#(otherwise i would have gone with chicken and just made soup for myself) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lifeofroos · 3 years

Text

Part 51. Christmas with five people sure is calm.

In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. In this chapter, Nico tries to have a nice Christmas with Will, but a bad memory overshadows it. The rest of the story can be found on AO3 and Fanfiction.net! And in Tumblr tags like Dionysus, Nico di Angelo, percy jackson fanfiction etc.

This Might Be Crazy: Chapter 51: Glühwein ‘Nico! So glad to see you!’ Naomi Solace chirped while Will and I walked in.

‘Yes, thanks, mrs. Solace, good to see you too,’ I answered. She shook her head with a little smile.

‘You can just…’

‘Just say Naomi. Got it.’

She looked at Will for a second. He rolled his eyes. ‘Is anybody else here yet?’

‘Your uncle Jacob.’ Naomi Solace turned her eyes to the heavens. ‘And my poor sister-in-law Marian, of course.’

‘Figures.’

They sighed, before lightly laughing. I looked up at Will, a little panicked. He saw it and grabbed my hand. ‘We’ll just drop off some stuff upstairs!’ he said, before pulling me and our backpacks along to the second floor.

‘Uncle jacob and aunt Marian are pretty okay.’

‘Yeah, yeah, sure.’ I dropped my suitcase on the floor. ‘Do I get a mattress, or do we make it obvious?’

‘He was here last year as well,’ Will went on, without answering me. ‘He tried to stop, eh, my other aunt from talking a few times.’

‘Yes. I remember him, he was nice.’ I think. I realised I did not really remember uncle Jacob. It was eclipsed by the memory of aunt Natalia.

‘Aunt Natalia is not coming back, Nico, thank goodness. She won’t try to slam the door in your face again or throw a cross at you.’ It sounded as if he was trying to reassure himself of that too.

‘Not?’ I had almost forgotten about the cross.

‘No. Also, the cross might have been for me,’ he sighed.

‘Ah. I guess it wasn’t a lot of fun for you either.’ Just stating the obvious here.

He chuckled. ‘No, not really. But Uncle Jacob is nice, really. Let’s go, shall we?’

I gave him a hug. ‘Yeah, we’ll go.’

Wills’ aunt and uncle were sitting in the living room. ‘William! Is he back again?’ Jacob waved at me.

I took a step back. Will put a hand on my shoulder. ‘Yes.’

‘Eh, yeah, good afternoon, I am Nico…’ I rattled.

‘We know that, we saw you last year as well!’ uncle Jacob laughed. I looked at the floor.

‘Eh, right, I just thought…’ I shrugged. I heard Marian sigh.

‘Jacob, cut the kid some slack,’ she whispered.

Will pushed me further into the room. ‘Come, sit down, there are probably cookies,’ he mumbeld into my ear.

There were, indeed, cookies. I took two and shoved one into my mouth.

Uncle Jacob looked back at his wife and sister and went on with the story he had been telling, that went on for quite long.

I had to give it to them, I had been in the room for a good seven minutes and there had been no comment about our relationship. When uncle Jacobs’ speech went on for slightly too long, aunt Marian turned to me: ‘It is very nice that you decided to spend Christmas with us.’

I shot up. ‘I am glad I was allowed to come.’

She smiled at her sister-in-law. ‘I am sure Naomi wouldn’t have it any other way!’ Naomi shrugged, with a little smile. ‘Are you two going to Nico’s family tomorrow?’

Will looked like he found that idea, to spend Christmas with Hades and Persephone, both hilarious and horrifying. I shook my head. ‘I’m afraid my family doesn’t celebrate Christmas, but they don’t want to stop my fun, so I went with Will.’

‘No Christmas?’

‘No. Eh, of course, that was weird for me as a young child,’ I lied, ‘but I am glad I have someone to celebrate it with now.’

‘Well, I hope we can make it better than, eh, last year.’

‘Oh, well…’

A small silence fell, before Marian quickly broke it ‘So, William, how's school?’

School was fine, if you're curious. The talking went slightly better after that, they even laughed when I joked we could try to invite Santa Claus today (You probably had to be there). Still I was glad when we could flee to the kitchen. Will had to make his, apparently famous, mushroom soup.

‘I didn’t know you could make soup. Did you do that last year?’

Will rolled his eyes. ‘No. Natalia brought her tomato soup.’

‘I remember the tomato soup. It had been quite good, but I hate it now.’

Will solemnly stirred his soup. ‘How do you feel, Nico?’

I shrugged. ‘Your aunt and uncle are nice, so okay I guess?’

Will sighed while he cut up a few mushrooms. ‘Yes. That’s good. I am glad.’

‘Will, how did you feel about aunt Natalia?’

It might have been a little too abrupt to ask. He was silent for a moment. I looked at my feet.‘Sorry, that is…’

‘She called me non-stop for three days afterwards, trying to convince me I was sinning. Eventually I had to block her from every medium of communication I got. I never talked about it again, not a lot at least, because I just wanted to forget it.’ He lowered the knife for a second. ‘Perhaps I, too, have more troubles with it than I thought.’

‘Well…’ I shrugged. ‘Of course, I mean…’ Will stayed silent.

I felt a little cold. ‘I’ll go to the living room for a bit,’ I muttered, before I chickened out of the kitchen.

In the hallway, I ran into aunt Marian. When she saw me, her look got concerned. ‘Hello, Nico.

‘Eh, hello.’

She pushed a hairclip straight. ‘I just wanted to tell you that you don’t have to be nervous. I understand you are still a little shaken up about last year, but…’ She shrugged.

I nodded. ‘Thanks. Eh… You know, I thought I had taken everything quite well. It is only now that I have thought about it for a few days that I realise that it got deeper than I thought.’

Marian nodded. ‘I understand. I hope you can still enjoy some of it, at least. Did you like the cookies?’

I nodded. ‘Oh, yes, the cookies were good.’

She smiled. ‘Thanks. I made them myself.’

‘Fancy.’

‘Yes. I spend a lot of time on them!’

I snickered. ‘Cool.’

‘Quite.’ She looked up, at the stairs. ‘Eh, I’ll see you in a second.’

‘Of course.’ I stayed where I was.

Would my Italian relatives be celebrating Christmas right now? The thought came to me without warning. I mean, obviously, I must still have Italian family. Unless my mother was an only child of an only child, maybe.

But I had had an aunt, it dawned on me. Which probably meant that somewhere, there was an Italian branch of the family, celebrating Christmas. Hm. Weird, considering they would not be thinking about me at all...

‘Nico?’ Will yelled from the kitchen. ‘Can you help for a second? If you are still there?’

‘Eh, of course.’ I hadn’t moved a foot.

‘Sorry,’ I muttered when I walked back in.

‘It’s okay,’ Will mumbeld back. He threw a few mushrooms into the soup. ‘Is it a true witch stew I already?’ I looked into the pan. It looked too good to be witch stew.

‘A little.’

‘No, Will, not at all. Okay, maybe a little.’

Will smiled again. ‘Just a little, as it should.’ He handed me the spatula. ‘Can you stir for me? I have to throw in these spices in the meantime.’

‘Yes.’

It was calming to cook soup together and to think about how we would be eating soup together soon. Yet, just as I stirred some weird herb through the stew, Will scraped his throat. ‘If you are getting sick, you should not be cooking.’

He chuckled, before pulling himself together again. ‘Nico, how about we just enjoy the here and now, and then talk about how we are affected by last year some other time? Maybe we could ask Dionysus to evaluate it with us. Because it feels as if we are both still hurt by it.’

‘Yes. I’ll ask him as soon as I see him again.’

Will nodded. ‘Good. In that case, you just need to stir slightly lighter, while I call over uncle Jacob so he can heat up his self made glühwein, which I doubt he actually makes himself.’

‘Does it contain alcohol?’

‘My mother always lets me have a small glass.’

‘And you say you aren’t rebellious!’

‘It is not rebellious if your mother lets you do it!’

‘I mean… point taken.’

‘Well then! Now, I am going to call Jacob over. Be prepared.’

I winked, while he went out to fetch his uncle.

While he was away, I sighed. Okay, maybe it hadn’t gone perfect. Yet, we could still make something of it. Anyway, who was aunt Natalia to not just ruin one, but multiple Christmases?

A/N: Secretly, uncle David gives Will and Nico alcohol-free glühwein because he is a responsible adult.

On tuesday the twenty-seventh my adult responsibilities will catch up to me, AKA I will be eightteen, or otherwise said it’s my birthday :D. Also, by next chapter, I will be an adult (help).

Anyway Nico and Will having Christmas. Did you see the part where Nico thought about this Italian family? Yes ;).

I know this chapter dragged a little. It is mostly meant to cement some things for future chapters.

19 notes · View notes

secondhand-trash · 5 years

Text

Bakugou Katsuki(BNHA)- Chicken Soup for the Soul

Secret santa event (by @bnhaclaimedmysoul) mission two: write something with your target(?)’s favourite food to eat on Christmas

A/N: did I project myself into this one because I get sick whenever the season changes? yes.

All that could be heard in the empty dorm was sneezing, coughing, and the sound of you being really close to the sweet release of death.

Yes, you were being melodramatic and overall a whiny baby but you were sick in the midst of winter right before the holidays and it sucked. Being able to whine about it should be the least amount of rights you were given to compensate for the mortal torture otherwise known as ‘a cold’ you were going through.

Staring at the ceiling as you stiffly lie on the bed, you wondered how long has it been since you last got up. You couldn’t fall asleep despite the pulsing headache. Whenever you tried to close your eyes, the irritation you were feeling in your trachea would just keep you stirring in the bed in pure discomfort. There was a pile of used tissue paper on the side of your bed and the empty paper box was thrown to the far end of the room, reaching your hand to find an empty carton did not help with your already annoyed self and the poor container became the target of your anger.

Your room was so stuffy. You tried to get up and open the windows once. It was a struggle, the instant dizziness you felt from lying down for too long was only intensified when you felt the sting of cold wind in your face. Between stuffiness and chilliness, you would gladly stay in an overly heated environment yes thank you.

Everyone else was off having classes like they normally do, trying to catch up with progress before going home for the holidays. Work, you groaned when you calculated the amount of stuff you had missed on just because of your stupid cold and you had to get those done on top of the work that you were sure to be given when you got back.

You felt lonely. It seems to be the truth when people say your mind gets weaker as your body does. At this point, you craved company as much as you knew that it was probably for the best that your peers keep a distance from you for the time being until you get better, wouldn’t want them to catch the cold as well.

Or would you? You quickly brushed away the wicked thought from your mind. It was the cold, the cold was making you sinister.

Speaking of everyone else, were was everybody? Shouldn’t they be back by now?

As another rush of itchiness rushed to your nose, you quickly reached for the side of your bed only to feel nothing. Right, no tissue. Forcing the sneeze back down and aching the back of your throat, you contemplated if going down stairs to get some more was a good idea. You did not want to leave your bed, especially not away from the cocoon of blankets you wrapped yourself in.

You groaned as you felt yet another strong irritation at the back of your throat, erupting into a string of coughs that had you feeling like you were running out of air. Fine, you guessed you would have to venture out of your ward.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

You nearly jumped at the groggy voice that called out behind you. Turning around, you were staring right in the face of your very aggressive classmate all while you had a blanket around your shoulder like a cowl.

“Ba-bakugou?” the cold air that entered your lungs immediately caused a strong reaction as you coughed, leaning on the wall for support, “You’re early, where’s everyone else?”

“Out for groceries.” He huffed as he took in your ridiculous appearance, “You look like an idiot.”

“Excuse me, I would like you to know that it is not nice to insult a patient.” you said with a hand on your chest, trying to calm your breathing.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes at you as you heaved. Saying that you looked like an idiot was an understatement. You had a fleece blanket around your shoulders that was dragging on the floor, you hair was a mess, your eyes were puffy and there was still snot at the corner of your nose. “How the hell do you still look like this after sleeping for the whole day?”

“Because I didn’t.” You said, sniffing as you do so, “Couldn’t sleep, couldn’t walk, couldn’t get up without falling down immediately.”

“So basically useless.”

“I’m sorry-” your attempt to fight back was short due as the ditz in your head made you lose balance right when you stepped forward, collapsing on the couch as you held onto the back of it for support. It was probably the dizziness acting up, but you could swear that you saw Bakugou leaping forward immediately when you were about to fall down.

“Fuck, probably should have eaten something.” You rubbed your temples to ease the lightness of your head.

His eyebrows pursed together, “You haven’t eaten anything?”

You shook your head to the best of your ability. Hearing a soft tch from him, he didn’t look at you again as he turned towards the door.

“Fucking idiot.”

With a slam of the door and the vaguely offensive comment, he left the dorm. Leaving you on the couch, all alone and confused.

“Drink.”

Bakugou came back a while later with a plastic bag in his hand. Shoving it in your hand without doing so much as saying anything, he stared at you as you peered inside.

There was a paper cup, the kind that you could get in convenient stores. It was warm, you smiled as you hold it in your hand and enjoyed how your finger tips that was numb from the cold slowly gained back their senses.

Popping the lid of, you beamed as you saw what was in the cup. “You got me soup?”

“Couldn’t get anything else, making actual soup takes too long and you look like you are about to pass out.” He said with a look of indifference but the grin on your face only grew wider.

“You were gonna make soup for me?”

“Shut up.” Bakugou growled, “Now drink up, I don’t want to hear your whining when it gone cold.”

He tried to act all mean and aggressive but he didn’t look away from you at all until you finished the whole thing right in front of his eyes, letting out a satisfied hum when you drank the last drop with a content sigh.

The soup was the average instant miso soup that you could purchase per pack at the convenient store and add water to it with the kettle provided. The cup was a bit too small, making the soup slightly more salty than the ones of your liking. But that was just the thing you need to make you feel just a little better.

Bakugou didn’t responded, mumbling something under his breath about you being a klutz that needed other people to take care of you as he went upstairs. As he turned around, you would have said that the tip of his ears were a bit red.

That was the best soup you ever had.

#bnha imagines #bnha imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha writers fest

324 notes · View notes

raisingsupergirl · 4 years

Text

My Life With COVID-19: Week 1--Say Goodbye to Food

I never thought being a statistic would come with so much baggage. It's not that I thought it would never happen to me. In fact, I thought it already had happened to me. A couple of times. And maybe it did. But none of them were like this. I'm going to try to explain it as best as I can (you know, for science and future generations), but bear with me. COVID brain is definitely a thing.

I guess this story starts on 12/12/20. That's the day that my dear friend passed away. We were supposed to start a Dungeons & Dragons campaign together soon. Him, me, and three other good friends. But that Saturday, I got the text that he had passed away the previous night (not related to COVID, as far as I'm aware). Well, that following evening, those three other friends and I got together to remember him, to process some emotions, and to drink whiskey. The next day I woke up feeling… less than perfect. Of course, I thought it was from lack of sleep and too much alcohol, but it was weird. I didn't drink that much. Not to feel that bad. And there were some weird things, too. My eyeballs hurt (really bad) like I had a fever, but I didn't have a fever. And my fatigue level was through the roof. Other than that, normal body aches and lack of appetite that come with over-indulgence, so I didn't think much of it. Even when I woke up on Monday with persistent symptoms, I just assumed I was getting REALLY old and should never drink again. Yeah, I'm kind of dumb sometimes.

Monday and Tuesday could be characterized by general lack of energy, some mild congestion, and those danged achy eyeballs. And the only food that appealed to me was soup, and only in small amounts. "Just a little cold," I told myself. Even still, I had the good sense to be extra-cautious with my hand washing and mask wearing procedures. Unfortunately, I didn't have the good sense to get tested at that time. Mostly because my insurance doesn't cover testing (which is $150/swab), but also because I was in denial. I needed to work. My patients needed treatment. I was important… irreplaceable. And, of course, I didn't want to have to call my friends and tell them I'd exposed them Saturday night.

