had been secure, until budget cuts forced them to close down several schools in the area. The closings had left many teachers without jobs, and Sadie had been one of them. There were simply too many elementary school teachers, and she had not been around long enough to build up the necessary tenure to stay. She had, however, looked at the bright side: she would have excellent references and the opportunity to relocate wherever she pleased.

The farmhouse she pulled up to was larger than she expected, but the place still had a cozy feel about it. Laid out beyond the house was a lush backyard, a sturdy, wooden playset, and a barn. Beyond that was brown dirt, as far as Sadie could see.

“Ms. Coleman?”

Sadie looked in the direction of the voice to see a man and a little girl standing on the porch. Taking a determined breath and beelining for the porch, Sadie prepared to meet her new employer and charge.

“Please, call me Sadie,” she said as soon as she was shaking the man’s hand. His hand wrapped around hers was calloused and rough, but there was something gentle about his handshake, as well. “You must be Mr. Pratt.”

“I am. If I’m going to call you Sadie though, please, call me Chris. This is my daughter, Layla.”

The little girl had hidden behind her father’s legs as Sadie approached, and peeked out from behind now. Her hair was a mess of curls (literally, a mess. Sadie couldn’t wait to run a comb through them.) and her eyes were big and blue, just like Chris’s.

“Hello, Ms. ‘Adie,” Layla greeted in almost a whisper. Her ‘s’ at the end of Ms. and the beginning of Sadie ran together, but it endeared Sadie immediately to the small child.

Sadie got down to Layla’s level. “If it’s okay with your dad, you can just call me Sadie.”

“Daddy?” Layla looked up at her father; Chris’s face softened. Sadie pursed her lips in an effort to hide her smile. She had an inkling that there wasn’t much Chris denied his daughter.

“It’s okay with me. How about you show Sadie where her room will be, while I finish up the afternoon chores?” He looked to Sadie. “We can discuss some things later, after she’s gone to bed.”

“Yessir,” Layla obeyed with a sing-song voice, all hints of her earlier shyness gone as she took Sadie’s hand and led her into the house.

Layla played with her dolls on the floor of the guest room while Sadie settled into her new quarters. Sadie hummed quietly while she worked, until all of her things were put away. Finally, she stowed her suitcase in the closet, then turned to Layla. The little girl’s curls caught her attention again, so Sadie decided it was time to comb them out. She asked Layla where her comb was, then found some detangler. She sat on the floor with Layla sitting in front of her and carefully combed out the girl’s hair before styling it into a cute side ponytail. When she was done, she picked Layla up and took her to the mirror so the girl could admire her newly styled hair.

“Daddy!” Layla exclaimed when Chris came in, dirty and sweaty, “Look! Adie fixed my hairs!”

Chris sent Sadie the kind of look that could only be considered a low-key, don’t-want-my-daughter-to-see glare before grinning at Layla and sweeping her up into his arms and telling her how beautiful she looked.

“I’m going to take a shower. You girls can get started on supper while I clean up.”

Sadie licked her lips and nodded, taking Layla by the hand and leading her into the kitchen. She whipped up a chicken salad for sandwiches, had Layla help her set the table, and then served up the girl before making a plate for Chris and herself.

Supper was an awkward, silent event, save for Layla’s comments here and there. After they ate, Chris sent Layla to her room to play while he and Sadie cleaned up from supper and talked about her summer arrangement over coffee.

“I understand that you’ll be considering school year work while you’re here, which is fine. I do have a part-time babysitter, and I don’t intend to keep you here twenty-four-seven. I want you to have your own life.” He sipped at his coffee. “I’ve got Layla on a pretty good schedule, but I’m okay flexing it. Planting is done for the season, but caring for the fields and the animals still needs to be done. I’m out of the house most of the day, but I’ll be in at lunchtime. If I have to go into town, I’ll let you girls know. I’d expect you to do the same if you leave with my daughter.”

Sadie nodded. “Of course.”

“I’d like for her to be ready for kindergarten in the fall -- honestly, I don’t know what that entails, but that’s where you come in. Maybe just an hour or two a day, you can work with her, practice, all that.” He leaned forward and let out a deep breath. “Not to get too personal, Sadie, but, in case Layla talks about it, I’m going to be very honest with you. Not quite a year ago, my wife left us. We had a myriad of issues -- anyway. Layla seems to have adjusted all right, but occasionally she’ll talk about her mother.”

“I’m sorry,” Sadie said, not sure what else to say. “I can assure you, I do know what to ready Layla for. I’ve got a master’s in elementary education, and I’ve been teaching kindergarten for several years now, until they closed down the school I was working for. I had only been with the district for a few years, so I was let go. But I have excellent references.”

“I know,” Chris said, smirking -- the first time Sadie had seen the hint of anything resembling a smile sent in her direction. “I called them.”

“Wow,” Sadie chuckled. “You’re really serious about this.”

His smirk slowly faded. “Layla’s all I have left. I need her to be well-cared for, but I can’t be with her all the time, and I can’t do all of the things her mother could do for her. I’m trying, though.”

Something occurred to Sadie. “You did her hair this morning, didn’t you? I’m sorry, Chris, I didn’t mean …”

He waved her off, getting up to put both of their empty coffee cups in the sink. “It’s all right. Maybe you can teach me some things this summer, too. I’ll get Layla put to bed.”

“I’d like to tell her good night, if that’s all right.”

“Of course.”

The good night with Layla took a few minutes, as she excitedly explained to Sadie how she arranged all of her stuffed animals. Chris finally swatted her lightly on the bottom and told her to get her pajamas on, that she had talked Sadie’s ear off enough for one day.

Sadie smiled, leaving father and daughter behind for their nighttime routine. She closed the door to her room behind her, settling in to write her letter to Caroline.

Part Two

#fanfiction #yours truly #part 1 #chris #Chris pratt #Chris evans #ofc #collab #Chris pratt x ofc #Chris evans x ofc #Chris x ofc #au #farmer au #president au #captain-s-rogers

[eleanor-writes-stuff]

sign up now for a free trial! [part iv/vii]

Ben catches feelings and decides to take things to the next level with his long-time roommate, close friend, and occasional hook-up. Rey, ever the more sensible half of the duo, decides that they should make sure a relationship between them won’t be a total disaster first.

What they need is a trial run.

Featuring: awkward run-ins with a family member, even more awkward holidays with the whole family, and fluff. So much fluff. All the fluff.

Today on ARE THESE TWO MAKING YOU FEEL WARM AND FUZZY YET??: Ben calls Rey ‘sweetheart’! Three-hour road trip! Leia finally makes her big appearance and immediately puts Ben and Rey in the same bed room!

Part I | Part II | Part III Also available on AO3.

It’s a three-hour drive to Alderaan, and the plan is to leave right after lunch so that they’ll get there with plenty of daylight to spare.

Theoretically, that should have given them plenty of time to pack in the morning. In reality, they’d both overslept and now they’re rushing around the apartment in a mad panic to pack, get dressed, and have lunch in less than ninety minutes.

“Ben, do you want your–”

“Sweetheart, have you seen my–”

They bump into each other in the hallway, Ben instinctively reaching out to steady Rey as she holds up his faded University of Naboo sweatshirt.

“Ah,” Ben grins as Rey hands him the… borrowed article of clothing. “I should’ve known it would be with you.”

She’d donned it sometime last month, when she woke up in the middle of the night and blindly grabbed the first piece of clothing she could find before slipping out of Ben’s room and carefully tip-toeing past the master bedroom door on her way back to her own room. “I’ve been meaning to give it back to you,” Rey claims, “but you know Finn and I always do laundry together, and he would definitely have found it weird if he saw me washing your clothes.”

Ben stares at her. “You realize you could have just told him you borrowed it when you were cold and didn’t have any clean laundry? You borrow clothes from him and Poe all the time, anyway.”

“… Right. Of course.”

In truth, the idea hadn’t even occurred to Rey; towards the end she’d found herself growing somewhat paranoid of the guys finding out about her arrangement with Ben. Now she can admit to herself it was because she knew they would’ve sat her down and made her confront her growing feelings for Ben, but back then Rey told herself it was just to avoid any possible awkwardness. After all, Finn and Poe are in love and happily committed to each other; they wouldn’t have been able to understand her and Ben’s practical way of doing things.

Rather than admit to all of this, however, Rey chooses to focus on a more recent development. “Sweetheart?” she echoes questioningly. “That’s new.”

At some point while packing, Ben must have unknowingly tucked some of his hair behind his left ear, leaving said ear visible. Rey is hit by an overwhelming wave of fondness and affection when the tip of his ear turns just the slightest bit pink at her question.

“I couldn’t exactly call you that before,” he mumbles, dropping his eyes to the sweatshirt in his hands.

“You did, though,” Rey blurts out unthinkingly. “But… only when you were asleep,” she elaborates once Ben looks up. “Mostly you’d just whine a bit when I tried to leave in the middle of the night, and then you’d say don’t go, sweetheart.”

Ben shakes his head with a rueful grin. “All that time and effort trying to hide how I felt about you, when all along I’d been giving it away in my sleep.”

“And here I thought that’s just what you call all the girls,” she teases, backing away to return to her room. While Christmas itself is a rather laid back event in the Organa-Solo-Skywalker household, Leia has been known to go all out for her Christmas Eve party… which means Rey is going to need a dress, preferably one that hasn’t found its wrinkly way to the bottom of her closet.

“Hey, wait,” Ben reaches out for her hand, long fingers easily encircling her wrist. “You know there are no other girls, right?” he tells her, and she is struck by a sudden impulse to reach out and smooth the furrow between his brows. “There hasn’t been anyone else for a very long time now.”

Rey smiles, reaching up to loop her free hand around his neck. “I know,” she murmurs, pulling him close for a kiss. “There’s no one else for me, either.” Prior to these past few days, Rey doesn’t think she’d ever smiled into a kiss before. Now she finds herself doing it even as Ben tugs her closer to deepen the kiss.

The sweatshirt falls to the ground as Ben’s hands slide to the back of her thighs and lift her up, prompting Rey to wrap her legs around him.

“Ben,” she gasps, letting her head fall to his shoulder. Her voice sounds unfamiliar to her own ears, all giddy and breathless with a hint of laughter. “Ben, we don’t have time for this.”

“There’s always time for you, sweetheart,” he says, warm lips brushing against her temple.

They end up getting delayed by an hour.

It’s nearly three by the time they haul their bags down the street and get into Ben’s car, a sleek black Silencer he hadn’t been able to part with even after leaving behind everything else from his old life. You Solo men and your cars, Rey remembers Leia saying the first time she came to visit and found Ben’s car parked out front.

In any case, it’s a good and reliable car, one Rey is glad to be in as the clear roads of Coruscant give way to the ice- and rain-slicked twists and turns of Takodana. The road to Alderaan runs parallel to the length of Takodana’s forest, and Rey finds herself drifting in and out of sleep as Ben navigates the long, winding paths the state is known for.

Two hours into their drive they come across a signboard for Maz’s B&B, which Ben tells her indicates they’re about to cross state lines. Soon enough, the dense forest gives way to an expanse of snow-capped mountains, and Rey finds her nose practically pressed up against the window as she takes in the sight of Alderaan.

“It’s like something straight out of a postcard,” she marvels, catching sight of the sun’s brilliant reflection on the surface of a frozen lake.

When she turns to Ben, he spares her a glance as a smile blooms on his face, bright and open and unreserved. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Rey nods, her eyes drifting back to the scenery. “Thank you for sharing this with me,” she tells Ben, reaching out for his free hand.

“I’m glad you’re here, Rey,” he murmurs, bringing her hand up to his lips even as he keeps his eyes on the road ahead.

It’s only once the Organa mansion comes into sight that Rey remembers something very, very important.

“Oh shit,” she says suddenly, an errant thought of how much Finn would like it here giving way to the more important thought of how Finn spent two whole months tracking down the perfect gifts for his boyfriend’s family while she’s shown up completely empty handed. “Presents!” she tells Ben when he turns to check on her. “We forgot presents!”

Ben laughs. To her absolute horror, Ben laughs. “Oh god, the look on your face.” He sobers up when she crosses her arms and huffs at his reaction. “Calm down, sweetheart. We don’t do presents in my family.”

“Oh, thank god,” Rey whispers, throwing her head back against the seat. “Wait, why not?” she asks once the relief has worked its way through her system.

“It’s just…” Ben shrugs. “It’s always been that way, ever since I was a teenager. I mean, everyone bought me gifts as a kid because that’s just what you do for kids, but none of the adults ever exchanged gifts. When I got older, I realized the people in my family only ever buy each other gifts when they’ve really, really fucked up. It didn’t feel right to have that be a part of Christmas, so I told my parents I was old enough to understand and we haven’t exchanged gifts since.”

Rey takes a moment to absorb that before asking a truly important question: “Do you still get birthday presents, at least?”

Ben shakes his head as the car slows to a stop at the gate and he rolls down his window to punch a code into the tiny keypad set into the wall. “Contrite bribery is a year-round tactic in this household, so it’s ruined gifts for pretty much any occasion you can think of. My parents aren’t even allowed to buy each other Valentine’s gifts anymore, not after a certain incident with the Falcon. Remind me to tell you about that sometime.”

