#(I am thankful we can feed kids at camp who may be coming from food insecurity or strict households

[raycatz]

something something my mom has always been very strict that my family eat healthy. Organic, no junk food, no sugar, etc. but it got to the point of starting to go on fad diets progressively cutting more and more out to try and see what might fix whatever health issue we might have had at the time. no milk. no eggs. no soy. no wheat. no white rice. whatever it was she had read was evil that week. It didn't lead to a very good relationship with food!

anyways this is just to say I am so glad to the summer camp I work at for how good the food is. I am so thankful that camp has the resources to provide us with so many options. when we make pack out requests I can ask for nearly anything. even things that aren't in the kitchen I can request for it to be brought up from a town run. I can even request individual items on recs on the side just for me or my staffmates. An individual yogurt. A single gluten free muffin. And because our kitchen staff are awesome they'll do that for us!

We rarely had strawberries at home 1) because they had to be organic and 2) because organic berries are expensive and my mom would always guilt trip us or point it out when when we got them. But at camp when cooking out it's really common to get strawberries. It's just something you can do. They're not organic and I don't care. I'm just happy to get to eat.

Desserts, too. There will sometimes be a camper who will go, "my mom doesn't want me eating sugar. I should only eat half." Kiddo I won't tell if you don't. Your mom isn't here. I'm happy if you eat and enjoy eating.

One of the things we're taught when trained is to not try and control the kid's eating and thank goodness for it! Just make sure they're eating something. If kiddo doesn't want to eat anything but cheerios for the week- that's fine. They're eating. Offer them what else is available but like, that's it that's enough.

If we have leftovers by the end of the week we'll keep what can be used next session and send the rest home with the campers. Last summer I sent a camper home with two loaves of bread and it was so funny watching them proudly show them off. Last summer kitchen was testing out a teriyaki turkey bacon recipe and they had sooo much leftover, but my unit liked it, and we were able to send all the kids home with a baggie of it. The was a session where we had a lot of leftover apples and dessert toppings so we had a candied apple party with lunch before sending the kids home on the bus. The kids were thrilled! On Mondays, the campers choose what they want to eat at cookouts for the week and then at the cookouts they're part of the process, getting to help start the fire, cook, clean. If they're older, we encourage and guide them to lead cookouts themselves.

There is no evil food. It's one of the most rewarding things to feed these kids!

[midnightsnyx]

girl at home | mat barzal | part 5

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader summary: you’re eighteen when you find yourself pregnant after Mat leaves for hockey. nearly eight years later, Mat finds out about your daughter and you have to deal with the consequences of not telling him about her.

warnings: swearing, angst, food, fluff, not edited word count: 2.3k authors note: it's my bday tmw and i am going out of town for the weekend so i wanted to get this posted!! also, i have no idea how pr management works so i def got everything wrong so pls don't yell at me lol i feel like this chapter is just like a roller-coaster that went off the tracks and blew up and someones trying to put it back together with tape from the dollar store so im sorry but i hope yall like it anyway and don't hate me pls <3 send your thoughts or come yell at me about this story bc I LOVE hearing from you guys!! It feeds my writing soul. thank u all for the love on this story so far and lmk if you wanna be added to my taglist. also thinking about doing some smau for this fic and wondering if you guys have any ideas or suggestions?

if you asked to be added to the taglist and didn't get tagged it's cause you didn't show up when i searched for you! so shoot me a msg and we can figure it out. also if you want to be added or taken off the taglist please let me know <3

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You didn’t think the situation with Mat’s statement could get any worse. You were already being pestered by your mom, your friends and even other parents at the day camps Nora attended. Mostly everyone knew that it was true that Mat was her father at that point so the statement caused questions to rise. Ignoring everybody’s opinions about it was easy but six simple words from Nora were what broke you. 

“I thought Mat was my daddy,” she said softly while eating breakfast one morning. She had been quiet since the day before but it continued when she woke up the next morning. You thought maybe she was just moody and tired but it ended up being much more than that.

It took you a minute to answer, trying to figure out where she might have heard or been told that. It wasn’t that surprising that she might have gotten the impression that he was her dad considering how much time Mat had been spending with the two of you or she overheard a conversation. Kids are very perceptive but you couldn’t see how anyone would directly tell her about the public statement and you had been very careful about what you said around Nora and told everyone else to do the same. 

Apparently someone didn’t get the memo. 

You had two options. You could lie to Nora about what was going on or you could explain it in the best way you could to her. Lying to your daughter was the last thing you wanted to do but figuring out the easiest way to explain it so she would understand was hard. How were you supposed to explain that yes, Mat is her daddy but he was a fucking idiot and told the world that she’s not even though he said he wanted to be in her life. It would have been so simple to take the easy way out but it wouldn’t have been fair to Nora so after she finished her breakfast, you sat her down. 

“You’re feeling a little confused, huh?” you asked, watching her fiddle with a loose string on her sweater. 

She nodded, still not looking up at you and not offering her thoughts. It was a bit alarming because she was usually a chatterbox, even when she was upset about something. She would let you know exactly what was wrong. 

“Who told you Mat was your daddy?” 

She finally looked up at you, and the tears threatening to spill from her eyes made you both angry and upset. You were ready to find whoever told her and scream at them but her answer stunned you.

“I heard you talking to Jaxy,” she whispered. “I wasn’t trying to listen but I was coming out to get some water and you said that you were mad at Mat.” 

She didn’t elaborate on what else she may have heard which was unnerving because you probably said a lot of things about Mat that night when Jax came over to talk to you about it. You hoped she didn’t stay long enough for your breakdown where you had cried for thirty straight minutes. 

She sniffled, wiping a couple tears away. “I don’t understand.”

Your heart broke but you still struggled with how to explain everything to her. Telling her in the beginning was probably a better idea but you were so caught up in your own thoughts and feelings, you ignored the person who should have been your number one priority the entire time. 

“Mat is your daddy, baby,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

I’m sorry I kept you a secret.

“How come everyone is saying he’s not?” 

Mat should have been the one to answer this question because it was his doing, but you hadn’t spoken to him since the night he was at your apartment and the two of you argued. He had texted you the day after but you ignored it because you didn’t know what you would say when given the chance.

“Well, sometimes people make mistakes and Mat said something he shouldn’t have,” you explained, hoping it was enough and it seemed to be enough at first but then she hugged you tightly.

“I love you mama,” she said and before you could reply, she quietly asked, “Do you think Mat loves me?” 

“I’m sure he does,” you told her and it took everything in you not to cry. 

. . .

Liana: dinner at our place @ 6. bring nora and don’t be late!!!

You’re tempted to decline the request and just stay home but you’ve been promising Liana and Nadia that you would actually visit instead of dropping Nora off and leaving like you’ve been doing. Avoiding Mat is becoming increasingly difficult. It’s been two weeks since he released the statement and a week since your conversion with Nora. She’s been asking a lot of questions, ones that you didn’t plan on having to answer so soon. You expected her to be angry with you for not telling her but she took your confirmation that Mat’s her dad with ease. 

So it didn’t come as a surprise when her first question was whether Mat would be at the Barzal household for this dinner. You hadn’t bothered to ask Liana, mainly because you knew it would definitely impact your decision to agree to go. 

“Did you know that Zoe’s mom and dad aren’t together either?” She says during the drive to the Barzal’s. 

You do know this but you humor her. “Really?”

“Yup. Zoe said she spends weekends with her dad and stays with her mommy during the week,” she explains and then moves on to a different topic. You’re a little curious why she would talk about her friends’ living arrangements but when you finally pull into the driveway, your question is answered. 

“Do I have to stay at Mat’s on the weekend?” She asks and if you hadn’t already parked the car, you would have hit the brakes. 

“No,” you say a little too quickly and sharply because she frowns. 

“How come?”

You don’t answer her question right away, getting out of the car and walking around to the other side. She’s already unbuckling her seatbelt by the time you open the door and she’s still frowning. 

“Just no, Nora.”

“But Zoe does!”

You can’t explain custody agreements to a seven-year-old so you say the first excuse you can think of. 

“He doesn’t live here,” you say, taking her hand and begin walking towards the house. She’s dragging her feet, clearly not happy with your response. 

“Do I have to call him dad?” 

“No.”

“Why?”

“Just ‘cause,” you say, stopping at the door and turning to her. Her arms are crossed and she’s giving you the look that says she won’t let up until you give her an answer she wants.

“Do you want to call him dad?” 

She pauses, looking down at the ground and frowning. After a moment she shakes her head. 

“No, but Miss. Jones says you’re not supposed to call your mommy and daddy by their first names ‘cause it’s disrespectful.” 

“It’s not up to Miss. Jones,” you say gently. “This is new, and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

After a moment, she mutters a quiet “okay,” and then: “do you think Nadia has ice-cream for dessert?”

“Guess we’ll have to go inside and ask,” you reply and raise your fist to knock on the door but it swings open before you can. Liana is waiting on the other side with a big smile on her face. Nora runs straight to her and giggles when the older girl picks her up and swings her around. 

“C’mon in,” Liana says, ushering you inside. So far there’s no sign of Mat so some of the tension leaves your body. After putting both yours and Nora’s shoes aside, you make your way to the kitchen. Nadia is puttering around, juggling a million things but she still smiles softly when she sees you. 

“Can I help with anything?” 

“You can keep me company,” she says and points to a chair. “Sit down and update me on what you’ve been up to.”

You know that you can’t argue with her so you sit and chat idly with her. She doesn’t bring up anything to do with Mat and you’re not sure what to think about it. You almost slip up and ask if he’s going to be here for dinner but decide not to. You haven’t seen him around since you arrived, so he’s probably out. Maybe with a girl. 

Not that you care, obviously. 

Mike eventually pokes his head in the kitchen to greet you and ask how you’ve been. He offers to set the table but Nadia shoos him out of the kitchen, rolling her eyes fondly. 

“Don’t get married, they’re nothing but trouble,” she jokes but there’s a smile on her face that lingers even after her husband leaves. You always admired their relationship, and were certain that you and Mat would be like it some day but it wasn’t in the cards. 

Soon, Nadia calls everyone to dinner. Nora immediately asks why Mat isn’t here and there’s an awkward silence until Liana breaks it.

“He’s busy,” she tells Nora and that must be enough because she just nods and starts eating dinner. Nothing else is said about Mat but just as you’re all finishing dessert, you hear the door open and close and there’s only one person you figure it will be.  

Mat walks into the dining room, clearly caught off guard by your presence. Nora hops off her chair and darts over to him, wrapping her arms around his legs and starts chatting excitedly. He’s trying to give her all his attention but his eyes keep flickering to you. 

When Nadia and Mike get up to start clearing the table and Liana asks Nora if she wants to go watch a movie, you realize that the three of them planned this. It’s almost like you’re kids again, fighting about something stupid and needing his parents to help fix the problem. 

Mat looks at you a little helplessly when the room clears and it’s just the two of you. There’s no way you can yell at him with his family and Nora in the next room and you realize that was also probably planned. 

“Can we talk?” he asks and you really don’t want to, but you realize that eventually you’re going to have to talk to him so you nod. You follow him out the back door and the two of you sit on the porch steps in silence until you finally break it.

“Why didn’t you come to me about what PR wanted to do? We could have figured out something together.”

He shrugs, looking at the ground. “I didn’t think to ask you about it. I just wanted to fix everything before it got complicated. I wasn’t thinking.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” you mutter. “That’s something you’re great at. You don’t think before you do anything.” 

You jump when he stands up suddenly and turns to face you. He’s angry but so are you.

“No, fuck that. You can’t just expect me to do everything right, when a month ago, all I had to worry about was hockey. I can’t be number one dad overnight! You didn’t even tell me about her for six years!” 

You’re a bit taken off guard by his sudden outburst but you can do anger too.

“That is the exact reason I didn’t tell you about her, Mat. Hockey is always going to come first in your life,” you snap. “And I didn’t ask you to be a number one dad, all I asked was that you be sure you wanted to be in her life before you committed to anything because this is exactly what I was worried about.” 

He falters a little, probably not expecting you to return the anger. 

“I didn’t want to post what they asked me to,” he says, sounding defeated. “But I didn’t know how to say no. When PR tells you to jump, you jump.”

You’ve no idea how public relations in hockey works, it’s possible that they would have posted the statement without asking Mat but you’re so damn angry. You’re angry but you don’t know who you’re even supposed to be mad at now. 

“You should have come to me,” you say again. “That’s how co-parenting works, you know.”

His mouth twitches. “That’s what we were doing?”

You can feel the anger slowly dissipating. Mat’s shoulders aren’t as tense and he plops back down on the steps so you sit next to him, letting your shoulders and knees knock against his.

“Well, you are her dad,” you admit. “And she is very concerned about her future living arrangements.”

He looks at you a little confused but there’s a small smile spreading across his face. 

“Does she know?”

“Yeah,” you tell him. “She’s smarter than you expect sometimes.”

“She gets that from you,” he says, poking your arm.

You roll your eyes fondly. “Well she had to get her brains from someone.”

He huffs but it sounds more like a laugh. You watch him look at the ground, brows furrowed and deep in thought.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?”

Here’s the thing that a lot of people don’t know about Mat: he doesn’t forgive himself easily. It’s something you learned the hard way when you were younger and dating. 

So you know he will beat himself up over this until you forgive him. 

“Yeah, but we both did.” You bump your knee against his until he looks up at you. “We can fix it, but we have to do it together.”

He holds out his pinky finger. ”Co-parenting, right?”  

You hook your finger around his and nod, letting yourself relax for the first time in weeks. It’s going to take time, hard work, and you’re both going to have to learn how to trust and communicate better again but you're sure you’ll get there.

“Together,” you agree.

tag list: @literatureluster @dasiysthings @barzyblogbabe @diary-of-jj @heatherawoowoo @fallinallincurls @topguncultleader @shadowsndaisies @lovinbarzal @whatthepuckisgoingon @alilstressyandlotdepressy @teapartydreams @keiva1000

[saturnznct]

attack on titan!au, mark lee x reader

word count: 3.4k words

warnings: head injury, physical fighting (for training purposes), descriptions of death, mention of knives and cult

note: will be working through this series slowly! hope u all like this xx

nct dream aot au masterlist

The first time you laid eyes on Mark Lee was in that iconic dusty courtyard. Bearing in mind he was being ripped into by Commander Shadis.

‘And what about you, Lee?’

A twelve year old Mark Lee’s eyes shone with tears of fear. He was clearly somewhat sheltered from the horrors of this world; hailing from the town of Jinae, southern Wall Maria alongside fellow cadet Marco Bott. The two of them were the image of innocence, although they barely knew each other, both round-faced and freckly.

Mark had cowered beneath Shadis’ gaze, likely having never been spoken to in such a way, especially not by his loving family. You felt drawn to him. What was he doing here?

That night he barely said much, nibbling on stale bread. You could tell he did not want to eat, but food was scarce, so he kind of had to. He listened intently to the words of Eren Yaeger who spoke about his experiences with the Colossal Titan on that infamous day two years ago.

Days faded into weeks. You passed your own balance test with flying colours, as did Mark, who’s face would become screwed up whenever his feet left the ground.

While you formed a casual alliance with Sasha, promising to go easy on each other during combat training, Mark swapped anecdotes with Marco and sharpened his wooden knife with Reiner.

One day Commander Shadis had demanded you pair up with Mikasa (likely because he was sick of you and Sasha throwing fake punches) and you were so distracted by Mark that she easily flipped you over, an ‘oof’ escaping your mouth as you hit the ground. When your back makes contact with the sand, your head snaps back, hitting the ground hard.

‘Wait, I didn’t mean that,’ Mikasa mumbles, seemingly unsure as to what to do.

Everything goes pitch black for a split second. When your eyes do open, your head is spinning, black spots dotting the sky above you like stars. You hear Commander Shadis yelling for the first-aid specialist cadets.

Admittedly in that moment you had absolutely no clue who was part of that squad. At this point in your training years, you were especially focused on yourself, working on your own skills and specialities. But when Mark Lee comes barrelling across the training yard your heart nearly leaps out of your chest.

‘Are you alright?’ He asks you as soon as he kneels down beside you, ‘can you see?’

Mark sounds far more concerned and more urgent than you feel, which you find somewhat charming, but your head is still spinning.

‘Mark, remember the procedures,’ Thomas Wagner seems to be somewhat supervising him.

‘Oh, uh,’ Mark holds up three fingers and waves them around as if to confuse you a little, ‘how many fingers am I holding up?’

He’s peering over you, almost like a pet trying to get your attention. You feel your chest swell at how cute he looks.

You blink, trying to decide whether or not you should play up your injury for his attention or get up so you can continue training.

‘Three,’ you mutter, deciding that returning to combat training was worth more than gaining the sympathy of a cute boy.

Mark and Thomas exchange a look.

‘Do you think you can sit up?’ Mark asks, eyebrows furrowed together in concern.

‘I don’t know,’ you mumbled, ‘I’ll try…’

You prepare yourself to have to lift yourself off the dirty ground, but you jump about a mile in the air when he holds the back of your head in his hand, slowly supporting your head as you sat up.

‘I’m sorry, Y/N,’ Mikasa apologises quietly.

‘It’s okay,’ you croak, ‘it’s my fault.’

‘Come on Y/N, we’ll have to take you back to your dorm room to lay down,’ Thomas has a sharp tone of authority, so you don’t even try to argue.

‘Dude, she can’t even stand,’ Mark points out.

‘How about you carry her then,’ Thomas huffs, turning on his heel to deal with some other cadet’s grazed arm.

‘I-I-Is that okay?’ Mark stutters, hand still on the small of your back as he held you up.

You nod groggily, ‘it’s okay.’

And so he scoops you up in his arms, and you automatically cling onto his neck. Mark is incredibly gentle, hand under your leg splayed out as to not touch your thigh.

You’re sleepy at this point, so the walk back to your dorm house is slow.

Mark tilts you to the side to twist the doorknob, the door loudly creaking open.

‘Which bunk is yours?’

‘Right beside the window,’ you mumble, ‘bottom bunk.’

He walks you over slowly, almost as though you were a baby in his arms, before gently lowering you down into your bed.

‘Are you comfortable?’

You nod, shifting around under the duvet to try and get comfortable.

‘Good. I’ll send one of the girls in occasionally to check on you,’ he says, ‘I hope you feel better soon.’

And then he shuffles out, clicking the door shut as quietly as possible.

‘How’s your head?’

‘Huh?’

The cafeteria is relatively empty, it being late than the normal scheduled eating time. You had finished up with your cleaning duties a bit later than usual, hence why you were eating bread at nearly 10pm.

You had been interrupted by a certain Jinae resident.

‘Your head… have you been feeling better? I’ve been worried.’

‘You have?’ Your heart nearly skips a beat at the thought of him worrying about you, hoping that you’re alright, ‘I’m just fine Mark, all thanks to you.’

You don’t miss the way a pink blush creeps up his neck, and he avoids your gaze.

‘It’s what I’m trained to do,’ he brushes it off, ‘what kind of medic would I be if I couldn’t help?’

‘You’re incredibly selfless.’

‘Not really,’ Mark shrugs, ‘it’s the right thing to do.’

’Still selfless.’

He looks up at you then, trying to read your emotions.

‘I just mean that, in this world, people are selfish. People always care more about saving themselves than saving others. So you’re different, in that way.’

‘You think people care more about themselves than others?’

‘I-I saw a lot of things during the fall of Maria.. When my town was under attack, the titans had destroyed some of the houses, and there were people inside, who couldn’t get out. And they were shouting- screaming for someone to help them move the wood or the rubble but nobody listened. I told my dad to help them, obviously I couldn’t myself because I was only nine, but he didn’t. He told me that we had to leave ourselves, that we were responsible for ourselves. Now I know that those people died. They died because my father refused to help, because I was too weak. That’s most of the reason why I’m here, to help people if that were to happen again.’

‘I think your dad just cared about his family.’

‘In the refugee camps, I saw people steal food from other families, have knife fights over money and blankets. We were all in the same position, displaced and traumatised. I don’t know why people were so unwilling to help each other.’

‘Where are your family now?’ Mark asks innocently enough, but you feel your heart sink a bit.

‘My dad was sent out on the recapture mission, you know, when they tried to retake Wall Maria. He died.’

‘Oh I’m-‘ Mark looks at you with wide eyes, as if he had no idea how to react.

‘I don’t really feel any way about it,’ you admit, interrupting him, ‘he was comfortable letting those people trapped in the houses die terrified. I’m sure he had enough time to prepare himself for death before he left, and as he rode his horse out of Trost. I knew he was going to die when he said goodbye to me, and I was quite numb to it then too. My mother left me and my siblings alone in that camp and went to work in the interior to actually make money. I imagine she’s a prostitute or something. I don’t know. I don’t hear from her.’

‘Does she know you’re here?’

‘Maybe. My siblings may have told her. Anyway. Enough about me, what about you?’

‘My older brother is in the Military Police,’ Mark explains, ’the grand jewel of our family… I think my parents want me to follow in his footsteps. But I have no idea what I want to do yet.’

‘Do you think you’ll get in the top ten?’

‘Probably not. I’m not as fit or strong as Reiner, or even Annie. And I don’t have Armin’s brains or intellect. I’m kind of just in the middle.’

‘You have Eren’s will,’ you point out, ‘you care about helping people.’

‘You’re really comparing me to Eren?’ Mark chuckles.

‘I’m not saying you’re arrogant, just that you have the passion.’

‘I know. I just don’t think I have the passion for being a member of the Military Police. I don’t think they really help people as much as I want to.’

‘They’re very culty,’ you grimace, ‘so weird.’

Mark chuckles, ‘you’re not wrong. Every time I see my brother he’s walking around the interior with a huge gun, probably bullying some random kids.’

‘Do you know what regiment you want to go into?’ You ask.

‘I’m still weighing my options,’ he shrugs, ‘the Garrison always seemed like the easy route, just patrolling the streets and sitting around all day. But now they’re basically partners with the Survey Corps. If the walls get broken, they have to fight alongside each other. Either way, I’m fighting titans. It’s mainly just a decision of how often I want to.’

’Wall Rose hasn’t fallen,’ you point out, ‘it’s been nearly three years.’

‘As time goes on, it gets more likely,’ he remarks darkly, eyes fixed on the table, ‘by the sounds of it, this colossal titan seems intelligent. Who knows when it will decide to strike next. Our lecturer said that titan behaviour is incredibly unpredictable.’

‘Don’t you think we’ll be prepared enough to fight by then?’

‘It’s the Royal Government that comes up with the evacuation and fighting strategies. They care more about the preservation of the interior than those in the outer walls. They probably half-arsed the whole plan. As for our training, remember what Commander Shadis said on our first day. Most of us will just be titan feed in the end.’

‘You’re strong though, Mark,’ you state gently, as if he were sobbing and you were trying to console him.

‘You think so?’

‘I know you are. I watch you fight for future every single day.’

Mark stays silent, mulling over your words.

‘You really inspire me to try harder myself. And you’ll be an incredible soldier.’

When Mark continues to be silent, your eyes dart around the room. You catch the gaze of Sasha, who is stuffing her face with the tiny amount of leftovers.

She wiggles her eyebrows at you teasingly, before getting up and walking out of the cafeteria.

‘Nice one Y/N!’ Mark yells as you land a kick on Sasha’s shin, prompting her to fall to the floor clutching her leg.

‘Ow, Y/N!’ She shrieks, ‘I thought you said you would go easy on me!’

‘No titan will go easy on you, Braus,’ you hear Annie comment flatly.

Sasha huffs while Mark comes up behind you, gently turning you around by your elbow and giving you a high ten.

‘You’ve gotten so much better recently,’ Mark compliments, ‘I’m so proud of you!’

’Thanks Mark,’ you grin, trying to ignore the way your heart skips a beat by his words.

‘Yeah, nice going,’ Sasha grumbles, wiping down her now dusty thighs and shins, before turning on her heel and walking off to find Connie.

‘I still feel as though my fighting skills are a bit lacking to be honest,’ he confesses, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

‘Really? Who have you been practicing with?’

‘…Armin.’

‘Ah.’

‘Not to say that he’s weak or anything- he’s definitely not. There’s just a certain level you can get to where you just can’t improve anymore.’

No, I know what you mean,’ you try to empathise.

‘Maybe we can practice together? I-I mean, your usual partner is kind of… limping away, and I just think that you’re really great at this kind of stuff-‘

‘Mark,’ you giggle, reaching out and touching his shoulder, ‘it’s okay. We can fight. But just know, I’ll win.’

You take a few steps back as he laughs nervously. You drop your smile for a much more intimidating glare, raising your arms up.

‘Ready, Lee?’

Mark nods, awkwardly holding his own arms up to mirror your own.

You both stare at each other for a few seconds before either one of you strikes. You lunge forwards at him, swinging your right arm around his neck, to trap him in a headlock. He splutters in your ear, flailing his own limbs around in an attempt to wriggle out of your grip, but fails to do so when you throw out your leg and clip the side of his ankle with your foot, sending both of you to the ground.

He lands first, back impacting against the ground with a thud and a grunt from Mark.

You had imagined that he would let you go as he tumbled to the ground, but he doesn’t, clinging onto your arms and bringing you down with him.

A split second later, you’re also making contact with something, but not the ground. Your abdomens clash together, causing you to make an automatic ‘oof’ sound.

It takes you a while to adjust to the situation. You’re face to face, legs tangled together. There’s orange dust in Mark’s hair, sweat glistening on his forehead, eyes squinting while trying to get used to the sun, cheeks and nose red with the heat, lips-

There’s a few moments of silence, the two of you studying each others faces.