Wednesday was more of the same, but I felt even more fatigued. Then, someone else I'd come into contact with the previous week let me know that they'd tested positive. Crap. That's when the pieces started falling into place. And the last one fell as I was drinking a glass of alcohol (elderberry tincture, actually. Which I'd made myself as a COVID preventative… guess I should have started drinking it earlier…). While I sipped, I was actually hanging out with those same Saturday friends, but this time virtually. We were playing computer games. And about halfway through the glass of elderberry goodnes, I noticed that it wasn't nearly as floral or alcoholic tasting as it should have been. I assumed it was getting watered down, but suspicion started creeping up my spine. And by the end of the glass, it tasted like straight water (which tastes like nothing…). Like some infected dummy straight out of a zombie movie, I told no one and went to bed, hoping against hope that I would wake up to the smell of bacon (or anything).

When my alarm went off the next morning, I popped out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. First thing I did? Took a long whiff of my deodorant stick. Nothing. I stuck the toothpaste up to my nose. Still nothing. Brushed my teeth. Foamy nothing. Went to the bathroom. Thankfully nothing. And then it was time to go downstairs, face my wife, and finally say it out loud. "I can't smell anything. It's completely gone." And that's the moment that it became real. No turning back. One rapid test later, and my fate was sealed. My boss started clearing my schedule for the next week, and my mind started racing with all of the people I needed to call. All the things I needed to do. What my life would look like for the next ten days. Even now, I don't know if the virus was effecting my cognition and emotions or not, but I do know that I was a mess.

By the time I got home, my world was spinning. I was angry, ashamed, confused, defeated, and overwhelmed. Mostly overwhelmed. I made sure my wife had pulled our daughter from school, and then I went up to my room. Not because I was quarantining from them, but because I couldn't handle being around anyone, even those whom I loved most (I mean, I'd be spending plenty of time with them over the next week anyway, right?).

Over the next hour, I felt like someone with an STD contacting all of my past… well, you know. I texted, I messaged, I called. Everyone was incredibly understanding. They all wanted to know how I was doing. And it felt almost shameful saying that I felt fine. "Just a little fatigued, eyeballs hurt a little, some congestion. And the no smell thing." It's funny how that didn't dawn on me yet. In the flurry of confusion, I hadn't stopped to consider what life without smell would be like. That revelation would come later. No, right now I was focused on the bigger things. I wouldn't be able to attend my friend's funeral this Saturday. I wouldn't be able to host Portmas (an annual Christmas celebration with those same friends) that night. I wouldn't be able to go to work for over a week. The days would feel like months… Have I mentioned that I'm a bit of a work-a-holic? Yeah, well, there was a BIG part of me right then that thought, "God did this. I wouldn't slow down. I wouldn't quit working. Even when I was sick, I was too dumb to take a step back. So God took my smell away. It's my fault for being so stubborn. And God finally stepped in." Yeah, those are some thoughts that I'll continue to unpack over the next couple of weeks, but for now it's enough to say that my thoughts and emotions were about as confused as my senses.

Speaking of which, my lovely wife made me a can of chicken-n-noodle soup for lunch. And it felt great. Warm, soothing, and satisfying. But with each bite, reality settled in the pit of my broth-laden stomach. It wasn't that I couldn't taste ANYTHING. There was something there. A touch of saltiness and a hint of umami (look it up). My tongue wasn't completely dead… but my nose was. And so, another cascade of confused emotions. More anger. More fear. Google said "most" patients got their smell back in a week or two, but for some it could take up to a year. And a small percentage never got it back. NEVER!? And at best, I didn't know if I could handle two weeks. Honestly, I didn't.

If you haven't lost your sense of smell, I'm sure you think I was overreacting. I would have, too, before it happened to me (Yes, I'm aware of the irony of my blog post a couple of weeks ago). But I want to try and explain the seriousness of this situation to you. Maybe fore some it's not so bad—those who are suffering REAL COVID symptoms. Those fighting for breath and for life. But for those of use who feel otherwise "normal," it's a panic-inducing affliction. For example, I'm a fledgling home brewer. Do you know what all beer tastes like when you have no smell? Like water with a ghost of bitterness on both sides of the tongue. Do you know what straight whiskey tastes like? Exactly the same with just a slight warmth in the chest. And so, my brewing hobby is done. Just done. And cooking? There's no point. Everything might as well be raw cucumbers and unseasoned French fries. Texture and temperature. That's literally the only variation. Well… almost literally.

In my panic, I NEEDED to know what my limits were. I needed to know if I could find any enjoyment from food. And so, I went to the extremes. Cloves, even when eaten straight, had absolutely no flavor. Straight salt registered a little on the tip and back of my tongue. Sugar felt kind of thick on my tongue, and if I tried imagining it, I thought I could taste it a little. Cayenne pepper was a little tingly in the back of my throat, but nothing more. Horseradish did nothing at first and only a little tingling on the top of my mouth afterward (mind you, I ate enough of all of these things to kill an elephant). And finally, I took a bite of a lime. Whoa! That about knocked me over. Imagine not tasting anything for 24 hours and then suddenly biting into a lime. That's exactly what it tasted like. Okay, well, I couldn't actually taste any lime characteristics, but that SOUR sensation registered off the charts. The sensation was both hopeful and frustrating, and those two emotions fit in perfectly with my general disposition.

That night, I was mean. Cranky toward my wife. She made dinner, and I was bitter about it. Airfried shrimp and tater tots with cucumbers on the side. She was TRYING to satisfy my texture and temperature requirements. And she did well. But it was still ash in my mouth, cotton balls in my stomach. And no one seemed to understand my frustration and fear.

But that night, I realized there was something I hadn't considered, too. My family is close. We hug and kiss. We cuddle. And so, there didn't seem to be any reason for me to start quarantining from them now. Besides, both of my daughters already had the sniffles, so the likelihood was high that they already had the virus. And my wife thought that she'd already had it a few weeks before. But… if she hadn't. If she was still susceptible. I wasn't worried about her safety, so much. She's healthy. She works out, eats right, and nurtures her already strong immune system. But, if she lost her smell, too…

Okay, hear me out. This isn't just about food enjoyment or fart detection (yes, my wife giggled at the dinner table because she farted right next to me without me knowing…). It's about safety. Have you ever considered how dangerous it would be to live in a house with a gas stove if no one could smell? I mean, presumably the kids might notice something, but would they understand enough to let us know? I'm honestly not sure I would take that gamble. So here's hoping my wife keeps smelling, because I really don't want to move out.

Oh, speaking of my wife smelling, there's one last revelation I had about anosmia (lack of smell). For an anosmic person to take a shower is truly a selfless act. Think about it.

Anyway, by the time I post this (12/23/20), my quarantine will officially be over. I will have spent a week at home. So I'll definitely have more to tell. But these first few days are enough for now. Stay safe, friends. And don't forget to stop and smell the hot cocoa before you miss your chance.

#covid-19 #anosmia #no smell no taste #covid symptoms #life with covid #quarantine #momblr #dadblr #mumblr

7 notes · View notes

dentistiny · 5 years

Text

Take Care of Me

Bucky Barnes One Shot

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Counts: 3254

Warnings: Abortion. Languange. Angst?

Summary: You and Bucky are best friends. And he supports you through a very hard decision.Some burried feelings come up to the sunlight.

A/N: Alright. This one was a little hard for me to write. I literally had to took several smoke breaks. Hope you enjoy anyway!

The drive from the clinic was silent. Bucky was focused on the road. He couldn’t really figure out what to say. He didn’t want to upset you more than you already are.

You didn’t feel like say anything. Part of you was gone forever. And you didn’t quite know how to feel about it.

Bucky and you knew each other since the day you started to work as a lawyer at the Stark Tower. It wasn’t like you were superhero’s lawyer it was quite opposite. You were looking for the pro-bono cases and getting paid by Mr. Stark. It was a win-win.

And the years passed by all those sleepless nights made you and Bucky best friends. And turns out he wasn’t just a cranky old man. He was funny, kind definitely a gentleman. At some point you even had a little crush on him but it was better not to mention this since you have a boyfriend at the moment.

He was such a supportive friend.

So, you couldn’t think of anyone but him about what you were going to.

When he found out you decided to get an abortion, he tried his best to not make it harder for you. Because he could see your struggle and how hard for you to talk about this. He didn’t ask questions about the things you try to avoid talking. Like what the hell is the father doing.

“Do you want anything from the market?” He asked as you were getting closer to the supermarket in your neighborhood.

“No. I just want to rest.” You look outside the window. You tried to convince yourself that you did nothing to be ashamed of. But you just couldn’t shake this feeling.

So, when you arrive home you throw yourself into sleep’s arms. And it took you so well.

Even though Bucky insists for you to sleep in your own bed you chose the couch. So, you could hear him around, and won’t feel lonely.

When you woke up you saw his muscular silhouette coming out of kitchen. He walked towards to you.

“Can you get up a little?” Bucky puts the hot plate on the table carefully. You take a deep breath as you straighten up your body. You immediately smell the food Bucky brought in.

“Am I smelling chicken soup?” You ask with a little smile. He was sitting on the table right next to the plate.

“Yeah, I did it myself.” He looked so proud of himself. You leaned your head back of the couch.

“You know I don’t have a flu, right?” Your smile widened when he rolled his eyes.

“And you know this soup is the only thing I can cook.” He was about to pick up the plate but stopped. “You’re very welcome by the way.” His sarcastic voice made you feel okay. Even though you were far away from okay.

“I can handle it, give it to me.” You tried to reach the plate, but an intense pain made you hissed and you couldn’t be able to move any longer. You closed your eyes not to cry. Or not to see the pity in Bucky’s eyes.

“How about you don’t act like an Amazon for one day? And I don’t feel completely useless. That’d be great.” You opened your eyes to look at him, why did you want to cry right now? Damn it.

“Useless would be the last word to describe you.” Your voice cracked.

“So, it’s on the list.” He sounded offended but you knew he was just messing around. “Your soup is getting cold. And I brought some painkillers.” You shook your head.

“It’s just cramps. I already took two of them anyway. They make me dizzy.”

He put the spoon in your mouth with such a focus as he murmured. “Whatever you want.” You frowned as you swallow it.

“Hmm, you are getting pretty good at it.”

His blue eyes light up.

“Right? I put my secret ingredient this time.” You raised your brows as you taste another full spoon of soup.

“I wonder what it would be.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“I would tell you but then I might have to kill you. And I really don’t want to kill my best friend.”

“What if I promise not to tell anyone.”

“Even if they torture you to get this information from you?” He narrowed his eyes with such seriousness. You raised one of your eyebrows.

“I’m pretty though. I’ll take it to the grave with me.” You answered with the same tone.

He checked the room. Even though there’s no one else in the house apart from you two. You almost cracked but you didn’t. He got closer to you as you unconsciously mimic him. For a moment his eyes turned to your lips. He swallowed hard nothing. You didn’t notice. You never did.

“I put,” He licked his lips. “My love.” You hit him in the chest with your palm as you laughed. Pain in your lower abdomen slowed down your laughter but you kept your giggles.

“Fuck off!”

He smiled so widely his lips almost reached his ears.

“What? I can love!” He defended himself.

“I know you can. But I know what I heard when you were at the kitchen. All of the curses.”

“That’s exactly how I express my love!” He put his hand on his chest. It looked funny when Winter Soldier try to look innocent.

“Okay. No more jokes because I am in pain.” You slowly lay down on the couch. He didn’t wait a second to get up and help you. He fixed the pillows under your head.

“You will stay here tonight, right?” You hesitated when you asked.

“Of course, I will Y/N.” He lowered himself to make an eye contact with you. “I mean, unless you don’t want me to-“

“Can we watch Finding Nemo?” He pressed his lips together. You’ve been friends long enough with Bucky to know that was your safe movie. You rarely had your vulnerable moments. But when you do, you run to this movie. For some reason things become a little better when it’s done.

“Do you want popcorn?” He asked as he got up. He took the empty plate off the table.

“No.” You pout like a spoiled kid.

“Hot chocolate?” He tried again.

“Okay.” You said like it wasn’t a big deal.

But it was. He left your sight as he stepped into the kitchen.

It felt nice to taken care of. That was something you failed to do. Most recently, to be honest. When the tears rush into your eyes again you puffed a breath out.

“You made the right decision.”

You whispered yourself but the moment you closed your eyes a single teardrop run through your side of your eye. It found its way through your temple and got lost in your hair. Somehow that single drop managed to drown you.

You sighed and wiped them away quickly. You didn’t want Bucky to see you like this. You were already a mess.

It took a few minutes to calm yourself. And the timing was perfect when Bucky come back with two cups.

“Here’s your order, ma’am.” You tried to smile.

“Thanks.” Your voice was weak. Like you. He put the cups on the table and opened the movie on the TV. Then he sat on the floor right in front of you. You took a sip of you hot chocolate. It tasted like heaven.

“You good?” He checked on you before settling down. “Need anything?”

“I am okay.” You smiled at him. When the movie started you, both watched it silently. Your one hand was on your stomach. The other was stroking his hair. You couldn’t pay attention to the screen.

“Bucky?”

“Hm?” he slightly turned his head to you. Like he didn’t want to lose your touch.

“Thank you.”

“Sure.” He assured you like it wasn’t important. “It’s just a hot chocolate.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean thanks for being there for me today. For driving me home from clinic and taking care of me. For not letting me do this alone. It means a lot.”

He turned fully to you. And took your hand in his.

“I can’t imagine the otherwise. Of course, I have to be there for you. You’ve been there for me like a million times.”

“And thank you for not judging.” You sniffed as you started to cry again.

“Y/N,” He reached to your face put his hand against your cheek. He gently touched you with his thumb. “I would never.” He looked right into your soul. He had so many things to say to you. He has them almost the first day he met you. But he kept silent. Like now.

“Did he call?” you asked with such a desperate voice. Bucky opened his mouth then shut it. He smiled.

“I haven’t checked the phone for a few hours now, actually.” You knew he was lying.

“Buck.”

“No, he didn’t. Sorry.” You chuckled.

“You shouldn’t be sorry. You are not the one who knocked me up and then ask for me to get an abortion.” He looked confused. You couldn’t stop your little laughter. “I mean he told me that he was busy today, but a message wouldn’t hurt anybody, right?”

Bucky wasn’t holding your hand anymore.

“Y/N, are you-“

“It’s okay. It’s fine. Shitty things happen. It’ll get better since the baby is out of the frame.” Your breathes become irregular. Now you feel like someone was chocking you.

“Hey, hey. Look at me, let’s just breathe okay? Good, just try to calm down.”

You mimicked his movements as your lungs filled with the air again.

“Better?” His gaze was concerned. You nodded. “Okay. Now, can you tell me what really happened?”

“We didn’t plan to have a baby. That’s all.”

You wiped the tears with back of your hand.

“But did you want it when you found out you’re having one?” there was knot growing inside your throat. You weren’t able to talk. “Did he force you to do this?” You could see he was getting angry. That was the last thing you wanted. So, you shook your head.

“He didn’t force me.” You said in such a disguct. “We- That was- We talked about it. It was our decision.” You lied. And he knew.

“Y/N.” You look away. It was too much. You felt ashamed. “Look at me.” You change your gaze at him. “It’s okay.” He assured you with his soft eyes.

“How can I willingly give up on my baby?” For a solid moment he studied your expression, your desperate gaze.

His head fell down with a curse.