“Okay,” Rey mumbles absently, too busy being stunned by the fact that the Organas have an actual goddamn circular driveway, the kind she’s only ever seen on TV and in pictures. There are three cars already parked in the driveway, one of which she recognizes as Luke’s. Ben parks right next to that one, and before she knows it they’re out of the car and making their way to the front door.

“This is really fucking fancy,” she whisper-hisses to Ben as they climb the set of stairs leading up to the entrance.

“Tell me about it,” he mutters in return as one of the doors – there are two of them, because of course there are – starts to move. “This place has been in the Organa family for as long as anyone can remember. If Alderaan had a castle, this would be it.”

The door opens to reveal Leia with a wide smile on her face, one that Rey can’t help but compare to the smile Ben had given her in the car when they first drove into Alderaan an hour ago.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” she calls out, crossing her arms as she waits for Ben and Rey to reach her. By the time they’ve crossed the threshold her smile has turned into a smirk, and for a terrible moment Rey thinks this is it, this is the moment the endless teasing starts–

“My idiot prodigal son, home at last,” Leia announces grandly, allowing a beat for her statement to sink in before she moves to pull Ben down for a hug. “Hi, Rey,” she adds over her son’s shoulder, throwing her a smile.

Ben remains practically folded over in half until his mother steps out of the hug and ushers them further into the house, closing the door behind them.

“Dinner’s in an hour,” Leia tells them, eyeing their bags. “You two should bring those up and go get settled in. I’ll holler when food’s ready.”

“Okay,” Ben says, already guiding Rey towards the staircase. “The usual room for me, I’m guessing. Where do you want Rey?” On the drive over he’d told her that despite the seemingly infinite number of rooms in the Organa mansion, Leia has always been very particular about only preparing a select few for guest use at any given time. Ben learned a long time ago not to offer up just any room to their guests, and to consult his mother beforehand.

“Oh, I’ve set aside the blue room for the both of you,” Leia tells them, her casual tone belied by the twinkle in her eyes. “Luke mentioned you two might appreciate the… added space.”

While Rey gapes at Leia and Ben drops his eyes to the ground, the man in question can be heard stomping around upstairs. Just seconds later, he appears at the top of the stairs.

“I most certainly did not!” Luke protests, glaring down at his twin. “My exact words were you won the bet, and that is all I said,” he assures Ben and Rey.

Leia scoffs and waves a dismissive hand at her brother. “Oh, whatever. You implied that–”

“Don’t you put words in my mouth, Madame Senator–”

Rey watches in amazement as Senator Leia Organa, an idol of hers, and Professor Luke Skywalker, the most composed man she knows, get caught up in a bickering match the likes of which would be better suited to a couple of sulky teenagers.

Beside her, Ben groans and hides his face in the curve of her neck. “Please don’t let my crazy family scare you off,” he pleads against her shoulder.

Despite the strange, unsettling sensation of stepping into an alternate reality, Rey rests her head against Ben’s and vows, “Never.”

Day 4! We're officially past the halfway-point, with only three more chapters (but five more days??) to go.

As always, thank you all for reading and please feel free to reach out in the comments below. It's been so much fun interacting with you guys this week!

Next up: Luke and Chewie - unlikely co-conspirators, or romantics at heart? OR BOTH???

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[looselucy]

February

The evening before, I had lay awake for quite a while just waiting for Harry to say something else, but he didn’t. He zonked out pretty quickly after that, nothing else to say. Myself and Harry weren’t close, not even nearly close, so I didn’t feel like I could ask him any more about it. He had only told me as a way of explaining himself, and what had happened between us that night when I unleashed my anger against his door. It was nothing more than that.