‘Ar-are you ok?’ You stammer, and for a few seconds he does not respond, still just staring at you.

‘Oh! I’ll get off,’ you shake your head, unraveling your twisted legs and clambering off of him, much to Mark’s silent disappointment.

‘Uh, you did good!’ You murmur, ‘just, um, try not to be caught off guard, next time.’

When you turn to walk away, you don’t fail to notice the way Krista and Mina are sitting on the steps of the watchtower, whispering frantically to each other.

You don’t see Mark for a few days after that. Training becomes infinitely more rigorous, since you were split into four groups and sent to different parts of the forest for field training.

You had spent several days trekking through the rain and snow with your backpack on, and afterwards spending a few days recuperating.

Mark was in a different group than you, hence why you did not see him. It feels weird that he’s not there, like there’s a part of you missing, but overall you somewhat enjoy your few days away.

It also gives you the perfect opportunity to completely forget about your weird moment during your fight, and focus on building relationships with other cadets.

‘You don’t think Marco is cute?’ Mina exclaims with wide eyes.

‘No, I mean he’s ok-‘

‘Just okay?’ Hannah Diamant replies, absolutely stunned at your indifference.

‘She only says so because she has her eyes on Lee,’ Sasha teases, sticking her tongue out when you turn to glare at her.

‘Do not!’ You argue.

‘Do too!’ Sasha is in fits of giggles, ‘and he clearly likes you too.’

‘I doubt it,’ you mumble, suddenly feeling quite embarrassed.

’Nah, he definitely likes you,’ Mina chimes in.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain blonde had been paying a bit of extra attention to your conversation.

Hence why you were here now, violently stabbing at your dinner with a fork, glaring holes into Krista Lenz’s back while she whispered to Mark Lee.

‘I thought she was going out with that Ymir girl?’ You don’t have a clue who’s speaking to you. Your brain is swimming with anger, so fuzzy you can hardly think straight.

When Krista goes to whisper in Mark’s ear again, she places a hand on his shoulder, after which you’re plotting ways in which you could cut her fingers off.

’I wouldn’t worry,’ Sasha shrugs, ‘we know, and I mean we all know he’s in love with you.’

‘Even if you’re right, which you are not, I’m not her.’

‘Don’t be so worried you idiot,’ Mina half snaps half chuckles, ‘you’re gorgeous. And a total catch, obviously. Mark Lee would be dumb to not want you.’

Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap.

‘What the actual fuck,’ you mutter, sitting straight up in your bottom bunk bed, coming centimetres from smacking your head.

You whip your head in the direction of the source of the noise.

And there he stands, Mark Lee, in the purple night at your window.

‘What the hell?’ You mouth.

He beckons, asking you to come outside.

You give him an incredulous look, trying to be as quiet as physically possible while getting out of bed and putting on your jacket and boots.

‘What sort of time do you call this?’ You exclaim, exasperated.

‘The best time to go to the lake.’

You can’t help but notice the smirk on his face as he turns on his heel, walking down the gravel path.

You quickly look around for possible bystanders, before following him.

His lantern lights the way as you walk down the hill in a comfortable silence, arms swinging at every bump and skip in your step.

The lake is glittering at this time of night, especially because of how high and bright the moon is in the sky.

‘I like to sit and have picnics in the moon rather than the sun. The food doesn’t melt and I don’t get sunburned.’

‘We’re having a picnic?’ You practically squeak, eyes widening to basically the same size as the moon above.

‘Well, uh, no, we are in a food shortage,’ Mark stammers, ‘but I did swipe some bread from Armin. Well I mean, he gave it to me, said he would take one for the team or whatever…’

’Thank you Mark,’ you interrupt him, grinning uncontrollably, ‘this is really sweet.’

‘But if it’s any constellation, I would’ve loved to have made you a picnic. When they take back the wall I promise I’ll make up a nice spread of food.’

‘Where’s all this come from, Mark?’ You wonder aloud.

‘I’ve just had a realisation recently,’ he admits, gulping.

‘What is it?’

‘I really like you, Y/N,’ he confesses, taking both of your hands in his and rubbing them with his thumbs, ‘and I know that you probably don’t feel the same, and that we definitely have much bigger things to focus on, but-‘

You cut him off by practically launching yourself at him, kissing him.

For a moment he is stiff as a board underneath you with his surprise, before relaxing and reciprocating your kiss.

For a while you sit there, under the watchful eye of the moon, eventually peeling away from each other when you become breathless.

‘I like you too, Mark. Being with you takes me away from this horrible reality. And I don’t know what the future will be like, but I know that I want you in it.’

‘I feel exactly the same way,’ he whispers, still holding your hands.

‘We have to pick our regiments really soon. I think that I might join the survey corps,’ you say, staring out into the lake.

‘I’ll go wherever you go,’ Mark murmurs, rubbing your cheek with his hand, which you lean into.

You sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, your head resting on his shoulder, Mark occasionally turning his head to kiss your hair.

‘What made you decide to tell me this now?’ You ask.

‘Well, let’s just say I got some encouragement from Krista and Sasha.’

’I should’ve known,’ you chuckle, ‘I’ll get them back later.’

Mark laughs, perking up slightly as though he had remembered something.

‘Ready to crack open the bread, baby?’

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@hiqhkey​ @eyyyyyyyow

[thiswasinevitableid]

for monster march, ghost + indruck + nsfw?

Here you go! I borrowed some ideas we’ve tossed around on the Discord

A sketchbook, new pens, a Hershey bar, and a bag of jumbo marshmallows. A small but lively fire. And a new, huge, fuzzy sleeping bag waiting for him in the tent. 

Not a bad camping set up for a city-boy art goth (as Barclay likes to call him).

Indrid sticks another marshmallow on the fork, roasting it until it’s deep brown, the smell of burning sugar curling through the air and settling in his hair. He’s never liked Graham Crackers, so he jams a square of chocolate into the molten center of the marshmallow and shoves the entire thing into his mouth. 

Kepler is small. Barclay hadn’t been kidding about that. He’d also been right that one of the two tattoo shops in town was willing to hire Indrid after looking through photos of his work and confirming he completed his apprenticeship. 

He’s been living in the Eastwoods campground in the Monongahela National Forest while he apartment hunts, and the tattoos he’s done so far netted him enough cash to buy his luxurious new sleeping bag. He might be waiting on a place for some time, so he may as well camp in style. 

Three “s’mores” later, the moon is up and the night is chilly enough that he wants his sweatshirt. Ducking into the tent, he can’t find it on his pillow, where he swears he left it this morning. Maybe he accidentally buried it getting dressed.

A splashhiss interrupts his rummaging. Scrambling from the tent, he discovers his fire is now a pile of soaked ashes and logs being angrily stirred by a thick piece of kindling. 

“Excuse me, but what the fuck?”

A man in a ranger uniform appears, the stick falling through his hand as he gives Indrid a disapproving stare. 

“Look here, I know you’re new here, maybe to campin entirely. But you can’t just leave a fire burnin when you go to bed.” He doesn’t sound mad, more like he’s a disappointed big brother scolding his sibling. 

“I wasn’t-”

“And all this” he gestures to the food on the table, “has gotta go in the bear box. Black bears are real good foragers and we don’t want ‘em comin’ into camp and gettin to comfy around humans.”

“Of course, but-”

“You didn’t take any food into the tent, right? Wouldn’t want somethin to decide to join you ‘cause it smelled a snack.”

Indrid pinches the bridge of his nose, “I am aware of all of these rules, and plan to follow them. Once I actually go to bed instead of ducking into the tent for my sweater. But since my evening appears to be over…” he grabs the marshmallows, roasting fork, and chocolate, carries them to the bear box, and slams it closed. 

When he whirls back around, the ghost is still there, chagrined. 

“Uh, sorry. I kinda jumpy about people leavin fires alone.” In the lantern light, his smile is as charming as his drawl. His stocky, bearish shape and unassumingly handsome face command Indrid’s focus, which is why his revelation comes so quickly. 

“You...there’s a statue of you at the visitor center. Which makes you, ah, damn it what was the name-”

“Duck. Duck Newton. They put my legal name on there, even though Juno tried to stop ‘em. But my name’s Duck.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Duck. I’m Indrid.”

“Nice to meet you too. Uh, sorry for ruinin your campfire, looks like you were havin a nice time.”

“It’s alright. I suppose I’m grateful there’s someone haunting the campsites to keep them in order.”

“You’re takin me bein’ a ghost surprisingly well.”

“I’ve always been interested in strange things, to the point that I earned the nickname ‘mothman’ in high school.”

“Huh” Duck watches him a moment, then shrugs, “well, guess I better be goin’. Have a nice night, mothman.”

With that, he’s gone.

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

“Hello again.” Indrid says as the campfire smoke curls around a human form, “Doing your rounds?”

“More or less. I like my job, and ain’t about to give it up just because I beefed it and turned into a ghost.” A creak as Duck joins him on the picnic bench. When he materializes, he floats slightly above the worn wood, watching Indrid draw. 

“That’s incredible, it’s so realistic it’s like you pressed the leaves into the pages instead of colored them.”

“Thank you.” adds depth to the leaf, “you know, I looked at the statue again today. It hardly does you justice.”

From this close, he can see a blush spread up semi-opaque cheeks. Then he starts fading.

“Oh, ah, I’m sorry. I was aiming for a benign compliment, not to make you uncomfortable.”

“S’alright, just surprised me. Not many folks wanna flirt with a dead guy.”

“I’m more interested in what the ‘dead guy’ wants.” Indrid smiles, hoping to convey he would submit to spectral touches as readily as he’d keep talking. 

Duck floats closer, “Kinda curious about your other drawin’s.”

Indrid turns the sketchbook back to the beginning, “they’re half portfolio and half travelogue. Here” he holds up a fade, detached piece of paper,  covered by an Morpho Butterfly that looks ready to fly away, “this is the first tattoo I ever designed.”

“Damn. Guessin’ that means you did this one” he touches the Rosy Maple Moth on Indrid’s forearm (or tries to). It’s chilly, but not in the way Indrid feared. More like taking a cool shower on a sweltering day.

“I did. Here, it gave me an idea for my first series of flash tattoos…”

They go over the illustrations page by page. Slowly, Indrid weaves in questions to Duck who, instead of recoiling from discussion of his mortal life, tells him rambling stories about the woods and which places serve the best food in town. 

The conversation doesn’t end until the fire goes out on it’s own, Duck standing automatically, grabbing a water bottle, swearing, and then disappearing so he can pick the bottle up. 

“Do you think that’s part of why you’re still here? Some unfinished business having to do with the woods?”

“Nah.” The water bottle thunks back on the table as Duck reappears, “I tried to live a normal life, improve the world the way I knew how, make some kind of difference to this town. Then I had to go play the goddamn hero.”

“I would say saving two dozen people from a forest fire makes a considerable difference in the world.”

A sad huff of a laugh, “Yeah, guess you’re right. Just...I meant to do somethin’ with my life, not my death, even if it was a small somethin’, and the closest thing I got to unfinished business is a model ship.”

“I...what?”

“It was four-masted and everything! I had Leo order it in special and everything and then I never, I never got to-”  He tilts his head up, sniffs once, “never mind. I better let you get to sleep.”

By the time Indrid calls “goodnight,” the ghost is gone. 

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

“Please tell me you’re gettin a place soon so you stop eatin everythin outta a can?” Leo bags the last of groceries.

“No such luck. Ah well, there are worse things than canned soup and Pop-Tarts.”

“At least let Barclay feed you, half the point of havin a friend who can cook is to let ‘em do it for you. You need stamps or anything?”

“N-” A box behind the counter catches his eye. It’s at an odd angle, as if whoever put it there is hoping no one will see it. Indrid can just make out an illustration of a four-masted ship.

“Is that for sale?”

Leo looks where he’s pointing, and for a moment something in his gruff affability wavers. Then he nods, “Yeah, suppose it is.”

“Can you ring it up for me?” Indrid nearly bounces on his toes when Leo sets the box on the counter and confirms his hunch. 

The older man sets a gentle hand on the cardboard, sliding it across to Indrid, “Don’t worry about that, kid. It’s yours.”

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

“Duck?” Indrid turns in a circle by the picnic table, “Duck, I have something for you!”

He saw the ranger briefly last night, but he didn’t hang around. Gingerly, he sets the box on the table, tearing off a piece of sketch paper to write a note in case the ghost stops by while he’s asleep. 

“Holy fuck.” Duck floats across the table from him, “‘Drid, where did, how did--why?”

“Leo still had it. As for why I, ah, it seemed like you still wanted it. If you can douse a fire and over my camp stove, I figure you can build a model ship.”

Duck disappears and Indrid’s heart sinks; that must have been too much. Then he’s squished in an invisible, wonderful bear hug.

“Thanks, ‘Drid.”

From then on, Duck spends every night at his campsite, building the ship while Indrid draws, reads, or talks with him. The model lives in the safest corner of the tent during the day.

“I mean, I’m up durin the day too, but I scared a few folks on accident and I don’t want people avoid the forest because of me.”

Indrid also learns that Duck is stuck within a certain radius of where he died, and that his attempts to talk with Juno when she was in his part of the woods only lead to his friend thinking she was hallucinating and Duck feeling miserable for three solid days. Indrid offers to act as messenger and invite Duck’s friends (many of whom have, by chance and by proximity to Barclay, become his friends) to the campsite to see him. The ranger is quiet for some time after that offer.

“Not yet. Maybe someday, but not yet. I, it ain’t even been a year, ‘Drid. I think a lot of ‘em are still hurtin. And, and maybe this is selfish but...I ain’t ready to deal with them findin’ out I aint fully gone. It’d be so much all at once.”

Indrid doesn’t bring it up again. More than once, when Aubrey tells a story about Duck only for her eyes to sadden halfway through, or when he sees Juno looking at Duck’s statue a little too long, he struggles to keep his promise. 

A cold front blows into town and, since he’s still in the tent, he pops into Kepler Thrift N Find in search of an extra sweatshirt. Tucked in between one reading “Ranchos” and one with a picture of Garfield is a soft, well-loved hoodie with “Monongahela National Forest” on the front. He buys it and wears it home, the fact it’s loose in the arms making it even easier to tuck in his hands when he gets cold. 

He stops by the visitor center out of habit, checking out the new plush wild animals. There are also hints of Duck here and there; his name on displays, his face in group photos. As he contemplates a small, squishy black bear, he notices Juno looking at him more than usual.

“Hello again” he sets the bear on the counter.

“Howdy. This all?

“Yes, please. Are you alright? You look, ah, tired.”

“Yep. Or, uh, just noticed that sweatshirt. It was one that got made special for staff a few years ago.”

Indrid fidgets with the cat-bitten drawstring, “It was Duck’s, wasn’t it?”

“Uh huh. He put that patch on the sleeve. Guess it startled me to see it on someone else.”

“I understand.” 

“Knew him since we were kids. Hell, he’s my daughter’s godfather. Still don’t feel right, bein’ here without him.”

Indrid pushes the bear towards her and she pets it.

“What was he like?”

In the empty visitor center, Juno tells him. In her stories are echos of every conversation he’s ever had with anyone who knew Duck. When it’s time to close up, she asks if she can hug him, and thanks him for listening to her. 

“Guess you weren’t kiddin about wanting to sleep with a bear” Duck teases as Indrid sets his new purchase inside the tent. Indrid whaps at him, arm going through his torso. The ranger floats nearby as Indrid heats up ravioli and opens a can of Mountain Dew. Indrid tells him about the conversation with Juno. 

“Huh, guess that is my old one. Glad someone is gettin some use outta it. And it looks good on you.”

Indrid sets down his bowl, “We talked a lot, Duck. And it made me think about what you said to me one of the night after we met. You said you wanted a chance to make the world, the town, a little better. Everyone I’ve talked to, and I mean every one, has a story about you. How you helped them, how Kepler is worse off with you gone. You did so much, even with your time cut short. I, I wanted you to know that.”

The ghost looks away, “I wasn’t done tryin to help.”

“You still aren’t. You do what you can to keep the forest and the visitors safe. And you, you’ve made my life immeasurably better Duck. Seeing you is the best part of my day and I think I’m falling--ah, that is, you’re not done making a difference.”

Duck hasn’t moved since Indrid started talking about his feelings. When Indrid tries to meet his eyes, he disappears. Hurried, he reaches out to offer a reassuring touch and gets only air. 

“Duck?”

Nothing, even after he calls his name three more times.

He slumps onto the bench, “well, fuck me I guess.”

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

This is a terrible idea. But it’s his last, and therefore his best. 

Indrid even asked Barclay’s boyfriend, Joseph, if anything in his impressive library of the paranormal advised the reader on dealing with upset ghosts. A few did, always from the perspective of trying to get the specter to go away. They said nothing about what to do if your upset ghost was missing, leaving an ache in your heart you didn’t know you were capable of feeling. 

Instead, after a week of silence, Indrid changes tactics: if he can’t coax Duck back, maybe he can annoy him into appearing. 

Tonight, he finishes dinner and cleans his dishes, puts the bulk of the food in the bear box, and then tears open a bag of chips, scattering them across the table. He eats one, then leaves the open bag laying amongst the potato shards. 

Next, he dumps his remaining water on the fire, which takes it down to embers but does not extinguish it. When none of that gets a reaction, he decides to narrate.

“Hmm, that should be fine, it’s not that dry and I don’t think sparks can go over the edge.”

“Should I leave these juice pouches out? Yes, I think I should, in case I get thirsty at night. Maybe I’ll take one into the tent, just to be safe.”

He already feels silly and like no one is listening, and so he escalates. 

“I know I shouldn’t leave food out for the wildlife, but since there’s no handsome, ghostly ranger here to punish me for my transgressions, I am just going to leave some nuts out for the raccoons. I like raccoons. They deserve nice things. Hell, how about I just leave them a whole buffet since no one is stopping me!”

All he gets in reply are the few bugs awake this early in the spring and the crack of brush as a small mammal runs away from the weird bipedal thing yelling at his camp fire. He doesn’t leave out food for the raccoons; he climbs into his tent in a huff. What a bad idea, to think this of all things would bring Duck back to him. He’s being childish and bratty and selfish; Duck doesn’t deserve that, no more than he owes Indrid his company. 

He changes into his pajamas pants and sleep shirt, intending to go back out to make the site safe and tidy. Except.

Except something just opened the bear box. The chip bag crinkles and the fire hisses out a minute later. He should be running outside to apologize, but his mind has simultaneously  registered the full darkness of the night , the possibility that Duck is not the only paranormal thing in these woods, and the fact the nearest other campers are on the other side of the campground, meaning he is very, very alone.

The zipper on the tent moves, the flap falling open so his lantern shines on nothing but April air.

“Duck? Please say that’s you.”

A low chuckle, “It’s me, ‘Drid.” The fly zips shut, “mighty peeved about that trick you pulled.”

“I’m, I’m sorry. I missed you, but that was a bad way to communicate that.” He can’t see him, and the lantern only picks up the odd shift of sleeping bag or tent floor, so Indrid’s eyes’ dart about trying to pinpoint him.

“Oh, you communicated plenty, sugar. Like what you want a certain, uh, ghostly ranger to do to you.”

“Oh god” he winces, “please, forget I said that, it’s humiliating.”

“Not all that surprisin, truth be told. I mean, you and I flirted now and then. And you told me enough about yourself for me to suspect that you’re a kinky little weirdo who’s dyin to get fucked by a ghost.” 

“I, I feel I should point out that I only want to fuck one ghost. You. I want to fuck you and that means fucking a ghoOOOst.” He gasps as cold lips press into his neck.

“I can make that happen, darlin, all you gotta do is say it. You were a pain in the neck earlier, so now I expect you to be real polite and use your words.” Duck’s voice has never been like this before, rough and possessive yet still, under all of it, the same warmth draws Indrid in like a flame. 

“I want you, Duck.”

A bite to his ear, strong arms wrapping around his waist from behind him, “Want me to do what?”

“Fuck me” this is like every wet dream he had as a teenager, the supernatural being coming for a fellow outsider. 

That gets him a tender kiss on the cheek, “That’s better. Though, if I’m rememberin correctly, word you used was punish.”

Indrid yelps as Duck turns and shoves him to lay across his lap, kicks his legs out in surprise when his waistband slides down to his upper thighs. 

“Yesss” he wiggles his ass as Duck palms it, “yes, Duck, pleaseAHgod” the first strike stings, and Duck doesn’t let him recover before delivering five more, three to each side. His cock perks up at the pain. Stranger still, because Duck is invisible, all Indrid has to do is tilt his head to watch it harden and twitch with each slap.

Twenty strikes later Duck pauses, hand rubbing soothing, cool circles on the burning skin, “Learned your lesson?”

“Mmhmm.” Indrid presses an awkward kiss to Duck’s knee. 

“Glad to hear it.” Duck hauls him up onto his knees, slides a hand under his shirt and up his chest, “I’m rarin’ to feel more of you--holy fuck” 

“AH!” Indrid arches as Duck toys with his left nipple piercing, his other hand quickly finding the right. 

“God, fuck, you’re fuckin hot, if I were alive I woulda taken you home first time I saw you.” Messy kisses cover his neck as Duck tugs the piercings.

“Gaahnnyes, that’s, that’s very flattering.”

“Ain’t flattery, sugar, it’s the truth. Never could turn down some skinny punk with piercin’s and messy hair, not when I was a teen burnout hidin in the woods and sure as hell not now.” He moves Indrid onto his back, rucking up his shirt as his legs twist in his half-down pants. The ranger cups his face, and Indrid is positive he’s meeting his eyes, “tell me what you want sugar, tell me so I can treat you right.”

“Marks, I want marks anywhere you’ll give them.”

A growl from above him, then lips smashing into his, drinking him in before continuing down his throat, biting and sucking hard enough that he cries out every time. Duck pauses, teasing his nipples with his tongue as he rakes his nails up his sides. He sits up and for a horrible moment Indrid loses him. Then with glee he watches five red marks drag down his chest. He moans, rolling his hips and discovering just how closer Duck’s clothed cock is to his own. The contact only feeds the rangers eagerness, and Indrid is tosses and turns as he sucks, bites, and scratches, laying claim to the illustrated expanse of his body. 

“More, please, god that all feels so good.” 

“Don’t worry darlin, still got plenty of you to mark up, but we’re gonna do somethin else while I do.” He eases Indrid onto his stomach, slaps his ass fondly, “don’t go nowhere.”

Indrid’s duffel bag unzips, clothes and pens moved aside until a bottle of lube hovers in the air. The tube compresses and drips coat the rough outline of fingers. When the two digits press into him he sighs, eyes closing as he melts under Ducks watchful eyes. 

“That’s it ‘Drid, relax for me. Got well over a year of horny to work out, so this cute ass needs to be ready to take it.”

Indrid pushes his hips back in reply, taking as far as the fingers will go and whimpering excitedly when he presses in the tip of the third. Duck works that one more carefully, kissing Indrid’s face and shoulders as he whispers about how good he is, how much he’s wanted this.

“I want it too so for, for goodness sake please fuck me soon or I’ll leave my entire cooler out for the bears.”

“Only one bear in this campsite tonight darlin.” Duck laves his tongue down the base of his spine, bites down hard on his ass. Indrid’s still moaning from the pain when his cock pushes in.

“Fuuuckme that’s good. Shoulda snuck into your tent sooner, sugar, made you a fuckin cocksleeve you feel so fuckin good.”

“Ohgod” is all Indrid, voice muffled by the sleeping bag he’s biting, manages before Duck adjusts them so Indrid is on his knees. The ranger isn’t gentle, pounds into him like he’s nothing but a warm hole and chuckles whenever Indrid moans. 

“H-handprints, Duck, want hand prints GAHyesyesyes” he struggles to move in time with the ghost as the air fills with ear-splitting slaps. He’s so close, the pain and the sensation of phantom fingers claiming his body making his body beg for release. When he slides a hand down to jerk himself off, the arm twists up and stays trapped against his back. 

“You wanna cum, you know what to do.”

He blinks away the ecstatic tears, words raw in his throat, “Please let me cum, Duck. I want to, need to cum while you fuck me pleaseplease-” he cuts off into whine as the ghost works his cock hard, all the while jamming into him hard enough that the smooth fabric of the sleeping bag burns his knees. When he cums it’s with a weak cry of Duck’s name, which is swallowed up by hungry lips as Duck kisses him over and over, repeating Indrid’s name like an incantation as he pumps his hips and cums, pulling out as he does so it splatters on the reddened patches of his ass. 

A final kiss to the top of his head, and then there’s no contact between them and the zipper is moving.

“Oh no you don’t” Indrid scrambles, sweaty and exhausted, between the tent fly and the invisible man somewhere in front of him, “for goodness sake, Duck, I thought you liked me enough to at least let me fall asleep before you ran.”

The ranger finally appears, hair a mess and cheeks noticeably pink, “‘Drid, all that was amazing, but it’s all I can give you. I, I can’t...you said you were fallin for me and I can’t give you that.”

Indrid cocks his head, “Why not?”

“Because I’m a fuckin ghost, ‘Drid! You deserve to be with a livin’ fella, you deserve someone who can be a real part of your life.”

He crosses his arms, “Duck, you are a real part of my life. Honestly, what part of all the nights we spent together, all the ways we take care of each other, all of this” he points at the rumpled sleeping bag, “suggests otherwise?”

The ghost doesn’t speak, simply hugs himself (or tries to).

“If this is too much, if I’m offering something you do not want, then please tell me. But if this is you thinking that some paranormal quirks keep you from being a worthy partner for me, kindly think again.”