“Fuck.” You thought he was mad at you.

“I am sorry. I am so sorry.” You broke down. He immediately got up and hold you in his arms.

“No, no, no. Don’t say that.” You hold onto his shirt with your fists as you were sobbing. “I wish you told me before. But don’t feel guilty, you did what you think was right. It’s okay.”

“I am a terrible person.”

“You are the best person I have ever known. That asshole is just absolute fucking worst. Put the blame on him.” Your sighs slowed down. “At least he won’t be bothering you anymore.”

“What do you mean?” You put a little distance between you and him.

“Since you broke up with him.” He said like pointing out such an obvious fact.

“I didn’t.” You said while he slowly let you go. You wiped the tears on your cheeks with the back of your hand. “What makes you think that we broke up?”

“Are you kidding me?” He looks like he is about to lose his mind. “Well first of all, he didn’t even bother to show up even though he made you get an abortion!” His voice raised.

“He was busy!” You defended your boyfriend. Bucky chuckled at your answer.

“And why would I leave him after I got an abortion for him?” He run his hands through his face.

“Why would you do that in the first place anyway?” He was genuine with this question. He never understood why you were with that piece of shit.

“Because I love him! And that means sacrifice!” Now you were shouting too.

“Oh God! That’s not love!” He looked disgusted.

“So far with not judging, huh? How would you know about love anyway?” He laughed at your words. But the vein on his neck was popping.

“Right? How would I know? Well. Let me try.” He took a deep breath before speaking again. “It must include a drive to the clinic and back home. I think it’s making a fucking soup even though you hate the smell. I think it’s watching her to be with some fucking disaster and not be able to say a word about it. Because you are too afraid to ruin your friendship with her. So, you stay silent for years and accept any kind of love from her!” All these words he spoke, didn’t make any sense to you at first.

“You know what I think it is? When you told me that he didn’t want the baby, but you did, that the first thing that come to my mind to be the father of that child if you would only asked.” His hands fell down his sides. “Accepting you with your everything. That’s what love is.”

Your bottom lip was shaking, and your movements were heavy.

“Wh-“You cleared your throat. He was rubbing his forehead. “What do you mean?”

“I am fucking in love with you, that’s what it means.”

His voice was no longer loud or angry. It was exhausted. He was exhausted from loving for so long and so hard.

“No, you are not.” He ignored your denial.

“But you are stuck with him.” He said in the saddest tone you’ve ever heard. He looked at you to see your face, but you were facing with the floor. He shook his head and took his jacket from the sofa. You saw him leaving.

“Bucky?” He didn’t stop.

You stood up and followed him through the hallway.

“Where are you going?” He didn’t answer. Not even you went after him to the door. He just slammed it to your face. You didn’t find the strength to open it up again. You just put your forehead against it as you try to bring yourself back together.

How could you be so blind? How could take your shot with some asshole just because you thought Bucky would never love you the way that you loved him. How you could let your heart break over and over again. And break his heart with your blindness.

Of course, you had feelings for him. More than a friend. It would be impossible to be around Bucky Barnes and not to caught up by strong feelings. Not when he came back from his missions all dirty and tired, but he always smile. Always smiled at you when he saw you.

Anytime you call he would pick up the phone. And if you need him, he would be there. He would listen, try to find solutions to your problems.

Bucky never likes to someone to touch him. But he would always let you.

He would always hold you.

Such a stupid woman.

You walked back to your living room. That stupid movie was still running. You found the remote to pause it. You took the cups from the table they were still half full. You made your way to the kitchen and you washed the dishes despite to your cramps.

You felt like you deserved this pain. So, you embraced it.

When you were done you go back to the room and sat on the couch. You watched the frozen frame on the screen. You just looked at it for two hours.

You didn’t look away when you heard the click on the door. Or when the door shut quietly. Or when Bucky throw his heavy body next to you.

Okay, maybe that moment you looked at him with the corner of your eye. He didn’t say anything.

“I paused it so when you get back, we could keep watching.” He sighed as he reached for the remote. Pressed the play button. Neither of you said anything next fifteen minutes.

“I am sorry for leaving.” You fought with yourself not to look at him. He was calmer. “And for the things that I said. It wasn’t my place to say those things.” He took a break to put together the words he was about to say. “And I was being unfair when I opened up about my-“ He tried to find the right thing. “Feelings.”

“I didn’t want to be alone.” You admitted. “I wanted to be loved.” You turned your eyes to your hands. “I needed to be loved because I believed you could never love me back.”

Bucky clenched his jaw. He knew he was too late to win you. He wanted to punch himself in the face.

“I didn’t want him to leave me.” You tucked your hair behind your ear. “My cowardness cost me my baby and you.”

“You must think very low of me.”

Your nose was burning. Your eyes were burning. Your chest was burning. Everything was on fire. Then Bucky touched your face with his metal hand. That was better. He made you look at him.

“I am sorry.” You whispered like pray. “I am a mess.”

“That makes two of us.” His velvet voice strokes your skin. You lean your body to him. Your back fits perfectly to his chest. He holds you after he put a kiss between your hair. His scent filled your lungs and left you breathless somehow for a second. Even though movie kept running you closed your eyes.

“He called. Asked if you were okay, said he’ll be here in the morning. With breakfast.” He said with the most monotone voice you’ve ever heard. You simply nodded.

Bucky wanted to beg you to leave him. He wanted to get on his knees and cry on your lap to be with him. He would never reject anything or anyone coming from you. He would love you the way you needed. He would never leave you alone or make you feel like you are. He would watch this stupid movie with you thousands times. He wanted to let you know all of this.

But he knew that you already know. But choose to not to say anything about it. So, he stayed silent.

You knew before he came Bucky would leave. But you had no idea what will happen the two of you from now on. After all the confessions, could you still be friends? How could you bring your boyfriend to the dinners or parties? How could you attend at the game nights or movie nights?

This night could be last night you and Bucky share together. Just the two of you.

So, you got closer to him. Make sure to remember his scent. His warmth.

He did the same as well. He holds you a little bit tighter.

Even after the screen went black. Even after you fell asleep. Even after the sun rises to the room.

But he had to let you go.

So, he did.

Little did he know he left part of his heart too.

Or you kept your tears until he’s gone.

#fanfic #buckybarnes #friends #mcu #bucky barnes x reader #avengers #myfics

65 notes · View notes

ao3porcelainstorm · 4 years

Text

poison ivy & stinging nettles 14

On Ao3

Pairing: Sherlock/OFC

Rated: M

Warnings: eventual violence, torture, swears, adult themes (no explicit smut)

Chapter 13 - Chapter 15

Chapter 14- Asphodel

~~~

They’re both idiots. Emotionally stunted idiots with only concern for the world and never for themselves.

~~~

The viewing had gone as well as could be expected. Sherlock had to admit, whoever patched the hole in the back of Maxwell’s head had done a spectacular job.

Amelia hung back, chatting politely with family, and Sherlock noticed that she never went up to the casket before it was sealed up and the memorial was moved to the gravesite outside.

Hugging her cousin as the family moved, she whispered something in Ruth’s ear that made the other chuckle quietly.

She gave her mother a kiss on the cheek, and when Sherlock arrived at the graveyard, Amelia was gone.

He realized that in all the fuss and bustle, she must have slipped away before the actual memorial began.

She hadn’t been missed, the focus falling on Ruthie and her family, occasionally Lydia. Once the body was in the ground, and people began lingering around for condolences, he went for the gardens. He was positive this time he would find his friend there, as the house was being prepped for a large dinner.

Sure enough, Amelia was sat up under a tree, bundled in her winter jacket, with a sketchbook propped in her lap. She didn’t notice him approach, and barely reacted when he sat down next to her,’ glancing at the picture she was drawing.

“Asphodel,” she explained without looking up. She shaded in the stems, pausing with the end of her pencil between her lips. “A bundle means ‘my regrets follow you into the grave’.”

“Seems appropriate,” he commented.

“Burials freak me out,” she admitted. “And I couldn’t listen to the priest talk about what a great guy he was. I mean, maybe he was for a while, but he did nearly kill John.”

“And you,” Sherlock reminded her. She made a noise under her breath, dismissing his commentary.

“It’s so permanent,” she continued, her sketching a little more intense as she spoke. “Buried in the ground.”

“Flowers sprout from the ground,” Sherlock reminded her quietly. She didn’t react immediately, considering his words before she furrowed her brow in thought.

“Exactly, they spout and grow and become beautiful things,” she lowered her sketchbook to look at him directly. “A coffin just sits there. The body bloats and decays, contributing nothing and warping and bleh.”

“I’ll be sure to plant some nice roses over your body when the time comes,” he smirked.

“But that’s more productive,” she pointed at him with her pencil. “Roses thrive with bonemeal and blood. They love it.”

“I can assure you comfortably,” his smirk grew wider. “You’ll be very much unaware of your surroundings when your time comes. Dead people tend not to complain about their accommodations in my experience.”

“I’m holding you to that,” she poked his arm with her pencil. “Otherwise I’ll haunt you.”

“Ghosts aren’t real, but I’d be willing to see you try and prove otherwise.”

She snorted a laugh under her breath, folding her sketchbook shut.

“Did you see my great-aunt Marge?” she asked in a low voice.

“Is she the one who threw herself over the body?” he questioned in amusement.

“Yep,” she nodded. “She’s been complaining about not getting a cent in my grandpa’s will for decades now. Seems to think Ruthie’s gonna cut her a check today. Her son’s been playing boo-hoo all day too.”

“He called Tommy, ‘Johnny’,” Sherlock supplied, earning a fit of giggles from her. It was far more peaceful in the gardens, even if the plants were mostly bare in anticipation of the upcoming winter weather. There were certainly fewer fake criers.

“Should we even stay for dinner?” she asked, cringing at the thought. “I think I heard Mycroft and my mother are leaving soon.”

“Thank God,” Sherlock muttered, visibly relieved. He was not looking forward to holding his tongue around these people for a few more hours. Aunt Marge alone was enough to provide him snide comments for the next few weeks. “I can be packed in ten minutes.”

Amelia hopped up eagerly, offering a gloved hand and pulling Sherlock to his feet.

“Make it five and we can stop for Indian on the way back.”

~~~

Returning home was uneventful. Both Amelia and Sherlock agreed that it was a bit of a relief not to be staring danger in the face the whole time. It’d been a long few hours, but immediately upon passing the threshold of Baker Street, they were energized again.

Home was home, after all.

John and Mrs. Hudson greeted them with homemade chicken soup, the pair dropping into the kitchen chairs and devouring the meal.

“How has Ruthie held up?” Mrs. Hudson inquired, pouring tea for everyone once they’d finished eating, and moved to the living room.

“As well as you did during your husband's trial,” Sherlock replied briskly. “Favouring the grape, so to speak.”

“To be fair,” Amelia cut in, scowling at Sherlock. “She’s had a chaotic few weeks. I’d be drunk too.”

“But you haven’t been,” Sherlock pointed out. “Comparably, you’ve had a chaotic few months.”

“I have some old whiskey in the pantry. Is that your blessing, Sherlock? Or shall I start spending the nights in the pub with Jessica Reynolds?”

“You two are always at each other,” Mrs. Hudson tutted. “After what John told me, I thought you’d be like honeymooners when you got back.”

Amelia immediately turned her focus to John, who was doing his best to avoid the Auburn-haired woman’s gaze.

“Oh? And what did John tell you?” she squeaked out, face red.

Sherlock even had to admit, it was an amusing response.

“I’m not getting in the middle of this,” Mrs. Hudson stood up and retreated for the stairs. “Forget I said anything. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Clever girl,” Amelia muttered after the landlady had closed the door to her flat. She kept her eyes on John, waiting for him to break. It was bound to happen. He always broke with that look.

“Really?” he set his tea down, looking between Sherlock and Amelia impatiently. “Nothing happened?”

“I’m not sure I understand your question, John,” Sherlock crossed his legs, taking a slow sip of his tea. “Would you please expand on what you mean?”

Scoffing, he turned to Amelia.

Smart, Sherlock relented. Her every expression read like a book. Perhaps they’d all gotten too familiar with one another, each roommate reading the other so easily.

“Mia?” he asked.

Amelia shrugged, mumbling something non-committal about there only being one bed.

“We didn’t bang!” she finally snapped under John's scrutinizing look. “Stop being childish John. Honestly.”

“Just shared a bed,” Sherlock hummed. “Pressed against one another the entirety of the night.”

“Fully clothed,” Amelia supplied with a huff. “You’re both enjoying getting a rise out of me and I won’t have it.”

“I think, you wouldn’t be worked up if there wasn’t something you were concerned about being taken out of context,” John reasoned, leaning into his chair smugly.

“Yeah, you thinking I’d sleep with Sherlock,” she scoffed.

“And what’s so bad about that?” Sherlock poked the bear a little further, his face stretched in feign outrage.

Between embarrassment, frustration, and panic, Amelia looked like she short-circuited at the question.

“I’m going to bed,” she stood up, grabbing her blanket, and hobbled down the stairs to her room.

“You’re enjoying this?” John asked with a chuckle.

“Immensely,” Sherlock admitted, smirking to himself.

“And how did you feel about sharing such an intimate space with her?” John quizzed, brow arched expectantly.

How on Earth did he turn it on him?

Narrowing his eyes, Sherlock scanned John over. What was his goal here?

Personal satisfaction? No, John wasn’t vindictive like that. He wouldn’t cause trouble for the sake of trouble, he was trying to figure something out.

“Don’t be a busy-body, John, it’s unbecoming,” he rolled his eyes, pulling his phone out and pretending to browse the web.

“Mhm,” John tapped a finger to his chin. “And how did it feel to be ‘pressed against one another the entirety of the night’?”

“I was just teasing Amelia,” he countered.

“You’re not a robot, right?” John sighed.

“I don’t understand what you’re implying?” Sherlock huffed. “What a waste of time.”

He went to retreat for his room when John finally spoke up.

“Amelia,” he caught his friend by the wrist before he passed him. “Do you have feelings for her?”

What?

“What?” Sherlock gaped at him. “Are you mad?”

“What’s her favourite colour?” John waited.

“Marigold yellow,” he replied quickly. “I know yours too, an embarrassingly boring shade of taupe.”

“Favourite book?”

“Anything by Ernest Hemingway.”

“My favourite?”

“John, you’re not proving your point by quizzing me on basic facts about the people I surround myself with,” he pulled his hand free. “She’s a friend.”

“Would you spoon me tonight, then?” John challenged to Sherlock's back.

“Sod off!”

And so John had his answer.

Now to help Amelia and Sherlock to figure it out. He was a good friend after all, and they were a pair of emotionally stunted idiots.

~~~

Sherlock, for his part, truly didn’t believe he had feelings for Amelia Brenner.

For starters, he didn’t know her middle name. Only that it started with “O”. He could have easily gotten her birth certificate but remained convinced that would be cheating.

So how could he have feelings for someone he didn’t fully know?

Of course, John was the one pressing it. The guy who falls in love after one date, clearly confused by two close friends. Just because they were of opposite genders did not mean they automatically were attracted to one another.

And while Sherlock was attracted, a little bit, to Amelia, that didn’t change his stance. That was physical attraction, not anything deeper or meaningful and he was too much of a gentleman to lure her down that road.

He knew Amelia got flustered when it came to romantic entanglements. He didn’t actually believe she had any real feelings for him. It would have been obvious. Most people were obvious, and she’d slept with him, hugged him, touched him, without any hesitation or second thought. That’s just how she was, and that’s why it was so easy for him to tease her.

None of it was genuine.

Grabbing a book off his nightstand, Sherlock was disappointed to find it was a novel he’d finished before leaving for Sirenshore. Not willing to sulk back into the living room to grab something new, he started flipping through the pages until he found a section he’d enjoyed.