But for some reason, I just wanted to ask him everything. Maybe to feel a little closer to him, maybe because I had this overwhelming feeling that he needed to talk about it. Like it wasn’t something he had spoken about in great detail before. It was the morning after, and I lay on my side just staring at him, seeing how peaceful and young he looked whilst he slept. His hair, which was usually pushed back, had fallen limp over his forehead, his hands lay on top of the butterfly on his revealed torso, facing towards the roof. I had suddenly found myself asking questions about him, when only a few days previous I wouldn’t have cared if I never saw him again. By that point, I just wanted to leap into his mind and soak up everything he had in there. I took a deep breath in and turned to lie on my back for a second, bored of waiting for the slumbering boy to awaken, and intrigued by the clattering and faint voices coming from downstairs. I steadily, and quietly, clambered out of bed, stepping gently over Harry’s body and getting out of his room, feeling relatively tender thanks to drinks we had the night before, but I knew there wasn’t a chance of me throwing up, and that was good. I quietly made my way downstairs and began approaching the kitchen, Kev spotting me almost immediately. “Morning.” He smiled as I neared them. “Good morning.” My voice was a little broken. “Good sleep?” He asked. “Very! Harry was kind enough to offer his bed up for the night.” “We’ve taught him well, Ben!” Kev smirked proudly. Even though myself and Harry had only just started getting on, I couldn’t help but agree. Harry drove me mad, even still, and I managed to see his flaws in the early days more than I saw anything else, but they were right. They had taught him well, he was a decent lad. He might have been annoying sometimes, but I felt like he had his morals pretty much sorted. I stood awkwardly in the doorway, and I could see how much Ben despised it. “Come in!” He cried. “We’ve made enough breakfast. Would you like some? It’s bacon!” “No, thank you.” “Oh god. Are you a vegetarian? Have I completely offended you? Oh my bloody god, I’m sorry. I’ll throw it away. I’ll throw it all away right now!” He rushed in a panic. “NO! No no no, I’m not a vegetarian. I just have a very delicate stomach the morning after drinking so... I’m fine. Honestly. Not a vegetarian!” I chuckled. The look of relief that washed over his face was like I had just told something a lot more dramatic than just the fact that I wasn’t a vegetarian. Kev was fondly shaking his head at him as he moved and sat off the breakfast bar. “Well, would you like to join us anyway?” He offered. “Sure.” I sighed, finally slumping inside. The two men sat together with beautiful looking bacon and egg butties, and I sat on one of the chairs to the right of them, wanting to ease a little, which was helpful thanks to how nice they were, but I was still feeling a little on edge. They could tell, and they were willing to make an effort for me to feel at home, since technically it was my home for a week. “So, how did you get on with Niall?” Kev asked. “Really well. He’s lovely.” “Isn’t he? He’s been Harry’s best friend since they were six!” Ben chirped. “Tell us about Zayn!” Kev asked then. “Zayn is the absolute best. Honestly, you guys would love him! He’s so open and beautiful and just... Urgh. He’s great. Him and Harry have gotten pretty close.” “Yeah, he speaks very highly of him. Just don’t understand why we haven’t heard anything about you?” “Are you sure Harry didn’t mention an annoying girl who lives in the room next to his?” Both their faces dropped, which made me laugh lightly. “Yeah. That’s me!” They both swallowed hard, unsure what to say. It was more than expected though. When I had gone home over the Christmas break, Harry was a topic of conversation. Of course living with someone you couldn’t stand would be something you would mention to your parents. Obviously they knew about me. “What changed?” Kev quizzed. “I don’t know, really. He offered me somewhere to stay, and here we are.” “Wait, you didn’t get on at all before you came here?” “Not really, no.” “And he still offered you a place to stay?” “Yeah.” “Bloody hell, Ben, we have done well with him.” They were so proud of him, and with good reason. I only just realised then, how stupidly decent it was, Harry offering me a place. He could have easily left me in the kitchen at uni, sulking to myself, but he refused. No matter how much he despised me, he wouldn’t let that happen. “To be honest,” Ben shrugged, still tucking into his food. “He doesn’t really speak very highly about any of the girls in his flat. Just Zayn and Mike.” It wasn’t too shocking that he didn’t speak highly of Ringo, he didn’t know the girl, none of us did, really. But I was surprised he didn’t really have anything nice to say about Tally, not that Harry was going to tell them the real reason he and Tally weren’t close. I tried to contain a smile. “He’s such a lads lad.” Kev rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t change him for the world.” Ben added. I was near bloody desperate, to the point where my palms were sweating. I was too scared of it being rude, to ask them when they had taken Harry in, how long they had been able to call him a son, how it had all come to happen. I hadn’t even been there 24 hours, I couldn’t possibly, no matter how much I wanted to. I physically and mentally bit my tongue, happy with the blatant knowledge of how much they loved their son and knowing I would have to cope with just that information. It was enough. “So, after evening number one, how’s it going with Harry?” Kev asked. “Better than I was expecting, really. Yeah, it’s going well.” I smiled to the floor. “What’s the plan for evening number two?” “I’m not sure, I’ll let Harry decide. I’m guessing he knows the area a little more than I do. Well, I’m hoping so. Are you two working today?” “We work from home.” Ben sat up proudly after finishing his drink. “We run a business together.” They were living the damn dream. I eyed the house up again, it was gorgeous, they were clearly doing very well for themselves, and they were clearly so happy. I doubted myself, for the way I had figured my parents were happy too, but as far as the eye could see, they were very happy. The way Harry spoke seemed to enforce the same thing. Not only that, but they ran a successful business, together. “You two are on another level of brilliant.” I huffed a small laugh. “Do you mind me asking what you do?” “We run a printing business, get a lot of work from photographers. We also print artwork on postcards and stuff like that.” Kev shrugged. “I’m literally in love with both of you.” The two men laughed appreciatively before looking straight over my head, which proved to me Harry had finally woke from his slumber. I turned around and smiled at him as he dragged his feet and collapsed in the chair beside me, groaning and flopping his head onto the surface of the counter, groaning for attention. “Rough?” I grinned. “You have no idea.” His voice bounced off the granite. It was like we had swapped roles; it was usually me who could barely function when I had been drinking the night before, and Harry was usually okay, but this time he was weak and looked like he was close to death. I figured he would have never opened up to me without being as intoxicated as he was. He was paying for it now. “There’s some spare bacon in the frying pan.” Ben told him. “I can’t move.” He grumbled. “You lazy arse.” But Ben was straight on his feet, going to prepare the food for his child. I knew why he was like that, it was a treat now, Harry being home, and I think he kind of wanted to wait on him hand and foot, to look after him like he was a child again. “Thanks, dad.” He groaned. “You should show Pippa around town today.” Kev instructed. “I don’t even want to move today.” Harry replied. “To be honest, I’m happy with that.” I agreed. “Do you want an egg, Harry?” Ben asked. “No thanks, just bacon and bread and ketchup. Please. Thank you.” Kev began cleaning up the plates he and Ben had used and talking about the work they were due to do that day, so I turned my head to face Harry, which he sensed, and turned back to face me, his cheek squished against the breakfast-bar. I giggled. “You look worse than me!” “Trips to the pub are actually more lethal than big nights out. I’m telling ya.” “What’s our plan?” “To crash and watch films. Possibly pig out. Possibly die.” He shrugged. I wanted to ask him if he was okay, if he was comfortable with what he had told me before we went to sleep, if he wanted to speak about it more or make sure it was never mentioned again. Thanks to the fact we weren’t close, I had no clue what Harry would want. If it was Zayn, I would know he wouldn’t really want to talk to deeply about it, he wouldn’t want to talk about it too much, he’d rather brush over it. With Tally, she would need to spill the whole thing, it would eat her up otherwise. With Harry, I had no clue. So I just had to leave him to it. If he wanted to talk, he would. If he didn’t he wouldn’t. Ben came and dropped off Harry’s food, getting a quick thankyou from the rough lad as he sat upright again, looked at his food with a little trepidation before shakily picking it up and tucking in. “We’re off to meet with a local artist about getting some work printed, we’ll probably be out most of the day, so settle in.” Kev smiled. “Thanks, will do.” I smiled back. “Be an entertaining host, Harry!” Harry mumbled something completely incoherent as a reply as they bid their farewells again, leaving me and Harry in silence once they had gone. We were back in a rut again. It was like I had absolutely nothing to say to him. He sat tucking into his food as I remained in an uncomfortable silence next to him. I felt like the fact he had opened about his mother didn’t make it any easier. I felt like he regretted it. “You okay?” I asked him with a serious tone. “Fine.” He replied, just as glum. I knew he knew what I was talking about, and the fact that he had replied so bluntly just told me he didn’t want to talk about it. So I knew to lay off. “Feeling any better?” I asked after his final bite. “No.” “Shall I put the kettle on?” “No, I’ll do that, don’t worry about it.” He rose to his feet. “No!” I leapt up quickly. “You’re rough and you’re putting me up for the week. Will you just let me make you a brew? Please?” He didn’t want to say yes, but I stormed over before he could say no again and got to work, hearing him huff and groan behind me.I was getting the vibes that he didn’t want me there, like he just wanted to wallow on his own and I was interrupting that. It was different now his parents had gone. He regretted saying what he had last night. Once again, I felt like crying, classic me, and it was almost like Harry could sense it, so he sparked up a conversation, thankfully. “Uni didn’t get in touch with me.” “Oh. No?” I stared down to the boiling kettle. “So, I feel like I should just get on with my next assignment, y’know? I think they’re sticking by their guns so... it’s just better to get on with it.” “Okay. What is it?” “The galaxy.” “That’s a little… intense.” “I know, right? But there’s this big field not far from here, and I was thinking tonight we could get some sleeping bags and a little fire going, and some camp-chairs, and go sit out til late. Get some pictures of the sky. It’s not ideal, it’s not what I want to do really but it’s the only thing I’ve got right now. It could be a fun night, too. So, I dunno. Sound good?” + + + On any other occasion, if I had found myself marching through the middle of an empty field when it was almost midnight, I would have had a definite feeling in the back of my head and in the pit of my stomach, that there was a slight chance I would get murdered. But that place was different, for some bizarre reason. I was completely comfortable, completely at ease. I can’t even explain why. We had marched through the field as quickly as we could. I was drowning in a giant coat Harry had given me for the occasion, but at least I was warm and cosy. On the walk over, I had fallen in a dip in the ground, which had caused Harry to fall over after me because he was laughing that much, clutching at his stomach and rolling around in the mud. But once we’d set up our makeshift camp, we were relatively settled once more. Around an hour into Harry trying to set a fire off, and he was finally successful. “WHEEEEY!” I cheered, relaxing into the chair with my feet up on a camp-stool. “Congratulations.” ”Thank you, thank you.” He bowed twice before flopping into his chair. “Also, I forgot to mention...” He twisted his back to route through his bag which was just behind him, scrambling through a few things for a second before he whipped round, with a giant bag of marshmallows in hand. “NO WAY!” I beamed, grabbing them off him. “Harry you’re a genius!” “I know.” “Now or later?” “Later.” He enforced. “Now?” I smiled cheekily. “Later!” He grabbed them off me pretty quickly and shoved them back into the bag, shaking his head at me with a very petite smile on his face. Things had progressed well throughout the day. We had gone shopping for a few vital things, and picked out the perfect camera from Harry’s collection, which was insane. I had eyed up the collection with literal hearts in my eyes, jealously aching in my chest, but not enough to make me bitter. “You gunna take some photos tonight?” Harry asked. “No.” I shot. “Why? You really should, Pip-Squeak.” “I don’t think so.” I could feel his eyes on me, but I just stared up to the sky like I had no clue. The time still wasn’t ideal for what Harry needed, unfortunately. We had been researching and checking up on the weather all day, and apparently it would be just before 1am when the clouds cleared up, and the moon and the stars could be seen perfectly. Harry grabbed his camera from his bag and began setting it all up, 25 second exposure, fisheye-lens, the lot, wanting to capture the trees around us as well as the stars that were bound to make an appearance at some point. “Why did you stop?” He asked, not looking at me now, eyes on his device. “Stop what?” “Taking pictures.” “I didn’t!” I protested. “Seems to me like you have.” I found it hard to talk about, and he was forcing the conversation down my throat. It was something I hadn’t done with Harry, and granted, the conversation of his mother, and me not really taking pictures anymore, could barely be compared, but I felt like with Harry, it wouldn’t have mattered either way. I really didn’t want to talk about it, and he wasn’t picking up any of the hints I was dropping for him. I was suddenly reminded of reasons we didn’t get on. I didn’t say anything to him, I knew it would only be so long before he spoke again. “Is it because your mum and dad wouldn’t let you do it at uni?” He had hit the nail on the head, and he knew he had. He didn’t even really need to ask that question. I think everyone knew, I just didn’t like talking about it. “I guess so.” I shrugged it off. “I hate that. It’s so... out of character for you. I hate it.” “I don’t get what you mean.” “You’re stubborn as hell.” He started. “HEY!” “Well you are, Pip-Squeak! I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, it’s just what you’re like. I just... I dunno... It seems like you’re stubborn with everyone apart from your parents. The Pippa I know wouldn’t not do something just because someone didn’t like it, or told her not to-” “It’s different with uni! They’re paying for me to live there and-” “But you’ve given up taking pictures full stop! That’s not you! I just feel like you’ve got a lot of pent up stubbornness that you could never take out on your parents so it goes on everyone else.” Harry was telling me things about myself that I knew were right, but I hated to admit, hated to give him the satisfaction and hated to see those flaws in myself. Being the youngest child, in a way, I had always let my parents walk all over me, but I never let anyone else because I had this massive wall in front of me, one I had built and layered brick by brick for years. Harry wasn’t tearing the wall down, he was simply sitting at the top, swinging his legs and whistling, seeing me how I was. I hated it. I hated him being right. “Fine, I’ll take a fucking picture!” I snatched the camera from his hand and watched the grin grow on his face before I began twiddling about with it, fixing the mistakes I thought he had made and setting up the camera perfectly, hoping to take the best picture of the night just to get back at him. But he seemed overly happy, he was still grinning. “What?” I scalded. “Nothing.” His lips remained curved. “WHAT?” I was beyond wound up by that stage. “It’s just... My plan worked. Like I knew it would.” He had brought up that part of me for one reason and one reason alone. So I would be stubborn, bite back, and take a damn picture. The whole thing made him smug, the fact he was so right about me, the fact that he had got exactly what he wanted and it was him who had finally got me with a real camera in my hands again. He loved everything about what had just happened. “Fuck you!” I said, with a slight inkling of a smile. “You’re too stubborn to let me be right.” I grabbed at the empty can of coke I had and threw it straight at his head. He dodged it, laughing away to himself, his shoulders bobbing up and down, idiotically proud of himself. God, he wound me up, but I couldn’t help but smile. When his laughter died, he looked back up to the sky, waiting for it to clear, waiting for the ideal time to get his snaps. I pounced, without even meaning to. “Do you remember what you told me last night?” He whipped his head to me so fast it was like the sky had never been in his vision. He wasn’t expecting me to bring it up, nor was I in all honesty, but with how rough he had seemed all day, the thought of him not even remembering saying what he had ached me. I couldn’t think of anything worse than having to pretend I didn’t have a clue, that would be too uncomfortable, too unnatural. “About what?” He asked. Shit. He doesn’t remember. I hadn’t wanted him to just open up to me because he was drunk, I had wanted him to open up because he wanted to, because he felt comfortable enough to do so. “About... your mum.” “Oh. Right. That.” He looked away again. “So you do remember?” “Yeah.” That felt like a relief, that he knew I knew and he was okay with it. I swallowed hard, my throat feeling tight and sore, hunching my coat on a little tighter even though it was getting warmer by the second, thanks to the small fire growing a little more dense. “Do you wanna talk about it?” I asked. “Dunno. Not really.” “Do you ever talk about it?” “No.” “Then maybe you should.” I tried. “But why would I do that with you?” I could tell he regretted saying that the very second it slipped from his mouth, and even though I knew we weren’t close, that comment had hit me right in the gut. My bottom lip quivered, and I blamed it on the cold weather, grabbing the sleeping bag from over my feet and spreading it across my body, hearing Harry quietly curse to himself, then seeing him running his hand hard over his eyes. I wanted to brush past it, but I couldn’t. I wanted to say something else and just forget I had ever said anything, but I couldn’t physically speak, my throat was so tight. After seeing how good me and Harry could be, I hated falling back into our old patterns. Around ten minutes later, he spoke. “It was just me and my mum, when I was young.” My throat grew even tighter somehow, as I turned to look at him, and he continued. “She umm... I don’t know. She was relatively normal, to look at. She didn’t do drugs, she wasn’t unwell or poor or anything. She looked like... your average mother. I think she just... she hated me. I can’t even tell you why. I don’t know why. But she did. I used to... push up the drawers in my bedroom. Fuck. That would take all my strength. I was so… so young, but… I used to push them up against the door so she couldn’t get to me. But... she usually did. She’d use every ounce of herself to kick that door in and get to me. She eventually got rid of the drawers in my room, so she could always get to me. Then the bruises started getting worse and... I was six so... it was harder for her to blame the bruises on me just being a clumsy kid. Eventually, I was taken away from her. Thankfully.” I had started crying at some point during the story, I’m not sure when, but tears were softly making their way down my face. They were subtle, silent, but real and painful. By that point, it felt like I was swallowing razors. “Then what happened?” I whispered. “I was in a home for about a year... Then just before I turned eight Kev and Ben adopted me. We celebrated ten years in March last year.” Harry was so composed, not even close to breaking down, not even close to even letting one tear fall. He was totally calm. It seemed that talking about it was more of a relief that something strenuous or upsetting. “That must have been nice.” I gulped, it being more obvious I was crying now. “Yeah. I couldn’t have asked for two better parents. They’ve made up for everything that went on with that woman. She spent a while in prison but she’s out now. I had to get a restraining order because she kept trying to see me. That was when I was umm... twelve.” “She only got six years?” I cried. “Less than that. Including the trial and her getting out. It was more around five years.” “That’s sickening!” “I know.” He sighed. “But I guess that’s it. Like I said, not much to say. I don’t really remember her much. It doesn’t really upset me, just makes me really grateful that I am where I am, that I have the family I do. I just don’t like talking about her. She’s not worth the breath.” He spat those final few words with venom, and I knew nothing else needed to be said about her, nothing else was worth saying about the woman. We were done for the evening. I was just glad he had opened up. I knew it had helped him, even if he hadn’t quite realised that, I definitely had. To not talk about something so huge, something that had played and continued to play such a huge part in his life, his character, his beliefs, it can’t have been nice. I hoped he didn’t feel like it was a conversation I had forced on him. I hoped he felt good about it. After a couple of minutes silence, staring up to the clouds which still didn’t seem to be parting, he went back into his bag and grabbed the marshmallows, throwing them my way. “Thanks.” I chuckled as I caught them. “I think… uh…. I think I forgot the sticks.” “Well, I imagine there are sticks round here somewhere.” “We’re quite a while away from the trees now!” He sulked. I got up to my feet and began hunting for some sticks, which, like I expected, were littered around the field quite a lot, however, finding a clean enough stick to put food on was a different question. I must have searched for a good five minutes, there was quite a distance between our little spot and where I was before Harry eventually piped up. “OH FUCK PIP-SQUEAK, I DIDN’T FORGET THE MARSHMALLOW STICKS!” “WHAT?” “I BROUGHT ACTUAL METAL STICK THINGS FOR THE MARSHMALLOWS!” “I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” “JUST COME BACK FOR FUCK SAKE, WE’RE INTERRUPTING THE WILDLIFE!” I still hadn’t heard too clearly, but I scurried back once nothing had been said for a while, spotting the metal slim spears in his hands and cursing him automatically. “Are you kidding?” I groaned. “That’s the last time I ever do anything for you, Harold.” “You never do anything for me anyway, so it’s good.” We set up our treats and I hovered mine over the heat for a matter of seconds before I shovelled it into my mouth, whereas Harry practically waited til the thing was black before he ate it. We continued that way for a while, both of us occasionally glancing up to the skies, only to look back down once we noticed that, if anything, it was even cloudier than it had been before. I began thinking that the evening had been a complete fail, until I took in the fact that we hadn’t even taken a single picture, but I had enjoyed myself. I was glad I was there, and I was glad the camera was sitting on my lap, just waiting to be used. “So, how you feeling about the whole Louis thing?” Harry asked as he finished his final marshmallow. “Dunno.” I shrugged. “Haven’t given it too much thought.” “Bullshit.” He snorted. “What?” “C’mon, Pip-Squeak, I just opened up to you about my fucking mum! Talk to me.” “Um... I dunno. I feel like... I dunno.” He stared at me with the blankest expression I had ever seen, his body slumped and his legs extended and stupidly long in front of him. I was happy the firelight gave a glow to his face, it meant I could see his hilarious features as he held my eyes. “Thanks for clearing that up.” He mumbled low, sarcastic. “Shut up!” I giggled. “I guess it’s been a bit of a knock to my confidence.” “What? I know he was a prick, but it should have had the opposite effect! He fucked a relationship up for you.” “But he didn’t want to! I was a dirty little secret, something on the side, not quite good enough. Just made me feel awful.” “You should never let Louis Tomlinson, or any fucker, lower your confidence, Pip-Squeak. Fuck anyone who makes you feel like you’re worth less than you are.” I felt like I should have been able to turn around and say that he had made me feel like that before, but even throughout the countless time Harry had wound me up, pissed me off, made me want to throttle him, not once had he made me feel truly badly about myself. Not once had he affected the way I viewed myself. I couldn’t help but question why I had ever hated him as much as I had. “Oh shit! Harry!” We both leaped to our feet with our heads facing up, and in no time whatsoever, the sky had completely cleared, and stars were beautifully on show for us, darted across the sky like they were all purposefully placed in the ideal spots, so beautifully distanced and bright, so artfully gathered together. It was perfect. I held the camera out to Harry with my eyes still up the sky, where they remained until it became heavy in my hand, because he still hadn’t taken it from my grasp. I moved my vision, and he was staring right at me, the smallest smile on his lips, his eyes small, concentrating on me. “I want you to take the first picture.” He said firmly It was like my stomach flipped, and I’m not sure if it was because of how serious and deep his voice was, or the thought of finally taking a proper picture again, something that would mean more to me that my Instagram posts. I took a deep breath in, and pointed the lens.