Duck disappears and Indrid is gearing up to try and tackle a supernatural entity when a familiar face buries itself in the crook of his neck. The ghost clings to him, and Indrid clings right back. 

“You really wanna give it a go?”

“More than anything.”

Duck lifts his head so their cheeks rest together, “Then fuck it. Let’s see what happens.”

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

Indrid finishes hooking up his lightly used Winnebago, AKA his solution to the lack of available apartments. He’s in a different section of Eastwoods, but he’s happy with his new spot. He opens one of his few boxes, gently lifts the completed model ship into a place of honor, and waits, humming happily, for an unseen hand to knock on his door. 

[chaosride]

A Divine Appointment (x7)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

“Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them.” — James Baldwin

Raelnor, once he woke the next morning, was as stubborn about telling Anders the truth of how he had gotten hurt as he had been everytime before. Unlike the times before, the healer challenged his story of yet another accident. All it had accomplished was making the teenager angry and defensive.

“I don’t know why you care so much. We’re not your kids so we’re not your blighted problem. Bree, Tanner, Ros, get the twins, let’s go.”

“But Rae-”

“Now, ” Raelnor ordered. “Thank you for the healing,” he told Anders tersely before brushing past him.

His siblings followed reluctantly, and Bree cast Anders an apologetic look over her shoulder before Raelnor snapped at her to hurry up. Anders wished he could comfort her, but it had been made clear that he had overstepped his boundaries. Raelnor was right; they were not his kids, no matter how much he would welcome them with open arms as such. Family was just another freedom not available to him.

After that, the younger children stopped coming to the clinic during the day. When Anders passed their camp, Tanner and Rosalyn kept their heads down and would hold the twins back from running to him. Bree always broke his heart because she would watch him go past with tear filled eyes, her small face crumpled in despair.

The clinic felt emptier even when they were bustling with people and Anders barely slept, worried that if he would not come to Anders, Raelnor wouldn’t go to anyone else either. Something was clearly going on with him, but it was something he made clear that Anders had no right to ask about. The boy was right, Anders was just a healer. Getting too attached to those he treated was a recipe for disaster, but he hadn’t been able to help himself.

----

Fenris leaned against the wall near the exit to Darktown from the docks and watched as all the dock workers and ship hands scuttled about finishing their duties for the day. He blended in easily with the crowd of men playing dice in the shade, sailors in port for the evening from what he had gathered, but he knew Raelnor had seen him regardless. Rather than try slinking off a different way, however, Raelnor finished what he needed to do before striding over to where Fenris was waiting.

“Let me guess, the healer sent you and I owe some kind of favor for all the free help,” he said.

“The healer doesn’t know I’m here. You owe him an apology,” Fenris said.

Now that he said it outloud, he knew it sounded a little ridiculous for him to come here for something as seemingly inane as that but it had to be done.

“He worries about you. Come, walk with me,” he said when he saw Raelnor look at the men around them who were all clearly listening to their conversation.

Fenris worried for a moment Raelnor would tell him to sod off but he followed diligently. He steered them towards Hightown at a leisurely pace, forcing Raelnor to walk beside him rather than behind as the boy tried to.

“How are you actually getting those injuries? I asked around, there haven’t been any major accidents like you’ve said, according to other dock hands I know.”

“Why does it matter?” Raelnor asked sullenly. “I’m fine , and we need the extra money. Feeding seven of us isn’t easy. I’m doing what I have to do.”

“Which is?”

Raelnor huffed and refused to look at Fenris.

“I am no stranger to doing what must be done to survive,” Fenris told him carefully. “How are you making the extra money?” He mainly asked to see if the boy would tell him.

Fenris could make an educated guess or three where the injuries came from. The bootprint that Fenris had noticed on the boy's filthy shirt over his broken ribs had been a pretty good indication. Now that he knew he was making money off of it there were really only a few things Raelnor could have gotten himself into, none of them good.

Raelnor sighed. “My boss got me a spot to fight in these underground matches, and he puts bets on me with my pay for the day and then gives me part of the bet winnings. I’ve been winning so the pay days have been good, I can’t walk away from it."

Fenris nodded and digested that information. He had figured it was something to that effect, but knew from the dock workers who would speak with him that Raelnor’s boss was a greedy, cold-hearted man who wouldn’t hesitate to throw Raelnor to the wolves if it made him money.

“Fighting like that will make good money, while it lasts. But in those kinds of fights, no one will step in when an opponent goes too far. And one always does. Next time it won’t be your ribs they break, it will be your skull or your spine. Even if you do keep winning for now, you won’t if they keep getting hits like that in. Especially if you are too stubborn to seek out a healer.”

“I know,” Raelnor said petulantly, “I have one big fight left. I’ve won so many in a row that Burgess said it’s better to let him bet against me and take a dive. After that, I already promised Delilah I would stop fighting.”

“And you informed your boss about not fighting any more after?”

“Yeah, that’s when he suggested the dive. He said as long as I made it look good, I would be fine.”

Fenris doubted the boy’s boss would be letting him leave that fight alive, why split the winning when he could keep it all for himself. Especially if the fighter was going to stop making him as much money.

“And you trust his word? I make more coin than I need, I will pay whatever he has been per fight if you back out.”

“We don’t need a hand out. I told the kids I would make the money we needed to survive, and I won’t sit and watch as they go hungry again. I just… want a better life for them.”

“I understand not wanting to be coddled, but accepting help from those who care about your well-being is not a hand out. The offer is there if you want it. When is the fight?”

“In two nights. And you don’t actually care about us, you just feel sorry for us.”

Fenris snorted. “I promise if that were the case, I would have found a more willing charity case. The streets are littered with people who have fallen on hard times. I actually do care, and so does Anders. Apologise to him, or at the very least stop keeping the children away from him. They are safer with him in the clinic while you are away than fending for themselves as they are now.”

“Yes, you made your point, I’ll apologize to the healer. If he’ll even hear it, I was… cruel, before.”

Fenris didn’t know what Raelnor had said to Anders, only that the mage had looked as though his heart had been shattered and stomped on every time he saw the children in passing or one of their companions teased him about his new charges.

“Even so, he will hear you. Anders is a good man, and a dedicated healer,” Fenris advised.

“I know he really cares about the kids, and Bree loves him. But I can’t tell him about this, he’ll want me to stop and start sending more food with the kids than he already does. He doesn’t have it anymore than anyone else in Darktown does. I still don’t understand why you care though. I mean enough to come here and offer to pay me.”

If Fenris was honest, he didn’t either, entirely. He had asked himself why he was even bothering at least three times on the walk over. Part of it was his desire to make sure the children were safe, the ones he could anyway. But the driving factor was that he couldn’t bear to see Anders moping around anymore. It was clear the healer blamed himself for whatever falling out had occurred and wasn’t going to take steps to correct the issue so Fenris had.

Fenris wasn’t even sure why it bothered him. He and Anders had never seen eye to eye. When he had first seen the children hanging around the clinic Fenris had assumed the worst of the mage; he wouldn’t have been the first pervert to groom children into relying on him. But Anders had only cared for the children and tried to look after them. He was willing to give them whatever he could despite how little he had already. Anders was a nurturing person and these children needed nurture. Even Fenris could see it was cruel to keep them away from each other.

He paused near the top of the steps that entered Hightown from Lowtown, directly into a square crowded with merchant stalls. The market was lively with day laborers coming to get what they needed for the night, and a child’s shrieking laugh followed by the barking of a dog rose above the sound of the crowd. Raelnor waited for him to answer, watching Fenris with curious eyes.

“Because Anders is upset and it is not how things have to be. They can still be mended. Even if you won’t back out of that fight, at least apologise to him. He is a worthy ally to have in your corner. Since you’re worried about him feeding you more than he has, let me buy you more food to take to him.”

Raelnor opened his mouth to argue but Fenris had already waved his protest off and cleared the last few steps. The boy trailed him to a stall selling fresh bread from the bakery in town. He seemed to realize protesting was useless and instead followed after Fenris, the look on his face a cross between befuddlement and indignation.

Fenris walked him all the way back to the Darktown, not bothered by the lack of conversation from his companion. Raelnor looked thoughtful, and Fenris only hoped he was considering what he had told him about dropping out of the fight. As they descended into Darktown, Fenris broke the silence.

“You said your fight is in two days, where?”

Raelnor looked at him in surprise.

“There’s a ship that Burgess keeps docked here at a private port, they have the fights below decks there,” he told Fenris. “Why, you comin’ to see me fight?”

“I may,” was all Fenris answered and left it at that.

Tanner, Bree, and Rosalyn all looked hesitantly hopeful when they recognized Fenris. All hesitation was wiped away when Raelnor told them they were going to the clinic to see Anders and glee took its place. Fenris let Bree carry the basket of food when she asked to, ensuring she had a good grip on it before releasing it to her. Cahir reached for Fenris from Rosalyn’s arms and Rosalyn trustingly stepped closer to allow Fenris to take him but Fenris shook his head. At her hurt look he sighed.

“I’m not going in,” he explained.

Raelnor raised an eyebrow and looked at the amount of food in the basket Bree was valiantly hefting along ahead of them then back at Fenris.

“You’re not staying for dinner? Are you fighting with the healer too?”

Always, it seems like, Fenris thought with an amused huff. Though, he supposed that wasn’t quite true. He had spent all afternoon hunting down the man’s children on his behalf because he believed Anders to be in the right. Naturally Fenris would rather face down an entire army of demons than admit that to Anders himself though.

“Nothing of the sort,” he assured them. “I agreed to eat dinner elsewhere. I’m sure I will join you another night,” he added when Rosalyn frowned and looked away.

She nodded and shifted Cahir in her arms when he continued to squirm. Finally she let him down when it was clear he wouldn’t tolerate being carried. The warrior was sure he would join Cat where she was holding Tanner’s hand and chattering at him in excited baby babbling as he led her after Bree. Instead of migrating after his twin however, Cahir toddled over to Fenris determinedly and the elf sighed before picking the boy up.

“I suppose I should have known I had no say with you,” he told Cahir who only jabbered at him happily, pleased now that he had gotten his way. He escorted the entire pack around the corner and rapped twice on the closed clinic door. He knelt to set Cahir down and was saved any fuss at the clingy toddler being put down by Cat stumbling to him. Tanner gave him a half smile as Fenris stood and carefully extricated himself from the cluster the kids formed at the door like out of season Wintersend carollers.

Fenris was already striding away when he heard it open but he felt Anders’ bewildered eyes on his back as he rounded the corner. He smiled despite himself when he heard the children begin making a commotion at the sight of the healer. Anders' joyful laughter followed him out of Darktown and echoed in his dreams that night.

---

Two nights later found Fenris below decks on a ship in a private dock. Isabela had known the place when he asked her. Evidently asking her about it and more about Burgess was enough to warrant Varric and Isabela tagging along out of curiosity. When he had explained the situation to Isabela she had agreed that Raelnor was likely in danger and said she would go with him. Of course when he met her at the docks, Varric had been with her. The dwarf’s nose for good gossip was too good for him not to find out, Fenris supposed. Or Isabela was writing friend-fiction and distributing it much faster than he realized. Fenris was sure he could handle himself if things went south, but it did always feel good to have friends watching his back.

“So we’re here looking out for one of your kids?” Varric asked him conversationally. Fenris had found a spot close enough to the fights to see and get there to intervene if necessary but far enough to blend in with the crowd and see the entrances.

“They’re the mage's children, not mine,” Fenris dismissed.

“Funny, Blondie isn’t here,” Varric pointed out, earning a giggle from Isabela.

“Shut up, dwarf.”

“I think it’s all very sweet,” Isabela said, “never thought you were a settling down type, Fen,” she teased.

“I- have never considered it because it never seemed like it would be an option. Settling down wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, with the right person. Regardless, they aren’t my children, I just would not see the boy brutalized for a pay day. I have fought in things such as these, to make enough coin to continue on to the next city, and they are never kind. I worry they will try to kill him even if he surrenders.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, these things can be brutal,” Varric said. “I’m glad you’re looking out for the kid, Broody.” He smiled at Fenris before wandering over to the bookie calling for bets.

The first few fights went quickly and left blood smeared across the section of floor that had been sectioned off as a ring for the fighters. The closer they got to Raelnor’s fight, the tenser Fenris felt. Something about how the fights had gone, how quickly, didn’t sit right with him. When Varric returned, he voiced the reason for Fenris’ discomfort without any trouble.

“There’s too much blood out there for what’s supposed to be bare knuckle boxing. One of those fighters has a knife of some kind,” he observed. “Aeducan’s beard, what has the kid gotten himself into.”

“Trouble, what children are adept at finding,” Isabela said, sounding wistful. Definitely about the trouble part, from how she fondly touched the hilt of one of her daggers.

“Think we can get to him before they start the fight? We could just force him to leave,” Varric said.

“No, it would only make him angry. We will watch and step in if things get out of hand. He won’t be fighting to win, just to make it look good.”

Neither rogue looked pleased with his decision but didn’t argue. They watched as Raelnor took his place opposite his opponent for the night. The other man was a barrel chested sailor who outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds. The bulky bandages around his fingers looked like they were concealing brass knuckles, which Isabela pointed as well. Both Raelnor and the sailor circled one another, crouched and ready to strike. The sailor made the first move, feinting to the right and scowling when Raelnor dodged his harder follow up attack from the left.

He just has to make it look good, Fenris told himself in a mantra as he watched the boy easily out maneuver the larger man.

Raelnor was certainly making it look good, and had landed the first actual blow of the fight by using his smaller size to his advantage to duck in close enough to land a punch to the man’s middle before dancing back out of range. The crowd came alive as they cheered for him but the other fighter hadn’t even flinched at the blow. Perhaps buoyed by the crowd’s enthusiasm, Raelnor darted back in again. There was a lot of power behind the kick he swung at the other fighter but it was easily turned against him. The sailor caught Raelnor’s leg at the ankle and used his momentum to swing him in an arch and slam him onto the ground face first.

He hit hard enough Fenris felt the impact reverberate in the soles of his feet. In the ring, Raelnor spluttered and scrambled to his hands and knees. Vicious, the sailor kicked him back to the ground. This time Raelnor stayed and held his hands up.

“I give, man, you win,” he said.

Blood poured from Raelnor's mouth to pool on the planks beneath him as he panted to catch his breath, still belly down on the floor. The crowd jeered at him to get to his feet and keep fighting, becoming a sea of sharp elbows and stomping feet at the lack of action.

“Enough stalling,” the sailor said finally over the commotion, “I don’t accept surrenders, kid. Every fight with me is to the death. Get up and fight back or I’ll put you out of your misery right there.”

“Hey- I said I was done!” Raelnor protested but the other man was already going after him, moving much faster than he had when they were squaring off before.

“Knife,” Isabela murmured to Fenris, already moving towards the fight. The sailor raised the blade and it gleamed harshly in the light cast by the lanterns swinging from the ceiling before it started to descend towards Raelnor. “Knife!” she screamed and broke into a sprint.

Fenris was faster. The crowd worked against Isabela even as she shoved people aside. The elf did not have that obstacle; Fenris’ brands had flared to life as soon as he realized what the sailor was saying. He slid through the crowd like a lyrium ghost and then phased through the sailor himself before he rematerialized in between Raelnor and the blow. The knife sunk into his shoulder rather then Raelnor's exposed back. The sailor tried to wrench it free but the blade broke off in his flesh. Fenris left it for the moment, knowing he risked bleeding out if he removed it.

The sailor stared at him in shock. Fenris stood and forced the man back, away from Raelnor and towards the other end of the ring. He regarded Fenris with a bloodless, frightened face- like he had seen a ghost.

Good , Fenris thought vindictively.

“The boy said he was done. However, I also fight to the death if you would prefer to continue,” Fenris said.

“How did you-? Where did you-?”

“Are you willing to accept a surrender or are you determined to die today?”

The sailor fell into a fighting stance and sized Fenris up, clearly considering his odds. Fenris saw the sailor's eyes land on the greatsword on his back and smirked as he made a show of flexing his hands in their gauntlets. The sharp points of them gleamed as the elf inspected them as he would his fingernails, an act of casual dismissal.

"I will even agree to fight without my weapon, if you wish, though you clearly do not offer the same honor."

The sailor sighed and straightened from his crouched stance. He had obviously seen that he would not be able to best the elven warrior.

“Blighted knife ears,” he spat. “This is way less fun than you promised it would be Burgess.”

Fenris ignored them and looked to where Isabela had helped Raelnor to his feet. The boy’s face was a bloody mess, his nose broken and his lips cut where his teeth had made impact when he was downed. He weaved on his feet but his eyes were clear when they met Fenris’.

“Alright, excitement’s over everyone!” Varric called, already herding them towards the entrance. Fenris ducked under Raelnor’s other arm to help support him as they left the ship together.

“Maker’s breath, what happened to you?!”

Anders was on them immediately once they staggered into the clinic as a many legged beast, with Raelnor practically hanging limp between Fenris and Isabela. Raelnor’s face had already swelled almost beyond recognition. He weakly lifted his head at Ander’s voice.

“Sorry, healer,” he slurred, “your man got stabbed for me,” though Anders likely didn’t hear the last part as he was already moving to get what he needed to heal him. Fenris shot the boy a warning look, hoping he would drop his injury until Anders had seen to his wounds.

“Here, get him on the cot over here. Has he thrown up or gotten dizzy?”

Isabela and Fenris managed to lay Raelnor down. Fenris only half heard as Varric and Isabela said their farewells to the night, clearly leaving Fenris and Raelnor in Anders’ care.

“He couldn’t walk straight on the way here, probably a concussion.”

“Healer,” Raelnor said over their chatter, making them both go quiet. “He got stabbed, treat him first.”

“Who got stabbed?”

Raelnor chucked his chin in Fenris’ direction. Anders turned to Fenris in surprise.

“Fenris, you got stabbed?!”

“I’m fine, the blade broke off and I can remove it myself when you are ready to close the wound. Treat Raelnor first.”

“I-”

“Mage. Heal your son first,” he said and chuckled when it made Anders splutter in embarrassment.

“I’m not his dad,” he protested.

“You nag me like a mum,” Raelnor said.

He laughed at the dark look Anders gave him but then sucked in a sharp breath as the movement jostled the tender skin of his jaw.

"It's a compliment, healer, my own ma didn't ever fuss over me this much," he soothed even as Anders tried to shush him to prevent more pain.

“Only because someone clearly needs to,” Anders told him and began carefully cleaning his face off with a wet rag.

With Anders occupied with healing Raelnor, Fenris surveyed the clinic. There were cots missing from the main area of the clinic and Anders had strung a makeshift curtain to section off the back of the clinic. Now that he was looking, he could see it flutter some at the corner before Bree’s face peeked out. When she saw Fenris had seen her, she crept out to him.

“Will Rae be okay?”

Fenris nodded. He knelt to be on her level when she didn’t move, still staring across the clinic at Ander’s back.

“Raelnor is going to be fine, I promise. Come, back to bed and you can speak to him yourself in the morning, yes?”

Bree nodded after a moment. “You’ll tuck me in?”

“I will tuck you in,” he agreed. Vaguely, Fenris wondered when this had become his life. He could still remember when children scattered from his path and fell quiet when he entered the room, when even the other slaves would rather continue working than risk being in the kitchen alone with him for their supper.

Bree led him back to the curtained off area and Fenris saw that his assumption was correct; the partition was serving as privacy for what the mage had set up as a bedroom of sorts for the children. It was darker behind it too, with only faint light of the candles filtered out by the cloth hanging from what looked like a clothesline ran from one wall to the other. Besides Bree, only Tanner was awake. When he saw it was Fenris with Bree he gave a small wave before rolling back over to resume sleeping.

“Thank you for whatever you said to Rae,” Bree whispered to him. “It made the healer really happy,” she told him before leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

She laid and Fenris covered her with the blanket once she had gotten comfortable.

“Goodnight, da,” she mumbled to him when he rose. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back.

Fenris lingered long enough to see her breathing deepen in sleep before he slipped back out into the clinic where Anders was waiting for him. He sat down on the cot Anders gestured towards and helped the healer removed enough of his armor to see the wound. The bloodsoaked cloth of his undershirt clung to his skin so tightly Anders had to practically peel it off. The healer cleaned around the wound before nodding to Fenris.

“You can go ahead and pull the blade out,” he told him.

Fenris tried not to notice how enraptured the mage looked when he lit his brands and reached his opposite hand up to phase in and pluck the blade free. Anders’ hands were a cool relief against the wound as soon as Fenris had moved his own out of the way. It was always odd to feel the torn muscles and ruptured blood vessels knit themselves back together at such an accelerated rate.

Odd, but not unpleasant. Fenris had never had healing magic used on him before Anders, only blood magic or spells meant to hurt. He found that he wasn’t as adverse to magic being used on his person as long as it was healing magic. Or maybe as long as it was as long as it was Anders’ magic, but he wasn’t ready to unpack all of that just yet.

“Raelnor told me some of what happened. Thank you for looking out for him.”

“He got in over his head, I did what anyone would do.”

Anders smiled softly, not looking away from where he was intently focussing his magic on Fenris’ now mainly healed shoulder.

“No, you did what any good man would do. You’re all healed up, go easy on it for a day or two, he got you deep.”

Fenris nodded and tested his shoulder how Anders instructed him to, rolling it in his joint and stretching it. The healed wound gave no twinges of pain and he still had his full range of motion, which Anders seemed pleased with.

“I’ll leave you to fuss over your children, mage,” Fenris said finally, before he could entertain thoughts of simply staying in the clinic for the evening.

Anders looked conflicted but nodded and walked Fenris to the door. The elf noticed that the door didn’t shut until he was almost out of sight. On the dark walk back to his empty home, he allowed himself to picture what mornings would be like if they all lived together. Hectic certainly, but worth it for the children’s laughter and Anders’ smile as he leaned into- the elf didn’t let himself finish picturing the end of that scenario. Fenris wondered when Anders had begun to play such a starring role in his idle fantasies.

He shook his head at himself. Why bother dreaming of a life he could never have; such things were not for men dogged by their pasts as Fenris was. Danarius had often told him he had been molded into a weapon, and a weapon could not be loved, only wielded well. His freedom meant Fenris could choose what was a worthy cause and the children had passed. That was all it was, really.

(In his dreams that night Anders finished leaning in to kiss him as around them their children faked disgust. In his dreams he was more than a weapon to be put away when it wasn’t needed.)

Comment and Kudo here please!!

[moonmoon2102]

A trade is a trade [MoonSun; Post-apocalyptic AU]

Uh... hi?

How are you doing? I hope you’re all healthy!

Part 3 is still on hold as I am incredibly stuck. I’m sincerely sorry about that. I am trying my best to continue because for me, I also want to finish part 3. Until I’m able to do so, here’s a little something for you to read :)

I’m also working on a lot of different AUs, so I write whatever comes to my mind. I won’t post them here since it’s explicit stuff but if I ever find the courage to upload anything on AFF, I may post the link here.

As always: To whoever is taking the time to read this: Thank you and enjoy :)

The tension was so thick Yongsun was sure she would be able to cut it with a knife if she tried. While the leader of the foreign camp was visibly tensed, Byulyi's posture was surprisingly relaxed, evident by the way she had her hands dug into her pockets. Perhaps another way to show she didn't mean any harm.

 "W-where's the medical supplies you promised?" the man asked, Yongsun noticed his voice shaking.

 "All here in the bag," Byulyi calmly replied, "the food?"

 "I want to see the bag!"

 "I promise there's everything you asked for. Our camp keeps their end of the bargain. How about yours?"

 The man gradually became even more agitated, shifting from one leg to the other, glancing behind him to look at two men he had brought with him for back-up.

 "O-of course we have the food. Why... why wouldn't we?" he replied and laughed in a nervous manner.

 "Look, let's both meet in the middle. We can take a look at the goods and then swap if that's what makes you feel more at ease."

 "I uh... a-alright..."

 Byulyi held her hand out towards Yongsun who handed her the small bag with the medical supplies. The dark haired woman nodded at Yong's whispered be careful before she moved to stand where they just agreed on.

 The man followed, the way his hands shook not gone unnoticed by Byulyi. She knew something wasn't quite right. Once he was close enough he reached for the bag in Byulyi's hands who caught his wrist, staring him dead in the eye.

 "Don't do anything stupid. No sudden movements," she hissed, letting go of his wrist to move her hand towards the left side of her chest, tapping it twice with her index finger.

 The other camp leader understood the silent prompt, eyes widening as he could see a red laser dot hovering just above the spot Byulyi had shown him.

 "My sniper is able to shoot off a squirrel's nuts from a fifty miles distance so you better not have any hidden agenda," the dark haired woman warned, "see it as a safety measure. If you suddenly decide to fuck me over."

 The man visibly gulped and nodded to show he understood, glancing at the laser on his chest once more.

 "Now that this is settled," Byulyi opened the bag, letting him take a look inside, "here's what you asked for. Every single bit."

 Byulyi's counterpart let out a low whistle, nodding in approval, albeit not able to hide his surprise that Byulyi had stayed true to her word.

 "You've seen the supplies, I've done my part. It's your turn."

 He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. He was hiding something. "Y-you know... there may be... a problem with the food I promised you."

 Byulyi raised her eyebrows. "What kind of problem? You said there wouldn't be."

 "T-that was before I... checked the supplies... I have... barely any left to feed my own people."

 "You do realize that's gonna minimize the amount of medical supplies you're getting, right?"

 "I... the thing is---"

 Before he could finish his sentence, the bushes behind him rustled which made Byulyi's hand shoot down towards her gun, ready to draw if necessary.