He wasn’t entirely sure how long it’d been, but at some point, John went to his bedroom upstairs and the flat was silent.

Aside from the thud of Amelia’s boot and a string of curse words in what Sherlock imagined was her attempt at being quiet.

Setting his book aside, Sherlock crept toward the kitchen, watching from the hall while Amelia made peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She’s changed to her pajamas but clearly hadn’t been sleeping, as her fingers and arms were covered with paint.

She leaned against the countertop, biting into her sandwich and reading the ingredients on the peanut butter container.

He knew she had to have been exhausted after the long trip back and the funeral. Why hadn’t she fallen asleep yet?

He glanced at the kitchen clock. It’d been nearly three hours, and it was considerably late in the night.

Then he remembered.

The basement flat. She didn’t like it down there alone, not recently.

But, with John home, she couldn’t very well sleep on the sofa as she had been. Amelia likes pretending things were fine, even when it was obvious she was on the verge of a breakdown.

“Is the bread stale?” he asked, announcing himself before stepping into the light.

“What?” she chewed a bit, confused at the question. “I mean, no? It doesn’t taste like it.”

“Right,” he nodded, moving to the same countertop and mimicking her lean. Lots of paint on her arms. More than usual. She was being sloppy, which confirmed his theory she was tired.

“What time did you wake up today?” he asked, trying to stay casual.

“Around six-thirty... you were there...” she lowered her sandwich. “Why are you being weird?”

“You’ve been up painting,” he commented, lifting her arm toward the light. “Can’t sleep?”

She tugged her arm free and took another bite of her sandwich.

“Inspiration struck,” she answered. “It’s not very good, but I needed to get it out of my system. Why aren’t you in bed?”

“I never sleep,” he replied. “If you’d like, I was going to do some reading by the fire. It’s warmer than in my bedroom. You’re welcome to come back, John shouldn’t be up until morning.”

She ate the final piece of the sandwich, watching him suspiciously.

“Is this about what John was going on about earlier?” she asked. “Because I know I got weird but seriously, intimacy and whatever freaks me out and he’s totally reading into things.”

“I know,” he stood up. “He’s John. He’ll get over it soon enough. The injury probably is making him bored so he’s coming up with fantastical ways to entertain himself.”

It made sense and Amelia seemed content with the answer.

“That’s...” she laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. Let me grab an extra blanket and something to do. I’ll be back.”

When she returned for the evening, she had a sketchbook under her arm and a blanket was thrown over her shoulders. Settling in, they both worked quietly until Sherlock no longer heard the scratch of her pencils against the paper.

Sure enough, she’d passed out, the sketchbook set aside and the blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She looked relaxed, the same peaceful expression on her face as she’d had at Sirenshore.

Sherlock tossed another log into the fire. He wasn’t planning on sleeping any time soon, his mind still reeling over everything from the last weekend. He needed to find Moriarty before he enacted whatever it was he was planning.

He needed to keep his friends safe.

Chapter 15

#sherlock holmes #sherlock #sherlock/ofc #sherlock bbc #john watson #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock fanfic #sherlock original female character #OFC #OC #watson

1 note · View note

feminarrie · 5 years

Text

ice and tanqueray - one

warning(s): this series contains smut (18+)

[ masterlist ] / [ story tag ] / [ niall tag ]

The First Glimpse

The spitfire attitude that she had upon their first meeting hadn’t disappeared even after Y/N accepted the position of Niall’s personal assistant. Niall had seen the target upon his chest shift to overly flirtatious athletes and some particularly rude staff members from the second floor. Though, Niall likes to think that she’s a bit softer on him now that she’s gotten to know him a little better over the past six or so weeks. She no longer rolls her eyes at him when he laughs at his own jokes during some meeting with an athlete and their legal team. Niall could swear he’s seen her smile down at the minutes she’s typing up on her laptop. She’s even had his regular coffee order (two creams and three sugar) sat at the edge of Y/N’s desk, still hot, by the time he has arrived on more than one occasion.

When he arrives today, there’s no coffee sat neatly on a coaster atop his desk. But, the lack of the caffeinated beverage isn’t why his eyebrows furrow and a huff of air is expelled from his nose. The desk that sits just outside the heavy double doors of his office is empty of its occupant and the black handbag that served as both her purse and backpack.

It’s unlike Y/N to be late, as far as Niall knows. She could have certainly come in late on the days that he’s played golf before coming into the office a few hours later. However, he doubts that Y/N would do such a thing. She’s there earlier than he is, most days, with a notebook splayed out on top of one textbook or another. Sometimes with some acoustic playlist that he wonders how she hears through all the rustling and turning of the pages.

Niall’s putting his phone to his ear when he hears the elevator chime with someone’s arrival. The silver doors open to reveal a disheveled Y/N rummaging through the contents of her bag to find, what Niall assumes to be, her phone. Her free hand brushes a few loose tendrils behind her ear when they fall in front of her eyes. Her brow remains furrowed as she continues the search for her phone. Niall thinks he can hear a soft hmph from where he is standing, a sure sign of Y/N’s building frustration.

Y/N looks up when she sees the pair of black Chelsea boots Niall wears on the more casual days at the office. She gives up the search for her phone then and shifts her attention to pulling a tissue from her bag. With a quiet sniffle and a quick swipe of the crumpled tissue, Y/N allows herself to make eye contact with Niall. Though, Niall is momentarily distracted as his eyes take in her appearance even further. A chapped nose, nostrils and tip tinged pink, and eyes half-lidded with fatigue. Niall cannot help the slight dip in his brow when she finally opens her mouth to speak.

“Sorry I’m late, Mr. Horan.” Y/N says, a cough following closely afterwards. It’s a terrible, painful noise that comes deep from within her chest. “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Don’t mean to be rude, pet. But, you look a little worse for wear.” Niall says, a sympathetic smile on his face. “You didn’t have to come in if you’re ill.”

Niall expects a snarky remark to follow his words, but instead he’s met with Y/N’s lips settled into a pout. Her lower lip is jutted and her nose twitches when she sniffles once again. The look on her face remains even as she quite literally drops her bag on the floor without any regard to the contents inside it.

“I’m already two days behind on my summer course work. I can’t afford to fall behind at school and work.” Y/N frowns, plopping down in the black faux leather computer chair that rolls slightly with the sudden weight.

Niall’s not so far removed from his time at university that he’s forgotten just how hard it was to be a student. Even with his father’s legacy and support—fiscal or otherwise—he had worked hard in his studies to be where he is today. Remembers the inconvenience and added stress of taking courses during what should be a time of rest. So, maybe that’s the reason why his eyes turn soft and he’s shaking his head as Y/N begins to unpack the contents of her bag. Pulling crumpled and used tissues from her bag and tossing them into the garbage as she sifts through to find her notebooks. Or maybe it’s the fact that she’s been on his mind ever since Grace and Niall’s wedding. Mostly innocent, but he’s not too keen to admit that he’s thought about her when he’s getting off.

“Go home, Y/N.” He says, voice softer than Y/N has ever heard. “Get some rest.”

Even though she can feel the way her lungs struggle to inflate and can hear the wheeze that the action causes, she shakes her head. She knows she literally cannot afford to skip a day of work if it means she wants to maintain a roof over her head and a tummy full of chicken noodle soup when she’s ill.

“I’ll leave to get myself a tea and your coffee in a minute,” Y/N rasps.

Niall’s chest rises and falls with a heavy sigh.

“It wasn’t up for debate.” Niall orders, voice stony with authority. “Go home.”

Y/N heaves a sigh, but immediately regrets it when it catapults her into a coughing fit that rips at her throat. Though it’s short lived, it leaves her throat feel more raw and swollen than before. She struggles to speak, each word falling silent as they claw their way up and finally settle on her tongue.

“Can’t.” A single syllable is all she can muster.

Niall crouches down before Y/N, tipping forward onto the balls of his feet. His thick and freshly manicured hands are plucking up creased papers and frayed notebooks to put into her bag. He nestles them between textbooks with post-it flagged pages and her wallet. Y/N watches him with narrowed eyes, a pout reappearing on her lips.

“Put that lip away, Y/N.” Niall says when he glances up at her. “Go home and rest.”

Y/N had remained sedentary in her bed for the next four days. Wrapped tightly in a quilted blanket and reruns of Grey’s Anatomy playing quietly in the background as she slept. She’s been asleep for the majority of those ninety-six hours and plenty more ill than she had even realized. And as much as she had balked at Niall sending her home on Wednesday, she was grateful that he had insisted. So grateful, in fact, that she’s attempting to balance a plate of freshly made banana bread and his regular coffee order in one hand while calling the elevator with the other.

She doesn’t actually know if Niall likes banana bread or if he’s allergic to the finely chopped walnuts that are scattered throughout. So, in theory all of her efforts could have been for absolutely nothing, but she tries not to focus on that. Rather turns her attention to the woman at her side and kindly asks if she would press the button to take her to her designated floor. The woman, whom Y/N assumes is a professional athlete based on her height and toned physique, presses the shiny plastic of the button without further acknowledgment.

The bell sounds sooner than Y/N had anticipated and startles her. The coffee that is nestled in the crook of her elbow slips from where its held and splashes against the black and gold marbled floor.

“Fuck!” She exclaims, both in frustration and at the hot liquid that has splashed at her feet.

Y/N glances over at the woman next to her, noting the splotches of brown that have begun to stain her stockings and the disgruntled look on her face. A string of apologies and promises to buy a new set of heels for her falls from her mouth before she can stop herself. Far before she’s noticed the red bottoms of the velvet, pointed-toe shoes that once were a pristine burgundy.

But, Y/N is a woman of her word and doesn’t shy when they exchange details as they step outside of the elevator. The tall blonde with stained shoes and lips pressed into a hard line holds the doors ajar as Y/N types her number into her phone. She receives a text message seconds later with the woman’s name and ‘red velvet Pigalle Follies’ written in capital letters.

A few more whispered apologies fall from Y/N’s lips until the doors are sealed and she’s left alone in the large foyer. Her steps sound sloshy as she makes her way toward her desk, the bottom of her kitten heels sticking to the ground before lifting with a distinct noise that makes her frown deepen.

She had every professional and personal intention of thanking Niall for being as kind as he was. But, she feels deflated as she places the plate of banana bread on her desk and tosses the now empty coffee cup in the waste basket beside her desk. The thought of time wasted and the hundreds of dollars that she will inevitably have to drain from her savings weigh her down. The weight teeters on her shoulders as she quite literally drops into her seat.

A shaky sigh and the wrinkling of her nose suggests that frustrated tears are just around the corner. The thought of crying at work, where Niall could walk in at any moment to see her in such a state, only frustrates her more. Doesn’t really like the idea of other people seeing her cry.

She does what she can with sticky fingers and blurry vision, to clean up any coffee that had managed to splash onto the plate sat on her desk. Scrubbing until the sticky residue is gone and the weight on her shoulders is replaced with a feeling of satisfaction.

(Tidying has always seemed to clear Y/N’s mind. She doesn’t know if it’s a distraction from the rest of the world or if a clear space really does help to declutter her brain, but she’s grateful that such a small act of self care can bring her clarity).

Niall is two hours late when he finally arrives back in his penthouse office. A navy suit jacket is draped over his bare forearms, the sleeves of his baby blue dress shirt rolled to the crease of his elbow. The tie that once sat expertly tied beneath his collar is now loosened and the top two buttons beneath it are open.

Y/N glances at him while she converses with someone on the phone, but returns her attention to the open planner in front of her to write yet another appointment down. She’s sweet with her words as the call comes to an end, one of the first genuine smiles since her day began.

“You’ve got another benefit this weekend. It’s for the Tomlinson Foundation.” Y/N says, quite literally dotting all of her “i’s” and crossing her “t’s” before she moves onto her next task of opening up Niall’s office doors.

“Louis call you himself?” Niall asks, though he knows the answer. Their seven year friendship had made him feel a little like an expert.

Y/N nods as she kicks triangular door stops beneath both doors and juts her chin toward the plate of banana bread left on the coffee table to the left of Niall’s desk.

Niall raises a brow at the bread as he walks behind his desk to drop his jacket over his chair. He asks which company or agent had sent over the plate, prompting Y/N to smile widely at him.

“I made it,” she beams, picking up the plate and bringing it to him. “Would’ve had a coffee for you, but that’s mostly stuck to the elevator floor.”

Niall’s eyebrow appears to be permanently arched even when he reaches for a slice, but his features soften when he takes his first bite. Y/N’s eyes are wide and expectant as he swallows.

“S’really good, Y/N.” He says, taking the plate from her hands and setting it on the left side of his desk.

(He had to skip breakfast and knows he’ll be picking at it for the remainder of the afternoon).

“I just wanted to thank you for sending me home last week.” Y/N says, “I really needed it.”

Niall waves a hand at her dismissively as he sits down behind his desk. He leans to set his right elbow on the armrest of his chair and looks at Y/N. She’s standing in front of his desk, a hand lightly clutching the back cushion of a chair. He notices the chipped polish in passing, paying little mind to it as he makes eye contact with her once again.

“You don’t have to thank me for that.” He says. “You’ve just got to take better care of yourself for me, pet.”

There’s no flutter in her stomach at Niall’s words, but a warmth does settle in her tummy. It’s the second time in two weeks that he has treated her so gently. A gentleness that implies that he cares for her as more than just his personal assistant. A bittersweet sentiment for someone as independent and in control as Y/N.

She airs on the side of sweet, though. Because Niall’s gentle dominance forces her to relinquish some of her control and breathe for a moment. Something that she hardly experiences between work, university, and commitments that she was too kind to say “no” to. Something that she knows she needs to work on, but isn’t entirely sure how.

#my writing #ice and tanqueray update #niall horan x reader #niall horan x you #niall horan series #ceo!niall #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fic #niall horan fanfiction #ceo!niall au #niall horan au

46 notes · View notes

unityghost · 6 years

Text

Failure

A bad day had to turn into fanfiction. Because then, the suffering turns into a gift. I like my little system. Good coping skills. *continues to avoid life*

This story reminds me of being in therapy. Like, “I know that it’s logical to feel grief when you have no parents” and “Ah yes, the five stages of grief” and “I suppose grief is not an unreasonable reaction in this case,” and she’ll be all, “Can we … actually talk about feeling feelings?”

Anyway, this is part of my series Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels. Gabriel’s alive in my universe because we all want him to be.

I’m also on Archive of Our Own: http://archiveofourown.org/users/unityghost

Thanks for reading!

For once, Gabriel was useful. Being alive for as long as he had, he was familiar - at least to some degree - with almost every human language ever spoken, written, or signed.

This meant that otherwise indecipherable texts sitting deep within the bookshelves of the Men of Letters bunker could actually offer some helpful information. Spells, mostly - spells that even Rowena didn’t recognize.

Gabriel was glad he could give back to the Winchester brothers, whose hospitality had been ridiculous. It was nice being able to stay with them, and as tempted as he was to ditch so that they wouldn’t have to keep addressing his “post-traumatic stress,” he was trying to accept that it seemed they wanted to. Sam was stubborn whenever the subject arose, and frankly, Gabriel thought that perhaps he was more likely to incur Sam’s anger or disapproval by insisting that Sam was wrong. After all, Sam seemed far less exasperated when something made Gabriel flinch or freeze - or worse - than when Gabriel said, “I don’t want you to put up with me anymore.”

But how far was too far? What could Gabriel ask for, and what was more than they could handle? Crossing a boundary and being thrown out was a lot worse than just leaving on his own, without the ache of rejection.