#HAPPY READING #LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS #BB15 #1dff #Harry Styles

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

Yours Truly [Part One]

Summary: Sadie Coleman arrives at the Pratt farm for the summer and discovers she may have signed up for more than a simple nanny job. Pairing: Chris Pratt x OFC, Chris Evans x OFC Word Count: 1650 Warnings: Mentions of divorce and abandonment. A/N: This fic was previously posted on my multi-fandom account; in honor of OC Appreciation Day, I figured I would queue it all up for your reading pleasure throughout the day! This was a collab with @captain-s-rogers​, and I will link her chapters at the end of all of my posts! Some GIFs were difficult to find again, so if there’s no credit, they’re from Google Image Search. 

June 1

Caroline,

My first day here at the farm was insightful, to say the least.

The daughter, Layla, is four, and possibly the sweetest child on the face of the planet. And she is so smart! We are going to have an amazing summer, I can tell.

Her father on the other hand – I’m not entirely sure what to make of him, to be honest. He’s polite but has some rough edges… I suppose anyone would be after their wife left them with a farm and a four-year-old. Although, if he was like this before, it’s no wonder she left. That’s a terrible thing to say, I know. If he expects me to stick around all summer, he’d better work on becoming more personable, that much is for sure.

How is D.C.? I want to hear all about the plane ride and your arrival and the people you’ve met. How is the guy you’re working for? Hopefully he is friendlier than ole Farmer Pratt. Ha.

Layla told me she likes to get up early, so I should probably get to bed. I’m already loving our idea to write letters this summer and only call a few times or in case of emergency. Send me a postcard from D.C.!

Yours truly,

Sadie

The drive from her Wichita home to the Lawrence, Kansas, area was only a few hours, but it was just long enough for Sadie to wonder about a million times if this was really how she wanted to spend her summer. Teaching during the school year was one thing, but continuing it into the summer?

Although, the job description sounded more like a nanny with an education background than an actual teacher. The little girl she would be working with would turn five over the summer, and her father wanted her ready for kindergarten.

In search of a teacher to work with and care for my daughter over the summer. Must have education background and be willing to do tasks around the home. Must be willing to travel, if necessary. More details provided upon inquiry; serious applicants only.

The ad had been posted on a site many teachers in the area used, and had just enough detail to pique Sadie’s interest. She immediately emailed the man who had posted the job for more details and, even though she knew right away there probably would be more caring for than teaching involved, she took him up on the offer in return for negotiated pay, and room and board.

“Perhaps it will lead to something else,” Sadie thought to herself, thinking of the new job she would need to find for the next school year. Her job in Wichita had been secure, until budget cuts forced them to close down several schools in the area. The closings had left many teachers without jobs, and Sadie had been one of them. There were simply too many elementary school teachers, and she had not been around long enough to build up the necessary tenure to stay. She had, however, looked at the bright side: she would have excellent references and the opportunity to relocate wherever she pleased.

The farmhouse she pulled up to was larger than she expected, but the place still had a cozy feel about it. Laid out beyond the house was a lush backyard, a sturdy, wooden playset, and a barn. Beyond that was brown dirt, as far as Sadie could see.

“Ms. Coleman?”

Sadie looked in the direction of the voice to see a man and a little girl standing on the porch. Taking a determined breath and beelining for the porch, Sadie prepared to meet her new employer and charge.

“Please, call me Sadie,” she said as soon as she was shaking the man’s hand. His hand wrapped around hers was calloused and rough, but there was something gentle about his handshake, as well. “You must be Mr. Pratt.”

“I am. If I’m going to call you Sadie though, please, call me Chris. This is my daughter, Layla.”

The little girl had hidden behind her father’s legs as Sadie approached, and peeked out from behind now. Her hair was a mess of curls (literally, a mess. Sadie couldn’t wait to run a comb through them.) and her eyes were big and blue, just like Chris’s.

“Hello, Ms. ‘Adie,” Layla greeted in almost a whisper. Her ‘s’ at the end of Ms. and the beginning of Sadie ran together, but it endeared Sadie immediately to the small child.

Sadie got down to Layla’s level. “If it’s okay with your dad, you can just call me Sadie.”

“Daddy?” Layla looked up at her father; Chris’s face softened. Sadie pursed her lips in an effort to hide her smile. She had an inkling that there wasn’t much Chris denied his daughter.

“It’s okay with me. How about you show Sadie where her room will be, while I finish up the afternoon chores?” He looked to Sadie. “We can discuss some things later, after she’s gone to bed.”

“Yessir,” Layla obeyed with a sing-song voice, all hints of her earlier shyness gone as she took Sadie’s hand and led her into the house.

Layla played with her dolls on the floor of the guest room while Sadie settled into her new quarters. Sadie hummed quietly while she worked, until all of her things were put away. Finally, she stowed her suitcase in the closet, then turned to Layla. The little girl’s curls caught her attention again, so Sadie decided it was time to comb them out. She asked Layla where her comb was, then found some detangler. She sat on the floor with Layla sitting in front of her and carefully combed out the girl’s hair before styling it into a cute side ponytail. When she was done, she picked Layla up and took her to the mirror so the girl could admire her newly styled hair.

“Daddy!” Layla exclaimed when Chris came in, dirty and sweaty, “Look! Adie fixed my hairs!”

Chris sent Sadie the kind of look that could only be considered a low-key, don’t-want-my-daughter-to-see glare before grinning at Layla and sweeping her up into his arms and telling her how beautiful she looked.

“I’m going to take a shower. You girls can get started on supper while I clean up.”

Sadie licked her lips and nodded, taking Layla by the hand and leading her into the kitchen. She whipped up a chicken salad for sandwiches, had Layla help her set the table, and then served up the girl before making a plate for Chris and herself.

Supper was an awkward, silent event, save for Layla’s comments here and there. After they ate, Chris sent Layla to her room to play while he and Sadie cleaned up from supper and talked about her summer arrangement over coffee.

“I understand that you’ll be considering school year work while you’re here, which is fine. I do have a part-time babysitter, and I don’t intend to keep you here twenty-four-seven. I want you to have your own life.” He sipped at his coffee. “I’ve got Layla on a pretty good schedule, but I’m okay flexing it. Planting is done for the season, but caring for the fields and the animals still needs to be done. I’m out of the house most of the day, but I’ll be in at lunchtime. If I have to go into town, I’ll let you girls know. I’d expect you to do the same if you leave with my daughter.”

Sadie nodded. “Of course.”

“I’d like for her to be ready for kindergarten in the fall – honestly, I don’t know what that entails, but that’s where you come in. Maybe just an hour or two a day, you can work with her, practice, all that.” He leaned forward and let out a deep breath. “Not to get too personal, Sadie, but, in case Layla talks about it, I’m going to be very honest with you. Not quite a year ago, my wife left us. We had a myriad of issues – anyway. Layla seems to have adjusted all right, but occasionally she’ll talk about her mother.”

“I’m sorry,” Sadie said, not sure what else to say. “I can assure you, I do know what to ready Layla for. I’ve got a master’s in elementary education, and I’ve been teaching kindergarten for several years now, until they closed down the school I was working for. I had only been with the district for a few years, so I was let go. But I have excellent references.”

“I know,” Chris said, smirking – the first time Sadie had seen the hint of anything resembling a smile sent in her direction. “I called them.”

“Wow,” Sadie chuckled. “You’re really serious about this.”

His smirk slowly faded. “Layla’s all I have left. I need her to be well-cared for, but I can’t be with her all the time, and I can’t do all of the things her mother could do for her. I’m trying, though.”

Something occurred to Sadie. “You did her hair this morning, didn’t you? I’m sorry, Chris, I didn’t mean …”

He waved her off, getting up to put both of their empty coffee cups in the sink. “It’s all right. Maybe you can teach me some things this summer, too. I’ll get Layla put to bed.”

“I’d like to tell her good night, if that’s all right.”

“Of course.”

The good night with Layla took a few minutes, as she excitedly explained to Sadie how she arranged all of her stuffed animals. Chris finally swatted her lightly on the bottom and told her to get her pajamas on, that she had talked Sadie’s ear off enough for one day.

Sadie smiled, leaving father and daughter behind for their nighttime routine. She closed the door to her room behind her, settling in to write her letter to Caroline.

Part Two

#chris pratt #chris evans #fanfiction #oc appreciation day 2020 #new to this blog

[seriouslyhooked]

Some Call It Magic (A CS AU) Part 8/?

When Killian Jones moves to Storybrooke he instantly senses something strange about this little town in Maine but he’s willing to overlook all the bizarre signs for one reason: the single Mum living next door to him. There’s only one problem. Killian is nearly positive she’s a witch, a brewing potions and casting spells witch. But when true love is involved, does a little thing like magical powers really matter? Story rated M.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7. Also On FF Here.

A/N: So after a while away from this story, I am back this week with a chapter that brings two pretty big events. The first is a more active flirtation with the M rating (if you know my stories you know I am always impatient to get to that smut) and the second is the talk I hinted at weeks back between David and Killian about what the heck is going on in Storybrooke. As such you can expect some cuteness and some humor as well as some deeper moments, and since this chapter is all from Killian’s POV we’ll get a good sketch of what he wants and where he’s at before hearing Emma’s response in the next installment. Anyway thank you so much for reading and I hope you all enjoy!

Standing at the window of his kitchen one morning a few weeks later, Killian found himself caught up in all sorts of thoughts about the life he’d found here in Storybrooke and the way his world had so drastically changed.

Only a few short months ago Killian had been an entirely different man, consumed only with the grind of his day job and catching the next story to put him over the top. Since he wasn’t working the featured sections or writing fluffy human interest pieces for the paper, his work had been on the bleaker end of things, and though there had been some fulfillment in assisting in his own small way with justice for the victims of the crimes he reported on, there was always that dark cloud cast around it all. To top it off he’d also lived in a noisy, crowded city, and he’d fancied himself more than content with that, but God had he been blind, and he never would have realized it if it weren’t for a random postcard from this peculiar little town.

Now in hindsight Killian could see that coming to Storybrooke had been the catalyst for so much good in his life and also so much necessary change. This move had opened him up to all matter of things he hadn’t realized were missing from his life before. He was at last beginning to feel like he was a part of something larger, and as each day passed Killian felt himself carving out a place here not just in the community of friendly neighbors, but in the lives of two particularly special ones who resided next door.  

“I can’t believe there was a time when you didn’t live here,” Henry had said last night when Killian joined him and Emma for dinner at their house. “It feels like you’ve been here forever, like you’ve always belonged here.”

The words had sent a straight shot of emotion through Killian’s chest and his throat had gone tight with the pleasure of hearing that. Clearly Henry hadn’t meant it to be such an overwhelming statement, but to Killian it was one, and it was only compounded further when Henry asked his mother if she agreed and Emma smiled before nodding that she did. Words couldn’t readily express what that had meant to him, but one thing that Killian had learned since coming here was that sometimes words weren’t necessary. He knew in his heart that Emma had understood the impact of that moment for him, and when she’d taken his hand there at the table right in front of Henry it had cemented last night as a truly bright spot in an already transformative spell of time since his moving here.

And speaking of bright spots, Killian noticed from where he was cleaning away the last of the dishes he’d left from yesterday that after a morning spent away setting up for the harvest celebrations tonight Emma and Henry had arrived back home. He’d offered to go with them and be of any assistance that he could more than once, but Emma assured him that they would be fine and then made the comment that perhaps he could get some writing done for the book he’d finally gotten around to starting after weeks of distraction.

It was more than thoughtful of Emma to be looking out for him and what he wanted, and Killian had honored Emma’s wishes for a little while, but now that she was back in his orbit once more thoughts of returning to the laptop in his study and developing the small town mystery he was writing were completely erased. Instead he found himself moving through the front door of the house under the guise of checking for mail he’d already gotten today, and when he was spotted he was immediately greeted by an eager and excited Henry who was waiting at the front steps of his and Emma’s home.

“Hey Killian! Did you manage to get your work all done?”

“Aye lad I did. Your trick worked wonders.”

Henry grinned at the compliment and the mention of the bit of advice that he had offered last night about how to motivate oneself to do work. It wasn’t a terribly complicated process, and it basically just required setting up a series of bribes and rewards to enjoy whenever he reached a significant milestone, but Killian had utilized it in the few hours he’d spent at the drawing board today. The only thing was he’d swapped out the suggested ice cream breaks Henry had pitched with a tiny taste of some of the treats from Stay a Spell that Emma had given him to take home last night. They’d been as divine as everything else made by Emma’s hand, but they’d also had the added bonus of being something to remind him of her, and it was those pleasant thoughts of seeing Emma again that really had Killian trying to get as much done as he could in the time when she was away.

“I told you it would!” Henry exclaimed as if it had been the most obvious thing in the world, and Killian chuckled at the precocious boy as Emma popped back out of the house. Then all of Killian’s attention was on her as she came to stand beside him.

“Hey you,” she whispered before pressing a kiss to his cheek that was chaste and appropriate given their youthful audience, but still sent a thrill of delight through Killian all the same. That feeling of rightness was then only increased when she offered her hand to take his with an ease that spoke to their special kind of intimacy.

“I see you and Henry are back from the set up. Did you get everything exactly as Belle desired?”