Her eyes widened as a small boy, not older than probably eight, stumbled out from his hiding, running over to cling onto the man's leg. She quickly lifted her right hand to signal Wheein to hold fire and for a moment she was glad her sniper wasn’t one to have a nervous trigger finger.

 "Papa... when can we go? I've been waiting for ages!"

 "Myung!! Didn't I tell you to wait?!"

 "You're bringing a child to a trade?! Are you out if your mind?! What if raiders showed up?! Do you even know how irresponsible that is?!" Byulyi growled, not caring if she crossed the line by berating the man.

 "He's my son! I couldn't leave him at the camp! My wife... is sick, she's the one I need the antibiotics for, she's got an infection and... and," he rambled, "I don't trust others to look after him! Please... don't hurt him!"

 Byulyi looked over her shoulder to see Yongsun having her hands clasped over her mouth. The dark haired woman sighed, slowly squatting down to look at the boy who hid behind his father's leg. She lifted her hand to signal his father she wouldn't hurt him as she saw him open his mouth.

 "Hey... Myung, right?" she softly said and smiled, "your mommy is sick?"

 She watched the little boy nod.

 "And you want her to get better, right?"

 He nodded again.

 "You're a brave little boy for coming all the way out here," Byulyi noted, "you want to help your mama too?"

 "Papa... papa said... we're gonna... get medicine for mama..." Myung answered, obviously not scared of Byulyi.

 'She seems to have a way with children...' Yongsun thought to herself as she watched Byulyi interact with the child. She couldn't quite put her finger on why but somehow this discovery made her heart swell.

 "Listen, Myung. Can I send you off to an important mission?" Byulyi asked, well aware of the father's eyes resting on her, hand ready to draw his weapon.

 "A mission?"

 Byulyi nodded and handed him the bag, "take this to your mother, okay? Don't lose it and keep your eyes on it. All the way back, you hear me?"

  She waited for his response which came with a firm nod.

 "There are pills, white round ones, in there. Make sure you give her one each day until you see the sun rise for the seventh time, including today. Can you do that?"

 "Yes!" Myung looked up at his father, "papa, this lady is nice!"

 Byulyi chuckled and straightened herself, looking at the camp leader who just stared back with his mouth agape.

 "Make sure she drinks enough and keep the wound clean, change the bandages every day."

 With that Byulyi turned, about to walk off when the man stopped her.

 "W-wait..." the camp leader said, holding up the bag in his hand, "a trade is a trade."

 The dark haired woman looked at him and took the bag, rummaging through it to take out four cans of beans, along with two packages of noodles before handing the bag back to him, leaving him with a baffled expression.

 "Keep the rest," she simply stated, walking towards Yong who carried an equally surprised expression.

 "But I thought... your camp members---"

 "We are hungry but that doesn't mean we're heartless. Rather than taking from others what they need too, we should share. What kind of human being would I be to take the last bits of food your camp has left?"

 Byulyi could feel Yongsun's hand slip into hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

 "I... thank you! I owe you!" the other camp leader said, his voice sincere, "I'll never forget that!"

 "Take your kid and leave; you've got a sick wife to tend to."

 The couple watched the group disappear into the woods. Both listened intently as they waited for an indication they had left for sure; the confirmation came in the form of a car engine rumbling to life and the sound of screeching wheels.

 When the dark haired woman turned towards Yongsun, she didn't expect to be met with a pair of lips pressing onto hers.

 "W-what was that for?" Byulyi asked once they broke apart.

 "Because you, Moon Byulyi, are the most noble person I have ever met," Yongsun confessed, cupping Byulyi's cheeks to pull her into another kiss.

And with that we wrap up “A trade is a trade” It’s a bit all over the place but I do plan on tying that one into later events of this AU; I’ll have to see how it would work out. Once again, thank you for reading. I appreciate you’ve taken some of your time to do so :) Stay safe and healthy!

[gaamagirl565]

Matters of the heart S3 ep 2

Matters of the heart Season 3 Ep 2 A question of faith

{OPENING CREDITS} {Open to early morning and everyone sleeping in their respective tents or by the fire; fade to Eugene sleeping in his tent with Rapunzel on his chest; A whinny from a horse sounds out and Eugene opens his eyes and sits up} Rapunzel: What’s wrong? Eugene: shhh… {He grabs his sword and steps out of his tent; he keeps his eye on the treeline; a few people wake up around the fire and stay still; Varian peeks out of his tent with Zapada} Zapada: What happens here? Varian: I don’t know… {Isaiah walks out of the tent with his sword and a smirk before Varian and Zapada yank him back by the collar of his shirt} Varian: Boy I swear-! {Eugene hides behind one of the trees and waits as a person walks out of the treeline with a sword in hand} Stoica: o, mulțumesc lui dumnezeu! Te-am găsit! {Eugene Jumps out at him and swings his sword; Stoica blocks the blow with his own sword} Eugene: urrghh… {Zapada runs out of the tent towards them} Varian: Zapada, NO! {She runs in between them and pushes Eugene off} Zapada: Your majesty! Please stop! Stoica: Zăpadă! Zapada: Stoica! { She jumps on him and hugs him} Zapada: what are you doing here!? Stoica: I heard of terrible things in Corona! I had to return and see that you were okay! Zapada: oh, fratele meu … i’m more than okay. {Pan over to Varian and Rapunzel walking up to Eugene} Eugene: um..Var? Am I missing something? Varian: Everyone can rest easy he's not an intruder he's a friend! {Everyone in the camp relaxes and some go back to sleep} Varian:  Eugene,  Rapunzel,  this is my brother-in-law. Stoica. Rapunzel:  great to meet you! Stoica: likewise your majesty. Eugene:  yeah sorry about the whole almost cutting your head off thing. Zapada: Where is the rest of us? Stoica:  they're coming along as well.  I went along ahead.   I was so filled with worry after I saw the city. Rapunzel:  you saw it!? Stoica:  your majesty I tried to enter.  there were some new guards in Black armor. they looked hostile. Varian: any citizens? {Stoica shakes his head somberly} Stoica: I apologize but... the city was covered in these strange stones and they... they were wheeling out a cart of dead. {Rapunzel gasps and runs of in horror; Eugene follows her} Eugene: Sunshine wait! {Pan to Isaiah listening from his tent and sadly closing the flap; Cut to Isaiah sitting by a tree as the other kids play; Lily notices and walks and sits next to him} Lily: You okay? Isaiah: people died... Lily:  yeah people do that. Isaiah: Lily! Lily:  sorry I'm just trying to lighten the mood.  I get it. it sucks. Isaiah: it more than sucks!  the cult took our home!  they're killing the people of Corona! Lily: I get that! They’re my subjects! How do you think I feel!? how do you say my family feels!?  but there's nothing we can do about it right now... {they both sigh in frustration; Lily lays her back across his lap} Isaiah: You know my dream is to always be a guard. Lily: huh? Isaiah: protect the citizens of Corona and serve my country. go off on glorious Adventures.  now when my country is actually in danger of being wiped off the map I'm just sitting here. Juniper: and for good reason little guy. Both: AHH! Juniper: sorry I didn't mean to scare you. hehe, I guess I can be pretty scary at times. Isaiah:  no kidding! Lily:  I think my heart just went into my throat and I just had to swallow it down again. Juniper:  look.. Isaiah right?  bottom of the line you're still just a little kid. {Isaiah stands up knocking Lily off his lap in the process} Isaiah:  I'm 13 and I'm about to be 14 in a few months! Juniper: sit down little man! you're a baby. Isaiah: A BABY!? Juniper:  yes a baby.  there's a reason you're not doing anything.  first of all we barely have any food or supplies that's the first thing we have to worry about.  the Caravan coming into Camp will help with some of the supplies problems but in the end those are just more mouths to feed as well.  on top of everything, we have all those sick victims from your village. Isaiah: Bu- Juniper:  secondly we don't know anything.  we don't know their numbers or strengths or weaknesses.  the only thing we know is everything your dad knows about them.  the next item on our list would be to find out more about them.  the only way to do that would be to infiltrate the city without being spotted which ended up itself is an incredibly Dangerous Mission not something for a young teenager. {Isaiah stares at her with rage and looks away} Juniper:  look kid I'm not trying to offend you or anything I'm just giving you the hard facts.  to put it bluntly kid we just don't have the resources. {Juniper walks away; Lily looks over at a beet red Isaiah} Lily:  ok... Isaiah breathe in and breathe out Isaiah: RRAAHHH!!! Lily: that is not breathing��� Isaiah: what does she know!?  I've seen tons of battles I know how they work! {Akina and Benny walk up} Benny:  what is stinky screaming about this time? Lily:  someone told him he couldn't do something. Benny : oh so the usual… Akina:  I'm sure she didn't mean anything personal Isaiah… Isaiah: she called me a little kid! Akina:  but... we are kids… {Isaiah stuffs his head into a nearby hollow tree and screams before going limp} Lily: it's okay guys I've seen this many times before we just have to let him rage himself out. {Cut to Varian chopping wood; Ruddiger climbs on his shoulder} Varian: oh hi bud! {Stoica walks up} Stoica: Varian...may we speak? Varian: huh? Oh, yeah sure! What’s on your mind? Stoica: I’ve been talking to others and trying to fill in the blanks of what I’m missed since last here...You thought your son had perished? {Varian flinches} Varian: Y-yeah...he was...pushed off of a cliff.  we thought he was dead. Stoica:  and you became violent. Varian: what!? Stoica:  some of your villagers admit that you became a bit hostile after the supposed death of your son. I want to be sure that you didn't do anything to my sister. Varian: Stoica,  whatever you've heard I'm sure is highly exaggerated. yes, I'm not proud of some of my actions but I never would lay a hand on Zapada! Stoica: and that's why I'm coming to you.  I want to hear your side of it. Varian:...  you have to understand something first. I had a wife before Zapada.  she's been gone for a long time. all I had left of her was our son. When I thought Isaiah was dead I felt like my entire world fell apart.  so yes I lashed out at a lot of people.  but I want to make something clear... I would never hurt her. Stoica:  life comes in waves Varian. sometimes it's happy and sometimes it's laced with tragedy.  whenever the tragedy comes around I need to know that you are able to keep yourself in check.  I need to know that you're not a violent man. Varian:  a violent man? Stoica:  do you lash out every time something bad happens? Varian: No! of course not I've been through many horrible things in my life but I didn't lash out at those who cared for me every single time! Stoica: I want you to understand I'm not trying to be a bad guy here. I'm just trying to protect my own.  I know you can be a good man.  I just hope that you can remember to be one. {He walks away leaving Varian looking fearful; cut to Isaiah sneaking over to the supply station; he hides as a person walks away from it; he smirks as he notices the supply chart} Lily: What are you doing? Isaiah: Gyah! What is wrong with volume people and scaring me do you want me to have a heart attack!? Lily:  answer my question… Isaiah:  I can't just sit by and do nothing.  especially with wild man’s daughter telling me that I'm only a little kid and can't do much to help Lily: that's...not what she said.  well I mean it's partially what she said but it's not all of what she said! Isaiah:  I'm going to get the list of supplies that we need... it's still early afternoon.  if I can find out what we need and use the tunnels  I might be able to sneak into the main city unnoticed. Lily:  How are you supposed to get all of the supplies we need back here without a cart.  secondly, how would you put a cart in the tunnels to begin with. Isaiah: uhhh… Lily:  exactly thank goodness you have me… {She walks up and grabs the supply list} Isaiah: Lily! Lily:  come on let's go. Isaiah:  no I can't risk taking you! Lily: why not?  We’ve gone on adventures that were just as dangerous if not more. Isaiah:  I can't risk losing you! {Isaiah blushes at what he said and Lily blushes as well; he realizes he grabbed her hand and he lets go sheepishly} Lily: umm..right.. but I know Wayne to the city that nobody else knows about! We’d be able to fit a cart there! Isaiah: where is it? Lily:  there's a hole in the wall that the guard were supposed to fix up the day that everything happened. Isaiah:  are you telling me you guys were just overlooking a giant gaping hole in Corona's main wall? Lily: NO!... the bricks were old and weak and it totally wasn't because me and my siblings were messing around and caused part of the wall to collapse… Isaiah: ... I would question him but we really don't have the time... you think we can get in without being noticed? {Lily strikes a confident pose} Lily: Totally!  the collapse happened behind some houses in the main village so it's totally hidden! we'd be able to hide in the alleyways and sneak into the backsides of businesses and get the supplies we need. Isaiah: You’re a genius! C’mon! Lets get my horse and set him up on a cart! {He takes her hand and pulls her out of frame; cut to Varian as he walks over to his and Zapada’s tent; He stands for a moment in the entranceway and watches Zapada tuck in Sterling; he smiles softly}

Zapada: Iubirea mea? every thing al-!?

{He abruptly pulls her into a hug}

Zapada: Varian? what is this?

Varian: I...Seeing you with your brother again..and how happy you were...You gave up a lot to be with me. To be with us. I haven’t been the best of husbands. I just wanted to let you know I love you and...And I’m sorry...

Zapada: oh, Iubirea mea...what happened? Varian:I just..got to thinking...After we thought Isaiah.. ya know... I wasn't exactly the best person to be around.  and I keep recalling things that I could have done better. things I could have said better. Zapada: Varian- Varian:  no you can't just say you've already forgiven me or it's okay because in truth it's really not.  I shouldn't have been taking things out on you and the ones that I cared about. {He turns away from her and looks out at the camp} Varian: I've noticed that whenever I experienced some sort of loss or something particularly bad... tend to take it out on people that are only trying to make it better for me. maybe I am a violent man. {Zapada hugs him from behind} Zapada: Iubirea mea..you were frightened and you had just lost your son... our son.  you were under intense pressure. I have come to understand this and have already forgiven you. so please try to forgive yourself.  you're not a violent man. You’re a good man. {Varian turns around and kisses her before hearing Sterling squeal} Varian: There’s my little man! {He picks Sterling up and holds him} Varian: Getting bigger every day! Sterling: eiii! {Sterling gurgles and pulls on his hair} Varian: ha! What is it with every child I have and pulling my hair? Zapada: Easy to grab, no? {She leans up and kisses him; Eugene runs up to the tent} Eugene: Varian Th-... am I interrupting something? Varian: uh..ahem..no of course not. what's going on? Eugene:  Lily and Isaiah are missing! Varian: son of a-  seriously I leave that kid alone for 5 minutes. {He hands Sterling back over to Zapada} Varian: Don’t worry we’ll find them. {He runs out of frame with Eugene; Cut to Isaiah and Lily with cloaks and hoods pulled up as they pull up to the side of Corona’s side wall} Isaiah: it’s so quiet...where is this hole? Lily: A little further down… {Once they come upon it Isaiah pulls the wagon to a stop and gazes at the hole} Isaiah: How did you even accomplish this? Lily:  all the business district was having some competitive problems and mama trying to solve them so me and my siblings went behind the business and start chucking rocks at the wall... we were bored okay? Isaiah: and the result was a giant gaping hole probably big enough to fit a small elephant? Lily:  I hit a weak spot on the wall apparently and it just came tumbling down… Isaiah:....oh my god… { he gets off the driver's seat it makes his way through the hole} Isaiah: and you're sure nobody will notice us? {Lily climbs through} Lily:  nobody comes to the side of the wall... the only reason they would have known that the hole was here was that Mom heard it collapse and we had to tell her…  as long as we're quiet and don't draw attention to ourselves we should be okay. What’s first on the list? Isaiah: we need food.  Like you said before as long as we use the alleyways and the back entrances we should be able to grab whatever we need without being noticed. Lily:  well for the food I'm sure the bread inside the bakery is still good. Isaiah: I probably steer clear of the butcher shop...blech… Lily:  that poor man is going to come back to such a stench when this is all over. {They start moving through the back alley towards the bakery; cut back to camp with everyone on the look out for Isaiah and Lily} Rapunzel: Lily!? Cyrus: Lily answer us! Eugene: Lilianna Fitzherbert you answer us now! Eddard and Rosie: Liiiilllyyy~! Varian: Isaiah? Where are you, buddy? {Hector walks up to him with his son and daughter} Varian: find anything? Bjørn: We found some tracks that we think might belong to them where the horses are kept.  one of the horses is missing and so is a wagon we also found wagon tracks leading out of camp. Hector:  we checked and everybody in Camp has accounted for other than those two so they must have taken the horse and wagon and went somewhere. but the question is where and why. Juniper:  oh for the sake of all things good… Hector: Little bird?  something to say? Juniper:  I know where they are… Varian: You do!? Hector: Where!? Juniper: They...those kids went “shopping”... {She facepalms and everyone looks at her with either a shocked or confused face} Hector: ...eh? {Cut back to Corona where Isaiah and Lily are about to turn the corner and enter the bakery; Just as their about to enter the shop Isaiah grabs Lily and ducks behind some barrels; cult members walk past the alleyway and look down it} Cult member 1: come on we have to get this car unloaded... they're going to start stinking soon.. Cult member 2:  I know but doesn't this seem a bit undignified? {Isaiah looks at Lily and sneaks to the entrance of the alleyway and peeks out to listen;  however, when he peeks out he sees four bodies loaded in a cart and immediately ducks back behind the wall in horror} Cult member 2:  think about it don't you think they deserve a proper burial I mean they're still people. {Isaiah takes a breath and peeks back out at the cart of deceased people with purplish spots on their skin} Cult member 1:  look I get your concerns but at the same time it's not our problem these people opposed larkspur's Rule and you know the punishment for that. Cult member 2:  wouldn't it have been more humane to just...I don't know use a sword? Cult member: ... probably. {Isaiah goes back into the alleyway taking deep breaths trying to calm himself} Lily:  what did you see? what's going on? Isaiah:  it was another cart of dead bodies… Lily: *gasp* Isaiah:  it looks like there was some sort of resistance within the city.  they didn't last very long.  also it turns out whatever biological component was in that gas is fatal. Lily: what!? Isaiah:  all of the victims in the cart had the same skin markings. I'm guessing they used the gas on the resistance. Lily:  I think I'm going to be sick… Isaiah:  This is all the more reason to just get what we need and get out. We need food medicine and weapons.  we can find all of that in the nearby stores. we just have to stick to our original plan and not get caught. Lily: o-okay… {he moves her face to look at him} Isaiah: It's going to be okay... I'm not going to let anything happen to you okay? { she smiles and nods} Lily: mmhmm {Start montage of the two entering businesses, taking what they need, maneuvering around Alleyways, and evading cult members; They throw some weapons from the blacksmith shop into a bag and tie off the bag} Isaiah: is that everything? Lily: yeah I think this was our last stop. Isaiah:  all right just like before out the back.. { they sneak back out into the alleyway and start making their way back towards where the hole in the wall was;  Lily turns around and notices a cloaked figure following them} Lily: Isaiah! Isaiah: Crap! we've been spotted get moving! { they start running down the Alleyways trying to avoid the figure following them.} Lily: he's gaining on us! Isaiah:  just keep running when we get to the horse we'll easily be able to outrun him! {Lily trips on a loose stone and hurts herself} Lily: Ah! My leg! {Isaiah stops and turns around; The cloaked figure stops by Lily and bends down} Lily: AHH! Isaiah: NO! {Isaiah  grabs his sword from his belt and charges the cloaked figure preparing to swing his sword down on its head;  just to see swings downward the cloaked figure grabs his wrist and pulls back it’s hood to reveal a very angry Varian} Isaiah: oh..hi dad... Lily:  is it bad that I prefer it just being a cult member… Varian: you are in a sea of trouble buddy… {He picks Lily up} Isaiah: B-but dad-! Varian: Move it! Isaiah:...yes sir. {Cut to Varian with Hector in their own wagon as Isaiah drives his cart with Lily in back with a bandaged leg; they drive up to camp and Rapunzel and Eugen run up} Rapunzel: Lily! Eugene: Lily! You’re hurt! {They hug her and look her over} Rapunzel: where on Earth were you!? {Varian hops off the wagon} Varian:  they were in Corona. Eugene: What!?  what were you doing there!?  Lily do you know how dangerous it is it right now!? you could have been killed! Rapunzel:  what were you thinking!? Isaiah: it's my fault your Majesties. Rapunzel: Isaiah? Isaiah:  I just... it's my fault.  Princess Lily had nothing to do with this. please don't be mad at her. Varian:  come on young man we need to have a talk. {He pulls Isaiah off to the side and crosses his arms} Varian: …. well? are you going to tell me why you did this? Isaiah: I..umm… Varian:  yeah I'm waiting… Isaiah:   someone had to do something!  we needed supplies!  we needed information! Varian:  we were already working on a plan to get both!  do you realize how much danger you just put yourself in!?  what if you had been caught!? Isaiah: I had my sword! Varian:  Isaiah Cadáin Stein, you are a 13 year old boy with minimal fighting experience you would have been slaughtered! Isaiah:  I'm not a child to stop talking and treating me like I'm one! {Varian’s eyes dilate in anger} Varian:   Isaiah regardless of what you believe you are a child!  I lost you once already because of these people and I am not going to lose you again!  you were to stay within the camp's perimeter at all times if you wish to go somewhere you will be escorted from here on out am I understood!? Isaiah: What!?   dad that’s not fair! Varian:  I don't care what is fair!  am I understood? {They stare angrily at each other before Isaiah turns away} Isaiah:...fine. { cut to later at night;  a cauldron of stew sits on top the fire; Eugene walks over with a bowl and hands it to Rapunzel} Rapunzel: Thanks… so umm...How did the talk with Lily go? Eugene: I did what we agreed on she's grounded for 2 weeks. Rapunzel:  good... I really hate to admit it but they really did help our supply. Eugene:  and we did get some valuable information about the disease that our sick have.  but we still agree what they did was incredibly stupid right? Rapunzel:  oh yes 100%!  don't even worry about it!... how's her injury? Eugene:  deep cut down her shin.. required some stitches but other than that she should be good. {rapunzel sighs} Eugene: sunshine? you okay? Rapunzel:  I just can't believe we almost lost her today... and I never thought that my rule is Queen would be like this. {Eugene wraps and arm around her} Eugene:... life sucks. {he takes a sip from his soup as Rapunzel chuckles} Rapunzel:  that it does sometimes… Eugene:  and to be honest sunshine... I think you're doing a pretty good job.  I mean yeah things could be better but let's look at the positives.  we're together,  we have five amazing children, for the most part, everyone's here and doing okay, and even those things could be better we're not throwing a pity party. we're sticking together as a real Kingdom should {Camera pans around the camp as Eugene speaks; Hector leans against a tree with his son; Adira and lance watch as Akina plays with her brother; Stoica being flirted with by various women in camp; Varian sits on a log by the fire and rests his head on Zapada’s shoulder smiling as she feeds Sterling; Cut back to Eugene} Rapunzel: You really think we're doing a good job? Eugene: yeah... Yeah, I do. {Cut to Isaiah sitting under a tree watching the fire; Juniper walks up with two bowls} Juniper: hey kid…hungry? Isaiah:... *venomously* hey… Juniper: Euggh, still mad at me huh? Isaiah: What do you think!? Juniper:  to be fair I didn't really do anything I just told you the facts. I wasn't telling you to go into town and put yourself in danger. Isaiah: if this is an apology you're pretty crap at it. Juniper:  fine I'm sorry if I made you feel inadequate. you have to understand where I'm coming from though. I grew up in a house with a brother and a dad who's whole world is battle and survival.   I know a thing or two of what I'm talking about.  you may not like me but I'm not trying to look for friends. {Isaiah keeps looking away from her; she hands him his bowl; Isaiah takes it with a grumble} Juniper:  I know you're mad at me because you got in trouble but at the same time you should be glad that you have a dad that cares so much about you that he's willing to get that angry. {Isaiah glances at her} Isaiah:  does your dad get mad a lot? Juniper: oh you don't even know the half of it. {She takes a sip of her stew and sits down} Juniper:  never me and my brother would do something stupid when we were younger dad would get furious.  the dark kingdom is in nice place now back when we were young...I mean really young,  it was still pretty dangerous.  even just wondering off for a few minutes would get us yelled at. Isaiah: geez. sounds kind of harsh. Juniper:  yeah I guess... to someone else it would sound harsh.  but then when I started growing older I started realizing the reason he would yell at us so much.  It’s because he loves us. he wants to keep us safe. Isaiah: ... I'm starting to feel a lesson coming out of this or something… Juniper:  what I'm trying to say is don't be too hard on your dad.  the fact that he freaked out so bad means that he loves you a lot. He just doesn't want to see you get hurt.  all I'm asking is for you to see it from his perspective, okay kid? {Isaiah looks over at his dad and Zapada; he groans and get up, walking over to them; Varian looks over at him and they star at each other for a moment before Isaiah sits down and leans his head on Varian; Varian smiles and wraps an arm around him} Isaiah: I’m...uh..s-sorry… Varian: I know bud...I know. {END CREDITS}

[my-last-words07]

The Storm

If y’all know me, you know that I work at a summer camp, and this year I came back early because of a huge storm that shut down my camp. I’ve tried and tried to write about it, but understandably, It’s hard to recover from something of that magnitude. Y’all may understand more if I ever manage to write it. But here’s a try.

July 19, 2019, it was the night of the closing campfire. We were in the Dining Hall, thank God, because we knew a storm was coming. About halfway through some skits, the power went out. A few minutes later, part of the roof broke and let in some water. No big deal, in the grand scheme of things.

After skits and stories, we learned about a small extent of the damage, through whispers and messages. An office staff stood up in front of everyone and said, “We’re still checking the damage, so everyone will be here a little bit longer.”