Lately, the bunker had begun to feel small and tight. Although most of the refugees from the other side of the rift had left - gone back through the portal to try and resurrect what good had once colored their world - it felt oddly more crowded when it was just Gabriel, Sam, Dean, and often Castiel. There were days when the quiet lighting and plain decor made Gabriel feel as if he was back in Hell. It was silly, he knew - but he found he couldn’t always escape the chill in his spine.

Gabriel didn’t think he was the only one who felt a little claustrophobic. Cases became stressful; quarters became close. There were days even Dean and Castiel didn’t get along.

“Why don’t you three go out once in a while?” Gabriel asked Dean in the library while Gabriel was translating and Dean was simultaneously shoveling pizza into his mouth and poring over a cloth-bound booklet. The book was so old and frail its pages were flaking all over the desk. “One of you is gonna have a stroke trying not to bite the other’s head off.”

“What makes you say that?” Dean demanded through a mouthful of pepperoni.

“Uh, well, the last thing I heard you say before you slammed your door last night was ‘the next time you leave the fridge open I’ll take your goddamn hippie salad and replace every grain of quinoa with wendigo meat,’ so … just hazarding a guess but you seem a little on edge.”

“Hey, my brother’s the one on edge. Can’t even remember to keep the food cold. I’m telling you, something’s wrong with that kid.” Dean took an aggressive bite. “He’s lucky I’m such a patient guy.”

Gabriel blinked. “Yeah. Yes. Okay. Well, I know that I could stand to get out for a couple hours. Was thinking I’d head on over to that shady diner a couple miles away.”

Dean frowned. “What shady diner?”

Gabriel sputtered. “Seriously, Dean? You know every greasy spoon in all of Middle America and can’t be bothered to step foot in the only one you could get to without have to stop to fill up on gas?”

“I’ve still got no idea what you’re talking about, but I’m sure Sam would take you.”

“Nah, I don’t want to bother him. I’ll go myself.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think so, Gabe. You don’t have enough power to get there without walking. And two miles is a long-ass way to go when you’re still recovering.”

“I think I can manage two miles,” Gabriel answered dryly.

“Maybe. But I also think my brother needs to get out of this place too. Before any more leftovers manage to develop their own ecosystems.”

Gabriel’s lips tightened. “I’d really rather go by myself.”

“Ask Sam.”

“I don’t need his permission to go anywhere! I’m a grown archangel! I follow nobody’s rules but my - ”

“What are you two talking about?”

Gabriel jumped - unexpected voices, even familiar ones, made him a little uneasy - and relaxed when he saw it was just Sam. “Dean thinks you’re my mother.”

“Oh. That’s creepy.”

“And also not what I said,” Dean groused. “Listen, Gabe has a little cabin fever going on here. What d’you say you take him our for some fresh air?”

“Or,” Gabriel interjected, “I could go myself, which is what I want to do, which is what I’m going to do.”

“No,” Sam replied immediately.

“Why not?” Gabriel demanded.

“Well, one, because you haven’t been outside at all since you got here a month and a half ago; and two, because I don’t trust you not to run off.”

“What - that’s - I’m not gonna run off!” And what do you care if I do?

Sam shrugged. “I could stand some fresh air myself. Where d’you wanna go? There’s not much around here, but - ”

“Gabe said something about a diner,” Dean told him.

“Oh, yeah, the one a couple miles down the road.”

“See, Dean-o?” said Gabriel. “Maybe you have bad eyesight or something.”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea,” Sam decided. “Let’s go. You and me. When was the last time you had coffee? Or an ice cream sundae?”

“A while,” Gabriel admitted.

“You know, there are other food groups,” Dean reminded his brother.

“Oh, yeah, thanks for that. Enjoy the two slices of heart attack you have left. Come on Gabriel, let’s head out.”

“I’d reeeeaaaally prefer to go alone.”

“Yeah, well, I’m the one with the car.” 

“I’m the one with the car,” Dean corrected.

“Well, I’m second in command.” Sam turned back to Gabriel. “Sorry, Gabe, but I’m not allowing you to just go off without someone else.”

Gabriel groaned. “Archangel. Celestial creature of light and glory. Bearer of good news. Sexy multi-winged beast. Not a kindergartener, Sam.”

“Hey, what about me?” Sam objected. “Maybe I want some company, huh? It’ll be good for me to take a break. Don’t argue with me on this; just come.”

Gabriel shoved himself to his feet. “Hate that orphan-child look of yours. Fine, but you’re paying, Oliver Twist.”

The inside of the diner was just as gross as the outside: peeling paint, a clock stuck at exactly 9:14, greasy tables. And as much as Gabriel was loath to admit it, he was glad he hadn’t come here by himself. It would’ve creeped him out.

“So,” said Sam after they were seated, “You feeling okay on your first trip out in … forever?”

“Fine,” Gabriel replied, not quite sure whether he was telling the truth. It was nice not to be trapped in the bunker, but admittedly, until recently, he’d felt a little uneasy at the prospect of leaving. Lately he’d been oscillating between desperation for a world beyond the underground - he’d had more than his fair share of that - and fear of being exposed to new unknowns.

After all, any one of these people - the wait staff, the customers - could be demons in disguise. Demons prepared to take him back. To retrieve what had been rightfully theirs for so many centuries.

Well, not theirs. He’d belonged to their master. But there were those still loyal to Asmodeus, and those who knew they could benefit from archangel grace themselves. They’d seen the power it had given the prince. And now that they knew -

“Hey. Gabriel?”

Gabriel’s eyes refocused. Sam was watching him in confusion. “Did you hear me?”

“Uh. Yeah. But um, I forgot what you said.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “I asked if you know what you’d like to eat.” 

Gabriel squirmed. “Not hungry. But coffee sounds nice.”

“You know you have to eat. If you want your grace to come back faster.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I appreciate your expertise, Sam. Look, I’m just not in the mood right now. Food wouldn’t be …” He hesitated. “I just don’t want it.”

Gabriel had had a lot of trouble eating since getting out of Hell - partly because he hadn’t had food in such a long time that it was like trying to communicate with his old self in a foreign language, and partly because memories of being force-fed made everything feel heavy and putrid inside of him.

“Soup?” Sam pressed.

“Sam. I really, really don’t want it. See, this is why I planned on coming alone. I didn’t need you pushing me around.”

Sam looked hurt, and Gabriel immediately regretted his words. “Sorry, sorry, that’s not what I meant. All right, look, if you’re so set on it - fine. I’ll get some soup. Okay?”

Sam’s face relaxed, and he nodded. “You don’t have to eat all of it. What kind would you like? They have, uh …” He looked down at the menu. “I’m assuming you don’t want anything with chicken or beef.”

Gabriel shuddered, remembering what had happened the last time he’d been exposed to meat. Sam had been incredibly patient with him, taking him away from the table and helping him calm down even as Gabriel was violently sick.

“Looks like there’s also minestrone,” Sam told him. “And cream of celery.”

“Which sounds disgusting.”

“Minestrone it is, then.” 

“Do I get a say?”

“Well, I could order the chicken noodle, but - ”

“Never mind. Minestrone sounds nice and … minestronal.”

Sam requested coffee for the both of them, and a sandwich for himself. Gabriel didn’t fail to notice that Sam omitted meat from his own order.

Gabriel bit back the urge to tell Sam not to sacrifice what he liked just because Gabriel was liable to have some kind of bacon-induced meltdown. Then again, this was probably better for Sam’s sake: eating cheese and lettuce on rye was preferable to dragging Gabriel into a piss-soaked restroom before he could throw up all over the table.

Gabriel barely touched his coffee, even after pouring almost a third of the sugar jar into his mug. He felt ill at just the notion of having to eat. Why had he thought to come here in the first place? Now it seemed stupid.

Gabriel was still lost in thought when their waitress arrived at the table.

“Provolone melt for Hagrid,” she said, setting Sam’s plate in front of him, “And soup for scrawny blondie.”

Gabriel cast her a dirty look as she walked away.

“Just a little, okay?” Sam coaxed.

The soup was too hot to eat. “Let me wait for it to cool down.”

“Yeah, all right. Sure.” Sam took a bite of his sandwich, and then a sip of coffee. Gabriel missed being able to enjoy a meal like that. It had been an indulgence for him when he still had his grace; now it was important that he eat to replenish what he’d lost, and he couldn’t.

“Come on, Gabriel.” Sam’s voice was gentle.

Gabriel picked up a spoonful of soup and cautiously put it into his mouth. The temperature was fine and the minestrone relatively bland, for which he was grateful.

“So,” Sam began after several moments of silence, “How are - ”

Just then his cell phone vibrated. He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the number before answering. “Hey Dean.” Silence while Sam listened to his brother. “Oh, uh yeah, sure. Hang on.” Sam handed the phone across the table. “He wants to talk to you.”

Gabriel blinked in confusion but took the phone. “Uh. Hey?”

“Hey Gabe,” came Dean’s voice, “I got a question for you. This translation you were working on before you left? Well, it looks pretty good, except I don’t know if this spell is right.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Yeah, you put down something about” - there was a pause, as though he were looking more closely at the translation - “the bark of an elm tree, and that looks fine; but then you wrote down, uh, ‘canine tooth of goblin.’”

“Yeah, I did. I remember.”

“You ever tried mixing those two?”

“I flunked out of Hex Lab 101.”

Dean sighed. “It’s a dangerous pairing, man. Has the potential to blow the entire bunker to Reese’s Pieces. Be careful next time, okay? If I hadn’t known about that - ”

“Yeah, I - I get it.” He gripped the phone tightly. “So you think the translation is wrong.”

“I’ve seen this word once or twice before. I’m 95% sure it has a different meaning. It’s all right man, just … maybe double-check from now on. And if you need one of us to translate, we could probably do it.”

Gabriel swallowed. “Sorry about that, Dean-o.”

He hung up and handed the phone back to Sam.

There was a moment of silence.

“Gabriel?” Sam spoke warily. “Why do you look like you’re about to pass out?”

“I don’t look like that.”

“You definitely look like that.”

“The lighting in here sucks.”

“What’d Dean say to you?”

“He just … had a question about the translations.”

“What kind of question?”

“Please stop interrogating me.”

“Did he scare you?”

“Nope. He just had a question. I’ve asked questions before too. They’re all the rage up in Heaven. I hear they come in different colors now.”

“Dude - ”

“All right.” Gabriel clapped his hands together. “Howsabout you finish up here and I start walking back? I know you’re gonna try and fight me” - he raised his hands in a gesture of good will - “but look at me. I’m fine. I ate.”

“You had half a spoonful.”

“Which, when you’re as powerful and majestic as I am, is more than enough.”

“Is there an emergency over at the bunker or something?” Sam didn’t sound worried - just skeptical.

“No,” Gabriel replied. “Unless you consider a question an emergency.” He rose to his feet.

Sam’s face hardened. “Stay put.”

Centuries of training had taught Gabriel to obey a command when he heard one.

He retook his place at the table. And didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

“You need to tell me what’s going on,” said Sam. “Now.”

Gabriel inhaled sharply. “Okay, I - I think - ”

Sam raised his eyebrows, pushing him to continue.

“I think I made a dumb mistake with the translations,” Gabriel confessed. “I’m not - listen, for like five minutes there I thought I could be helpful to you guys, but apparently I almost got you killed.”

Sam frowned in puzzlement.

“Look, I know a thing or two about words, okay, but I’m not exactly a Nobel Prize candidate for witchcraft. I shouldn’t have been translating that stuff; I messed up and Dean noticed it. He told me it could’ve been disastrous if he hadn’t. I, um … there’s nothing I can do for you guys now. I’m sorry, I …”

He stopped, looking down at his soup, feeling his stomach churn and Sam’s eyes lock onto him.

Gabriel raised his head. “Stop staring at me.”

“Gabriel, it’s all okay,” Sam assured him. “Dean spotted it. Nobody got hurt.”

“Okay. Cool. But obviously someone could have. In fact, all of you could have. So how about this? You enjoy what’s left of your three-dollar cheese-flavored throw rug, I go on my merry way, and you guys never have to worry about me setting fire to all those manuscripts that Castiel could probably translate with a lot more common sense ever again.”

Sam closed his eyes. “All right - no. Stop it. I mean it. Stop. Just slow down, Gabriel. First, we’re not gonna make you work for us. Second, of course you’ve been helpful. And third - did I ever tell you about the things Dean and I have mistranslated? Seriously? I came up with ‘duck on iron eats sage’ and Dean read the same passage as ‘cherry never runs.’”

“Yeah, well, waterfowl choking to death on herbs sounds a lot less intimidating than an underground hovel going up in flames. Plus, you really should have lower standards for yourself. Mortal shortcomings and all that.”

“Thanks, Gabe.”

“Look, all I’m trying to say is - ”

“I know what you’re trying to say.” Sam’s voice softened. “Gabriel, are you afraid we’re mad at you?”

“Well - I mean - aren’t you? I would be. And even if you’re not, I’m apparently useless, so - ”

“No one’s asking you to be useful.”

“Oh, okay. Then I guess I’ll just have to get comfortable with mooching off your space, and your charity, and all your goddamn patience, until I turn into an angel again!”

Everyone in the diner turned to stare.

“Gabriel,” Sam muttered, “Chill.”

Gabriel slunk down in his seat, humiliated.

“Listen,” Sam went on, keeping his voice low, “You can take a break from all the translation stuff if you want. We don’t need anything right this second, okay? And if you do want to stick with it, it’s fine; Dean and I know what we’re doing, so we’ll notice if something looks off. All right? No one’s gonna spontaneously combust because you miss a word or two here and there. And if it’s too much, just … just don’t worry. Everything’s fine. You’re not here for slave labor.”

Gabriel hesitated, trailing his eyes over the lumps of soggy vegetables in his soup. “Sam, I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah, what is it?”

Gabriel looked up at him. “There were days when I didn’t have enough. Days when he’d come for my grace and it was just … gone. Because he’d taken all of it. And he wanted more, and …”

Gabriel’s eyes swam with tears and he ducked his head. The minestrone became a murky puddle. “When I couldn’t give it to him, he got so angry. Asmodeus would do everything to me - everything. He told me it was my fault. He said I must have done it on purpose, that I was playing a cruel trick on him. And he tried to drill it into my head that - that my days as the Trickster were over, but I already knew that. Before he sewed me up I tried to tell him I couldn’t help it. I just needed time and then he could have whatever he wanted. But he - he wanted so much from me.”

Gabriel shut his eyes, and the tears spilled, streaking his face.

He wished this wouldn’t keep happening. It was all part of Sam being nice to him. If only they were a little more violent, he could just take their beatings, take their insults.

Instead he was reduced to this, because everybody else refused to give him the agony he deserved.

“I gave everything I could,” Gabriel choked without opening his eyes. “Every time he came for me - I was scared of being empty. The pain was so - so bad - but nothing compared to - ”

He felt hands on either of his arms, and Sam lifted him from his seat. “We’re gonna go outside.”

Gabriel heard the rustle of dollar bills and then the soft thus of coins being lain on the table. After that, Sam steered Gabriel over to the exit. Gabriel opened his eyes as they made their way across the parking lot to the Impala.

“Come on,” said Sam. “Get in.”

Gabriel followed his instructions, hugging himself and shivering as if the air weren’t mild and clear.

Sam climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door. “All right, hey.” He reached across Gabriel to open the glove compartment and handed Gabriel a half-empty packet of tissues. Gabriel took one of them and, avoiding Sam’s gaze, scrubbed at his face.

He thought maybe having dry skin would help him feel calmer. But he’d lost control over himself, couldn’t stop jerking with hard, almost painful sobs.

“This is just because of the translation?” Sam asked.

Gabriel didn’t answer.