“Ha, hardly,” Emma scoffed, cementing to Killian that his read on Emma’s friend had been right and that though she was kind and lovely normally, she’d gone a little over the top as the leader of this town event. “With a perfectionist like Belle there’s always something else that could be better or bigger or brighter. But it looks great and she’ll see that when everyone gets there tonight. It’s going to be a good showing this year for sure.”

“Totally,” Henry agreed. “I can’t wait to tell Grace all about it when she gets here. We’ve even got a corn maze this time!”

“That’s the reason we’re back so early,” Emma confided, filling in the blanks for Killian about Henry’s new plans since at last meeting Killian was under the impression that tonight it would be the three of them venturing through the festival together. “Grace and her Dad stopped by to ask if Henry wanted to go with them tonight, and as soon as they floated Granny’s for dinner Henry was in.”

“What can I say? I know a good deal when I see one,” Henry proclaimed and the three of them laughed before Grace and Jefferson pulled up to take Henry on his night’s new adventure, with both Emma and Killian waving goodbye after them.

“So now that Henry’s off, are you headed back to the square, Swan?” Killian asked, his thumb tracing over her wrist lightly as Emma moved a little closer to him, filling the space around him with a charged sense of yearning that hadn’t been there only seconds before.

“No. I’ve clocked my good deed hours for the day but Elsa and Anna will be here pretty soon to pick me up so we can get ready at Ruby’s.”

“Ah, and here I was thinking you look stunning as is, love,” Killian whispered, his voice dipping into that register that always seemed to provoke Emma. He watched as she licked her lips and then looked around, no doubt seeing what Killian had seen when he exited his house and ventured out here minutes before, which was a number of well meaning but rather nosey neighbors that were currently watching them.

“I was actually meaning to ask if I could get that shovel back that you borrowed before I go,” Emma said with a smile at a slightly higher volume so that the eavesdroppers would hear and be thrown off the scent. It was flawlessly done too, and if Killian hadn’t known that was code for a private interlude in the back shed behind his house he’d have believed her to truly be looking for the garden tool which he’d already returned. As it was though, Killian was eager to follow Emma’s lead and get out of earshot of their over interested audience.

“Aye, love. It’s just back here.”

With measured steps so as not to seem too eager, Killian and Emma moved from the front yard back around the house. It was hard to move slowly when so much enticement stood before him, but somehow Killian prevailed and with as much calm as he could muster given the active surging of want coursing through him, Killian led Emma into the smaller building and then shut the door behind her, sealing them off from ambient sounds of the neighborhood and into a slightly more shadowy place.

The shed was mostly dark save for the sunlight that came in through the window, and though it had started a rather dusty, old place when Killian bought the property, he had seen to cleaning it up entirely as soon as the first opportunity came for him to steal a precious moment in here with Emma some weeks ago. Now it was a spot that they found themselves coming to more and more, and though Killian yearned for the days when they had more time and the ability to get lost in each other in the comfort of his bed or hers, this was what they could have in this moment, and he wouldn’t turn down this chance for anything or anyone.

In seconds Emma was in his arms and Killian didn’t know who started the kiss first but he did know it was heaven itself. It didn’t matter that time had given him more access to Emma and more knowledge of the fire that burned underneath the surface, she was still like a live wire in his hands every time, sending his systems askew so the only thing he could feel and see and taste was her. She was everywhere and yet not close enough all at once, but soon enough the little space that was separating them was closed and their bodies were flush against each other as one of his hands held the small of her back and the other intertwined with the thick golden locks she’d set free from her hair tie at some point in the day. Eventually the back of her thighs came to hit against the wooden counter along the shed’s wall that was totally cleared off for moments like this, and Killian boosted her up to sit there comfortably with her legs falling open as he came to stand between them.

“I keep telling myself we shouldn’t do this,” Emma moaned as Killian’s mouth eventually moved from her lips down her jaw and to her slender neck.

Once there he was a mix of rough and tender with his attentions, wanting simultaneously to wind Emma up while pleasuring her perfectly. It wasn’t enough of course, not nearly enough to have either of them fully satisfied, but as his hand slid down to meet the hem of her skirt and then moved up her thigh to the scrap of cotton that was all that lay between him and her waiting sex, Killian growled against her, satisfied that she was ready and needy for him.

“And why’s that, love?” Killian asked as he pulled back, watching her eyes heat even more from their jade color to an almost molten green as his finger traced through the damp material against her sensitive flesh.

“Because it’s risky. Someone could have seen us coming in here,” Emma said, her eyes darting towards the yard before another low moan escaped her lips as Killian’s fingers pushed past the seem of the thin fabric she wore and delved deeper into her. “Or they could hear us.”

Killian chuckled at that, not because he found the thought particularly funny. Far from it actually since with Emma he was almost possessive with his want for privacy between him and her. The thought of anyone happening along these intimate moments clawed at him and were far from desirable, but it was Emma’s feistiness and spirit that got to him now and flooded him with warmth. Even in the face of pleasure, pleasure that Killian could see written all over her gorgeous face and feel from the shivering thrills of her body against his, Emma had something to say. She was never at a loss for words and her wit was always there, reminding him that she was brilliant and so far beyond any other woman he’d ever met.

“I’d never let that happen, love,” Killian whispered, meaning every part of that vow as his lips came to brush against her ear before he nipped the lobe ever so slightly. “Just trust me.”

Emma didn’t need to verbally confirm that she did either, for her actions were enough and the arching of her hips higher to him and towards his hand as her arms came around his neck were profession enough. She was beautiful like this, chasing a high that she wanted only him to give her, but it was that unspoken bond and that earned sense that she could actually put her faith in him that riled Killian up most. He had to taste her, had to claim her and his mouth came crashing back down to hers as his thumb swirled against her clit and her fingers filled her, reaching that spot inside he knew would set her off in just a matter of moments.

“Killian,” she sighed into his mouth, her eyes closed and her breathing ragged. “I’m close.”

Bloody hell those words and that damn thready tone of hers was invigorating. Nothing could ever compare to that, to the sensuous note of Emma reaching the climax she wanted. It was music to his ears and a boost to his ego, but it wasn’t enough. Killian wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d given her release to him and when he told her as much he felt her tighten, chasing that ecstasy even more until she was so close to the edge that the slightest brush would send her over.

“Someday soon, Emma, we’re going to have more than this. A whole night just you and me, with hours spent showing you just how much I want you.”

“God, yes,” Emma whimpered, her eyes still closed and her lips looking swollen from the kisses he’d just taken.

“But for now I want to feel you come apart, Swan. I want you to feel this. Feel me. Let go, love.”

No sooner had he given that command than she was cresting, falling over into bliss against his hand and setting him aflame as she did. He was rock hard right now, aching to take more of her, but it wasn’t going to happen. Truthfully Killian knew how lucky they’d just gotten, for there were some times when interruption had come calling in the past week and they’d both left this tiny cabin like space frustrated, but at least he could see Emma happy and sated, and for him that would always be the greatest reward.

“Screw the risk,” Emma said as she came down from her high, her breaths evening out as her eyes still shone with that hazy sense of lust that came after the best kind of loving. “It’s worth it.”

“I’m glad you agree, love,” Killian whispered, his lips coming to stop just an inch from hers. “Because I’ve no intention of cutting back on these little moments of ours.”

“Good,” Emma whispered before pressing another kiss to his lips and then driving him right to the edge of madness as her hand moved further south down from his chest along the flat planes of his abdomen to the button of his jeans. She was seconds away from granting him the surest form of pleasure and taking him in hand, and past instances had taught Killian that he was totally in her control when Emma held the reins, but then, as if fate deemed fit to laugh at him, interruption came in the form of a car out front and the not so far away sounds of voices that Killian recognized as Elsa and Anna.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Emma muttered to herself before shooting him an apologetic look, but Killian wasn’t having that at all and he distracted her look of guilt with another kiss that seemed to wash away her tiny bit of defeat.

“We’ve faced worse setbacks love, and besides… there’s always tomorrow,” Killian promised, bringing a light back to Emma’s eyes that spoke to hope that he was right and that they would, in fact, have more time spent like this together soon.

“You’re still coming tonight, right?” Emma asked as she tried to tidy up her appearance a bit and Killian grinned at the sight of her cheeks appearing just a touch more flushed and her hair tousled a bit from the way he’d run his fingers through it. She threw it back up in a hair tie quickly and with an effectiveness that spoke to the fact that they’d done this more than a few times now, and that fact only made Killian’s blood hum more and the want low in his gut climb higher.

“I wouldn’t miss it. I’m grabbing a beer with David this evening, but I’ll be over straight away when that’s taken care of,” Killian promised, wondering for a moment if Emma would realize what that talk might be about with her best friend’s husband. After all, Killian was planning to confront David finally on what was really going on in this town, but Emma thankfully was oblivious, and only smiled wider at his words.

“Look at you making friends,” she quipped.

“That’s what you do when you find a new home, Swan.”

“You get beer with the local vet?” Emma asked teasingly and Killian shook his head before pulling her to him once more, cutting through her humor with a bit of seriousness.

“Aye, love, but more importantly you put down roots.”

“I like the sound of that,” Emma whispered and Killian beamed down at her, taking her in and memorizing this moment so he’d have it with him always.

“As do I.”

Unfortunately for both of them there was no more time in this particular instance to linger together or say more, but in a way that might have been a blessing, for after this stolen interlude with Emma Killian found three little words threatening to slip past the tip of his tongue. He couldn’t be a hundred percent sure, of course, but it felt to him like he’d been close to saying that he loved her and at some point her smiles and her laughter and the general goodness that followed Emma everywhere would have sent him over the edge, having him confessing the truth of his heart before either of them was totally ready.

That urge to tell Emma how he really felt and the intense nature of the feelings he had for her had been cropping up more and more over the past few weeks, but what had won out in the battle between truth and concealment up to now was that Killian wanted – no needed – this to be right for Emma. The last thing he wanted was to push her for too much too fast, especially given how much more progress they’d made these past few weeks. In truth they’d gotten farther than he’d ever thought possible, especially given some of the tales she’d revealed from her previous interactions with romance, and Killian had learned from the mistakes of others. Instead of bumbling in he was going to be patient, and only when he knew that Emma wouldn’t want to run from his advances would he give her those three words. In the meantime he was just trying to prove his love for her without having to put it in so many words, and though he’d already given her his heart, he was keeping that quiet for now until the time was right.

That didn’t mean Killian wasn’t actively thinking about all of this though, and these were the thoughts largely on his mind as he got ready for his evening out and then headed to the one bar that Storybrooke boasted. It was only when he’d actually entered the premises that he began to realize just how large a conversation he might be in for right now, and it took actually seeing David in the flesh for anything like worry to crop up on Killian’s radar.

“Well look whose blending in like a regular townie,” David said as he came to take a seat at the booth Killian had staked a claim on upon arriving. “Let me guess, Tiny even knows your drink order already.”

“That he does,” Killian agreed before nodding to the beer that had been ordered for David. “And he knows yours too.”

“He better, otherwise what the hell am I tipping for?”

“The unparalleled ambiance no doubt,” Killian joked and that had the two of them laughing, cutting away a large amount of the tension Killian was feeling and leaving him a little less daunted by what was about to unfold.

“I won’t lie, I kind of expected this talk to come sooner, you being such an observant guy and all. But then again my company’s probably not as desirable as Emma’s and from what I hear you two have been spending an awful lot of time together.”

“Oh come on now, Dave. We’re friends right? You can be honest with me. I know you and your wife take a keen interest in Emma’s love life. There’s no need to pretend otherwise.”

“What makes you say that?” David asked with all his normal good humor and a raised brow and Killian shrugged as he presented the irrefutable evidence.

“Well there’s the comments I get from Mary Margaret every time I see her in town for one thing, and then also the fact that you and the missus have just ‘happened to be nearby’ three of the last four times Emma and I were out and about.”

“Touché,” David acquiesced with a laugh.

“Not that I can really fault you, mate. Seems a symptom of Storybrooke that everyone’s got a need to know everything. As often as I’ve seen you and Mary Margaret, I’ve seen Graham and Ruby at least twice that much.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. Mary Margaret might be the mother hen of the group, but Ruby’s the self-appointed defender, and she’s gonna keep an eye on you until she’s totally sure you’re the right guy for Emma no matter how much she likes you.”

“Any idea how long that will take?” Killian asked, not even bothering to hide that he was indeed angling for that kind of approval since he did believe himself to be the right man for his Swan, or at least a man who could love her more than anything else in the world as a woman like her deserved.

“Probably until you’re married. Maybe engaged if something else pops up to keep her busy.”

“Right then,” Killian muttered before lifting the glass of rum that was on the table before him and toasting his glass upwards in a salute to David. “Cheers.”

David returned the sentiment before drinking more of his beer, and then the moment of truth came where it was Killian’s turn to make mention of why they were here at all. The only problem was that even if he was certain of what he was about to discuss with David, there was no easy way to broach the topic. As far as Killian knew there was no how to guide on discussing the existence and extent of magic in the world, and there definitely wasn’t a manual on how to try and extrapolate information about how much it affected the woman he loved. So Killian was left to go on instinct. Luckily for him though, David seemed to read this predicament he was facing and he opened a window to that talk before Killian could find a graceful way to do so.