True heroes of the night were my friend Stark, who told a story for almost an hour, to keep everyone distracted. All of the staff that passed out cups and carried water pitchers so everyone could be hydrated. The office staff, that were responsible for keeping everyone safe and calm inside the hall. The staff that stood up and lead songs to keep campers entertained.

An hour later, the camp director stood up, and that’s how you know shit is real. He said, “I need everyone’s attention. Because of the damage, we’ve decided that everyone is going to spend the night in the Dining Hall. It’s too dangerous to leave now.”

Some people, like myself, were a little more anxious at that news. True hero was the camp director, that led me and a friend to the office to stay alone and calm down.

Once he got us to the office, he leveled with us. He said, “Everyone is safe, and that’s the important part. The way I see it, there’ll be a few work days, and then... Everyone will be sent home. We can’t open camp like this.”

That was the straw that broke my back. Camp is where most of my friends are. If we’re not at camp, I live several states away from most of them. So the news that I’d be leaving them... After you hear everyone is safe, it’s okay to be upset about the selfish things.

So me and another close friend were in the office, arms around each other, holding hands, crying at the news, trying to calm ourselves down, trying to feel any semblance of okay. Spoiler alert, we didn’t succeed.

There was a quick meeting for the director to fill us all in, and he asked for volunteers to stay up all night to watch the Scouts. I remember the pride I felt, and the pride our director showed, when every single hand went up to volunteer to help, in any way that they could. The real heroes were the staff that were willing to give up sleep, in the middle of this disaster, to watch over the campers and keep them safe.

Myself and a few other friends fell asleep in the office. One person prepped his drone, because he’d volunteered to use it to take pictures, and assess the damage.

We woke up four hours after we’d fallen asleep, at 5:30 am, and started to do whatever we could. Some of us went down to the firebowl, where we saw the boat coming from the camp on the other side of the lake. They pulled up, the boat half full of lake water, and said, “Can we get a bucket line going? We’re out of running water.”

Some staff hauled and ferried water all morning, without even stopping for breakfast. 

Myself and two other people, Stark and Skylar served breakfast. We didn’t know just how much food we had, or if there’d be enough of it, but we knew we needed to feed these kids. So, for 45 minutes we sat in line, serving cinnamon rolls, bagels, and milk to 200+ people, some of which wanted answers that we didn’t have. 

Partway through serving, a staff member comes up behind us. “Spread the word, the showerhouse is closed. We’re out of running water.”

Imagine, if you will, standing in line, trying to feed hundreds of people. You’re dead tired, you’re trying to look happy but failing, and everyone knows that this is an emergency situation.

Then it gets worse. You have 200+ people, and no more water. And you can’t do anything except keep serving your burnt cinnamon rolls and frozen bagels. Imagine the terror. I don’t have to imagine it, I was there. We all kept serving, and kept calm. True heroes are the ones that worked twice as hard so no one else had to work or worry.

I found out later that a few younger staff had been helping run the ferry, getting people to the other side of the lake so that they could drive out. Fourteen and fifteen year olds had been so quick to volunteer that not many others had realized. They worked tirelessly for hours, and when the ferry stopped for the day, they walked a mile back to main camp and worked some more. They’re the real heroes.

I played almost 3 hours of Mau with some friends to keep campers entertained. Mau is the worst card game in the universe, if you didn’t know. Quite a few of us, on a few hours of sleep, elected to stay awake longer to make sure campers had fun. You already know what I’ll say about that.

That night we got all of the campers out of camp, and some roads started to clear. We couldn’t do anything else, except wait. Pack up camp. People worked tirelessly wherever they were needed to make sure camp got properly packed up. No one sat idle. That very night, someone drove up with cases upon cases of water for us. People heard about our plight and, without a second thought, packed their cars and asked to help. Disaster really brings out the best in people.

And then on Monday, after a few days of the worst possible things happening, we went home.

All of us went home. Just one week ago, I said goodbye to my home that had been destroyed, and my friends that I so sorely needed during this time... And I drove back to Michigan. While this was the worst experience I’ve ever had in my life, let’s concentrate on the people that I’ve been pointing out through this whole post.

The true heroes. Stark, who distracted people with her story for almost an hour, to keep everyone calm. The staff members that led songs, and played games. Nate, who lent his drone to the cause. The office staff that had to deal with keeping everyone safe. All of the people that volunteered to stay up all night, everyone that stayed out all day with chainsaws, clearing our trails. The people that served food, and brought us water and ran the ferry, and kept everyone safe and calm.

This was the worst experience of my life, but that’s not what I can concentrate on. I have to concentrate on the heroes that shone through, and did everything in their power to keep people safe and calm, and get us out safely and quickly. That’s what you have to pay attention to in these trying times.

[turdblossommm]

All I Am

Summary: Bucky never realized that he struggle with his identity until he was no one. It take a hundred years to break this identity crisis and who knew the solution to the whole mess would be you.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 5,421

A/N: Hello lovlies! I’ve never wrote a one shot so I thought I’d give it a go. I hope you like it! Feed back is always welcome!

Masterlist

Bucky always thought he knew who he was. Growing up he always had charm that won it’s way in everyone’s heart. He always had the ladies hanging on his every word, it was always a silent battle between the women who would dance with him next. He was always protecting Steve when he’d get himself into some sort of trouble.

Then he was a sergeant, off to fight the Nazis and afraid of leaving Steve alone in Brooklyn. Somehow he knew he’d manage to find a way in the army and that scared him more than him going to war. Steve wasn’t meant to enter the war and Bucky was going to do his best to make sure that never happened.

Then he was a POW. Stuck in a nasty Nazi work camp full of soldiers forced to work long twelve hour days with minimal food and water. There were days Bucky though he wasn’t going to make it, face death like others before him. His family would never know what happened to him. Then came the day they dragged him to the room.

No one every came back from this room so when they pulled Bucky out of his cell in the middle of the night he knew his fate. Nothing comes close to describing the pain, every inch of his skin  was on fire. And that moment, the moment he knew he wouldn’t be the same.

He felt different, it was subtle but he knew he was different. He thought it was delusions in his head was he saw Steve in tights. Leaving that work camp was a blur for Bucky, he couldn’t remember the walk they made or who he walked next to except for Steve. But Steve wasn’t Steve anymore. He wasn’t that scrawny kid he knew, he was now a war hero.

And Bucky?

At that point Bucky didn’t know who he was or what was feeling. He was just simply existing, following Steve and the rest of the Howling Commandos. Bucky knew he wasn’t the same since his time in that room. They did something to him and he doesn’t know what.

And that part kept him awake at night. What he still Bucky Barnes from Brooklyn? Or was he something else now? He didn’t feel like himself anymore, there was something building inside him and he didn’t know what.

It was the subtle things that scared him, he’d be randomly doing something and he’d be able to move things that he couldn’t before. The math for his sniper calculations came easier and he’d never seen clearer out of a scope before. Everything about his was enhanced, just like Steve but Bucky never made the connection.

When he fell off that train Bucky almost felt relief, to finally end the suffering and pain he’d been feeling inside. He thought all the pain would go away, but instead felt felt more. He felt his body hit the the side of the canyon and bounce to another side. He felt all of it. By the time he hit the ground Bucky couldn’t feel anything, the pain was gone.

Bucky was gone.

Becoming the Winter Soldier brought more pain and suffering, between the cryo and his mission the Soldier never knew another life. He was inhuman and felt nothing, nothing could stop the Winter Soldier except his handlers.

The Soldier always and only knew pain, sometimes he’d get flashes of some unknown life, a happier one. The Soldier saw this life and deep down, passed the instinct to kill and unwillingness to feel anything, he envies that life. He envies the happiness wishing he could escape this place and embody that happiness. But when the Soldier starts to feel, they feel the need to scramble his brain.

And they do when ever they deem necessary, and overtime he goes back in cryo. For 70 year the Winter Soldier didn’t feel anything, but Bucky felt everything. Deep in the Soldiers subconscious Bucky lived, he saw everything the monster they made did. 

Everything he did

Bucky saw what he did with peoples lives, the lives he took with his hands. He screamed and pounded on the walls of his mind. Hope, praying he break down the walls and someone, anyone would help him.

It was seventy years after his fall he heard his name again. Bucky felt his chest swell as he saw his best friend standing on that bridge talking to the Soldier. And when he saw Steve again on those carriers watching the Soldier beat him down.

Bucky tried to break through, he screamed louder than he had before, he knew in this moment was the only time he’d been able to break the Soldier, he’d been out of cryo for too long. Bucky closed his eyes as the Soldier brought down his fist, probably the one that will end Steve’s life

And when he opened them, he saw Steve not from the back of his mind, but from his own eyes. He’s falling, again. He watched Steve’s lifeless body fall into the water. When he fell into it was like he was pushed from his subconscious and into the mind of the Soldier. Bucky had control but he couldn’t remember a thing aside from what happened in the last 48 hours. The water washed away any aspect of Bucky’s old life, Bucky couldn’t remember Bucky.

He pulled the blond man body from the water and dragged him to the shore where he left him. He called him Bucky, he had to find out who he was. As he walked through whatever city he was in he saw a sign with the Captain America exhibit.

He pulled his ball cap down lower and enter the museum, he found the Captain America exhibit without any trouble. Surprisingly he found his face all over, he was-is Sargent James Buchanan (Bucky) Banes. He was the only Howling Commando to lose his life, but he didn’t obviously. There was name of the person who wrote the article about him and where they worked, if anyone was going to have answers it was you, Y/N Dugan.

He found you, and he was very surprised when he found out how young the head of the History department was. He watched you for a week, the first day of observation he actually thought you were a student until you went off on a tangent about the Paleolithic era.

It wasn’t until he was sitting in one of your lectures about WWII when you spoke about him and the whole team. He could tell by they way your voice changed that you held the subject close to your heart.

“We have the members of the Howling Commandos to thank for the everything they’ve done and gave to this country” A boy in the third row raised his hand

“Professor Dugan is there any relation between you and Dum Dum Dugan?” You smiled and nodded

“He’s my grandfather” You paused “He’s also the reason I’m standing before you, if not for him I would be leaning over an operating table. He taught me to chase my dreams so I’ll leave you with the same advice. 

“You make choice that will shape your future, don’t let someone make them for you because their life didn’t go the way they wanted. This is your one life to live, don’t mess it up with other people’s choice” The room was silent, Bucky could see that you had all these students eating out of your hand. You caught Bucky’s eyes and he looked away

“I’ll leave you with that and conclude the lecture 10 minutes early” Bucky watched as students smiled and packed up their books. Bucky got up and moved with them, get out of your sight before you recognized him

“Not so fast” Bucky stopped mid step, to this day Bucky never understood why he didn’t run at that moment. He watched as you closed the door to the lecture hall “I know who you are”

“A lot of people seem to” Bucky responded as he didn’t meet your eyes

“For being an ex-assassin your not very good at flying under the radar” You chuckled and walked down the stairs to your table with your computer and projector “Why are you watching me? I doubt it’s to thank me for the exhibit” You smiled

“I need help” Bucky still wouldn’t look at you

“Well I don’t have another lecture for another hour, so I’m all yours” You smiled and Bucky finally met your eyes and they weren’t Dugan’s like he expected, you didn’t look anything like him except for the orange hair and freckles.

Bucky asked you as many question as he could about who he was and what happened after the war. Any history that was altered because of him, how many people died at his hands. You were more than willing to help.

When your first noticed him following you, you were afraid that he might still be the Soldier, but after talking to him for that hour you found out that he was just a disoriented and broken man. He didn’t want to hurt people anymore, he just wanted to live the rest of his life in peace.

You gave him everything you could and Bucky was more than grateful because this was considered aiding and abetting. He didn’t want to bring you trouble, and as it seems trouble always seemed to following him. Before he left you sent him with your card and set him up a email with a protected server

“If you have questions or need someone to talk to, don’t hesitate” You passed off the card “Don’t call on a cell phone, they can trace it” He nodded

“Thank you” You smiled and drove him a train station that was going to take him to place where he could get on a boat and lave the US. Bucky was grateful, so grateful for you and your help. If he ever gets out of this he’s going find a way to repay you somehow.

As the weeks turned to months and somehow a year had passed in hiding. He’d found refuge in Romania, per your suggestion. He tries to email you or call you at least once a week, it tends to keep him sane. Just hearing your voice calmed him, he’s never found a way to calm himself until you.

Over that time he learned that you were a young genius with a gift of memory, some may say it was a genetic mutation. You finished high school at fourteen and double majored in college and came out in six years with a doctorate in both World Religions and World History.

He learned that you traveled the world with other historians in search of answers for the questions the world had. You’d been to burial grounds all over the world and studied the indigenous people in Africa.

You learned little secrets about the war that the history books left out, secrets about the Howling Commandos and even the early life of Steve Rogers, before he was Captain America. He told you about the thirties and forties, stories from his childhood.

Bucky savored your laughter and your voice, it brought a sort of light into his dark life. He always called you when his thoughts would get dark and you chased them away like his mom would chase the raccoons with a broom stick.

When times would get real hard Buck would sometimes wish that you went with him, just so he could hold you when the nightmares got bad. You always remind him to keep a dream journal and a regular journal for his memories but his journal is mostly filled with thoughts about you.

You watched in horror at the news in your living room, announcing that the Winter Soldier was behind the bombing in Vienna that killed Kind T’Chaka, you’d met him with you studied African tribes. You knew it was a lie, you spoke to Bucky an hour ago. He didn’t tell him but you weren’t teaching this summer and you were going to fly out to Romania to see him.

Bucky often occupied your mind when you weren’t working, sometimes even when your were working. Your heart always fluttered in your chest when you were able to discuss WWII with your students. It used to bring you joy because you loved your grandfather, but Bucky added to that in another way.

As the investigations droned on the less and less you heard from Bucky. One day you over heard your students talking about him, how he’d been caught with Captain America and some other Avengers.

You quickly whipped out your phone and google his name, looking for any information, looking for hope. He was being held in a foreign country before escaping with the rest of them, there was also a story on an explosion at an airport in Germany. You were so confused, but you mostly wanted Bucky to be okay.

Bucky stood in the lab without his left arm, he decided that it was for the best for everyone if he went back in cryo, he couldn’t hurt people in there. He wanted to call you and tell you everything, make sure you were okay. These weeks without hearing your voice was treacherous. You were the rock that held him down when he was flying away.

“Are you sure Buck?” He nodded and his childhood friend

“Can I make a phone call before I go under?” Bucky looked up to the king of Wakanda and he passed a phone to him. He dialed your number, he memorized it months ago

“Hi this is Y/N Dugan” Bucky felt tears fill his eyes as he heard your voice “Hello?” You called again and he couldn’t find the words to say to you “Bucky?” Your voice was shaky 

“Hey doll” Bucky sniffled and Steve quirked his brow, ‘of course Bucky found a girl’ he thought to himself

“Hey, hows it going?” You chuckled at the casual conversation, fighting back tears not wanting to have puffy eyes before a lecture

“As good as it can for a wanted ex-assassin” You wiped under eyes

“Are you safe?” You asked, the question was going to keep you up at night if it goes unanswered

“For now” He paused “I’m going to be gone for awhile, but I’ll call you as soon as I get better okay” The tears were streaming down your face now, you didn’t have the will to hold them back anymore

“Bucky” You sighed while bitting your lips to keep the tears from streaming down your cheeks

“You don’t have to say anything” A tear slide down his cheek “I’ll see you soon okay?” 

“Promise?” You asked while turning your back to the students that were starting to file in

“I promise, I’ll find you” You smiled

“I’ll be where you found me” 

“Talking about me?” He chuckled

“Always”

“I got to go doll” You sniffled and wiped the tears away

“Me too” You ended the call and tried to regain you composure before turning to class and began your lecture on the man you were hopelessly in love with. Bucky handed the phone back to Steve and laid back on the table.

“Her name is Y/N Dugan, she a professor at Columbia University” Bucky told Steve “Can you check on her every now and again” Steve nodded and placed his hand on Bucky shoulder 

“I promise” And thats when Bucky was frozen in time once again, waiting for Shuri to find a way to get the trigger words out of his head and then maybe he can find his way back to you. You were the light at the end of a very dark tunnel and he’s going to get you.

Steve checked on you every now and then, but like Bucky before, you caught him and insisted that he come in. You’d always ask about Bucky and how he was doing and Steve always had the same answer

“They’re doing all they can for him” And you’d nod every single time. You want to go out to this African country and find him and tell him everything is going to be okay, even if it isn’t going to be. You just want to see him

Steve always said no, it wasn’t safe for you. You’d fight him, and you fought him hard on it. It always reminded Steve of his old friend, your grandfather, when you’d argue with him. You’re just as hard headed as he was.

Bucky was better, Shuri took those words from his head and crushed them. Now Bucky was on the mend and he couldn’t be happier, he just wanted to see you. He had his own place in Wakanda, he’d look after so goats to pass the time. He had the hope of going home to you until the king walked to his little shack with his new arm

There was always going to be a fight and he was always going to be caught in the middle of it. As he stood in the middle of the battle field with a talking raccoon was when he question his sanity, was this his intent? Did God put him on this earth to fight battles for other people?

Bucky watched Steve catch that stupid purple tyrant’s hand, cursing him for being so reckless. Not even Thor’s battle axe could’ve stopped the snap. It was the snap felt around the world. At first Bucky didn’t feel a things until he looked down at his hands. They were starting to fall away, disintegrate into nothing

“Steve?” He called before everything went black. When his eyes opened again he was in a grey room, but it wasn’t a room, it was like a void. And endless realm of nothing. He tried to walk to the end of where ever he was, but it was like walking in place.

After what felt like forever he found a door and when he opened it he found his parents and two little sisters sitting around a shabby Christmas tree. His dad hadn’t gone off to war yet and his ma’s hair wasn’t grey yet. The twins couldn’t be more than ten.

“Bucky there you are, we’ve been waiting forever” Rachel dragged him into the living room and he watched his sisters tear into their few presents. He remembers this Christmas, this was the last Christmas before his dad went off to war and disappeared.

At the same time he felt the happiness all again he was shot out of the room and back in the grey void. He searched for another door, desperate to find his family again. He just wanted to see them one more time.

He ripped open another door and it reveal Steve bending over a garbage can at Coney Island. Bucky smiled as he remembered the tilt-a-whirl and the two hot dogs he ate right before. Bucky couldn’t stop from laughing

“Yeah keep laughing buddy” Steve grumbled and followed him down the board walk back the girls they came with. He saw Dot and her friend waving and Bucky hurried Steve along to catch up with them. Bucky smiled as he won the prize for Dot and Steve scolded him for using all their money on the stupid game. Bucky found a way to get some money and opened the door for Steve and he was back in the grey void.

Bucky sighed again and searched for another door. When he opened the third door he was sitting in the chair. He started to panic as they put the rubber mouth guard in his mouth. He fought the restraints until they turned the machine on and he felt the pain all over again. He closed his eyes and opened them to be back in the void.

Bucky opened three more doors, all showing all the people he killed. First was a man, probably some scientist working against Hydra at the time. The second door showed the first women he killed, she threatened to against Hydra and tell their secrets. The last showed the only other women he kill and Howard Stark, their death haunts him almost every night. He knew Howard before he became the soldier, they were friends.

Bucky found tears streaming down his face in the void, having to relieve the Soldiers memories was something he never wanted to do. One more door popped up and Bucky couldn’t do it, he couldn’t watch him brutally murder anymore people. But this door had a warm glow coming from under the door, so he hesitantly pushed the door open to reveal your face.

You were holding a baby on your hip with two twin toddlers running around the living room. Bucky analyzed the room and realized it was littered with party hats and streamers, the fire place had a banner reading ‘Happy 105th Birthday’. Bucky’s eyes landed back on you, the ring on your fourth finger on your left hand. He looked down to his metal hand and there was a thick band around it as well.

“Happy Birthday Sarge” You kissed his lips and Bucky felt his heart swell 

“Daddy” The baby boy reached for him and you passed the baby to him 

“Steve and Sam will be here soon” You yelled from the kitchen as there was knock on the door. He pulled it open and Steve stood with a women Bucky didn’t know. He side stepped when a little girl ran in the room and started playing with the twins.

“Sarah behave” The women called and kissed Bucky’s cheek after wishing him a happy birthday before she joined you in the kitchen. Steve clapped him on the shoulder and smiled

“Who would’ve thought?” Steve smiled at the children playing in the living room

“Yeah” Bucky agreed

“Winny, Becca tell your daddy happy birthday” You smiled at the toddlers as the handed him a present. Sam and his girl arrived at some point and everyone was gathered around the living room, you were sitting on Bucky’s lap. Bucky watched you as you observed everyone and everything around you. Your eyes found their way back to Bucky

“I love you” You kissed his forehead and Bucky closed his eyes

“I love you too” He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on yours

You watched in shock as you students started to drift into nothing but dust. You waited for it to happen to you, or someone come and explain what the hell was going on. You hurried back to your apartment and tried Steve’s phone, maybe he had answers. And of course he didn’t answer.

You didn’t know what to do, was life still supposed to go on? You turned on the news, and people disappearing was all anyone could talk about. There were no answers for any questions asked, nobody knew what was happening.

So you continued your life, found research projects to fill the void. The void that was normally filled with Bucky, he hadn’t tried to contact you again so all you could think was that he too was gone. Nothing left of him but a little dust.

Thoughts like that caused you to cry yourself to sleep, what f you never saw him again? What if you never got to tell him how you felt? It was three o’clock in the morning when you flipped your covers off and packed a bag for Wakanda.

Steve tried to call you but it kept going voicemail, so he assumed you had the same fate as the others. So when you stepped into the African kingdom he almost lost it, how the hell you got here bewildered him.

You were going to stay and help figure this mess out, no matter what it takes. As you scanned the throne room for any sign of Bucky you found Steve. You could see the rage from across the room where he was surrounded by the remaining Avengers. You felt your eyes widen as Steve stomped over to you and dragged you out of the room.

“Why are you here? It’s not safe” You threw your arms up

“Because I had to know” You paused “I had to know if he was still alive”

“Y/N” Steve’s eye softened 

“I know, if he wasn’t by your side I assumed he didn’t make it” Steve heart broke for you as tears welled in your eyes. He pulled you into him

“We’ll get hime back okay” You nodded int his chest

“Tell me what you want me to do”

“Go home” You stepped back and glared at the larger man

“To what Steve? To sit and wait in my apartment for the inevitable?” You shook your head “I’m staying here until he comes back” You pushed passed him and Steve ran after you

“Y/N stop” You spun around and glared at him “There’s a lab on the fifth floor, find Shuri” You nodded and stepped into the elevator and rode up to the fifth floor. You found the empty lab and stepped inside. There was a few files left open and you found Bucky’s face

You smiled and picked up the picture. It was from the forties when his hair was still short, he wore a ratty green shirt and had a gun on his back. You watch a drop of water pool on the picture, with out realizing it was your tears

“Can I help you?” You dropped the picture and wiped your eyes

“Steve sent me here to help” You told a girl who couldn’t be more than 16

“I’m Shuri” She stuck out her hand

“Y/N Dugan” He eyes lit up

“You’re her? Bucky wouldn’t shut up about you” You blushed “He said you were some kind of genius” You nodded 

“Kinda” You smiled and over the months you did everything you could do to help her. The remaining Avengers did what ever they were doing to restore the world from Thano’s destruction.

Some days in the lab were better than the others, on the bad days you’d cry yourself to sleep while clutching Bucky’s picture. It was the only thing you had left of him, you’d always wonder if you were destined to only see him once. Like it was some sick and cruel joke the universe was playing on you.

When the days got to be like this, you’d always go back to the emails. You read his words over and over again to the point you could recite them word for word. Sometimes you’d pretend he was in the bed next to you whispering the words.

On the good days you’d eat dinner with Shuri and go over plans for another good day in the lab. Sometimes the team would send information and you two would run wild for it. The two of you were playing for the same side, you wanted Bucky back, she wanted her brother back. 

Shuri’s heart broke at the loss of her brother for the second time, but her heart broke harder for you. Bucky always talked about you and how he knew you were the one the moment he spoke to you for the first time. Shuri could see how deeply Bucky loved you and she could see it was reciprocated from you.

You never realized how much you loved Bucky until he was gone. You two were never together, but you always knew he’d be on the receiving end of your phone call or email. Now he’s nothing but a pile of dust, crushed at the hands of a purple monster.

“Y/N” Shuri stood breathless in the door way of the lab “They did it” You shot from your stool and ran after her down the hallway and down to the main room of the palace. You watched the aircraft lower to the ground.

Bucky knew you were in Wakanda, Steve told him and he almost punched him for letting you stay. But Bucky knew you, Steve didn’t have a chance. When the craft touched down he thought back to the soul realm and the vision of you.

T’Challa was the first off the ship and Shuri was in his arms in the few seconds that followed. Slowly everyone exited the craft, Bucky was nervous to say the least. The sun was bright when he first step off and when his eyes adjusted he saw you and the world stopped.

You stood outside the group of reuniting Avengers and family. You had on a ratty shirt and black leggings and a traditional Wakandan blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You had your hair tied in a messy bun on top of your head and you glasses were low on your nose as you searched for him.

When you saw him standing in the doorway of the aircraft you stopped breathing. He was in blue tactical gear, his long hair flowing over his shoulders. You took a couple steps forward as his eyes found yours. He hurried off the craft and pushed through the group of people

“Hey” He breathed and you smiled and your hand came up to his cheek, making sure this was all real

“Hi” He leaned into your hand

“I missed you” He mumbled

“I missed you too” He pulled you into his chest and your breathed in his scent, you never realized how much you missed it until you smelt it again. The smell of his natural smell mixed with mint was an intoxicating scent.