“The translation doesn’t matter,” Sam insisted. “No one cares.”

“Then why - ” Gabriel shuddered, trying to swallow down another spasm of crying. “Why did Dean call me to tell me?”

“I think he just wanted to make sure he was reading right. It was possible that he was the one making a mistake. Did he sound frustrated?”

“I don’t - I don’t remember. I don’t think so. I couldn’t tell. I just assumed he was.”

“Trust me, you’d know if he was upset with you. Hey - you need to breathe a little more. You’re gonna make it worse if you don’t try for a deep breath.”

Gabriel attempted to loosen his shoulders a little. It was easier to breathe that way.

Sam smiled at him. “Look, see, you’re all right; you’re okay. Now take a deep breath. Just one.”

Maybe it was the tenderness in Sam’s voice that made Gabriel collapse into another fit of tears. He was incapable of doing what Sam had asked of him. Incapable of ever doing what Sam asked of him. He couldn’t translate; he couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t calm down. He could never calm down.

Sam put a hand on Gabriel’s back. “It’s okay, Gabriel. You’re safe.”

Gabriel shook his head. “I’m not.”

“You are. You’re with me.”

Gabriel shook his head more fiercely this time.

“Gabriel, you’ve got to let me help. You know I can. You know I want to.”

“He was right!” The pitch of Gabriel’s voice - high, strangled, keening - surprised even him. “He was right to do what he did! I know that now; I - I was only good for my grace and when I couldn’t give it - I was nothing. I’m still nothing. I can’t give you anything. I tried and I can’t. I’m nothing.”

“You’re not nothing.”

“I’m nothing!” He lowered his head, seizing fistfuls of his hair and sobbing into his knees. “Nothing!”

“No, Gabriel, no.” Sam was trying to soothe him by running a hand up and down his spine. It was confusing, even frustrating, that he knew how to touch Gabriel without scaring him. After everything Sam himself had experienced, he shouldn’t have this kind of gentleness in him. He should react to others with the ferocity he’d been taught under Lucifer. Sam should be trying to protect himself, not Gabriel.

“I know that I am,” Gabriel rasped. “Stop trying to tell me I’m not!”

“But you don’t want to be, so why are you trying to convince yourself that you are?”

  “I don’t want to lie!”

“Me neither. I’m good at it, but I don’t have to like it. I’ll take any opportunity to be honest. This seems like a good one, don’t you think?” He was still sweeping his hand over Gabriel’s back. “Hey, Gabe, I need you to sit up, okay? You’re not gonna make any progress down there by yourself.”

When Gabriel didn’t respond, Sam eased him upright and offered him another tissue.

Gabriel didn’t take it. He didn’t deserve to look clean when he knew he was filthy.

“All right.” Gabriel flinched when Sam dabbed at his face with the tissue, trying to soak up the worst of it. “Hold still, okay? Just try to relax.”

“I can’t.”

“I’ve seen you do it before.”

“Sam - ”

“You don’t want to make yourself sick again.”

“I don’t care what happens to me.”

“I care.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Whatever, I still do.” Sam withdrew the tissue and studied him. “Should we go home?”

“Dean’s not going to want to see me.”

“Yes he is. If there’s any problem I’ll put him in his place.”

“I don’t - I don’t want him to look at me, Sam.”

“All right, well, then we can avoid him and I’ll just hang out with you until you feel better.”

Sam started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. Gabriel leaned against the window, exhausted and ashamed.

True to his word, Sam brought them both into his bedroom so that Gabriel didn’t have to face anyone else.

As much as Gabriel hated to admit it, this was his favorite place to be. He’d spent more time than he deserved in Sam’s room, often in the middle of the night when a dream sent him into hysterics.

“Lie down,” Sam instructed. “You don’t have to sleep. Just rest for a minute.”

Reluctantly, Gabriel lowered himself to the bed and curled up on his side. He was comfortable, and that disturbed him, because he wasn’t supposed to be comfortable. As much as Gabriel had loathed the cell - the chilly stone floor, the greasy walls, the funereal glow of the candles - at least he knew it was where he was supposed to be. He hated it, but he had no right to wish he were somewhere else.

And now that he was out, he had no right to be afraid. The revulsion that was coming - whether now or somewhere down the line - was exactly what he deserved.

He wondered why that didn’t make it any easier, why that didn’t make the fear go away.

Sam sat on the other side of the bed. “You all right?”

“Not really.”

Sam sighed. “I know.”

“Then why the hell did you ask?”

“I’m not sure. Can I get you anything? Water, maybe?”

“No.”

“Really? Because you do deserve some water, you know.” 

Gabriel rolled over to look up at him, surprised that Sam had interpreted his refusal correctly. “No. I don’t. I don’t want it.”

“I’m getting it anyway.” Sam stood and left the room for a minute. When he came back, he set the water on the nightstand. “Not pushing. But it’s there if you change your mind.”

Gabriel raised himself to a sitting position. “Sam?”

“What’s up?”

  “You knew that I thought I shouldn’t have water.”

“Yeah, I could tell.”

“How?”

“Because when you feel worthless, it’s easy to think everything is a privilege.”

Gabriel sat in silence, contemplating what Sam had said. “I didn’t realize you were so good at reading minds. They teach you this stuff in college?”

Sam resettled himself on the mattress. “I’m not exactly a rookie, you know.” He picked up the water and handed it to Gabriel, who accepted it this time.

“Are you feeling a little less … frantic?” Sam asked as Gabriel took a few tentative sips.

“Little bit. Be nice if I could hold onto my dignity for more than fifteen minutes at a time, but you know. Comme ci comme ça.”

“Don’t get so worked up. You can’t help it.”

“Um. Yes. I’d have to agree with you. And therein lies the worst of the problem.”

“There’s no problem here, Gabe.”

“Yes there is. You just handed it a glass of water.”

“Gabriel,” said Sam, “Do you think that if you keep telling me how much I’m supposed to hate you, I’ll finally decide that none of this is worth the effort?”

“Not exactly,” Gabriel replied. “More like if I pester you enough, you’ll come to your senses. Then, for your sake, you’ll kick me out. Out of the bunker and out of your life. It’d be doing me a favor, Sam. I can’t bring myself to hit the road on my own.”

“Good. I was afraid you might.”

“Hence why you wouldn’t take no for an answer when I said I didn’t want you following me to the diner.” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “You know something? You’re almost as much of a pain in the ass as I am.”

Sam smiled. “But you don’t want to get rid of me, do you?”

Gabriel stared at him in disbelief. “That’s completely different. You’re just annoying. I’m … for Dad’s sake, you wiped up my snot back at the diner! The worst you ever do is dedicate yourself to pointless martyrdom. But me? Come on, Sam. We’re hardly on a level playing field here. You should - ”

“All right, all right, there’s nothing to get upset about. Drink some more water, okay?”

Gabriel complied. It did feel good on his lips and throat. Even if he couldn’t enjoy food the way he used to, water was still okay.

“Helps, right?” Sam asked.

Gabriel nodded, drinking more.

“Gabriel,” said Sam, “Does part of not eating have to do with … with not deserving it?”

Gabriel lowered the glass. “I guess so. A couple of times I’ve been hungry, and - and it seems wrong to eat.”

“Okay. Got it.” Sam hesitated, as if not entirely sure whether he wanted to go on. “You know I was tortured in Hell, right? And Dean was too, before he started torturing others.”

“Yes.” Gabriel looked away. “You two have your own shit to handle.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to tell you. What I mean is that I used to wonder if maybe Lucifer was doing the right thing. That I was just … not meant to be okay. Because I wasn’t worthy of being okay. I was scum. That’s what I thought.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened. “What the everliving - Sam. That’s so stupid. That’s, like - that’s contagious stupid. Don’t come any closer; I don’t wanna catch your stupid.”

“And I still have those days,” Sam added.

Gabriel just stared. “But that’s - ”

“It’s what? Ridiculous? Not true? Look - I know. I know that now.” He glanced away for a second. “Mostly. Anyway, what would you do if I was in your place?”  

Gabriel shrugged. “Quite possibly the same fairy godmother routine. But you’re not me, and I could never be you.”

“No.” Sam touched his shoulder. “You’re not supposed to be. Besides, can you imagine having two of me?”

“Better than having two of your brother.”

Sam considered. “You’re probably right.” He got to his feet. “Speaking of Dean, I’m gonna go see how he’s doing. See if he needs any help with the … with anything.”

“Ask Cas for help with the translations,” Gabriel said bitterly.

“We’ll ask if we need it. You just chill in here for a few minutes and wait for me.” 

“I don’t need constant supervision, you know.”

“Why, you don’t want me to come back?”

“No, I do. But you shouldn’t be - ”

“Okay, good, me too.” Sam left before Gabriel could say anything else.

“Stubborn dick,” Gabriel murmured, because the alternative was getting lost in self-disgust again.

Being alone was tough. The silence was more than Gabriel could handle.

It drove him nuts that he sort of did need supervision.

He curled up on the bed, leaning back against the pillows. His spine tingled, waiting for ugly touch.

But the silence would be over soon.

No matter how little Gabriel deserved it, it was good to know Sam was coming back.

207 notes · View notes

kazlifeadventures · 5 years

Text

Trinidad & Tobago - Carribean dreams...

I am so ‘vex’ that I won't be ‘liming’ in this beautiful place any more. I have been one lucky person to have been able to come here and hang with a local for almost a week. Jasmine has shown me her Trinidad and for that I am truly grateful. I have eaten so many local foods and they have all been fantastic. I have impressed the locals no end with my love of pepper sauce. The food here is tasty, spicy, and pretty much specific to this island. ‘Nah boy’, I am so very much enamoured with this country! One of my friends asked me if I had posted photos of the food. Truth be told, I don’t have a lot of pics, its not the most photogenic, and I seriously just wanted to eat it! I have partaken in the local speciality of doubles, with ‘plenty’ I might add - for those unaware that is with extra hot sauce and/or the mango bone that is infused with more pepper. Doubles is made with 2 baras filled with a curry channa (chick peas), it originally started as a breakfast food, progressing to be an anytime of the day food. It’s nutritious, tasty, and sold at street side vendors everywhere. Apparently even pizza and KFC taste better over here. This I can now say I agree with. Not sure if the food tastes better, or if its adding the ketchup, mustard, and pepper sauce that assists with the taste upgrade.....

Jas took me to the home of street food a little town called St James, and made sure I got to have saheena, (seriously amazing spicy little deep fried spinachy deliciousness ) as well as alloo pie...amongst other things. The locals only really eat out at restaurants on special occasions so that meant Jas cooked for me a lot of the time, and wow, just wow. I loved the chicken curry (brown), smoked herring, baigan choka, salt fish, home made roti, the fabulous goat curry.... I could rave on, but google Trinidadian food and you’ll understand. Jas lives out in the ‘country’ to the South of Port of Spain, the capital. We spent one evening heading around to some of the local rum bars. Rum bars are everywhere here. Beer is cold and cheap (and made here - love the Stag and the Carib!). I got to meet a few of the locals. Over here they will buy you a drink even for something as simple as the fact that they had to order over you slightly. At the bar. They loved to meet the ‘white girl from Austalia’, as out here they dont see a lot like me... The good thing is none of it was them just trying it on with the foreigner. These are genuinely lovely, polite, caring people. I had a dance off with some girls from Venezuela, and ended up drinking way more drinks then I paid for, eating (they sell bar snacks and’cutters’ only at the rum shops) some tasty wontons at one place, and some really tasty fried chicken at another. We then got some free food from another lovely local who bought us a drink, and also then brought us across some Souse and Corn soup from his food stall (across the road from the rum shop). Anyway I can now say I have tried Souse, not sure I’d eat it again, it was flavourful, but pigs trotters in broth with onion and cucumber is not on my list of things to eat again! I think I have decided that I need to come back to Aus and start my own Trini food store, I think it’d be a huge hit. Love the local beers. Love the rum here. Jas made sure I tasted the Puncheon rum - 75 % and you never get a hangover or upset stomach... I wanted to bring some home, but alas no room in the suitcase! One of the biggest things, I was not aware that this is the home where Angostura bitters is bottled. It was first created in the town called Angostura in Venezuela by a German surgeon stationed in Venezuela, originally produced there between 1824 - 1830. In 1875, the plant was moved to Trinidad and that’s where it’s secret recipe is still produced today.

One of the main religions here is Hindu, they have a giant (85 feet - 26m) statue of Lord Hanuman Murti located in the grounds of Dattatreya Yoga. The statue is the second tallest in the world, and the tallest one in the western hemisphere. When we pulled up onsite there was one man looking after the bookstore who allowed us to enter the grounds and take photos. We weren't allowed to enter the temple/yoga centre as we weren't appropriately dressed. The gentleman then showed us the book explaining how the statue had been built and answered all my gazillion questions. It was like having our own private tour! Jas then took me down the road a little further to show me the temple in the sea. This temple was originally constructed by hand 1947 -52 by Sewdass Sadhu an immigrant from India. It has since been added to, and tidied up, but it's an amazing place, and a site of pilgrimage for Hindus. It's also one of the designated locations for Hindus to perform the funeral pyre. Hindu religion requires that the dead are burned near water and a holy place.

Brian Lara is still HUGE here. He is a home town Trini boy so I completely understand. Cricket is massive, and the new Brian Lara stadium is a huge landmark. They had a cricket game on when I was here (Trinidad vs Jamaica) but they had sold out the tickets otherwise we would have gone.

I spent a day at the beautiful Maracas beach, located on the northern part of Trini. On the way there we stopped at the lookout and had a quick look at the food stalls. I got to try some ‘Chow’, a garlicky spicy way of preserving such things as Pineapple, apple, mango, cucumber... its yummy and not too spicy and I really appreciated the stall holder giving me a taste ( and Jas’s friend Isabelle for buying some of the pineapple one). Maracas beach is a favourite with the locals and its a thing to do to have a ‘bake and shark’ when you go to the beach. Betcha cant guess what I had... Can I say amazing (again!!) You not only get your bake (which is a deep fried Roti) You get beautiful fresh deep fried shark fillet inside it, then you go to a buffet like area and add as many of the additions as you want . Yep, of course I added a bit of EVERYTHING . I had to taste it all. Seriously that thing was amazing. BTW I do taste everything first before adding pepper sauce... pepper sauce heightens the flavours. Jas’s friend Isabelle got her son in law to give us a shout out on the radio station he worked at ( they had it playing at the beach), so ‘Karen from Australia’ is now Trini Famous... love it!!

Jasmine took me out to the Pitch lake, in La Brea, and I’ll admit, I had no idea what it was ( I thought it was a lake!!) Anyway, some how we ended up with a colourful local as our personal guide, he was You tube famous and has apparently featured on David Attenboroughs visit to the lake. I have to sit and edit my ‘documentary’ when I’m back in Australia, it’ll be awesome.. I promise. Suffice to say the lake is the most amazing tar pit. Seriously amazing tar pit. The roads leading into the area are all like travelling over mini crazy hills due to the impact of the tar movements in the area. You have to use an authorised guide on the site, which is fair enough as a wrong step could see you disappear forever into the tar... literally... Trinidads pitch lake is the largest natural deposit of asphalt in the world (estimated to hold about 10 million tonnes) Its covers about 100 acres and is about 250 feet deep. There is a cool legend involving the origin of the lake the involves a hummingbird (I like the story), Historically Walter Raleigh re-discovered the lake on his expedition there in 1595. It has that charming rotten egg smell, and the mud and sulphur water apparently have healing properties. Locals were there immersing themselves in some of the pools while we were there. As we didnt have swim suits we had to settle with getting coated in the mud on our legs, and for me, also my face...lol!!! I didnt get a chance to put it on myself, out guide was very keen to smear it all over my face... (and shirt and hair.. etc...). Rinsing it, after it had set, was a whole other process involving splashing what looked Iike green water all over my face (and legs), all I wanted to do was rinse my face with some fresh water afterwards - and it took over an hour or so until I finally got somewhere to do it. Let’s not talk about how much scrubbing it required later that night to get the last bits of our skin! A great fun day though, made all the better for our colourful guide! I have had a crash course in some of the Trinidadian slang/words and between that and their accents I am sometimes lost in a conversation... (definitely accents particularly when you are trying to enter the country and the border control guy is talking to you and you have to continually say, sorry what??? ) I’m a lot better now!!