“So you’ve got your suspicions about what makes Storybrooke special, huh?” he asked measuredly and Killian exhaled a sigh before nodding.

“Aye, but look mate, I don’t know how to say this without sounding crazy so I’ll just put it out there: this town isn’t normal. There are just too many little things – and some not so little things - off about it that logic can’t explain away. It’s like…”

“It’s like…?” David asked, clearly eager to hear Killian’s take on the situation but still reining himself in as he took another sip of his beer.

“Well it’s like magic, probably because I suspect that’s exactly what it is. I don’t know how it works, and I obviously don’t have definitive proof, but I know what I’ve seen and I know what I know. The only thing I don’t understand – or I guess I should say the main thing I don’t understand - is how the hell it’s possible. I mean it shouldn’t be possible.”

With those words out there in the air between them, Killian didn’t know what to expect. The wholly rational part of his brain, the part that was driven by decades of reasoning and still sometimes grappled with the fact that what his eyes had seen in certain cases couldn’t possibly be true, was somewhat hoping for a rebuttal. It expected David to laugh at him and maybe toss out some mocking words, but instead there was nothing but a spark of something like recognition and then a measured nod as David put his beer bottle back on the countertop.

“And if it is possible...?” David asked casually, still apparently trying to size up Killian’s reaction to the thought that there was some kind of supernatural force in town and amongst its people. “If Storybrooke has magic in it, what’s that mean for you?”

“Well it means everything to me, because it’s a part of Emma and Emma’s… well Emma’s fast becoming everything.”

Finally after a few moments of severity and an almost stony face, David let loose a smile and though Killian had only spoken his mind he felt that he’d said something right, or at least something to gain more of the trust of his new friend and confidant. In that instant Killian knew this conversation was about to shift and he felt a sense of validation and a renewed eagerness to find out what he could so he’d be best prepared to be what Emma and what Henry would need. Because at the end of the day that was what mattered to him. He didn’t care about abilities or how Emma had them or where they came from. All he cared about was that if she needed his support he could give it, and if she needed his understanding he could give that too. But he couldn’t decipher where his place should be until he knew more, and that was why he’d even bothered coming to David at all about this.

“So no plans to run for the hills?” David clarified and Killian scoffed at the idea that he’d be heading in any direction other than towards Emma before retorting.

“Not bloody likely.”

“Good man. Well I’ll answer what I can, but some of this – heck most of this – is stuff you should probably hear from Emma when she’s ready.”

Killian agreed with that whole-heartedly and he looked forward to the day when she would confide in him, but for the time being there were some basic facts and groundwork that he wanted to get a handle on. It would make him feel better about all of this, and hopefully when the time did come for Emma to reveal the truth to him he’d be better prepared for her story if he understood these new rules of engagement a world with magic might have.

“You should also know I talked to Graham and Kristoff before coming here, and half the reason I’m even trusting you with this information is because Graham was incredibly thorough with the background check he ran on you. We’re talking dark web, NSA level stuff. I honestly don’t know how he does it.”

Killian found himself chuckling again at that, not even remotely surprised that Graham had dug into the trenches of Killian’s past and present. There wasn’t anything he’d find to pose as a red flag of any sort, and though another person might have been offended, Killian couldn’t muster that sentiment. After all Graham loved Ruby, and if that love was anything like what Killian felt for Emma, he could understand wanting to protect her at all costs no matter what the moral implications might be.

“That’s just half the reason? What else possibly swayed you?” Killian prodded and then David grinned again.

“You did, or rather the way you are with Emma did. There’s no denying what we all see when the two of you are together, and I have to believe feelings like that can’t be faked. Call me a romantic but love like the one you seem to have for her just has to be real.”

“It’s real,” Killian agreed. “It’s so real that the rest of it almost doesn’t matter. Whatever you tell me now isn’t going to change how I feel, it’s only going to help me be a better man for her.”

David seemed to take that as his final sign that confiding in Killian would be okay, and over the next twenty minutes or so he laid out a number of elements about magic and Storybrooke that he understood from his place at the periphery of it all. He told Killian about how though Storybrooke was unique, it wasn’t the only community of its kind in the world, and that magic in itself took on many different forms. Some fictional depictions of it were kind of on to something, but most were hyperbolic and largely incorrect. There weren’t any vampires or banshees running around haunting this place, and there wasn’t a war going on between good and evil or light and dark, just a number of people with a variety of gifts that were all used in the service of making this place a better little of the corner of the world to live in and helping out their fellow neighbors in good times and bad.

As far as Emma and her friends went, the six of them (including Anna who David said did not have magic of her own) had taken it upon themselves to live by that mentality of using magic only for good and for the right reasons. They had inherited as such a lot of the duties of past magical folks in town who watched over everyone and protected the peace and quiet Storybrooke boasted, but of the lot of them the only one who hadn’t grown up within the comforts of a town that knew about and accepted magic was Emma. This for Killian began to explain so much and now he could only imagine how much harder it would have been for her as a child growing up in the system. Coming of age and moving through the world without a family would be hard enough, but struggling to understand her magic when there was no one to tell her that this was real and that she wasn’t some freakish anomaly must have been so painful. It hurt Killian even to think that way, yet David didn’t get into specifics both because he didn’t want to betray Emma’s confidences and because he didn’t really have many answers.

“I love Emma like she’s family because she is, but even now and even with us she’s still guarded. All I know for sure is that when Emma came to town after a string of really crappy breaks it took her some time to accept the way things were. I wasn’t here back then, but from what Mary Margaret says they were all more than a little worried that she wouldn’t find her place here at all and that she wouldn’t let anyone in…”

“But she stayed for Henry and the trust and belonging followed,” Killian filled in, knowing that was the case even if the version of the story he had from Emma herself didn’t include the presence of supernatural powers or that extra layer of ostracizing Emma had felt all those years before arriving in Maine.

“Exactly.”

“And did you know about magic before you got here?” Killian asked, pulling a full on laugh from David that instantly spoke to how far from the case that was.

“No way. Before Mary Margaret people said magic and I thought David Blaine and those other posers that have people flocking to Vegas, but I checked and he’s not really, you know, gifted. At least not according to Belle whose got some sort of registry for magical people in the public eye.”

“And when Mary Margaret did finally tell you how did you react?”

“Same as you. I had my suspicions about some things and I felt like I was going crazy reading too much into it, but when she told me it didn’t sway me at all. It was just something else to love her for. I honestly felt relieved to know, and then I felt sure that she was in it as much as I was and that was all I wanted.”

“Sounds nice,” Killian mused, not jealous per se, but desirous to get to that point sooner rather than later with Emma so he could feel that certainty as well.

“It was and within the week I asked her to marry me. There was no more denying what we were then, and what we were – what we still are – is right for each other.”

Killian’s heart began to ache at that, and again he was happy for his friend, a man who was clearly deserving of finding that kind of love and with Emma’s good friend no less, but there was that longing deep in his soul to get to that place with Emma. He was being patient and he would remain as such, but it was difficult to do so when he felt as ready as he did for more.

“You’ll get there, Killian,” David said then as if reading his mind. “But Emma’s going to take a little longer than Mary Margaret did just because of who she is and what she’s been through.”

“She tried to tell someone before, didn’t she?” Killian asked, suspecting that she must have at the very least attempted to be candid with Henry’s father. From the little bit Killian knew, Emma had tried to make it work with the man before he bolted out of the picture so fast he left blurred lines in his wake, but now Killian was positive that it wasn’t just from the man not wanting commitment, but also not accepting magic and thus Emma in kind.

“She did and it went just as terribly as you’re thinking. But she’s getting there, and soon enough you guys will have your moment too and then we can wait around for the next guy to show up here trying to marry Elsa or Belle. Who knows, maybe then you can join me on this little magical introduction. We could make it a whole routine and everything.”

“Sounds like a plan, mate,” Killian agreed before ordering them both another drink and deciding to enjoy the little time they had before the evening’s festivities without the heaviness of the town’s big secret weighing around them.

It was actually surprisingly easy to do so too, but perhaps Killian shouldn’t have been so shocked because he did know David to be a good man and an easy going kind of person. In fact, it was so easy and the mood was so light that Killian left the bar a little while later with David at his side knowing that this was another sign of the rightness of his coming here. This simplicity in forming new bonds and finding good people was a mark in Storybrooke’s favor, and it only cemented Killian’s belief that he’d been meant to find his way here and to the citizens who called this place home.

“So… are you ready for your first Storybrooke festival?” David asked smugly as they drew nearer to the town square where all the festivities were being held.

“More than you know,” Killian countered, but perhaps he’d spoken too soon, for right at the moment the crowds of milling people broke long enough so that he could see Emma once more and this gorgeous, intriguing, and thoroughly complicated woman took his breath away as she so often did.

With her long flowing white skirt and a crown of wild flowers in her freely hanging golden hair, Emma was a vision, and whatever imagery he’d had in his mind with the limited knowledge he possessed of this evening beforehand, it was all blown out of the water when he took her in in full. She was a siren, a fairy, a creature out of lore made real somehow, and he was so completely under her spell that resistance wasn’t possible. He felt every part the moth drawn to a flame with no wish to change that instinct, and then right at that instant she looked his way as if sensing his arrival and she smiled at him across the temporary fair grounds, filling him up with so much feeling and light it was almost too much to bear.

Without thinking at all and without so much as a word of goodbye to David Killian was in motion, making his way to her, and in those fleeting seconds where they were still apart, Killian reflected on how this woman was undeniably his future. There was simply no denying that this was the path he was supposed to be on, and everything had to work out in the end no matter what may come because he simply couldn’t go on without having Emma Swan in his life and in his heart. Whatever happened, Killian would make Emma feel his love for her, and somehow, someway he’d win her heart and claim the ultimate prize of belonging to her and in her world for now and always.

Post-Note: So originally I was going to have this chapter include both Killian’s talk with David and the harvest celebration/magical ritual from Emma’s POV, but it soon became apparent to me that that was not going to work. There were just too many things I wanted to include to have it all in one installment, but not to worry. My hope is to get Emma’s responding chapter (and also the full earning of the M rating) out sometime in the next week or so, and eventually I should have more time to commit to this story because I have two other AUs coming quickly to a close. Anyway thank you all so much for reading and I hope that you enjoyed!

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #CS modern AU #cs fic #cs ff #cs au #cs mc #captain swan au #ouat au #real world magic #some call it magic #some call it #some call it 8 #some call it magic au #emma swan #killian jones #david nolan #henry #cs fluff #cs smut

[andy-abroad]