Bucky brushed your hair behind your ear as he kept you close, he never wanted to be without you again. You pulled away from his chest and smiled up at him and he placed his hands on either sides of your face, searching for a sign from you

“You going to make me wait another couple years?” You joked and he pressed his lips to your. You were everything Bucky imagined, they way your lips molded with his perfectly. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you while he pulled back and rest his head on yours

“Y/N I-I” Bucky stuttered and he cursed himself

“I know” You smiled and Bucky’s heart rate rose “I love you too” Bucky smiled and push his lips back on yours

“Alight Ice Man I’m about to puke” Bucky flipped Sam the bird as you laughed and Steve had to break up their bickering. Bucky held your hand and he wasn’t ever going to let go.

Bucky always struggle to find himself, he was never able to attach a permeate label until he met you. You loved him and even when he went back to New York with you. You found a lawyer for him to prove his innocence in front of the court.

You held his hand when he cleared of all his crimes, you held his hand through all the times he thought he’d be sentence to prison. You held his hand after ever nightmare he had, Shuri could take the words form his head but not the memories.

He held your hand when you worked until the early mornings and on archeological sites. Sometimes he would be afraid that you’d fall in one of the hole and never see you again. He held your hand when your mother died from cancer.

You held his hand when the minister pronounced you man and wife, you never let go through the whole reception only for you to dance with your father and brothers. You had his hand through countless therapy sessions.

He held your hand after the second time you miscarried a child. He held you as you cried your nights away. He held your hand when you brought his two daughters into this world, he squeezed even harder when you named one after his mother and sister. He held your hand again when your brought his son in this world, he almost let go when you insisted naming him after Bucky.

After 105 years Bucky finally knew who he was and what he was meant to be. He was meant to be yours, your rock, your everything indefinitely. As were you to him, you may be a genius, historian, what ever title you held. But deep down both you and Bucky knew that you were always his, you were his everything.

[amememightywarrior]

The Echo mini-echoes

Short stories that I could probably shoehorn into the actual story but won’t because they’re short. btw the story itself can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16151819/chapters/37739003

Below the cut are 3 short stories/drabbles.

Battleship

“Ye sank me battleship again, ye swivin' whoreson!” Skaetswys shrieked. “'ow're ye doin' it? Out wivvit!” She shook a finger in the direction of her opponent, and then swung around to glare at me with betrayal in her eyes. “Ameme! Ye set me up! I thought we were friends!!”

“I didn't think you were that cheap,” I replied. “Come on. It's only for some food and I know you guys have plenty to spare.”

“Aye, well, I didn't think the little rat bastard'd 'ave the balls to cheat me in the middle o' camp,” she replied.

Ga Bu, my tiny kobold buddy, only twitched his whiskers and tapped another point on his side of the board. “A5!”

“YAAARGH!” went Skaetswys, marking the end of yet another battleship. “Fine! Fine, I give. Anythin's better than this.”

I gave Ga Bu a gentle pat on the helmet. “Good job, kid,” I said. “That's enough for your whole Order for the night.”

Ga Bu, pleased, wiggled his big, sensitive ears, which he'd used to pinpoint every single spot Skaetswys had placed her battleships with disturbing accuracy. Victory was ours.

~*~

Good Communication Is Everything

There was only one person in the store room of the Waking Sands. One person should not be intimidating. I could take on basically anything at this point, so what was one robed Elezen man who seemed emotionally attached to his goggles? And yet here I was, frozen stiff and watching him like I would've watched a wild predator.

“Prithee doth speak thy mind,” said Urianger. “What bringeth thee to this place?”

“Uh,” I said. “Um.”

No part of his bearing changed. He simply stood there in his hood and his goggles and his weird sandals and waited.

“I need pen and paper,” I said. “I'm gonna write a letter. To a friend. You know.”

“Housed within the desk,” he said, waving at the desk next to him. I scooted slowly around the room, giving him as much berth as I could manage. He turned away to browse the bookshelf again, though I could see his ears twitching beneath the hood as I eased a drawer open.

All seemed well. I found my pen and paper without getting too close. Still, my heart hammered in my chest and I could not help but watch him the entire time. Just as I thought I was about to get away, Urianger broke the silence.

“Wherefore art thou so taken with fear of me?” he asked, turning his head slightly.

I turned red. “Me? Afraid? I'm not afraid.”

Urianger looked at me (I think). Then he sighed and went back to browsing, content to ignore what must have been a tooth-gratingly obvious lie.

“Okay, maybe I'm a little nervous,” I said.

“'Tis clear as the light that shines forth from thy soul,” he said, which I actually understood for once. “Thou art as a kitten confronting a flight of stairs...”

“Thanks,” I muttered. “Look, I just...have a problem with people who only wear goggles and hoods and...sometimes I don't really understand what you're saying but I don't wanna admit it. So yeah. Oh, and you've got like no body language. But that's my problem, not yours, so...I'll just get out of your hair. Robes. Yeah.”

Urianger moved to get between me and the door. “Prithee stay your flight,” he said, and twitched down his hood to reveal dove-grey hair that matched his beard. “That which you describe is easily fixed...though mayhap my speech less so than the rest.” He pulled his goggles off, too. His silver eyes gleamed even in the low light of the storage room.

I blinked. “Oh,” I said. Other than the honking big tattoo on his face, he was a perfectly normal Elezen man. That was kind of a let-down. I went over to see what he was reading. He tilted the book to show me the spine. “'Constructing An Optical Aetherometer'? Wuzzat? Are you measuring something?”

“'Tis of great import that we Scions measure and track aetherial currents in Eorzea,” he said. “As the life force of this star ebbs and flows, so too doth—or rather, does the fate of the Spoken. I would create a more accurate instrument with which to measure these currents, to better understand the nature of them and better foresee our fates so we may prepare ourselves.”

Sounded interesting and also completely beyond me. “Well, I guess let me know if you need help with anything,” I said. “As in killing things or putting meters in dangerous places.”

Urianger wasn't the type to smile, but I thought I spotted the barest hint of one in his eyes. “I am capable of completing such menial tasks myself, but I will keep your offer in mind,” he said. “Ever doth thy kindness resonate, heedless of light or shadow.”

Whatever that meant. I retreated and he put his goggles and hood back on, ending our very first proper conversation. What a weirdo.

~*~

Little Mage Lost, pt 1

Edda was, she admitted to herself, completely lost. Oh, not location-wise—she knew she was in the Carline Canopy—but just...on the journey of life. It was as though without Avere she had no purpose, no goals, not even a smidgen of direction. Even with Ameme, she had...

Well. Ameme dragged everyone along with her with the force of an Ul'dahn freight train. Edda envied her conviction, her drive to move forward despite everything. Meanwhile, here Edda sat at her usual table, watching people come and go as she had done for the past week. Thinking...if it hadn't been for Avere, would she have ever left her village? Without Avere, what should she do now? Avere, Avere, Avere...

It made her sick to think of how everything had ended.

The doors to the Canopy opened and an Elezen man strode in. Edda idly wondered which type he was. There were three to choose from and they all looked alike to her. She was actually rather scared of them, if she had to admit it. They were always so friendly to Hyur women and her first encounter with one had caused Avere to shout at her for flirting—

She had stayed away from them until Gridania, where they were everywhere and remarkably unfriendly because she was an outsider. And for the record, she had not been flirting. She didn't even know how to flirt. She barely knew how to talk to people.

The Elezen man turned and she realized she knew him, maybe, if one could know Elezen around here. Their gazes met and he decided that gave him permission to stalk over to her even though she quickly looked at her hands instead. In broad daylight she could see how rangy he was, how thin and starved-looking were his cheeks. Tendons stood out in his neck as he moved and his armor, once well-fitted, sagged in places as though he'd begun to shrink away from his former contours.

“It's you,” he said in a voice as rough as gravel, nothing like the mellifluous voice of Mother Miounne. “Where's your bloodthirsty friend, hmm?”

Edda peeked at him from under the brim of her hat. He was horribly dirty but alive. Now, with him looking right at her, she discovered he had glowing pinkish-red eyes. “Um, Ameme? She's gone.”

“Gone? As in dead, or just elsewhere?”

“Not dead...she had to go to Coerthas,” Edda said, although in actual fact she had no idea where Ameme would be now, given how fast the warrior traveled. Her eyes drifted to his side. “Did you find a healer?”

The man snorted. “And what healer would go near a Duskwight and a criminal, hmm? No one. Your healing job was enough. I'm too strong to be taken out by such a little wound, anyway.”

She peeked at him again. He hadn't sat down, so his face seemed a malm away. “It was a deep wound. You're lucky you healed, although you're awfully dirty and thin. Have you been eating?”

The man's lip curled to show off-white, slightly pointy teeth. “No inn would give me the time of day, never mind a room. I've no money, either. That's how it is to be a Duskwight in Gridania. I've had my fill of playing servant to Wildwoods and Hyurs.” He tched and finally lowered himself into a chair, the knuckles of one hand pressed against the table for support. The water in her glass rippled in response to hidden tremors. He was shaking.

Edda pushed the remains of her meal towards him. “You should eat,” she said.

He gave her an offended look. “Think me a pity case?” he demanded. “That I am so pathetic that you have to feed me your scraps?”

Edda wanted to hide from his anger. At the same time, the voice inside of her that had stirred once before cried out in indignation that he would protest stupidly for the sake of pride. She took a deep breath. “I think,” she said, in a voice that trembled as much as the man, “that you've no money for food, and I've money for this much but cannot finish, so I will give you the rest because you are starving.”

That gave him pause, his eyes on the food. But he was still suspicious and glanced at her again. “These meals are not large,” he said.

Edda bit her lip. “I haven't had much appetite,” she said, hoping he wouldn't ask more.

“Are you ill?” he asked.

She studied her hands once more. Small, thin fingers...no longer any sign of her engagement band on her finger, for it had been pulled off by Liavinne before... “I am heartbroken because my fiancé and his lover tried to get me killed so they could be together,” she said.

There. She had said it out loud. Mechanically, certainly, but perhaps by saying it she could come to accept what had happened.

“What a coward,” said the man, sounding so thoroughly disgusted that her heart clenched. “Who was this? You should get revenge.”

Edda shook her head. “No. He—he's not worth my time. As they say, the best revenge is living well.”

“Eh? What fool said that? I say the best revenge is showing them how wrong they were and watching them suffer for it,” said the man. He snagged the bowl and tipped the contents into his mouth. What was a decent amount for her was hardly a mouthful for someone his size. “Listen,” he said around the greens. “Listen, you—what's your name?”

“Edda.”

“Edda. Mine's Foulques. Look, you need to show this idiot you're better than him,” Foulques said. “He's utter rubbish. You ought to find him and the cheating whore and leave them for dead.”

Edda shook her head again. “No,” she said. “That won't do me any good. What I need is...a purpose, I suppose.” She pushed her glass towards him as well. He snatched it up and downed it in one gulp. “I left my village because...because he wanted to go see the world. So we became adventurers, only it wasn't so wonderful.”

Foulques grunted, now occupied with getting a small stem from between his teeth with a dirty nail.

“I wasn't very good, or so I thought,” she said. “Avere kept leaving me behind. I always thought it was me. I need to try harder...I need to be better...but I had to rely on potions because my healing is so slow. I can't do it in battle.”

“Most can't even do it outside of battle,” said Foulques. “Being slow, though, that's your problem.”

“I know. I—well, I think I kept up with Ameme all right, but she moves so fast all the time. Faster than Avere. I know I was holding her back but she never got mad.”

He licked his chapped lips and rubbed his chin, thinking. “So you want to get stronger?”

“I—I think I'd like to be able to keep up and heal,” she said.

“Same thing,” he said. “Living well...getting stronger...” He gazed at one of the many stained glass windows, his mind far away.

“Ameme told me this before she left,” said Edda. “'If you really want to live well, get so strong you don't even need to think about them anymore.'”

“Huh! That's not a bad idea,” said Foulques. “Then they are as vilekin beneath one's boot...hah!” He started to say something, but froze at something behind Edda. She twisted to look but only found a mild-faced Hyur man coming up the stairs to the airship landing. Hardly cause for alarm, in her opinion. He wasn't even armed.

She turned back, saying, “What's wrong?” only to discover she was now alone at the table. Foulques had bolted.

[la-knight]

Books I Read in 2016_::_The Sinister Sweetness of Splendid Academy by Nikki Loftin

“When my mom was alive, she read me stories every night.

‘Use your imagination, Lorelei,’ she’d say, ‘and your whole life can be a fairy tale.”

I wanted that to be true. But I should have paid more attention to the fairy tales.”

When Lorelei’s old school mysteriously burns down, a new one appears practically overnight: Splendid Academy. Rock-climbing walls on the playground and golden bowls of candy on every desk? Gourmet meals in the cafeteria, served by waiters? Optional homework and two recess periods a day? It’s every kids’s dream.

But Lorelei and her new friend Andrew are pretty sure it’s too good to be true. Together they uncover a sinister mystery, one with their teacher, the beautiful Ms. Morrigan, at the very center. Then Andrew disappears. Lorelei has to save him, even if that means facing a past she’d like to forget – and taking on a teacher who’s a real witch.

What Lorelei and Andrew discover chills their bones – and might even pick them clean!

1.85/5 stars

So I read this book a while ago, and the first time I read it, I really liked it. Not love, but I enjoyed it just fine. I’m not snobby about the target age of my reading material: I love Dragons Love Tacos as much as I love Red Queen as much as I love The Night Circus as much as I love Aru Shah and the End of Time. And I read The Sinister Sweetness of Splendid Academy at a dark time in my life (I have many) when my depression went undiagnosed and therefore untreated and I couldn’t handle much in the way of length or high-high stakes or grimdark or anything like that. So this book was perfect because it had stakes but it’s easier to care about one kid’s life than about, say, the war for the Iron Throne on top of all your faves possibly getting killed by ice demons or zombies. And I enjoyed this book.

More recently, I’ve reread it, and…well, I didn’t love it or like it as much as I had the first time. I didn’t hate it, but I definitely didn’t love it.

People talk about purity culture, which is hecka toxic, and I’m not here for that (I don’t judge people’s reading material unless it’s something drastic, like shouting from the rooftops how much they enjoyed Mein Kampf because, um, yikes). If there’s a book that I’ve heard is problematic, I may or may not read it for myself, depending on the nature of the issues and whatever. No media is perfect, it’s a balancing act. If I’m titchy about the person getting my money, I’ll buy that book secondhand so they don’t get any of my money (this is what I did with Stephenie Meyer, Suzanne Collins, Cassandra Clare, Anne Rice, James Dashner, & JK Rowling, for example). Not difficult to do. The obsession with consuming so-called “pure media” can be super bad and result in things like anon harassment or even death threats. I’ve seen this happen. On the flip side, the push against both problematic content and purity culture, when dealt with rationally, has led to some really great discussions regarding media analysis and critical thinking with regard to story consumption, and that’s great.

Why is this relevant?

So I reread Splendid Academy after some exposure to articles, essays, blog posts, and tumblr posts about several topics - including the pervasiveness and lethality of fat-shaming (among other things, like the silencing and condemnation by society of justified female anger). I did not go looking for these posts, they just trickled into the fringe of my social awareness as a result of using social media. I’d read them, reblogged and retweeted them, but I didn’t consciously try to apply those posts to Splendid Academy when I reread it. But this time through, the book made me super uncomfortable, although at first I didn’t quite understand why. I had to sit and, as they say, “think muh thoughts” all the way through a few times before I figured out what was bothering me.

The very basic dual premises of this book are sexist and fat-phobic. Now, I’m fat. There’s a lot of stigma around being fat. I mean, people have died of treatable, not-fat-related medical ailments because their doctor refused to look for those things, falling back on “just lose some weight and you’ll be fine” instead - and then boom, it’s something like cancer (which is not exacerbated by being fat) and the person dies.

(I am not Google. You can Google this information if you really want to. It’s all over Tumblr, Twitter, and Google. Don’t bother me about it)

The sinister nature of Splendid Academy is that its run by three witches fattening up all the kids to be eaten. Typical “Hansel and Gretel” motif, right? Except! In “Hansel and Gretel,” the kids are literally starving when they come upon a food source, an adult tells them to eat and eat and eat (it’s not their idea), and Hansel ends up locked in a cage by the witch and force-fed because the witch* threatens to kill his sister if he doesn’t. A lot of fairy tales (original ones in Grimms collections and by Andersen and whatnot, I mean) have morals of various types. The moral of “Hansel & Gretel” is not “gluttony should be punishable by death” or “being fat makes you a worthless human and it’s why bad things happen to you.”

(*By the way, the stereotypical long-nosed warty witch who eats Christian children is an anti-Semitic caricature of Jewish women and it’s gross; luckily the author doesn’t do that)

But in this book, the kids almost seem to bring their imminent demise on themselves by eating too much junk food. Sort of like how the narration says Augustus Gloop ended up turned into semi-sentient fudge in Charlie & the Chocolate Factory because he was a greedy glutton and not because Willy Wonka is a colonizing* sociopath who should never be in charge of minors.

(*Three words: Fucking. Oompa. Loompas.)

All but one of the kids attending Splendid Academy are snackers. These twelve- and thirteen-year-olds will snack on Skittles or sunflower seeds or whatever while they do homework or school work. They’re fed gourmet breakfasts and lunches in the school cafeteria every day. The food is enchanted, of course, to be highly addictive and also enchanted so that it transforms immediately into fat, apparently? Bypassing the stomach entirely, I guess, because the kids never get full and literally just eat all day every day that they’re in school.

Wait, you say. If the food is enchanted, it’s not the kids’ fault they’re eating it. That’s not fat-phobic at all. What?

I said all but one kid has fallen for these magical machinations. One boy (not our protagonist Lorelei, but her friend Andrew) is basically immune to the call of the candy. If the One Ring of Power was candy, he’d be movie!Faramir and Lorelei would be Frodo. And why is he immune? Because he’s got a fairy godmother? He’s magical himself? He’s a total nerd and studied mythology and knows how to spot ensorcelled edibles a mile away?

Nah. It’s cuz he went to fat camp.

Y’all can’t see my face right now.

Now, to be fair, apparently Andrew was a compulsive eater and needed some kind of intervention because he was out of control (which, also being fair, is a ridiculous and tired trope about how fat people can’t control themselves around food and we need to kill that with fire and not spoon-feed the idea to tweens, thanks). But even with the blegh back story of compulsive eater, YOU DON’T SEND A TWELVE-YEAR-OLD TO FAT CAMP, OHMIGAWD. Unless he’s got PICA (that mental illness where you compulsively eat dangerous or non-food shit like glass or soap or carpet lint) or whatever, he’s not compulsively eating because he’s the next Augustus Gloop and he’s a spoiled brat who hates the word “no.” I used to be a compulsive eater as a kid (which is oddly not how I got fat). I developed the habit if “eating my feelings” because I WAS SUICIDAL AND FOOD WAS THE ONLY THING THAT EVEN HELPED A LITTLE BIT.

And you know what helped me curb my compulsive eating when my depression got really bad? It wasn’t the taunting about being fat or my mom telling me I needed to go on a diet or my dad asking me constantly if I really shouldn’t put back that second cheese stick or applesauce cup. What really helped me stop compulsively eating WAS TREATING MY FREAKING DEPRESSION.

Ahem. However, the book does do one thing sort of right with this kid - because he HAS UNTREATED DEPRESSION went to actual therapy (for the compulsive eating specifically and not anything else that might be wrong) while shipped off to fat-person exile because his parents are horrible people, he can recognize “trigger foods”* - the foods that he would compulsively eat and would make him overeat when he was upset, foods he now avoids. They got that part right. But it also means he’s more selective about what he eats (which is fine) and has more self-control than the other kids (um…), self-control he learned thanks to an entire summer at fat camp (UM…), and his sheer determination alone to not “stuff his face” helps him shake off the herion-addictive magic laid on the school food.

ExCUSE me???

(*Side note, I’m on meds now for non-food stuff that screw with my appetite and also I’m a broke bitch but as a kid/teen, my trigger foods were bread, apple pie, cake, waffles, and fruit bagels. I can still, if I had money, eat an entire angel food cake but that’s not a trigger, it’s just super fluffy and delicious)

So our sidekick is a former fat kid with untreated mental health issues who got sent to fat camp and thanks to the miracle of fat camp has now overcome his unhealthy dependence on food AND has the will power (forged from denying his inner fatty) to throw off three witches’ worth of addictive magic. Something Lorelei only manages to do after she eats magical dead-kid bone chips. Because she and the other kids have no self-control and so just eat and eat...apparently.

Alrighty then…

But Andrew’s not our lead. Lorelei is. And Lorelei interesting as a middle grade protagonist. Her mom recently died of cancer and Lorelei blames herself (because that’s what kids do) and she’s filled with even more confusion, fear, self-hate, and anger than a typical tween girl as a result both of her mother’s lingering illness and ugly death as well as the fact that Lorelei at one point jerked away from her mom during an argument and, due to chemo-induced weakness, her mom lost her balance, fell, and broke a bone.

Lorelei is lost and angry. She makes friends with Andrew and finds out about the witches and their cannibal plot while still struggling not only with her mom’s death and her own guilt, but the screwed-up situation with her family. What situation? Her dad and older brother are 100% emotionally abusive and treat her like she’s some kind of bratty little monster because she’s feeling sad and guilty and scared and angry all the time.

HER MOM JUST DIED YOU BUTTHOLES, SHE’S GOING THROUGH PUBERTY WHICH IS A HORMONAL HURRICANE OF DEATH THAT RUINS EVERYTHING, AND YOU POOP-WAFFLES ARE HELPING NOT AT ALL AND YOU SUCK.

This is a MAJOR pet peeve for me because too often emotional abuse is normalized in middle grade fiction, especially when it comes from parents (this book, The Night Parade by Kathryn Tanquary, All Four Stars by Tara Dairman, Young Wizards by Diane Duane, and even in Harry Potter, perpetuated by some of the so-called heroes) and it drives me bat-crap.

This is a middle-grade review, so I’m trying to keep it PG13.

The head witch, Ms. Morrigan, is drawn to Lorelei because of her anger and how lost she feels, and instead of eating her, wants to adopt her and make her into a baby cannibal-witch. This would be kind of a cool angle except once again, it reinforces that Lorelei being angry about her mom being dead is a flaw iin her character and not a completely understandable psychological response to a tween’s universe being ripped in half by the concept of her mother being gone forever.

Her dad and brother are “good guys” and disturbed/horrified by and condemning of her anger, grief, guilt, and fear, and they punish her for it. Ergo, according to the narrative, her anger is bad. The evil witches who literally eat children admire her anger and say it proves she should be one of them, too. Ergo, her anger is double bad. She only stops being tempted to join with the witches once she realizes being angry about her mom dying is “immature” and “bad.” Ergo, blah blah blah, girls should never be angry, it’s unladylike and turns you into a flesh-eating witch.

My parents spoon-fed me “demonstrating anger in any way for any reason is bad” along with a HUGE helping of “being angry about feeling powerless makes you a bad person” for six years of my adolescence, then wondered why I started self-harming, developed depression, and attempted suicide on multiple occasions before I was twelve. The message that a child’s anger in the face of powerlessness, death, or sudden and unpredictable changes to their homeostasis is an inherently bad thing that should be punished and makes them bad or evil can be incredibly damaging. Her mom died. A twelve-year-old girl is allowed to be confused and sad and hurt and angry about that.

Like I said, I didn’t hate the book (although these two things I ranted about made me suuuper uncomfortable while reading and the more I thought about them later, the angrier I got). But I didn’t love it, and I didn’t like it as much as I did during my first read-through. The fat-shaming was annoying and gross, and I’m suuuper tired of angry girls being shamed for their feelings, especially teens and kids. Young people feel things so intensely. And they don’t always have the experience or the vocabulary to parse out how certain aspects of a story make them feel or why, or resist internalizing toxic messages about how feeling intensely or feeling a particular way at all is bad. Thre’s a big differene between asking an eight-year-old to consume their media critically and someone twice or thrice that age. And yeah, parents have a responsibility, family discussions, if they rely solely on books society has failed them, blah blah. Unfortunately, a lot of parents suck and a lot of parents shame their kids for having feelings the parets don’t think they should. Especially young girls. The normalizing of emotional abuse by parents in middle grade books proves how “normal” many adults think such things are.

Did I Enjoy This Book: yeah, for the most part, I guess. But I won’t be reading it again anytime soon.

Would I Recommend It: No, I wouldn’t. I can’t think of anyone I would feel comfortable recommending it to, who would actually enjoy it.

Plot: .35 star

Word Choice: .5 star

World Building: .5 star

Characters: .5 star

Realism: .75 star

-¼ star for fat-shaming

-¼ star for normalizing emotional abuse

-¼ star for shaming female anger

Total Score: 1.85/5 stars

________________________________________________________

Nicole Kidman as Principal Trapp Michelle Pfeiffer as Ms. Morrigan Bryce Dallas Howard as Ms. Threnoddy

[sweetdollfromhell]

Chilling Tales of Riverdale

Chapter 3 of a old fanfic but stil alive that is a mix of Riverdale, CAOS and Archie horror. Located in season 2 and will have differences with the canon for both shows. I hope you like it.

**************************************************************************************

Sabrina joyfully led Jughead and Betty through the forest with a familiarity that showed her knowledge of the area.  From time to time, Jughead's eye clung to one of his famous fetishes or an inscription carved in a tree but they did not seem to be placed in a sufficiently coherent way to serve as an indication. The cat trotted near them without the slightest fear.