Jas couldn’t make it over to Tobago as she had work scheduled at her house that she needed to be around for. So I decided to head over for a night, hire a car, and see what I could see. Its literally a 20 min flight over (only costs about 50 US return) FYI 24 hrs isn’t really enough to see everything. I didnt get to the water fall or national park. I had headed down to Store bay beach when I first arrived with instructions to try the curry crab, conch and dumplings in Tobago (its their local specialty, amongst a few other things). Have to say I liked the conch, crab was over cooked and dry, and dumplings were kind of chewy. The ‘provisions’ that I got with it were really nice though - Plantain, Potato, green banana, avocado ..I would have liked to have tried another outlet to give a second opinion, but didnt have the time. I did get to the beautiful Pigeon Park, a natural reserve area, filled with some shops, water sports hire, beautiful beaches and glorious spot to watch the sunset. I also got out to the Fort of King George in Scarborough hiking up the giant hill to take in the glorious views. Hilariously there was a traffic hold up on my way there due to some goats being herded along the road. Island time boy. I would have to say, as much as its a part of the one country, Tobago island is completely different to Trinidad. Its a lot more touristy for a start, it has more servicible beaches. The roads are not as pot holed as Trinidad. The people are still lovely, but you get the tourist scouters who are looking to sell you on anything they can. Its a beautiful place and I’m so glad I got to go across and visit. As always, I can always go back!

My time in the Caribbean has come to a close. (9-16 Oct). What an adventure. I have had a fabulous time, and recommend to anyone to come here and see this place, taste the food and meet the people for themselves. The country has their own issues with government corruption which impacts the improvement of infrastructure like roads etc. And there are warnings around safety as there are elements involved in crime that impact locals and tourists alike. This just makes Trinidad Tobago, not unlike a lot of other countries that I have visited on my adventures. It just means the more prepared you are to be open to new things, different ways of doing things, different cultures. The more you are aware of your own safety, and that of your belongings , the more you can avoid crime. Crime can impact you anywhere in the world, countries like this dont have it any more or less than others, it just seems to be in the media more....

1 note · View note

iamjjmmma · 6 years

Text

“Number All My Bones: There and Back and There Again” Part 1, Chapter 4

Beginning: https://bit.ly/2NtGPgu

Previous: https://bit.ly/2H5dDej

Next: https://bit.ly/2tD9Q03

It’s only a taser; I know. I know the basics about these types of guns, although violence isn’t my main research preference. Still, I duck inside, my heartbeat still somewhat yelling at me, my head definitely yelling at me to get back to my work, that it’s probably just some sort of census. But the doorbell rang, and Papyrus immediately sprang out of his seat, with that golly-gee smile impressioned all over his face, and sprinted towards the door. Sans sprinted after him, and I after Sans, all of us except Papyrus seeming to remember the rule that no one was supposed to answer the door except for me. But the door opened before I could say anything, and there stood the one woman I would cry over just a few weeks later. Her name tag read “Ica Grey, Head of the Anti-Monster Department”, the “Jess” part obscured by a shadow for a little while, but I knew who she was. The streak of grey hair, the crossed arms, the badges on her blue dress told me everything. She was the one who had started the “MF” tag, the one who had started the monsters coming home without any sort of occupation, the one who had started the monster children not allowed to take the same classes as humans, the monsters being denied from the hospitals. The dehumanization process didn’t need to be done; it simply was, and it was since when we were born. My smile stretches until it turns taut. “Hello, Miss.” Her hand settles on her taser for a moment, but it stutters just before it settles by her side. “Hello, Doctor. I’ve heard a lot about you.” I nod. “I can say the same. Especially with your ‘MF’ endeavors. What does it stand for, though? I’ll take a wild guess. ‘Monsters Forbidden.’” She nods back, although I can practically see her teeth gritting. Her hand moves closer to the gun. Betty whimpers a little, and Sans and Papyrus hush the other children away before they get embroiled in the grown-up soup of politics and science. In another world, maybe I would have gone with them. But that world is faraway, much too far from now to even think of existing. Miss Grey put her hand by her hip. “Are we conducting the meeting or not?” I nodded, although I didn’t even think about giving her any more than that. I was prepared to send all of the children upstairs, thinking they went into the living room, but it was only Betty, reading a history book for her tutoring program, no doubt. I was about to say something, but one look at the scary lady behind me all in blue sent her tiptoeing away and making her way up the stairs. As we sat on the couches, the coffee in the pot cold by now after my morning cup, I made my move, even though I knew it wouldn’t work by a long shot. “Do you mind putting the gun away? I have four little kids here, and I don’t want them getting-” She laughed, ran her long fingernails through her hair once or twice. “Of course not. You’re the scientist, aren’t you? You should know by now that it’s only a safety precaution. Not that I’d willy-nilly fire at one of your kiddos, right?” I sighed, went into a conversation about geothermics I wouldn’t give to my students until it was May and the graduation caps were being shipped. I counted myself using the words “entropy”, “enthalpy,” “quasistatic”, “Carnot cycle”, and “calorimetry” at least twice each before she started to nod off before nearly bumping her nose on the edge of the couch. Science that would have gone over her head even if she had a fifty-foot mitt to catch it. She jerked herself up so quickly that she started falling forwards, and I almost stretched out my hands to catch her before she could regain her composure.“Well, Dr. Gaster, this was all very, very informative, but can you please focus on the effectiveness of your project?” I went into a slight smile. Finally. “Alright, Miss. The expansion of the Core will help to power our city by-” She put a hand over her mouth in mock shock, but I knew she was yawning underneath. A professor tends to notice these things easier. “So it basically makes our gas bills cheaper?” I laughed, and I almost put a hand over my own mouth. I shifted into a different language, one that politicians love to speak. “What-?! No. No, not at all. If the expansion is complete, you won’t even have to pay for electricity at all. Ever. And thanks to it, we’re starting to see a big change. Not only in the bills-” I stopped. I was getting a little preachy. I laughed again. Even if I was preachy, it wouldn’t ever stop me from loving the feeling. So I gave in when she asked how the Core worked. Just this once. “Well, it converts geothermal energy from the mountain to-” I couldn’t say “magical”, but there was another word for that. A word I could use. “-idiopathic energy by using the underground chambers. These chambers have magnets with turbines that allow the electricity to be transformed from idiopathic to-” She put her hand over her eyes, although I know they were closed underneath. “It converts electricity to heat.” “Oh, I see.” Huh. So she wasn’t asleep after all. “A non-polluting, unlimited, self-sustaining power source. Of course…” I stand up, and she puts her weight on her toes as if she’ll follow, but she stays right there where she is. People say I’m a good judge, even though I’m a better scientist, but in cases such as this, I can’t always pull out a clear verdict about someone. “...none of this would happen if you don’t sign the agreement tomorrow.” She nods, but puts her hand closer to her taser just in case. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean anything.” “What do you mean that doesn’t mean anything? I’ve just explained an energy agenda that I doubt you’ll find anywhere else, and-” “That still doesn’t explain the rest of your kind.” “Are you-?!” “Yes, Doctor. I am. You think that just because you’ve made energy out of the dirt means that you haven’t come from it. You come up here and steal our jobs, steal our money, all because you think you’re better than the rest of us. You-” I stretched out my hand, reach for anything looking vaguely like a door handle to push. “Miss Grey, I didn’t say any of that-” “Oh, just because you didn’t say it doesn’t mean it isn’t-” I saw her in the corner before I heard her. Betty had come back from upstairs, probably because of all the fuss we made down here, and was looking at me with some of the most terrified two eyes I’ve ever seen. “Excuse me, ma’am.” She didn’t bother me as I went over and patted Betty’s shoulder. Poor girl. Only a few minutes here, and already we’ve escalated beyond what I would ever think of doing if Jessica wasn’t… Jessica. “Betty, it’s alright. The both of us were just having a discussion, alright? It’s very important. So what I need for you to do is to go back upstairs and-” “Doctor.” “Just a minute. What I need for you to do is go back upstairs and tell the others that everything is fine. And even if it does escalate, I’m stronger than I look, huh?” I patted her shoulder again for good measure. “Doctor, please. You’re not talking to anyone.” “Miss, what do you mean I’m not talking to anyone? Betty’s right here, isn’t she?” Chara and Asriel have come back down, too. I suppose the conversation died just enough. “Isn’t she?” Chara shakes his head, while Asriel shrugs his shoulders. “She’s still upstairs playing puzzles with Papyrus. An’ I think she’s learning how to play chess, too.” I look to my right, and Betty’s gone. Anxiety can do more than you could ever imagine, I suppose. If it can keep me staying awake at night after a dream that only mildly alarmed me, it can do what it just did. Anxiety also kept me heading towards my room after Jessica left, after calling down the kids and getting Papyrus to help me fix a pizza and some chicken, telling them that dinner was probably right around the corner. And just as anxiety foretold, something’s wrong. One of my books on human-monster history has fallen on the floor, but even without any sort of education in physics, I can tell it doesn’t fall like that. It’s at least halfway across the room, my bookshelf still in place right next to the door, and when I picked it up, another eerie fact sent a chill down my spine, and I almost felt my coat shaking along with it. It was open only a few pages in towards the end. Experience has taught me otherwise. If books don’t fall flat on the covers, front or backs, it normally falls with the middle pages open and spread out. Meaning if it didn’t fall, someone had to have taken it. Was it Sans or Asriel or Betty or anyone being tutored by him, forgetting to pick it up after they’d left? Or was it Papyrus, who was trying to get his own little revenge for me not getting him the book at the library? Alright. Focus. It’s probably one of them. I put back the book, and I sighed, going out to fix myself another cup of coffee. Anxiety can do everything, I suppose.

#glitchtale #camila cuevas #glitchtale anniversary

2 notes · View notes

notimetoblog · 6 years

Text

Not The Time (Pt.2)

Summary: After not seeing Bucky Barnes in what felt like forever you find yourself with him in the middle of a chaotic situation. Definitely not the time to reminisce about your past with him.

A/N: A bit of background on reader and Bucky’s weird dynamic lol. I am really enjoying writing! I really thought nobody would read the first part but thank you so very much for your likes and your reblogs! i am seriously over the moon! So I’m entering this fic to @violentlybarnes nes 3k challenge! The prompt I chose will appear soon!!

PART 1

You had lost track of the hours that had passed by. Had it been days? Hours? You couldn’t tell as the only thing racing through your mind was helping the maximum amount of people as possible. You had called many of the victims here to attend your health fair. At the time calling this fair had seemed like the right thing to do; to serve an underprivileged community and provided basic health services that they might not otherwise receive. You were so proud of the way your team had come together to organize the event to the very last detail. You were sure that you would be making a positive impact in their lives and yet now here you were treating victim after victim for wounds that would have not been inflicted on them if only you hadn’t called them to this hotel. If only you had just decided on another date or another place.

You had been under pressure before. You were a doctor, so of course you had dealt with pressure. You had never dealt with guilt as a doctor, though. How could you treat the very same people you had basically summoned to this damn explosion? It was hard not to focus on this. So hard to look into the eyes of those wearing those little buttons your team had prepared for them to wear during the fair. Those brightly colored buttons that Maya, good friend of yours and surprisingly talented graphic designer, had so proudly designed. How could you come up to them and treat them for wounds they wouldn’t have received had you simply not organized the fair?

You felt your body drain from all energy as these thoughts just kept going through your head. You had no energy left to hold them at bay.

“Doc? Maybe you should take a break. We can handle this while you rest. There’s plenty of us here,” you heard Josh, a member of your team, say. He looked at you with worry in his eyes that grew as the time passed by and he saw you running from one patient to the next without stopping. His brow furrowed as he tried to keep his voice low and almost calming, like he was actively trying to lull you to sleep.

You turned to him and smiled weakly, “No, I’m good. I can keep going.”

“Oh, trust me I know you can,” he chuckled, “but you shouldn’t force your body like that. Trust me. Go rest for a bit. It’ll be ok.”

“You sure?” you asked.

“Yes, come on! Have some faith in us,” he laughed.

“Ok, ok! I’ll go. I’ll be back in 15 minutes, though, so start your stopwatch because I won’t be gone for more than that!” You turned to walk away as you heard his quiet laugh. Hoping to find some place to sit down and close your eyes for a while you scanned the area you were in. There were rows of victims laying down or sitting down. As they waited to be taken to a proper hospital you and your team had been administering first aid on the wounds they had on their bodies. You continued to scan the area and then you caught sight of a far away corner where an almost fort had been created as people had pushed away some unneeded medical supplies and machines to create room for more victims. You hopped onto what seemed like the comfiest chair you had ever sat down on, leaned back on the wall, and finally closed your eyes.

You HAD woken up 15 minutes later like you had promised Josh but he had formed an alliance with the rest of your team. They worked together basically blocking you from returning and instead sent you off to get some food. Annoyed, and secretly very grateful, you had left the triage and walked to whatever store you could find that was open.

You walked a bit until you found a little deli that seemed to sell very appetizing sandwiches. How long had it been since you’d eaten? Time was still fuzzy. As you went into the store you heard the little bell over the door and saw the cashier turn to you. He greeted you quickly with just a nod of his head and he turned back to look at a tv that hang on the wall beside him. The news was playing and they had images flashing on the screen of the explosion and what seemed to be interviews with witnesses and authorities. You froze as you realized what other images the news was displaying. The Avengers were here, you’d almost forgotten, so of course the news played images of them entering the hotel and helping victims out. You watched as Sam flew across the screen with Tony. Then you saw as Bucky appeared on screen, carrying wounded victims out and towards safer grounds.

I’ll come find you when this is all over.

He had promised and you let yourself think about him for the first time since he had uttered those words.

It seemed the Avengers were still figuring it all out. They were probably chasing down leads on the possible culprit. You walked up to the cashier and handed him the sandwich you had picked out, with a few others and some snacks for the people back at the triage. You handed him some money and he hurriedly handed you back the change wanting to get back to the news as fast as possible. You thanked him and walked out of the deli.

On your way back to the team you couldn’t help but have your thoughts wander off to Bucky. Was he ok? Had he rested? Had he eaten? He was a super soldier but that had never stopped you from worrying. Even after all this time you couldn’t stop worrying about him.

You kept walking and your mind wanted to make sure you couldn’t think of anything other than him. You hadn’t let yourself freely think of him in a while so when your mind noticed your wall had come down it flooded you with thoughts of Bucky.

Your mind flashed to the time you met him. He had come into a tiny restaurant back in New York with Steve and Sam in tow. You frequented the restaurant as it reminded you very much of the food your mother made. You had heard Sam’s loud laugh and had looked up from the book you were reading. You couldn’t help at becoming starstruck at the trio that stood in front of you. Of course, you had immediately recognized them. Who hadn’t heard of Captain America, The Falcon, and the Winter Soldier? People under rocks, that’s who.

“Quiet down guys! Come on!” Steve chastised them. “People are trying to enjoy their food.”