Bangkok_03

June.20.2017 Hello, hello! Today was a much better day than yesterday. A little shaky, but much better. In the middle of the night, I was woken up by a large crash. Apparently someone fell down the stairs, which much have hurt a lot, as the stairs are concrete. I'm not sure if they were drunk or not, but I heard a lot of moaning and scrambling to help him. It sounded crowded so I didn't go out to investigate. After that I found it hard to sleep - a good sign. I was hungry! Planning for this, I actually had a smoothie juice by my bed. I drank it slowly, and then went to bed, a little fuller. I woke up for good in the morning, and got ready. Brushed my teeth and all of that. My time in the bathroom still wasn't very pleasant, but all I had to eat yesterday was juice and a granola bar, so I wasn't expecting much. I went downstairs and ate a bunch of bread. 1, because I was hungry, and 2, because I knew it would help settle my stomach. I had a long day planned and I didn't want to take any chances! I left the hostel and decided to give the busses one more chance. I waited for what seemed like forever (30 minutes) and the bus never came, so I gave up and called and Uber. I figured this was the day to spoil myself and Uber around because I was taking it easy. The Uber took just as long to get to me, but then we were on our way! First stop was wat arun - temple of the dawn. I heard it was under construction, but I still wanted to check it out, and I'm glad I did. The white ceramic tiles were really beautiful, and it being on the water made it pretty special. I walked around and found their souvenirs shop and picked up some post cards. The woman was trying to charge me 100 baht, so I left and found a stall two from hers that charged me 10 for 2 of the exact same cards. Go figure! I exited the temple and then called another Uber. While waiting, I went to a 7-11 to find some Gatorade. I didn't actually find Gatorade but I found a sports drink with some vitamins and some sodium in it. I figured it would help hydrate me. I also picked up a plain croissant and a water. I ate the croissant while waiting and then hopped into the Uber. Next stop was the jam factory! The jam factory was by recommendation of mama. It was this old warehouse that was restored and turned into this design collaborative. It was really cool and super hip. There was a store, a shopping area, cafes, restaurants, a gallery, and even an architecture office! I wasn't brace enough to ask if I could go in, but I looked through their windows, haha. I wandered around and took some photos, and then sat at a cafe to have a drink. I wanted a cup of tea, but for some reason they were all out? So I got a San Peligrino sparkling water instead. I sipped on my water and read my book to cool off and enjoy the fun atmosphere. They were playing jazz music! I could also see a lot of foreigners around. If I was hungrier I would have definitely ate, but I was still a little turned off by the smell of food. When the water was done and the bill paid.. you guessed it, I called another Uber. I had really wanted to see the golden spire and the jade Buddha, so I waited and got into my car. What I didn't know is that the temple housing the jade Buddha is within the walls of he grand palace. I had really no interest in going to see it, as it was very touristy and expensive, but when I got there, I felt like it'd be a waste not to go in. I almost wish I didn't. First of all, the traffic situation around the grand palace is extremely annoying. They basically cut off all traffic in a one block ring around the palace. It's huge and you have to walk all the way around! So annoying. Also, it costs about 15 USD to get in, which isn't s terrible amount of money, but for what you can see, it is. You can't enter the palace or see up close, you can only kind of walk around it. Also, it's so overrun by tourists is claustrophobic. I ended up really speedily going through all of it and leaving disappointed. I will say that what's interesting is how these sites are tourist attractions but also operate as normal temples. The people come and use the temples for prayer and for blessings. In the grand palace, locals wear all black and a silver ribbon to honor the dead king. It was really interesting to see the royal family on postcards and posters. There was even an exhibit about the king in one of the buildings. Although this was interesting, the worst part is that there was a sign advertising a postal service, which I was excited about since I wouldn't have to look it up, but they were "closed". I left and walked to get out of the palace. I actually had to wait about 15 minutes as they were preforming their "changing of the guards" and no one could leave or enter. Again. Annoying, as it wasn't even that impressive! I finally got out and to my surprise found a post office. I mailed my postcards, again, more hopeful for this one, and rewarded myself with an ice cream! I sat down and took a break, drank some sport drink, and called yet another Uber. This Uber was to take me home, where I would then go on a train to my final destination. The Uber took a really long time to come (not his fault, the traffic pattern is weird, like I said), but when he pulled over, it was strange. I opened the back door like normal to confirm his identity and for him to confirm mine, but he was nervous and told me to get in the front seat. I was confused and hesitated, and he closed the back window. I didn't realize my thumb was in the window until it was pinched between the glass and the frame. I yanked it out and got in the seat, really annoyed. He apologized a lot and explained that Uber is banned in that district and the fines are really crazy. I was trying to be understanding, but in the moment I was really angry so I just kept quiet. I really don't like sitting in the front seat, and it was clear he felt really badly. Just a very awkward ride. He got me to my hostel safely, and I said goodbye. The last place I wanted to visit, again, a mama cho recommendation was Benjakitti park. I had to take a short metro ride there (thankfully) and before I knew it, I was at my stop. The metro is so clean and has A.C. The people are really polite on transit (waiting for everyone to get off before entering, offering seats to the elderly and to monks). It was a quick walk to the park and entrance was free! I thought about doing an entire loop, but it was about 2.5k, and I didn't think I had it in me - hot and I was tired. I found a little bench to sit and enjoy some time. I read my book, drank the rest of my sports drink, and people watched. It was amazing to see how many people used the track to actually exercise. The adults ran, the kids hung out, and the elderly chatted and walked around the park. It was a park to break up how busy the city is, and it did just that. A great spot to kind of get away. While on the bench, I researched some places to eat. Originally, I had wanted a big, juicy burger, but they were all far away and not reviewed positively. I just googled 'restaurants' and there was a Korean BBQ restaurant close. I didn't really want KBBQ, at least in Bangkok (will save for Korea!) so I searched other Korean restaurants. There was one close to a stop on the same line, so I got on and went hunting for some food. The sky opened up while I was on the train - poured for a few minutes and then switched to a drizzle. I scurried to the restaurant which was only a block away, and was seated immediately. I was a bit disappointed in the menu. I really wanted 된장찌개, but they didn't have any. I didn't want any of the other soups so I got 돌솥 비빔밥 which came with miso soup. It was pretty tasty, and I talked to the owner who is Korean! He was really nice and so was the food when it came. The rice was so hot! I usually like plain, because I can eat it faster, but oh well! I am hoping this food will help get me back into the swing of eating food. Am kind of nervous. Maybe should have eaten something more plain! Haha. I paid my bill and went back on the train home. I got to my room, said hello to everyone. The guy from India actually has a sore throat now. He came yesterday when I was really sick. Maybe my throat thing started in India? He is from Mumbai. Anyways, I cleaned up my area, packed, and then showered. It felt good to wash the humidity off, as always, and climb into bed. I'm here now and going to sleep soon. Trying to get as much rest as I can before the beach, as it's a party beach! And plus, I still want to take it easy on my body. Looking forward to calling mama and papa when I wake up! Until whenever --

[kyreniacommentator]

By Ismail Veli…….

Many people go through life working hard, trying to enjoy themselves and save up for a comfortable retirement.

Nothing wrong with that, BUT and it’s a big BUT, sadly once the pension age knocks on their door many find that with so much time on their hands they simply start getting bored, don’t know what to do and often return to work just to pass the time. The reason is that all through their life the idea of having a real hobby to concentrate their time and relax simply did not exist. So why is having hobbies so important? Firstly a hobby is only acquired out of a love to create and doing what one really enjoys and free from the stress of real life. It can be time consuming but unlike work it’s something that an individual enjoys doing. I consider myself lucky that having come to the UK from Cyprus in 1962 as a 6 year old, the value of creative and fun hobbies was impressed upon children long before the advent of computers and other electronic games which though good in themselves can hold back the ability to be creative on different levels.

I never forget when my parents brought home packs of cereals which we had never seen in the Lurucina of 1962. To my delight out popped small packets of miniature 72ml figures of cowboys and Indians. Though I wasn’t particularly keen on this new found breakfast alternative to the Cypriot Olives and bread, I lost no time in eating as much cereals as possible in order to expand my collection of figures. It wasn’t long before I watched Western  films (Rawhide was the craze in those days) to learn what I could and the Library was only 10 minutes walk away for some amazing books. I soon realised that if I collected matchboxes, plastacene, pebbles and larger boxes I could create a small diorama with wagons, small hills and rockery. This caused me to spend hours in my bedroom simply creating and experimenting with whatever I could. Books were a fantastic addition as it gave me a great insight into the past way of life.

When I was 11 years old I was interviewed by a local secondary school ‘Highbury Boy’s School’, the interview went badly as I was immensely shy. I was accepted to Islington Green (or Tudor Rose as it was formerly called) which was about 2 miles away. It was one of the best things that happened in my life. I made a friend named Gary Deemer who lived around the corner in Duncan Terrace and the street was full of air-fix model shops, lead figures, paints, brushes and scenery for the figures. I had found my paradise. At the time I was given 2 shillings (10p in today’s money) a day school money. half a shilling each way and one shilling for my school dinner. Nothing left to buy a box of 40-50 figures which if I remember correctly cost 2 and a half shillings. I was not about to give up. I decided that walking to and back the 4 mile round trip from school was actually fun and most afternoons the local chip shop only cost half a shilling for  a portion of chips which I loved anyway. That gave me a whole 75% of my pocket money to invest in my hobby.

I soon diversified into Napoleonic’s, US Marines, Japanese, British Commandos, Paratroopers, Desert Rats (the 8th Army) Germans, Russians, US Cavalry, Indians and my favourites Ancient Romans and Celts. No sooner was I home from school then I would rush to the library for my quota of 4 books (which was the limit in those days) in order to study all aspects of the history of these historic people. Frankly I think my parents were a little worried, not that they allowed me to run out and play in the streets which I had little interest for, but for the fact that I was alone in my room for hours until it was bedtime. My food had to be brought to my bedroom and only when relatives came for a visit did I venture out so as not to be rude. It was not until I grew up and started work when many adults started to take the micky that I was still playing with ‘toy soldiers’, sadly many Cypriots in those days considered this as childish. This forced me to go a bit discreet. But I more than made up for this by reading, jigsaw puzzles, drawing and whatever I could find to pass my time. In fact adults in the family thought I was so quiet that I would never meet anyone to marry (another obsession with Cypriots was that if you weren’t married at 20 there was something wrong). That was until July 1974 when I was due to visit my grandparents around the 22-24 July .

With the war in Cyprus the travel agent asked if I wanted an alternative booking. I picked up a brochure for California but knew my father would oppose that. At 18 and the USA so far away he simply thought I would run into trouble. My uncle was ill in bed at the time but he stepped in and told my father off, ”Let the young man go, it may open his eyes a bit or your stuck with him”. This turned things around for me. Sadly My uncle died on 10 September 1974 due to a brain tumour at the tender age of only 29. It was a traumatic experience which taught me the value of life even further. I did actually go to Los Angeles, California and then onto Las Vegas in Nevada. It was three weeks that completely changed my life. I became much more chatty with adults, and my newfound skills and experience gave me confidence in debating world issues.

When I married in 1977 my first priority was to buy a house and have a family. The economic turmoil of the late 1970s and 1980s were tough but when my wife and I had 2 lovely boys in 1981 and 1983 I was determined to help encourage them to have hobbies and always took them to the library. Like most children they enjoyed puzzles and Legos which I spent lots of time helping them with. In 1989 we decided to take  a well earned holiday of 3 weeks to Hawaii. The boys were 8 & 6 respectively. On our visit to the Arizona memorial at Pearl Harbour we naturally visited the gift shop in order to buy something for the lads. They both wanted model ships of the USS Arizona and USS Missouri, plus a book each. My wife and I both agreed to give them a little extra treat and buy them figures of US Marines and Japanese soldiers to add to their little reward. Coming back to the UK I was very happy that they both relished the idea of building the models. As usual dad was asked to help. I soon added paints, brushes and scenic material to add to their enthusiasm. It brought back fantastic memories of where I left of in 1971-2. I decided ‘sod what people thought’ and began to buy figures and start my life’s favourite hobby yet again. Emptying my garage and fixing the walls with good clean melamine boards, I then began to build benches all round. My enthusiasm and pent up frustration at lost years meant that I began to paint figures in droves. initially they were plastic Airfix, but a friend introduced me to a lead figure moulder who after I requested certain types of Republican Romans, Carthaginians, Celts, Spanish and Roman Latin allies he said he was just starting off and to make so many moulds would be costly as he was not certain if he could sell at least 1000 figures. I smiled, I responded ”Mr Sean Pereira if I order 2000 now and another 2000 for 3 months would you be interested”.

His jaw dropped and we shook hands. He offered me a 20% discount and within a year these figures became his best sellers even packing figures off to Italy to other enthusiasts who loved the quality and variety of his figures. His business took off and becoming good friends he began to offer me 25% discounts. Building the dioramas is another fantastic form of relaxation. Gravel, pebbles, sand, match sticks, mini nails, dustsheets, Balsa wood, old rugs for dry bushes. lacquer to preserve some mini plants as trees, PVA glue for rivers, thin MDF for basing the figures, Thick 6×4 MDFs for building the scenic bases and even grape stems to build vineyards and trees were not spared. to reduce the cost of hundreds of different paints and brushes, cleaners, thinners etc I contacted The Revel Model company, opened an account on my business and simply bought them all at wholesale price.

To avoid ignoring time with my family I simply bought large work trays, organised the figures or whatever I was doing and placed them on the tray. So while the boys and I were all spending time in our sitting room I would just get on with my hobby talking and exchanging ideas and even watching our favourite films together. We all took turns in picking what each wanted to watch so we could instil in our children a sense of fairness. Strangely we all seemed to enjoy the same subjects and interest. My wife was never left out. In the summer months I would be the first to wake up, which meant that I could go into the garage and spend time arranging what I had prepared before everyone woke up.

After 25 years and 40.000 figures later my garage is now absolutely packed with many in storage. In the meantime my collection of books and other bi-product hobbies have kept me busy. In the last 3-4 years with no more space I turned my attention to collecting illustrated books on old photos from the mid 1850s to the 1960s. Cyprus, rural England, Cyprus and old postcards became my passion. In the meantime 8 years ago my wife and I  became grandparents which again changed my outlook on life.

Having come to the UK in 1962 and a great lover of my adopted country the UK, I still always had a passion to learn of my roots. Our grandson became the inspiration. If I did not start while my ageing parents were still of sound mind it may be too late to begin a solid foundation. The information from other Cypriots was that no archive materials were worth searching for in Cyprus, which made me all the more determined to start recording everything my parents told me. I then decided to travel all over London visiting old relatives to learn of their families. Within 2 years I managed to record about 2000 people over 6-7 generations which actually encompassed the extended family trees of my village of Lurucina. It was early in 2011 when another breakthrough came. a distant relative Alper Mehmet who happened to be the first ethnic ambassador for the UK Government to Iceland approached me after interviewing his family who showed great support for my project. It turned out that his family had records of an old tax collector Ibrahim Tahsildar (born 1898) from Lurucina who just happened to have records of many 1st 2nd and 3rd generations of our roots in Lurucina. He offered me the hand written information on condition that I would return it when finished. I was absolutely over the moon. My first aim was to buy a copier machine and copy every single page ASAP.