-Your cat, did you find it here or did you already have it? Betty asked as she looked at the animal.

-Oh, Salem? I've had it since I was a little girl. He's... my best friend," said the girl.

-Is he that old? Asked surprise Betty. -It doesn't look like you're seeing it.

The cat slowed down to walk at the same speed as Betty and began to purr.

-He buried us all, believe me.

Suddenly, she stopped and turned towards the other two:

-Dear guests, mi casa! Proudly presenting Sabrina.  

In front of them stood a family tent. Close to it, a kind of clothesline, a space for a campfire and a cooler half buried in the ground. If we forget the terrifying grey grays, we would have thought that a family or a group of friends were doing a normal wilderness camping.  

-Come on, we'll be more comfortable inside. I mean, it smells a bit like it's closing because I have to let the tent close with the temperature going down but it's clean and pleasant otherwise! The girl continued as she unzipped the tent.

-You live in the woods and you just helped us. I think we can handle it," says Jughead.

He had lived in a drive-in for weeks before he found himself squatting in school, he wasn't going to be so picky for that little.

The tent was indeed clean if not a little cluttered. A sleeping bag and some blankets were lying in a corner. Several bags were resting, some leaving objects that had escaped from them. In another, a kind of tablecloth had been installed with several objects on top: books, a small cauldron, several small knives, jars and dried plants. This last element caught Betty's eye. What was it for him? If it was done in Jughead's eyes, he also had questions.

Meanwhile, in the meantime. Sabrina pulled out some clothes and put them together in a semblance of pillows and opened the sleeping bag to spread it along.

-You should be comfortable like this. So, you suspect that my reserves are limited but I can offer you water, tea and a few cans of soft drink.  For something more consistent, I have dry meat, preserves, some wild vegetables, apples, walnut bars, rice, soup, dehydrated stuff and good chip packages, chocolates and candies taken from vending machines.

-Uh... the tea sounds good, says Betty.

-For the food that suits you, Jughead continued despite Betty's look.

-Okay, I'll be back," Sabrina said enthusiastically before going outside.

Betty turned to Jughead.

-We can't leave her here! We have to take him to Riverdale!

-Betty, I think she's here by choice. I agree that it's not ideal, but she probably has her reasons. You're not going to convince her to follow you easily. And maybe it's for the best. She's hiding something...," said Jughead, continuing to observe the objects in the background. - Her story about her decorations is shady and she was too comfortable with her attack. It's not his first time.

-I know, but I think it may not be motivated by bad intentions. You and Polly were also homeless. And neither of you trusted anyone to ask for help for a reason. All I see is a girl our age living in the woods when the temperature keeps dropping, a killer is free and desperate enough to stay there anyway. In addition, she has helped us by putting her life on the line and she shares her resources, which are probably few in number.

Before Jughead could reply, the cat entered the tent closely followed by his mistress. She placed a metal plate between them before placing a teapot on it and holding cups out to them.

-Fortunately, there are only two of you, otherwise I would have run out of cups.

-You were quick," said surprised Jughead.

-Well, when you're stuck in the woods, you learn to make a fast and big fire without hurting yourself. I also have a great hot plate," Sabrina says proudly.

She deposited a plate filled with several apples, chips, bars, sweets and carrots.

-Thank you, that's very kind of you," Betty continued.

-Oh, it's nothing. I am very happy to have company other than Salem's.

The cat, as if to show his anger at his mistress' commentary, climbed onto Betty's lap and lay there.

-You're not allergic, are you?  

-No, I even had a cat when I was younger, Betty said as she stroked the animal, which immediately began to purr.

-Better yet, he's very social!

 -Are these wild carrots? Asked Jughead.

-Yes, not hemlock, I reassure you," said amused Sabrina. -These two plants are very similar, it's true, but a few key differences can save you from ending up like Socrates or the idiot from On the Road. One, there is a beautiful crown of leaves under the flowers like thorns in wild carrots. Two, its flowers are white or pink pale except in its center or grows a single red flower sometimes almost black. And finally, three, the smell is very different. The hemlock one can't even pass for a carrot from far away.

She laughs when she sees the surprised looks of the other two.

-I like the woods and it's not my first-time camping in the wild. I knew what I was doing when I moved here," she continued, taking one of the carrots to prove her point.

-Have you been a jeannette? Asked Betty.

-Oh, God, no. My family is just... very natural. I come from a long line of midwives, apothecaries, healers and snake oil sellers. This is no longer necessary nowadays, but old knowledge can sometimes be useful. We know how to feed, heal and protect ourselves. Nature is full of gifts for anyone who knows how to see them. Hence my material there, she continued, pointing to the tablecloth and its contents.

-My guides, knives and other instruments to prepare my food, remedies and traps. I have to be self-sufficient if you want to know.

- Oh, is that why? Asked Betty.

-Uh... yeah. What do you think it was?

-Just curious, cut them off, Jughead. -Where do the chocolate bars come from?

-Oh, that, promise me you won't be angry. There's some kind of camping grounds a few miles from here. It's empty and the lock leaves something to be desired. The electricity is out but the water is not. I do my laundry and take a shower there.

-But it must be freezing! Says Betty.

-It's not so bad and I told you, I'm pretty much cold resistant. I usually warm up afterwards with a fire in the appropriate locations. But I need to save my parts for the washer and dryer, but there was this vending machine who catch my eyes . I may or may not have hit it until it gives me its content. But the glass is intact!

-So, you too have discovered the weaknesses that made them drop their loot," said Jughead amused.

-Do I have to guess that you know them too? Sabrina asked, reassured.

-I may have some experience in this," said the young man.

Betty was surprised that Jughead seemed willing to let such information slip into a similar situation. Happy... she believed.

-Besides, if you ever want to use your phone, I'll take you to camp. I think he has a connection because it was written on one of the signs.

-Good idea, I look forward to seeing what you say to your mother, Bet.

-The truth. Just tell him I was in a car rather than a motorcycle, don't talk about the Ghoulies and just say we couldn't find a network," says Betty.

-Ghoulies? What is it? What is it? Sabrina asked.

-The gang members, Betty explained. -The boys who were chasing us were part of it.

-Are you serious? Ghoulies is their gang name? It sounds like the name of a brand a cheap of Halloween costumes for kids! mocked Sabrina. -I mean, I'm sure they're dangerous, but they could have forced themselves for the name! Why, are they after you?

-Why do you live in the woods? Jughead replied.

-Good repartee, conciliated Sabrina.

Betty decided to come back to the charge.  

-I don't know if you know, but there's a serial killer on the loose.

-Maybe I heard it between branches without any pun intended, Sabrina confirmed. -But the details are unclear: what is his type and what does his hunting table look like?

She could have asked them if they wanted more tea than her tone would not have seemed more disturbed by the question.

-He... he calls himself the Black Hood, Betty began.  -He wounded three people and killed one. He claims he's getting rid of sinners.

Betty kept the calls to herself.

-I sees. A maniac with a twisted and personal sense of morality, the oldest scourge in the world. But his average is not very high, unless the survivors were particularly gifted and lucky people. Or maybe only some are important, and the rest is a diversion, Sabrina continued to think aloud. -All in all, it's nice to know. I will be careful," she smiled.

-There's a serial killer on the loose and you're going to be careful? Betty asked, repeating her words as if to convince herself of what she was hearing.

-What are my other options?

-Coming to town, Betty replied. -You'll be safer.

Sabrina looks at her like she's crazy before answering:

-No. I'll be screwed if I go into town! You might as well draw a giant target on my back!  

-I...

-Your serial killer probably hangs out more in town than in the middle of the woods! All that's going to happen is that people are going to ask questions and it's going to come back to me!

-You don't have to...

-A what? I have some money, but there's no one who'll rent to a minor! I don't have a phone and if I have to find a job, who will want to hire me without references? I'm going to be noticed and then they're going to send me back...

She could not even finish her sentence; the terror being displayed on her features.

-I can't go back, I can't!

The cat had risen from Betty's knees to climb on Sabrina's knees and Sabrina squeezed the animal, which rather than trying to free itself, allowed itself to do so without resistance. Betty looked horrified at the girl. She didn't want to cause such a panic.

-I'm sorry, calm down! Look, I'm sure we can find something...

-Would your parents be comfortable letting a girl and her cat you've known for less than an hour sleep on their couch? Mockingly asked for this one. -I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't have any other options. And between having to go in there or taking the 0.01% chance that a serial killer will attack me, I take the killer without hesitation and with full knowledge of the facts.

-Is it that bad? Asked Betty.

Sabrina nodded, her face haunted.

Betty watched Sabrina disconcerted, not knowing what to say. Jughead, for his part, fights what his heart and head told him. And for a rare time, his mind was not the winner.

-I live alone," he said. -I'm supposed to live with a host family, but I managed to move back to my father's caravan. It's small but there's heating, hot water and even internet. You can sleep in the room and I'll take the couch.

-Are you serious? Asked the two girls in heart.

-Yes," said Jughead, already regretting. -I'll get you a padlock for the room, but I reserve the right to kick you out if you stick carrion to the walls.

Sabrina looked with an expression of shock that turned into joy.

-Thank you! Thank you so much. And don't worry, I intend to pay back this kindness. I can give you a small rent with whoever I have left and pay the rest in the kitchen, cleaning, laundry, home remedy for hangovers, make your choice!

-Just try to respect my privacy and keep the place clean! Says Jughead wondering how quickly he would regret his words.

-Promise! But I insist on participating in one way or another! Can Salem come?

-Can you have him do his business outside like a dog?

Sabrina nodded.

-He is welcome.

-And if it's ever too hard, I'm sure I can probably convince my mother to let me take a cat. Especially a nice one like that, Betty said as she stroked the animal.

-Oh don't let him fool you, he can be a little brat when he wants, Sabrina mocked. -I'll give you back your kindness too, Betty," she says so seriously this time.

-You don't need to do that, Betty assured me.

-But of course, it is. Goodness must be rewarded in a world like ours, so let us encourage it!

-Speaking of which, I may have another condition," says Jughead.

-Make me an offer," said Sabrina.

Betty suddenly had a thrill. Her expression had changed, the more a panicky kid in her place, she felt like she was seeing something else that was totally different. Cold and in control.

-You're running away from what? I don't want details, just to know if I should expect the police to knock on my door," says Jughead.

Sabrina observed him for a long time without speaking before finally speaking.

-I have serious family problems. And if you're afraid that I'll attract unwanted people, know that I'm waiting for a sign from another branch of my family tree. I'll go with her if everything goes well or I'll manage otherwise. If you want more, then you'll have to open up for me. An equivalent exchange.

The choice of words troubled Betty and she knew that her boyfriend would pull a tooth out alive before delivering personal information to a stranger. Well done.

-All right. I don't know if there's room for everything," said Jughead looking at the contents of the tent.

-I can bury some of it and come back for it later.

-Or we could ask Veronica or Archie if they could put them in their garages, Betty continued.

-I would like to thank them if that is the case. You too, Betty.

-So, I think the issue is settled. Do you think you can pack a bag right now and be ready to go tonight? If it works for you too, Jug, of course!

-It's all right," said Jughead.

-I don't know, I'd like to leave nothing to be abandoned. I have traps and other things that it would be a bad idea to leave it like that," Sabrina continued uncomfortably.

-Take us to the camp so we can call and see if you can do it, otherwise we'll come back tomorrow to get the rest, Betty suggested.

Sabrina nodded and pointed in one direction:

-Walk this way, the network should eventually appear. No need to go to the camp for that. I'm starting to tidy up my things. I can give you a compass or Salem if you're afraid of getting lost.

- I don't think the cat is an animal that can guide people, at best they eat the bodies of lost people," said Jughead.

-Oh, he's brilliant and he listens to me occasionally," Sabrina reassured Sabrina. -Show them Salem how great you are.

Salem advanced towards them and to Jughead's surprise began to walk in front of them but at a slow pace as if they were to follow him.

-He's really trained," Jughead continued surprised. -Did you know it was possible?

-No, I've always been told that cats understand but don't listen. Note, it may be a particular breed. I don't know of any cat that would be more than ten years old and still look like that either.

Betty looked at her phone and smiled:

-I have a signal! I'll be able to call Archie and my mother after!

-Perfect. Bet, would you mind if I went all the way to see this camp she's talking about? continued the young man.

-Uh... no, but why?

-I'd just like to know why she didn't move there. A summer camp seems a better alternative than in the middle of the forest.

-Okay, I'll follow you," Betty said, dialing the number and then taking her hand. 

The camp looked like it had just come out of a horror movie and Jughead could have considered this a credible reason to abandon it if Sabrina had not surrounded his own decoration camp that would have been in their place in American Horror Story. Another detail was the heavy padlock that blocked the main entrance. She said she had forced him but not that she had replaced him afterwards. It was a lot of work for a little bit. Unless she climbed the fence? As feasible but ironed with equipment? Especially since the content could be damaged if she simply throws it over the fence, assuming she has the strength to do so.

In the background, he could hear Betty's conversation. Archie was not difficult to convince to come and get them and their new acquaintance. The conversation with her mother was of a completely different nature. Jughead could hear the sound of the Coopers' tone rising to a hysterical level. It seems he would probably have to go up to Betty's window if he wanted to see her again this year.  

-Are you all right? He asked, although he suspected the answer.

-It's all right," said Betty, trying to calm down.  -Did you find anything?

-Only more questions.

-If you've changed your mind....

-No, it's okay. It's okay. I'm not going to pretend that I'm excited about having a roommate, but that's the best solution right now.

-I wonder what she's running from," says Betty. - I don't think she was exaggerating. She seems really scared.

-Neither do I. I doubt a little more about the part about a family member coming to pick her up. Maybe she just said that, so I could leave her alone.

(Or maybe she hopes he'll come and get her) thought Jughead, remembering his own mother. If that were true, he was going to wish her that it would work.

-Going back to see if she was finished, he decided, no longer wanting to think about Gladys Jones.

 When they returned, Sabrina had unpacked the tent and gathered her possessions into three bags. She had also changed, now wearing jeans, army boots, a pink sweater but had kept her hoodie.  

-I buried part of it in a camouflaged hatch. I'll bring the rest with me unless it's too big. In that case, maybe I can leave one here.

-Do you have a cage for the cat? Asked Betty.

-No need. It may be on my lap or I would put it in a bag with an opening for air, it is used to it, Sabrina proudly said.

-Is it a cat or a stuffed animal? Asked Jughead as he looked at the cat.

-Sometimes I wonder, recognized Sabrina as the cat was coming back to her.

-Do you want us to help? Asked Betty.

-I... yeah, if you don't mind.

Sabrina handed Betty her broom and one of her bags to Jughead, keeping the backpack and a large wheeled suitcase.

- Which road? Sabrina asked.

-669, Betty replied.

Without hesitation Sabrina walked in the direction of it as the two followed.

 Once out of the woods, Jughead took his bike and dragged it towards them, hoping he could take it back to town. Fortunately, their wait was not too long just fifteen minutes before Archie's old car appeared.  

-Hello Bet, Jug," Archie began.

- Hey Archie, thanks again for helping us out!  Says Betty happy to see a familiar face.

-Hey, Arch. You think I can tie it up after your car? Asked Jughead as he showed his bike.

-I suppose, said Archie hesitant.

He didn't like any sign of the Serpent with his friend, even as simple as his means of transport. He went out despite the help to load the bike.

-Hello, you must be Sabrina? Says Archie smiling at the newcomer.

Sabrina nodded and approached Archie cautiously.

-Hello, who are you?

-Archie Andrew, to serve you, replied the amused one, reaching out to him.

Sabrina took it and squeezed it.

-Nice to meet you, Archie.

-And you? Archie asked.

-Me what?

-Your last name?

- Betty and Jugheand didn't give me their last names, Sabrina replied

-It's Cooper for me and Jones for Jughead, says Betty.

She seemed hesitant before saying:

-Spellman. My name is Sabrina Spellman.

-Like the singer? Archie asked.

-I don't think we're related but we write it the same ways. And this is Salem," continued the white hair girl, holding the cat.

-Oh yes, your cat! You don't have a cage, Archie remarked.

-He will be quiet, I swear, Sabrina promised.

-His cat is obedient enough, Betty said to reassure him.

-And he will lie on the floor at the first sign of a siren, Sabrina promised. -He's used to it.

-In this case, Archie gave in.

Archie opened the trunk but rather than handing it over, Sabrina placed it herself, taking the sports bag from Jughead's hands and placing it too.  She went to take the broom from Betty's hands when she asked her the question:

-Are you sure it will fits?

-But of course, you just have to place it in the right angle, smiled Sabrina.

To Betty's surprise, she actually managed to get her in without any difficulty.

-I sits in which seat? She asked.

-The boys could sit in the front and we both in the back. Is that okay with you?

Sabrina nodded and sat down with the animal lying on her lap next to her bag, which she put between Betty and her.

 -So, how long were you in the woods? Asked Betty.

-Maybe a two weeks. I didn't really count, Sabrina admitted.  

-You know there's... Archie started.

-A serial killer? Yes. Betty and Jughead told me. He's not as scary as the werewolf on the highways yet, but still.

-From what? Asked Jughead.

-The werewolf on the highways, I know, the name sucks, but at least he has an excuse for not choosing him. There was a serial killer in the sixties in the area. He picks up women on the highway always in the same order near the highways of cities in the region, including Riverdale. Everything was good, from the kid to the old lady, from the pastor's wife to the prostitute. Raped, tortured and eventually killed. They never caught him, but the consensus is that he was probably a truck driver. And he must be dead because guys like him don't stop like that. With any luck, he suffered.

-I've never heard that story," says Jughead surprised.

-Oh, despite his violence, he didn't make too many waves at the time. People believed in isolated incidents and cities communicated with each other far too late. But if you google it, you should find something. People think he had at least 29 victims, although some think he has more than 47, but even then, it's hard to be sure. Strangely enough, the Riverdale reaper is more celebrated than him when he only killed one family.

-Only?" asked Jughead, raising an eyebrow.

Sabrina laughed nervously.

-I'm sorry to be so morbid. Let's talk about lighter stuff. Do you like pastries? I could do you a little something to thank you! What you want: cupcake, muffin, French toast, pie...

-My friend Veronica loves to cook," says Betty. -Personally, I only know the basics.

- I'm sure you have other equally useful talents," says Sabrina.

-Betty is an excellent mechanic," says Jughead.

-Wow, that's impressive! Sabrina continued. - I can't do it without help.

-Not as much as it looks! And I think that impressive question, you're pretty much yourself. Surviving alone in the woods must have been hard. Not to mention the Ghoulies.

-This is my natural environment. I was pretty good, I was just feeling a little lonely. And the Ghoulies didn't have a chance on my field.  I wouldn't be so confident in the city.

-But you're not alone in town, Betty continued.

-I suppose... Sabrina said hesitantly.

Betty tried to make her keep talking.

- Do you work out?

-Kind of like everyone else at school. My best friend was a cheerleader, so I tried to please her, but it wasn't for me. She ended up dropping out anyway for more social activities as well. I like the arts, for example! I have done singing, dancing, piano and theatre. I also started a social club with her.

-Archie is a musician and a singer too, says Betty.

-Oh, yeah? Says Sabrina suddenly interested. ¸

-He even wrote songs," said Jughead.

-I would like to have a career in music, recognized Archie.

-That's cool! Are you also musicians?

-No, I prefer to write and the same for Betty," Jughead continued.

-Veronica sings for example, Betty continued.  

-Is she your best friend? Sabrina asked with candor.

-Yes, but on a par with Kevin.

Betty's heart will then be remembering their fight. She understood his anger, but she never wanted him hurt. Kevin could have a boyfriend or twelve that he changed every week, she didn't care, all she wanted was for him to be safe.

-Veronica tried to calm him down, clumsily tried Archie

Betty forced herself to smile and nodded.

-He needs time, I understand.  Besides, I probably won't be able to see many people with my mother.  

-Is she angry? Sabrina asked for an anxious expression on her face.

-Yes, but it's all right, don't worry. In fact, we have arrived!

Jughead got out of the car with Archie taking Sabrina's luggage out of the trunk.

-Are you going to be all right to carry everything? Archie asked.

-Of course. You, go bring Betty back before her mother sends the Sheriff after us.

-Good point.

The two friends greeted each other, and Betty took her head out of the window to share a kiss with Jughead. The car then left the mobile home park. Jughead picked up the sports bag and swept it up while Sabrina put her backpack back and dragged her suitcase. The cat followed them as he trotted.

-Come on, I'll show you which one.

-Thank you again. I know you don't really want to get in my way, but you do it out of generosity. I'm not going to make you regret it.

-If you don't want to make me regret it, stop talking about it.

-Okidoki.

As they advanced towards the caravan, Jughead recognized several silhouettes waiting for him in front of the entrance. Sabrina, seeing her expression changing, asked a question:

-Are you going to introduce me to them or should I get my broom back?  

[shireness-says]

Nobody’s Business

Summary: Life's a dream, but when it's time for the Lost Girls to put out a new album, everyone's got an opinion. Try as she might to ignore the interference, some days, Emma just can't deal with it. Rated T. ~2.3K. Also on AO3.

A/N: I’m back, with another installment of Maybe I Won’t Die Alone! Previous installments can be found here, here, and here (in order), or on AO3, and I definitely recommend you read those first. 

This one is beta’d, for the first time in this series, so huge thanks to @snidgetsafan! Thanks, babe!

Rated T for just a bit of mild language.

Tagging @kmomof4 and @shady-swan-jones since i know they’re particular fans of this verse. If folks ever want to be tagged in my stuff, let me know!

Without further ado, enjoy!

Killian is in the living room, keeping an eye on Wiley and trying to keep up with the boy’s active imagination when he hears the side door slam closed. He assumes it’s Emma; she’s been gone all day, and though it’s a bit earlier than she had anticipated returning, Killian is confident only his wife would enter the house with such a trademark lack of subtlety. She’d been out for a magazine interview today; with the upcoming release of the Lost Girls’ latest album, publicity was slowly ramping up, resulting in more and more engagements of this sort. Emma has never been wild about the publicity aspect of her job, far too private to enjoy talking to strangers about things that are none of their business. She had been more hopeful about the prospects of this interview - surely a respected music industry magazine would stick to the relevant content - but if the force of that door-slam is anything to go by, things didn’t go nearly as well as they both hoped.

“In here, love!” he calls, before turning back to their suddenly-excited toddler, who’s anxiously watching the doorway. “That’s right, lad, Mama’s home,” he says, before whispering conspiratorially, “Why don’t you go make her something?”

The previous week, Killian had ducked into a thrift store with Wiley after seeing a box of records through the window, and the little boy had discovered a plastic kitchen set that he immediately fell in love with. Killian hadn’t ended up leaving with any records - the box had been full of mostly amateur worship songs - but the play kitchen had wound up being purchased and loaded into the back to the car, immediately followed by a stop at the nearest toy store to purchase more plastic foods. Wiley had been enthusiastically “feeding” everyone ever since. No one particularly cares; it’s adorable, and besides, Killian’s read about how good imaginative play is for young minds. Hopefully, if Emma’s in a foul mood, one of Wiley’s pretend concoctions will cheer her up.

The woman herself appears moments later, stockinged toes on display after already removing her boots and face still covered in the thick makeup needed for the dramatic interview photographs. She looks exhausted, with more than just that bone-deep fatigue associated with raising a toddler; there’s an emotional fatigue as well that wasn’t present when she left the house that morning.

“Mama!” Wiley excitedly chirps, rushing her legs and managing to bring a smile to Emma’s face.

“Hey, little man,” she murmurs, bending down to drop a kiss on his chestnut curls. “I missed you.”

Wiley holds on for a moment longer, letting his mother love on him, before breaking his grip to rush back to his play set. “I made you something!”

As their son plates his latest creation - what appears to be the mound of peas, a disproportionate banana, and an egg - Killian catches his wife’s eye. “How’d it go?” he asks, only to receive a shake of the head in response. She may not want to talk about it right now, but Emma ought to know after all this time that he’ll coax it out of her, one way or another. Before he can begin, however, Wiley’s back with the plate for his mother’s inspection and appreciation, effectively allowing her to avoid the conversation.

Emma makes all the prerequisite munching noises as she pretends to eat their son’s hellish plastic concoction, causing the little boy to beam. “Very tasty, kiddo, thank you so much,” she replies, handing all the remains back.

Killian intervenes before Emma can find any more excuses to avoid whatever’s bothering her. “Hey buddy, why don’t you make a feast for all of your stuffed animals? Mama and I will just be in the other room.” Wiley barely hears him, already invested in whatever his brain is dreaming up next, but nods in that absent-minded way Killian could swear he picked up from Emma.

Emma rolls her eyes, but doesn’t resist when he leads them to the adjoining office. Killian isn’t quite sure why they both insist on keeping an office; it’s never used, more of just a place to keep a desk with a printer and some files. Killian strongly suspects that they have an office just because it feels like the thing to do - the kind of thing every picture-perfect family has in their picket-fence house with 1.8 kids and a dog. Emma’s been known to occasionally camp out in there to write, but its main appeal right now is the draw of a private, child-free space and a comfy chair.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asks, again, settling into the armchair as Emma remains standing, pacing with leftover energy and irritation. When she doesn’t answer immediately, he resorts to jokes, attempting to cheer her up. “Are we getting divorced again?” he asks, mock-seriously.  Every so often, a tabloid tries to claim that their marriage is disintegrating - a claim which amuses Killian and irritates Emma to no end. Usually, when he makes jokes about the situation and how ridiculous the very idea is, it can draw a reluctant smile out of Emma, but she seems beyond that point today, his attempt at humor only deepening the furrows in her brow.

“Hey, hey, darling, it was a joke. An awful one at that,” he soothes. Her pacing is starting to make him a little dizzy, so he pats his lap in an invitation to come sit. “Tell me, what happened? I know something has, or you wouldn’t be this upset.”

Huffing a sigh, Emma collapses into the chair next to him, leaning into his side and shoulder with her legs thrown perpendicularly across his. “I just want to help, love,” he murmurs into her hair, pressing a kiss into the blonde curls, only slightly put off by the unnatural hairspray scent and dry, plastered texture.

“I know,” she admits. “It’s just…” Sitting up straighter to better look him in the eye, she circles her arms around his neck before continuing. “It was just a bad day. One of those interviews where all the questions are awful, and then Mary Margaret called right afterwards, which didn’t help. I know, I’m probably overreacting, but… it just gets to me.”

“I know, Swan,” he murmurs, rocking her gently in the same way he does with Wiley. “I’m not blaming you. If you want to vent, I’m a willing ear, you know that.”

There’s silence for a long moment, only broken by Wiley chattering away to himself in the next room, before his love finally breaks and opens up. “I was looking forward to this, you know? I thought I’d get some good questions about the songwriting process or how we’ve evolved as a group or things like that. It’s a music magazine, for God’s sake, not some gossip rag. You expect the questions to be a little more in-depth.”

“Makes sense to me.”

“Yeah, well, clearly, it didn’t make sense to her. It just devolved into this whole conversation about being a working mother. You know I’m happy to talk about our kid, but that was the entire conversation. How did I feel now about  having such a demanding career that would take me away from my son? She said it like that too, like she was trying to guilt me. Not to mention, does she understand what I do? Arguably, I’ve got more flexibility in my career than most women! I write from home, I can bring him to the recording studio if I want, everything’s based out of London now so I don’t have to travel halfway around the world just to create a new record… For God’s sake, I can bring him with me on tour!” she explodes, pitch progressively rising, tossing her hands in the air in outrage. “We’ve already planned on it, both you and Wiley coming with me! I don’t have to be separated from my kid any more than millions of other women across the world, and in fact, probably less! But because I’m a ‘public figure’ —” Emma mimes air quotes around the last words, a sure sign of her irritation — “we’ve got to make it a whole big thing. And from a woman, at that! She, of all people, ought to know that I didn’t stop being my own person when we had Wiley! But no, she’s some brash young thing who thinks she’s an Insightful Reporter, all while asking the most cliched and overdone questions she could. What, am I going to have to specifically ask to be interviewed by mothers from here on out in hopes that they’ll know I don’t want to talk about my kid 24/7? That it’s fine - heck, encouraged to ask me other questions? I probably should have expected this, going into major interviews and publicity for the first time since Wiley was born, but trust me, that does not make it any less frustrating,” she finishes, finger stabbing the air in emphasis.

“I know, love,” Killian attempts to soothe, rubbing a hand along her spine. It must work, because he feels her tension lessen, Emma once again slumping against his side with her arms around his neck instead of the wild gesticulating she’d been engaging in earlier.

“She did start asking about the writing eventually, but I think I was too pissed off to really be grateful for that. Not to mention, she was still asking questions that assumed being a mom would automatically change the meaning of all the songs I write going forward. Which sometimes it does, yeah, but… can’t I just write a song because it’s fun? Guys do, all the time. A lot of my stuff isn’t personal in the least. There doesn’t need to be some big ‘deeper meaning’.” The air quotes make a second appearance, but they’re less forceful than previously, which Killian takes as a good sign. Huffing a put-upon sigh, Emma continues. “And then, of course, Mary Margaret calls, and —” she stops abruptly. “You know I love them, right, her and David? And that I’m happy for them?”

“I do know that.” Even if he hadn’t Killian would have said it anyways, recognizing that they’ve entered the part of the conversation where he’s just expected to agree. Thankfully, it’s true - Killian knows very well how much she adores her brother and his wife.

“I love Mary Margaret so much, but she is driving me crazy with this baby talk! If it was just about her own upcoming kid, fine. She’s pregnant, she’s excited, it’s to be expected. But she keeps trying to convince me that we should have another! Even if she is my sister, how is that any of her business?” Emma pauses, looking at Killian expectantly, and he hurries to respond.

“It’s really not.”

“Exactly! It’s none of her business. I mean, Wiley isn’t even three - there’s still people out there who try to count his age in months!”

“People you rather hate,” Killian points out reasonably, only to receive an impatient look from his wife.

“I do, because it’s more of a pain to say 32 months than two and a half, and I shouldn’t have to do math, but that’s not the point. The point is - what’s the rush? Why is everyone pressuring us to have another? Why do they think they have the right to do that? Not to mention, I’m so happy we have Wiley, but honestly? Those last few months before he was born were kind of miserable. Mary Margaret’s still at the point where the bump is cute and everyone talks about how she glows and she doesn’t always need help getting out of chairs. Let her come pester me about having another when she feels like she’s the size of a house and her shoes don’t fit and people keep asking if she’s sure she isn’t having twins, because it’s a lot less fun then.”

Killian remembers that stage, remembers how grouchy Emma was, and he can’t blame her for her reluctance to be subjected to that discomfort again. Mostly, he just wants to tell his sister-in-law to mind her own damn business, but that would probably be frowned upon. Still, he hears Emma’s point loud and clear, and agrees wholeheartedly; they should be the only ones making decisions about their family.

Emma must take his silence as dissent or concern rather than an introspective moment, however, as she moves a hand to his face, gently rubbing his cheek with her thumb. “Hey, I’m not saying I never want another kid. I’m just saying —”

“— not now. I know, love, I agree. Let’s try and get out of the terrible twos before we even start contemplating adding to our little crew.”

Emma smiles softly, her thumb still stroking the apple of his cheek. “Thanks.” They spend a moment just staring into one another’s eyes - just as sappy as they ever were - before Emma leans up to press a gentle kiss on his lips. “I really do love you, Jones.”

“I love you too, Swan,” he replies just as gently, a small smile gracing his face.

After a another moment to themselves, Emma stands and stretches, groaning dramatically. “I suppose we should go make sure the kid we already have hasn’t torn the place apart.”

“If you insist,” he teases, accepting the hand she offers to help haul him up. Upon regaining his footing, Killian dramatically kisses Emma’s hand, resulting in a eye roll from the lady (but one he’s sure is disguising a smile). Before she reaches the door, he pulls her back for one last word, hands still entwined.

“I’m sorry you had such a rough day, love.”

Emma just shrugs in response. “Me too. I feel better after venting to you, though. And hey, we’ll deal with it together, right?”

“Of course, Swan.”

(They always do.)

[sovoidstrawberry]

Safe Haven (Sirius Black Fan-fiction)

TW: I guess talks of the WW

Part I

The Wizarding War brew with a new certainty in the summer of 1977. As Death Eaters and Aurors alike resorted to new tactics to hunt down each other, the tensions of the war cracked under pressure and people were slipping through the cracks. Sons and Daughters of either side were being captured and held as bait. Many Hogwarts students had nowhere to hide in this mania. And where there is a demand soon will come a supply. A haven was set up for all who needed refuge between the academic years. No person was too dangerous to hide out at the long-abandoned Murphy’s second summer home. The home was charmed to be larger than it looked, as it appeared only to be a small stone manor with vines climbing up the side due to lack of upkeep. The manor was a large place but not large enough to comfortably fit 33 people, so the haven members had long been forced to double up to save space. The haven had also been charmed to be one of the safest places outside of Hogwarts itself, using many of the same charming methods the school had. But it had one fatal flaw. While it had at one time been a booming plantation, it had been decades since any Murphy had step foot in the place. The haven lacked enough food to feed their escapees. 

"Will it work?" 

"How am I meant to know?"

"How can we send them on a suicide mission?" 

"Look we don't have time for this, we can't keep smuggling food from stores to feed everyone. We're too big for that. This is our only hope."

 The hushed voices discussed the fate of the camp. The mission now was to find a food source for the rest of the summer. There was still two months left till everyone left for Hogwarts again and there would be no point in hiding from the Death Eaters if they all starved instead. The camp held 33 people who had nowhere to go over the summer, be it that their families died in the war or were trying to recruit them into the war, many hid out at the Irish farm. One of the few implicit rules outside of safety protocol was the lack of judgment at the camp. Anyone who thought too highly of themselves would quickly get shot down as everyone at the camp were equals. The pure blood mania would not taint them. The mission plan was simple: request Kylie’s parents for some help. The Murphy’s were wealthy business owners who ran a chain of muggle fashion shops within the wizarding world. With the amount of food that they wasted at the end of their weekly parties the family could afford to feed them all for three more summers. Getting to the Murphy’s would also be the most convenient as they were the closest to the camp by far. However, the Murphy’s agreement would not be an easy feat.  Despite the fact that their second youngest daughter ran the haven, the family was well known in the wizarding world for being a completely Gryffindor bloodline. Until Kylie that is. Kylie had found herself sorted into Slytherin at the beginning of her seven years at Hogwarts, her family had been quick to voice their displeasure with her and since then favored the other four siblings over her no matter how hard she tried to be the perfect daughter. It also did not help that her perfect days were long over, and she rarely conversed with her parents and siblings as her rebellious phase in her fifth year had driven a wedge between them. Kylie knew now that she was the one at fault for the coldness of her family, but she still had yet to fix the matter, seeing as she was busy at the haven for the summer. 

“I don’t see why it is that we didn’t just floo here.” Chase Matthews stated as he looked around the Murphy Manor patio. 

The trip had been a painful one involving four portkeys and a pair of broomsticks that the two had sat upon for far too long. Kylie didn’t bother responding seeing as Chase knew fully well why they “didn’t just floo here." Chase simply enjoyed complaining. 

“So, ready to be home, Murphster?” Chase continued, messing with one of the many lion statues set on the front porch of the Murphy Manor. 

“More than ready, but we both know there’s still the better part of two months till we get there.” Kylie rang the doorbell, which gave off no sound the first, second, and third time she pressed it. “Guess this broke while I was gone,” she mumbled to herself as she took her fist and rapped onto the dark wood door. 

There were a couple seconds of silence before Chase began to speak again. “You know maybe we should-” the door swung open. 

Waiting behind the door was a young brunette with long brown hair wearing a short gold dress. Elia. Elia Murphy was Kylie’s younger sister and her arch enemy, seeing as Elia had all that Kylie had ever wanted. Elia was immediately placed in Gryffindor upon being sorted and never knew the jealousy Kylie secretly harbored since they were kids. Elia being the youngest got all that she ever wanted and had been spoiled beyond belief. She now was dating a year up into her sister's year. The infamous Sirius Black. Who now stood behind the gorgeous Elia in the living room, and beside him was James Potter. Elia’s big blue eyes widened at the sight of her ‘long lost sister’ and she immediately went in for a hug. Despite the jealousy for Elia’s normal life, Kylie loved her sister more than anything and was quick to return it. 

“Where have you been this past month, we’ve all been worried sick.” Despite the polite words seeping from her mouth, Kylie knew the we meant she.  

“I’ve been safe, don’t worry about me.” Kylie’s soft yet vague words left Elia feeling frustrated with her sister. “Is there a party tonight?” Kylie questioned, stepping into the manor and instinctively removing her tennis shoes. At this Chase quickly followed suit.

“No, just dinner with the Potters.” Elia replied shortly. “Kylie seriously, I thought you had been kidnapped by Death Eaters, you know you shouldn’t hang around the crowd you do. It’s dangerous.” 

Kylie was not surprised to see few changes to the old living room, the fire place roaring as always. She waved at James and Sirius politely, muttering a “hey” to her childhood friend and his new friend. She walked in her mismatched socks over to the fireplace to crouch down and gain some color back before seeing her parents. 

“I’ve been with friends, the crowd I hang around is fine, though sometimes I question yours.” Kylie’s darted over to the infamous Sirius Black who she knew to be a massive playboy. “But, I did come here to do more than play catch up,” she stood, her face now red from having been so close to the fire, “I’m here to see Mom and Dad.” She explained as she turned to face her shorter sister.

“Why?” The response was curt and frustrated.  

“Why does any black sheep wish to see their rich parents? I need money.” Kylie’s response is intentionally misleading as in every situation she seems to wish to put up a front rather than explain herself. 

“You can’t just show up and ask them for money! Are you insane?” Elia’s rage would be something to worry about on any given day, but nothing was going to stop Kylie from helping the haven. 

“I can, and I will, there’s never any harm in asking.” Kylie frustration intertwined with each word as her eyes scanned the room for any indication of where her parents may have gone. 

“You Slytherins really have no shame, do you?” James Potter questioned, standing up, about to deliver a monologue on his hatred for the house. “No shame and no honor-” 

“Shut up.” It was at that moment that Kylie snapped. She didn’t know why it was that hearing her longtime friend disrespect her for the thousandth time was so awful. Maybe it was because she was in front of one of the haven members, maybe because she still yearned for the respect of her family, but this time she couldn’t bite her tongue.  “Do you know what I find shameful? I find it shameful that you dare speak of honor when you have none yourself. You have spent the last six years avoiding and ridiculing me to your so-called friends, so you could show off that you didn’t care for me anymore. As if you were never scared of exactly what happened to me. As if I never helped you with your insecurities. As if we had never spoken. And you dare insinuate me shameful? I am not the one who dropped you when you didn’t get placed into my house! I am not the one who judges an entire group of people based on prejudice. Do you know who I am now, really? I am a leader. I am a friend. I am a protector. I am everything you said I would become. No thanks to you.”

[bebalanced222]

I am a Covid Refugee! (Part 2)

7th September to 22nd September 2020

Did I mention the puppies? We have four miniature dachshund puppies 🐶 here - they were four weeks old when I arrived, and now, at eight weeks, they are heading off to their new homes. 

Penny with her five week old puppies

It was so funny last Friday (11/9/20), Rachael was doing the mail run and the Vet appointment to get the puppies microchipped was at 12 noon in Ravenshoe. So Rachael asked me to bring the puppies in, along with Penny, their mum, and she would meet me at the vets. Well, I was running late of course (it was a usual work day for me) and you would have laughed watching me stuff these roly poly puppies into the little carry cage. By the time I got to the fourth one there was no room and they were squirming around - I pushed the last one in and hoped for the best!! They survived! Penny was happy to sit on my lap for the drive in to town. So now they are micro chipped and vaccinated and ready for their new families! 

Picture of cuteness!

They are keeping one, one goes to the family that provided the service, and two are being sold.

My daughter Rachael and her husband Scott have a Droughtmaster stud and Scott is really into his breeding. Lots of cow business goes on here on a daily basis - some of their bulls are here where he can keep a close eye on them, some are agisted next door, and they have two paddocks where they agist at Evelyn Central, a twenty minute drive away, as well they manage some cattle that are not theirs. It is a full life - hard working stewards of the land.

Wednesday nights I have been staying in town with my friend Jenny. She made up a session room in her home for me to do my craniosacral work while I am here, and also drummed up lots of clients. Too easy! So we chill out together Wednesday nights, then I have my dowsing Zoom call from 6 to 8am Thursday, after which we walk up town to have a coffee. I love it. The rest of the day is spent seeing clients. Sometimes, if it is a long day, I will stay Thursday night as well, and head home early Friday morning to continue my “work from home” job. Everyone who has received a session from me has come back for more! They all love me and want me to stay. 😍

Preparing for the Big Party

15.09.20:

The family have started to arrive - Brad & Ash and little Evie arrived yesterday and Mark & Denica (the newly weds) arrived a few hours ago. My son Aaron and his family arrive early Saturday, as will everyone else. We are expecting at least 25 will be staying on the property - most will have their own camping set-up in preparation for the Michael Bowden Memorial ride. We are expecting 36 for the ride with maybe 15 of them will be bike riders - the rest are support crew!

Saturday 19th September we are hosting a big party cum BBQ to celebrate Denica’s 30th birthday (in lieu of a wedding celebration which Covid has once again forbidden) and the Memorial Ride will be from the following Thursday 24th through to Monday the 28th of September. It is for these two events that I am a Covid Refugee!

Here is a few photos from the night before the party - we had to check the lights and sample the fire pit of course! 

Brothers, Mark and Brad, around the fire 🔥

Party lights are up - thanks Mark!

Mark and Denica decided to make dinner on Friday night - Mark’s famous curried sausages - yum!

The little kids enjoyed walking this pathway! The solar lights create a pretty star pattern.

The hostess is enjoying having all her chickies home!

19th September - party day!

The grey skies dissipated after a week of drizzly weather. Emily and Rob, and Aaron & Janine and family left Weipa early afternoon and drove through the night arriving in Ravenshoe in the early hours of the morning. (It is a 12 hour drive from Weipa in the far north to Ravenshoe - approximately 850 km). Em and Rob were on the fold out bed in the living room. Brad & Ash and Evie were in one of the bedrooms, me in another, and Mark and Denica were in the caravan. Aaron had three bikes strapped on top of his camper so alternate sleeping arrangements had been made for them for that first night. I had one sleepy Eli crawl into bed with Nanny Naj (the highlight of my stay!!!). Beau elected to sleep with Auntie Rachael and Uncle Scott, but after 10 minutes he announced he wanted to sleep with mum and dad! They were in Brad and Ash’s camper but Brad had forgotten to set the bed up for them! Whoops! Sorry guys. The cool night air was a shock for the Weipa-ites!

In the morning Scott put on his chef’s hat and cooked up a hearty breakfast for the fifteen of us. All the work that we had been doing for the previous six weeks had been in preparation for this moment! It was a gloriously crazy time. 

The Charters Towers crew arrived, and friends of Mark and Denica from Cairns, Denica’s mum and dad, Scott’s family, and more and more and more . . . 

Tents were erected, swags set up here and there, and the day just flowed. The kids had a ball - obviously feeding the animals was a highlight. I will let the pictures tell the story.

Aaron with the kiddies off to see the bulls!

Scott with Evie off to see the bulls!

Poppy Pete discussing the finer details of horses with Cody

Cody and Beau helping Rachael feed the horses

Aaron, Rachael & Beau - all the kids got to ride Sunny

Eli is a fast runner!

Beau

That grin!

Eli on Sunny

Horse rides, dogs, camps ....

Big kids playing card drinking games!

The party table ....

Little kids having fun

Denica’s mum & dad - Emma and Ian. Emma deep fried heaps of spring rolls and chicken wings 🍗 that she had prepared by hand.

Rachael and Mark getting ready to light the birthday sparklers 

Rob & Emily - it’s a blurry shot but it captures the moment!

Happy 30th Birthday Denica!

Aaron & Janine & the boys. Check out Cody blowing out the “candles”!!!

Beau showing me his new bike

It was a fabulous night with everyone enjoying themselves. At the time it was thought we may have made too much food, but by the time everyone had departed at the end of the weekend there was nothing left - and no-one left hungry! 

The next day Mark and Denica had a date with a wedding photographer, so they set off to repeat their wedding vows in front of their nearest and dearest. (Because of the Covid pandemic, all their wedding plans had been scrapped, even the latest one to hold the reception at the venue they had booked. However, as they had already paid the photographer, they decided to take advantage of this time to create a keepsake of this important occasion.)

At Tully Falls lookout - with faithful Leonard

At Hardy’s Farm in Evelyn Central (refer to my previous blog about this stunning property)

And while on the topic of creating keepsakes, the next day we did a Bowden photoshoot to capture five generations all together!

L-R: Rob, Emily, Scott, Jarrod, Ron, Denica, Nana McVicker, Evie, Mark, Sue, Rachael, me, Ashleigh, Brad, dogs Leonard, Frankie and Giz, and Jarrod is holding an unnamed puppy.

Five generations in one photograph - how special! Nana McVicker is Scott’s grandmother, and now he is grandfather to baby Evie! Thank you Nana for making this day so special for all the family.

This tale will be continued in Part 3 of I am a Covid Refugee.

[enniewritesathing]

OC question tag - Rules: 1. Pick a character you’ve created. 2. Fill in the questions/statements as if you were that character. 3. Tag at least four people to do this meme

QUESTIONS:

1. What is your name?

It’s Brian Antonio Fitzgerald.

2. Do you know why you were named that?. 

Well, I haven’t a clue. I knew that if I would’ve been born a girl, it would’ve been Brianna Antoniette. Which seems to me that they found out at the last minute and switched it on the spot. That’s lazy, huh?

3. Single or taken?

Taken by John. Or did I take him? 

4. Stop being a Mary Sue!

(sharp laugh) Do you see this face? 

5. What’s your eye color?

They look green in most light, but they’re hazel. It’s hard to tell, but they’re is brown in there. It just means I’m not full of shit.

6. How about hair color?

Brown as a tree.

7. Have you any family members?

What about them?

8. Oh, how about pets?

We adopted -- well, I found our cat, Spaghetti. Funny thing that it was sort of spur. See, we lived in the penthouse in San Myshuno -- but there was a strict no pets policy. After the policy was changed, I had an idea. I knew that John adores cats, but he was never able to have one because of the policies -- there and other places we lived and that his mom was allergic to cats. He’d always feed the strays or play with them. And for whatever reason, they loved him too.

I browsed the pet agency and there she was, a tiny kitten. I visited it and... it was one of those love at first sights. I immediately signed up for the waitlist; I waited until I got the bid to tell him. I showed him pictures of her -- and I didn’t tell him that I had already adopted her and just waiting until she was old enough. When I was going to break the news, he had news himself -- that he had saved up and he bought a house down in Brindleton Bay... our house. 

When I told him that the kitten I’d show him was ours, John cried. I cried because he cried and that we have a home together... and then we cried again when we picked her up. she was just so tiny. John carried her everywhere...

and now we have this lovely twelve pound cat that sheds way too much. Seriously, you know how many lint rollers I go through a week? But, I love her anyway. She catches bugs, she’s very polite... in the winter time, she’s a portable heater. She keeps me company when I’m studying or doing work. The only downside of Spaghetti? She snores. You can hear her across the house. 

9. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like?

When I’m out with John and they look at me and then back at him with a very raised eyebrow. Or when he mentions that I’m his boyfriend and they look at me like I shouldn’t be in his radar or something. It’s called differences.

10. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

Back in the day, I took up fencing, cross country running, and track and field. If you wanna look at this way, I became good at running away from my problems and stabbing them every now and then. (laughs)

I don’t have much time to do either given my work. Does sleep count as an activity? I like to sleep.

11. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

Yeah. I’m in no way proud of it, either.

12. Ever… killed anyone before?

Unfortuntately. It’s not something I like to think about.

13. What kind of animal are you?

Hmm... one of those birds that has an awful call. Y’know, one of calls that doesn’t sound like it should be coming out of anything, and then you hear it in the middle of the night and it’s all spooky? Yeah, that bird.

14. Name your worst weaknesses.

I push myself. I don’t take care of myself. When I was in college, studying was my life. I became so focused that once I went two days without sleep and barely ate. Didn’t even know it. I got mad at John for trying to interrupt my studying because, y’know, medical school is hard. There’s always a test, always an exam. I nearly fried myself in trying to be the top student. I may have had a nervous breakdown because of it. 

15. Do you look up to anyone at all?

I look up to myself. 

16. Are you straight, gay or bisexual?

Oh, I’m gay.

17. Do you go to school?

I’m thinking of going back for my Masters. At the same time, that’s more debt and I’m not sure if I want to go through that all of that stress again... 

18. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

Of course. It’s a big step, and I think we’re in a position that it’s possible and not struggle, y’know, but we still have a lot of time. 

19. Do you have fangirls/fanboys?

I’d be very surprised if I do. 

20. What are you most afraid of?

Failure. Not living up to expectations. 

21. What do you usually wear?

Medical scrubs. I can’t remember the last time I wore normal street clothes. John says I don’t have a sense of fashion because of it. 

22. What’s one food that tempts you?

Anything that has chocolate. I love chocolate. I could bathe in it. But that would lead to a lot of unpleasant infections. Believe me, I’ve treated patients that thought that. It’s not pretty. 

23. Am I annoying you?

No -- but I do have to get some rest before my next shift...

24. Well, it’s not over!

Hmm...

25. What class are you (low class, middle class, high class)?

I think we’re middle class? We were in the low for a long time...

26. How many friends do you have?

Not that many, but I consider those who have stuck around me and dealt with my shit friends.

27. What are your thoughts on pie?

Euch. No thanks.

28. Favorite drink?  

Anything with vodka in it. John’s banned it from the house because of some incidents...

29. What’s your favorite place?

I love our house. It’s on this big lot; the beach is just beyond the rocks in our backyard. It’s not too hot or not too cold. I always open up the windows to let the ocean breeze in.

30. Are you interested in anyone?

Have you seen John? I highly doubt I could be interested in anyone else after seeing him. 

31. That was a stupid question.

It is!

32. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

The ocean. At least I don’t have to worry about flesh eating viruses lurking in the water. Then there’s sharks, jelly fish, seaweed, riptides... 

33. What’s your type?

I like ‘em pretty. 

34. Any fetishes?  

I have a drawer full of ‘em. Tying John up is always a fun thing to do...

35. Seme or Uke?

Boy, this is a good question... but I’m not a big fan of roles anymore. It’s too strict. John and I found that real quick. I don’t quite have the characteristics of a seme except I’m taller than him. My fashion sense is awful. And I’m not an asshole. I guess Uke. Are there any aggressive Ukes? Hm.

36. Camping or indoors?  

I prefer outdoors, actually. I guess I can chalk that up to my younger days. To be out under the stars when it’s just you and Mother Nature, and you know that if you can survive out here, you can survive anywhere else is a nice feeling to have.