My aim was to get the documents back to Alper in quick time so as to honour my promise. after going through every single name I found that some of the writing was hard to read but going over and over I soon began to recognise the more scribbly names and the pattern of reading became easier. Typing them was of course  a priority. I began to consider setting up a website in order to share my findings while making constant announcements for people to come forward and share any information at their disposal. The cost of setting up  a website (I was not the most savvy of computer users) and having someone download the information was astronomical, in addition how would a stranger know how to arrange all the 4-5 thousand names now on my list. It became a dilemma, until In July 2011 a good friend Ersu Ekrem asked if I wanted his son Ekrem who was studying Computer IT in University to help and advise. They came to visit me on  a Sunday and within 5-6 hours after listening and experimenting the young Ekrem came up with a website from Moonfruit that seemed to fit my needs, and user friendly. He taught me how to create pages, photo galleries etc etc. After a couple of short meetings I was finally beginning to download the information in a manner that suited my limited computer skills, and Ekrem and Ersu refused to accept any money for the time and effort they put into helping me. Though not from Lurucina they considered the project as important and fully supported my efforts. I launched the site on 14th August 2011 and the call out for help on Facebook, telephones, emails to every Lurucinali I could find met with an enthusiastic support that I had not even dreamed of. Soon more names, dates, village stories were pouring in.

Finally In November 2013 I decided to travel to Cyprus and search for any existing Ottoman archives. Many had told me not to waste my time but I had to try. It turned out to be the icing on the cake. I visited the national archives  and research institute Milli Arşiv and asked if there was anything available on Lurucina. After calling for the Ottoman Translator Mrs Esin Fatma Dogac and explaining what I wanted she came back within ten minutes and gave me the records of the 1879-82 census which had people registered from 1796-1882. On my return to The UK Esin hanim translated the Ottoman script into modern Turkish, the details on age, year of marriage, female names which were missing on the first 3 generations, ownership of land, animals, tax paid, army service were all included, in addition for the first time all the Greek Orthodox population was now added to all the Turkish Muslim family trees. To date I believe there are at least 8.000 people of 11 generations on the website. In addition, historic, folk lore, 400 family nicknames, thousands of family photos, poems, Tsiattista Biimada (these are Greek poems or limericks for want of a better word) which the people of Lurucina excelled in) plus many other features have now been added. all this would not have been possible without the generous and massive support of the people of Lurucina and many friends who are not even from the village. I and my family are forever in their debt.

In the final analysis going back to hobbies and interests I believe it’s important for people to have a variety of interests that can occupy them. With so much fun and education in life retirement should be about enjoying every minute in doing what one enjoys. Life is far too precious to be bored. I refuse to allow a single second for negative boredom. Ultimately we may not be responsible on when we die, but we are responsible on how we live. My work life has been long and hard but I have learned to channel my energy into making the most of my life outside my work. Many people ask how do I find so much time? My simple response is we all have 24 hours in a day, it’s how we use those hours that really counts. Frankly I live every second of it which helps me to remain focused, contented, and need I say I still feel younger then my 58 years. I really cannot wait to retire. I still have a lot of fun ahead. With a lovely supporting wife, children, grandchildren and family I consider myself to be a very fortunate individual. That’s really as rich as one can get.

To visit my website Families of Lurucina please click here

Western town

Western town

An imaginary marching camp in ancient times

An imaginary marching camp in ancient times

Battle of Cannae 216 BC Numidian cavalry in front facing Roman allies in classic chequer board formation

Battle of Cannae 216 BC Numidian cavalry

Battle of Cannae 216 BC. The Roman legionaries in classic chequer-board formation

Battle of Cannae 216 BC. The Roman legionaries in classic chequer-board formation

Battle of Cannae 216 BC. Spanish and Celtic infantry

Battle of Cannae 216 BC. Spanish and Celtic infantry

Ottoman cavalry during the Crusader wars

Ottoman cavalry during the Crusader wars

American war of Independence. late 1700s

American war of Independence. late 1700s

French Napoleonic army camp and cavalry

Ancient Greeks at the battle of Plataea 479 BC

Ancient Greeks at Plataea 479 BC

Napoleonic wars 1805-15

Wagon train going west 1800s

Post card collection. Posted from Finchley 7.15pm on Oct 16 1908 to Holloway Rd.

Birthday cards were printed in black and white at this period. Its dated April 1908

Oct 28 1905 Posted to the two miss Goodings to Felixstowe, from 288 Seven Sisters

A card to W. A Thatcher, West Peckham dated April 28 1904

If you are Self Isolating to avoid Coronavirus do you have a hobby to keep you sane? .......Ismail Veli tells us about his and if you want to share yours with others do send details to CyprusScene By Ismail Veli....... Many people go through life working hard, trying to enjoy themselves and save up for a comfortable retirement.

#Familiesoflurucina #Cyprus #Hobbies #Ismail Veli #London #Lurucina

[homestaykrp]

son heeyeon

29, owner of achik bakery from jeju, south korea

homestay

her day starts before sunrise, a thermos in one hand and her keys in the other as she bounds down the stairs and into the bakery.

for about an hour heeyeon works in the kitchen, hair pulled up, her apron and cheeks covered in flower. she’s alone for the first half and with her baker for the second, preparing the bakery for the day.

for about half an hour, her gaze shifts between the dough in her hands and the cork board on the wall opposite of her.

she thought it was a silly thing, at first.

even now she thinks it’s silly.

when heeyeon began traveling, her mother insisted that she send her postcards, brochures, the works. when heeyeon published a small piece on jeju and stayed at homestay, her mother demanded that her daughter still send her a postcard from jeju and a brochure from the bed and breakfast.

nari had visited heeyeon in homestay, the two having breakfast with one another every morning.

it was during this time that she began feeling as if her mother was finally okay with her travels. for the three days that heeyeon stayed in jeju, she grew closer to her mom, and she had homestay to thank for this.

the atmosphere was nothing but calm, and healing and it was easier to remove any walls between heeyeon and her mother.

bio

tw: cancer, death

—

love blossoms in warm places.

such was the case for son nari and nam jaebeom, two high school sweethearts looking to grow old together under the jeju sun. they were lucky, finding love so early.

and they would remain lucky for five more years before the foundations of their relationship begin to crumble.

throughout the years they seem to become different people, what once brought butterflies in one would now irritate them to no end; what once brought a smile to the other filled them with an annoyance like no other.

sometimes you want so strongly to rekindle the love of your partner.

sometimes you think that having a child is the only way to do this. it was what son nari thought after all, and as such heeyeon was brought into the picture.

this itself was a very misguided attempt to salvage her relationship, but for quite a long time the birth of their daughter seemed to have brought them closer.

and when the magic of heeyeon’s birth faded, nari gave birth to a son.

heeyeon and jeongsun both were products of a fractured relationship but they were loved nonetheless. and it was true that both of their parents made attempts to repair the relationship between them.

but flowers can also wilt in warm places.

heeyeon’s father just up and left one day, citing defeat but promising to always love nari and their children.

she had only been six a the time, her two year old brother clutching to her yellow dress, his tears and snot dirtying the bright fabric. and she wanted to cry with him, of course she did, but her mother was a mess of tears all the same and heeyeon felt as if one of them had to be the other’s strength.

it would have to be her this time.

she would soothe her younger brother and make an attempt to soother her mother.

she would tend to the house as best she could, and help her mother in any way possible. there was no time to wallow in feelings of abandonment and no time to worry her already stressed mother.

when son nari decided that their home in jeju held too many memories, that she wanted to relocate to seoul, maybe open up a small restaurant, heeyeon did not protest. she did not cry or give her mother a hard time like her much younger brother had.

in seoul her mother did open up a small cupcake cafe, open only for a few hours in the morning.

heeyeon acclimated into life in seoul, using her ‘country bumpkin’ charm to win over friends, coming out of her shell and succeeding in school. life was spent in two parts: helping her mother at home and in the small cafe, and blooming in friendship circles and in school.

life was good for a while.

it was good in seoul for another seven years before nari decided to uproot her children once again.

heeyeon now twelve going on thirteen had spent more of her life in seoul than she had in jeju and the last thing she wanted to do was go back. she had made friends here, had most of her life in seoul.

she wanted to protest, but could not forget the moment her father left and her mom looked so broken.

her mother felt she needed to go back to jeju, and heeyeon would not try to stop her.

—

they moved back to jeju in the summer of 2003, when heeyeon was thirteen and her younger brother was nine.

heeyeon was set to start high school in the coming months, and jeongsun would be completing his last year of elementary in a school in jeju. nari had opened up achik bakery and again seemed happy.

for yeon, the summer was spent working in the bakery, helping her mother truly get it off its feet.

she had a love for baking, like her mother, had a charisma that was not lost behind the register, and genuinely enjoyed spending time at achik with her mother.

the early hours weren’t taxing, and she had the rest of her day to herself.

afternoons were spent upstairs at home, or wandering around jeju. in seoul she’d spent these afternoons with her friends, in jeju, she’d sit on a park bench and watch her friends’ instagram feeds with a sense of longing.

when the school year begins, heeyeon’s time in the bakery was reduced to the very early mornings.

she’d work from 4:30 to 7:30 and then she would be free to go to school.

then she would go to school and try to immerse herself into groups where friends had known each other for years. she’d become the outsider in a place that was once her home.

still she didn’t complain, couldn’t complain.

her family was happy, and all of the changes that they encountered could not and would not shake this happiness. things had been okay when they moved the first time, and they would be okay now.

while it could not be denied that son heeyeon had always been a restless girl, with wings that refused to be clipped, these were sacrifices that she could make. jeju was just far too small to accommodate the size of her dreams but they were perfect for her mothers.

she would pretend for years that this was as much as she wanted.

—

“eomma…i want to go back to seoul…”

the two had been working side by side, heeyeon’s eyes focused on the sunflower seed loaf she was kneading, her eyes picking up the sounds of her mother working on the bread side her.

heeyeon was only met with silence and the sound of dough slapping against the kitchen table.

an hour or two was spent in silence, neither heeyeon or nari making an effort to speak to the other.

when heeyeon had placed the sunflower seed loaf in the oven and had moved on to a cranberry pecan loaf, she tried speaking to her mother one more time, wanting so badly to indulge in an ounce of selfishness.

“i won’t go unless you tell me it’s okay, eomma. but i really want to. i wanna travel, and i want to write about my travels.”

her mother once again remained silent.

after placing her last loaf of bread in the oven, heeyeon slipped out of the kitchen and away from the awkward atmosphere. they would be opening soon and heeyeon needed to count the register anyways.

there was a tension between them for the rest of the morning.

it was only when they had closed the bakery and had cleaned up that nari pulled her daughter aside; the woman would not hold her daughter back any more than she already had.

with her mother’s blessing she felt better about applying to universities outside of jeju.

she felt okay with leaving her family behind.

felt as if she could focus little more on the life she thought she wanted to lead; could find herself surrounded by her dear friends again, and the city that had raised her.

while the distance between the family would grow, they would make sure that the bond between them would not. heeyeon knew that her home would be where her mother and brother were, she just needed to do this for herself.

she would visit when she could, but most interactions would occur via phone calls.

the routine was just fine.

it would be just fine for another four years, with heeyeon attending college, and another two where she travelled the world and ran a small travel vlog. she was happy, and to her knowledge, so were her mother and brother.

—

the phone call had left her reeling, sitting on her kitchen floor at five in the morning as her brothers words replayed in her head. her mother was dying, a cancer that neither one of her children knew she had now metastasized and would only continue to siphon her energy.

“noona you’ve been selfish enough,” he had cried into the receiver, “you know that she won’t ask you to, but you need to come back.”

he needed her to come back to jeju, oscillating between rationalizing (she was working as a travel writer, and could write a piece about traveling to jeju) and demanding (because she could not leave him to do this on his own; she was his older sister and owed this to him).

heeyeon had sat on that kitchen floor for another six hours before getting up, body moving as if on autopilot and in minutes she found herself in front of her computer screen, drafting a sabbatical request for her editor.

for the next few days heeyeon goes about things in a similar fashion.

her mind was covered in a haze as she went about subleasing her apartment for the duration of the lease, renting out a moving truck and begging a few friends to help her with the move.

before she knew it, she was in jeju once more; it was all too easy to fall back into routine.

mornings once again began before sunrise, as heeyeon and jeongsun worked from 4:30to 5:30 to open the bakery. heeyeon would bake the bread and jeongsun would set up the coffee machines, brew the iced tea and count the cash register.

the bakery would remain open until noon, and then the siblings would tend to their mother for the rest of the day.

when the sun was well on its way to the horizon, the siblings would make the trip downstairs to the bakery once more and spend another hour or two preparing the bread for the following morning.

such was their routine for another half year before son nari succumbed to her cancer.

and what could they do but carry on.

achik closed for two days, but heeyeon found that all those hours at home were much too suffocating. her mother’s passing and the emptiness of her home had heeyeon re-opening the bakery in order to maintain a routine.

heeyeon and jeongsun managed to coexists for another four months before it all became too much for the younger man.

there was resentment towards the noona who had left him and his mother behind; resentment for this very noona who allowed herself to be selfish enough, something he was never able to do. and he needed heeyeon to understand that it was his turn to be a little selfish.

jeongsun had asked her of course, if she would be okay were he to go, if she would not leave their mother’s dream behind (her brother had even disseminated job postings to fill the hole he was bound to leave at achik)…and heeyeon could only reassure him.

he was allowed the same selfishness she had indulged in for years; he deserved it more than she herself had.

jeju had been her home once, and it could be once more. she just didn’t realize how hard it would be to pick up the pieces.

#hs:accepted