You had secretly hoped they took the table next to yours because, who are we kidding, they were gorgeous and a delicious meal with a nice view wouldn’t hurt anybody. To your incredible luck, they did! They pulled out their chairs and a waitress, who obviously had the same reaction as you, handed them their menus.

You sat at the table beside them waiting on your food and subtly observed them by peeking over your book.

“My name is Sasha and I’ll be your server today,” the waitress introduced herself as she blushed, “Let me know when you’re ready to order.”

“Thank you,” all three of them replied.

They began scanning over the menu while quietly talking amongst themselves. You saw as they all looked over the menu bouncing options off each other.

“I think I’ll get the steak. Simple, easy, can’t go wrong with that,” Sam announced.

“Uhh, I’m leaning more towards the salad,” Steve said, “Look this one comes with apples!”

“Barnes, what about you? Any idea?” Sam looked over at Bucky who sat across from him.

Bucky shook his head, “No, I’m not sure yet. Nothing sounds good.”

“Well hurry up! Sasha will be back soon,” said Sam.

Just then your waiter arrived with that glorious bowl of soup you had ordered. A simple bowl of chicken noodle soup had sounded so delicious and you couldn’t deny yourself that small treat. The waiter placed your bowl down and the aroma quickly filled your senses. You put down your book and took a deep breath. It smelled amazing! This soup was never bad to you. It always hit just the right spot. You thanked your waiter as he began walking away.

“That looks good,” Bucky whispered to Steve as he subtly pointed to your bowl, “But where the hell is it on this menu?”

“Ask her, she ordered it she has to know where it is.”

“No, its fine. I’ll find it myself.”

“Dear Lord just ask the girl! Sasha is coming!” Sam butted in.

“Fine!” you heard Bucky’s loud reply.

You turned towards them at this loud response and Bucky cringed a bit. Sam could be overwhelming sometimes, and he couldn’t help but yell at him sometimes.

“Sorry, ma’am?” he shyly asked you as he leaned to close the distance between you a bit, “Sorry to bother you but your soup smells amazing and I can’t seem to find it on the menu.”

Steve looked like a proud dad. Bucky talking to strangers was a marvelous accomplishment and he looked at his friend with a smile on his face.

“Oh, yeah!” you laughed, partially out of nervousness because OH MY GOD SERGEANT BARNES WAS TALKING TO YOU. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t almost swoon at his voice. He was so handsome, and your heart ached for everything he had been put through. “Its actually not on the menu. You can just ask for it, though, and they’ll make it for you.”

“Why don’t they have soup on the menu?” Sam asked, “Its not like some super-secret food nobody knows about. Cool foods go on the secret menu, not soup!”

You laughed, “I don’t know, actually. I come here a lot and wanted soup one time and noticed it wasn’t on the menu. I just asked, and they made it for me.”

“Weird,” Sam added.

“Thank you. Sorry for bothering you,” Bucky said.

Sasha arrived back at their table and you heard Bucky order for the soup you were eating. A little smile threatened to appear on your lips. The Winter Soldier had just asked for a bowl of soup after timidly asking you about it. The whole thing just seemed adorable for some reason to you. You picked up your book again and continued to read it. A few minutes had passed by when you heard whispers from the table next to you.

“My god, ask her!” You heard Sam say again. You turned back to them again and this time Steve cringed a bit.

“Sorry ma’am, I know we bothered you before and you probably just want to eat in peace but your book,” he pointed, “ I heard a bit about it,” Steve asked with a hint of a blush on his cheeks.

“Yes, it’s called Homegoing, I think it was on the New York Times Best Sellers list a while ago. My name is Y/N, by the way” you replied with a smile hoping to keep him from calling you ma’am again. This could not be real! You could not be talking about an amazing book with Captain FREAKING AMERICA just after talking about soup with BUCKY BARNES AND SAM WILSON! What was this day?

You spent the rest of your time talking to all three about books. They all shared their favorites and you also recommended a few of your faves. Bucky spoke a bit, but he mostly observed. He noticed how kind you were and how fondly you spoke about books. He saw how your eyes seemed to light up when you shared your book recommendations and how they seemed to exude warmth as you looked at him and his friends. Their food arrived, and he felt the soup you had recommended pulled him towards you even more. It had been a while since he had felt a connection with another person that was not Steve or Sam. He couldn’t deny he thought you were beautiful and loved the sound of your voice. He had just met you and barely knew your name, and couldn’t understand why, but he knew he felt there was something there. Maybe, if he just hoped it enough, he could have you feel it too. He couldn’t get his hopes up, though. He was still overcoming his past and it was not the time to think about anything else. He wouldn’t think about it, but maybe he could hope for it. It wasn’t the same thing, right? He looked on to you as you laughed at something Sam had said. He replayed what you had said earlier, “I come here a lot” and stored it in in his hope chest.

Not the time, but maybe someday.

——

PART 3

My very first tag oh my god! Thanks for asking!

@buckysmusculararm

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #my first fic #marvel #violentlybarnes3k #stories by notimetoblog

272 notes · View notes

writer-and-artist27 · 6 years

Text

Soup for the Sick

Note: …At this rate, this is already a series. One Piece and Naruto mixed. Never thought I would be getting into it. But @unlucky-marine’s art is something that always brings a smile to my face, and considering @langwrites writing the My Hero Academia-CYB crossover of Shell Game, well…

Yeah, I have no excuse. CP and S&S are still going on, but these little side stories starring the civilian pianist with her older Marine sibling-caretaker are adorable and I like giving something back to Eli. :) So there. Eli got me on the Tomo-Davy sibling train, and I can’t thank them enough for that. I’ve never had someone so outspoken in loving kid!Tomoko whenever I talked to them, so I think the appreciation goes miles now. ^_^

Of course, I don’t own anything except Tomoko and Hisako. Davy belongs to Eli, and Wendy to @ask-lieutenant-wendy.

The theme for this story is inspired by the sea, being SaphiraLynx’s piano cover of Mizuiro no Senritsu from Mermaid Melody. Or, as the translation calls it, the Aquamarine Melody, originally sung by the Aquamarine Mermaid Princess herself. :) The original song works just as well if you want to pull it up~

Please enjoy!

Oh, and Eli? You don’t have to feel pressured in making art for every part of this series, by the way. Only do it if you feel like it. I only write this whole thing because your art brought a lot of happy juice for me in these last days of summer and seeing you on Twitch and talking with you only helped fuel that. Friends look out for each other, and well, considering your theater job? A nice read is something you more than deserve. ;>

The words felt foreign in my mouth. “Jackie-nee’s sick?”

Wendy-nee gave me a sad smile as she sat down on her knees, a hand reaching over to rest on the top of my head. “She’s just resting in her barracks, Tomoko-chan. But yes, Jackie’s sick. It’s a cold, thankfully, so the bad sickness won’t be here forever.”

“How?” was already escaping my throat, and I found myself covering my mouth with both of my hands out of politeness and shock. My caretaker wasn’t the kind of person who found themselves sick so easily. At least, from what I could tell. When feeling more masculine as Jack-nii, he could easily kick someone’s ass if he wanted to, more so when I heard him mutter once on how he could break all 206 bones in a body. That was cool and kinda scary. When feeling feminine as Jackie-nee, she could then smash a womanizer’s face in with her heel and look beautiful doing it.

Being genderfluid was still something I didn’t know much about, more so considering I was a cis-female, but my caretaker was awesome. Simple as that.

I never thought I would hear the news that they would be sick.

But, alas, Tomoko-chan, my dear. Hisako swirled her glass of…lemonade. Okay. She was doing it while sitting in an armchair like Giovanni from Pokémon or something. All she needed was a Persian. And she was doing The Voice. Woo. We all are mere mortals.

Ugh.

I couldn’t help but find my heart sinking when Wendy-nee’s smile turned a bit more forced, as if frustrated. “I don’t think you want to know, Tomoko-chan. Let’s just say a Flamingo got a bit too angry and leave it at that, okay?” The minute crack in her voice was already enough for me to nod and accept it. I was still 10 in this life, so in Wendy-nee’s eyes, of course I was still a kid. An innocent kid, probably.

“Okay,” I said softly, but I still found myself gently tugging on her shirt collar to pull her in for a hug. It didn’t feel right going about this conversation without doing it. She looked troubled enough already, and my arms could wind around her neck, at least. “I’m sorry for prying, Wendy-nee.”

To my surprise, the blond Marine only laughed softly, arms coming around me to hug back. Aaaaah, she had a similar grip to Mama when she was excited. Tough muscle, but still snuggly. “It’s okay, Tomoko-chan, you were worried. It’s okay.”

I was not expecting her to lift me up anyways, essentially letting my sandals hit air as she pulled away from the hug to grin cheerily up at me. Somehow, I was sitting in her arms, close to her shoulders. Somehow! Aaaaaah, awesome strength. Also, Wendy-nee being 7 foot 2 and being carried that close to her height made everything in the near vicinity feel small, and gosh, being tall feels so cool! Fluttering skirt be damned.

…Don’t judge me on this. I’m still trying to gain height by drinking milk.

Wendy-nee’s purple eyes were now sparkling with something soft as she looked at me with that same grin. Her one curly hair sticking out from her hat tickled as she continued to beam. “Still, Tomoko-chan, what do you want to do now? Do you want to visit Jackie?”

The offer was tempting. Very tempting.

Hisako only swirled her cup of lemonade before chugging it in a few seconds flat. Once all the liquid was gone, she tossed the cup away, the motion accompanied by a small mental CRASH that was of the glass breaking in the mind library somewhere. Hm, she mused. It’s nice, but you’re thinking of something else, aren’t you, dear?

Yep. My Nobody was already reading my thoughts.

“Not now, Wendy-nee,” I shook my head while smiling anyways. “But could you carry me to the kitchen? I wanna cook something first!”

Those same purple eyes blinked at me slowly.

“Huh?”

“Here again, Tomoko-chan?”

The Marine chefs, despite bustling around with food and plates in almost every corner of the kitchen, all seemed to notice me as soon as Wendy-nee dropped me off in the doorway. She had work to do, unfortunately, but at least the big bear hug and bright smile in my direction before she left was a nice send-off.

Still, I was a 10-year old girl in a Sylveon-themed kimono dress, standing in the kitchen doorway, and at this point, the Marines weren’t even fazed. Huh.

Adjustment period is officially over, Hisako mused dryly.

I nodded at the nearest chef who asked with the politest smile I could muster. “Yep! Jackie-nee’s not feeling well, so I thought of cooking!” And then the Embarrassment was coming back in. Why, heart, why. “I-Is that okay?”

Said chef only shrugged with an exasperated smile before pointing to a nearby corner. Almost immediately, some of the chefs cleared away, leaving a small cutting board, knife, oven, and stove in the space left behind. “Go ahead, Tomoko-chan. That counter there’s all yours.”

The bright smile on my face was just as sudden as the swing of Embarrassment from earlier. “Thank you very much, Chef-san!”

The man only scoffed softly in a way reminiscent of Vy’s old Dad, almost in disbelief judging by the noise. In the end, he still nodded in acknowledgement at me as the other staff slowly moved away enough so that I could walk over.

For a corrupt military, the staff’s surprisingly sweet.

Maybe they don’t have a lot of kids around?

My Nobody only shrugged. Then I started hearing whispers while walking past.

“That Jack sure is lucky.”

“Of course it’s the paperwork guy who gets a cute girl looking after them.”

“Why can’t I get someone to drop through a hole in the ceiling to love me?”

Ohhhh! Hisako was smirking. Oh no. My, my, my! Tomoko-chan, you’re popular!

I still ran through the kitchen as fast as I could to get to that corner, because the heat on my face wasn’t going to go down otherwise. Aaaaaaah.

What was wrong with loving a caretaker like a sibling when you didn’t have any? Well, I technically had Kei and Hayate, but there was something different about older siblings than younger ones. In a past life, I was the younger one, and that was a mixed bag. Actually having that memory when it came to my Marine caretaker was the main seal to the deal. I could at least help out without looking like a brat doing it.

Reincarnation had benefits when it was botched. Apparently.

Still, once I got to my corner and got a good stare over everything, my head blanked. Um. “I know I said I wanted to cook something, but what’s good for a cold…?”

Soup? Hisako offered helpfully. Chicken Noodle? Clam Chowder? Gumbo? Or, heck, curry? Anything warm should do!

Those were all good suggestions. Especially since Jackie-nee was said to be resting from her cold.

I looked around. The kitchen staff were currently using a lot of seafood judging by the nearby lobster platter, so the clam chowder was a bust. I wasn’t even sure if I could do gumbo at my age, but chicken noodle soup sounded nice.

Only problem.

The only chicken I could see in the entire kitchen was a big frozen one sitting in the nearby freezer, and the staff were pretty crowded over there.

Ummmm.

Run?

No. This is a kitchen, Hisako.

Point. Fast-walk and try to wing carrying it?

It was an idea.

I tried. I really did. But being a short little girl in a crowd of tall chefs kinda meant being squished. Think any anime/gaming convention, where you would bump shoulders with someone every 5 seconds. It was like that.

“E-Er, excuse me? I’m trying to get through?” Even with my voice cracking, getting stuck in a crowd of moving people meant elbowing, and I was not good at that. Even if Kei had taught me self-defense, this was not the time to be throwing hands! “I-I’d like to get that chicken, please!”

Ignored. Because there was so much hustling and a pre-pubescent voice was hard to make out.

Aaaaah.

And then hands were sliding under my arms and effortlessly lifting me up, and I found myself squeaking. I could already tell that this wasn’t Wendy-nee’s grip, so who—

“Hey, you guys really should look out when in the kitchen. This little lady would’ve gotten hurt.”

Huh?

I looked behind me and met the stare of someone clearly new. I don’t know if he was ever in this kitchen staff before, but with his curly eyebrow, greyish-blue eye, straight blond hair falling down to brush the left side of his face, and muscular arms in spite of the Marine chef uniform, he definitely looked like someone that Jackie-nee would want to take a picture for when it came to bounties. This new person was definitely something. “You alright, ojou-chan?”

He grinned while still holding me up in his hands, and I tried not to squirm. Wearing a skirt in the kitchen and being lifted all the while was…yeah. “I-I am, but um, Chef-san?” I gestured to the ground while trying not to inwardly panic. “C-Could you please put me down?” I pointed to my corner. “Over there?”

The new Chef blinked at the direction I was pointing at before grinning again and nodding. “Whatever the ojou-chan wishes~!” I didn’t miss how he hummed before he literally slid over to my corner, ignoring chefs passing him all the while, and I tried not to focus on the sensation of my stomach churning. Motion sickness would be motion sickness.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to think on the stomach butterflies longer than necessary, because he was quick to put me down, still grinning all the while. “Now, ojou-chan.” I was not expecting his smile to turn into a more solemn expression. “What were you doing there? This is a kitchen, and not exactly the best place to play around.”

Aaaah. Another adult. I tried not to pout. “I was trying to get the chicken from the freezer. My older sibling who’s in the Marines got sick, and I was thinking of trying to make Chicken Noodle soup for them!”

He only blinked that same grey-blue eye at me before pulling on a more amused smile. “Oh?” he said softly, before turning his head around to look towards that far-away refrigerator. “Do you at least know how to make it, ojou-chan?”

…Um.

Uh.

I squeaked, “No?”

We did not think this through.

He only pulled on a more confident smile while tossing something into the nearest trash can. Was it…a cigarette? “Well then! Let this cook help you out, ojou-chan!”

I blinked. “It’s okay?”

With that same confidence, he turned to me while twirling a — holy crap, he was twirling a knife. I only blinked once, and then he was brandishing a small bowl of diced…diced onions? When did he— “I’m a cook, ojou-chan. And when a lady is in trouble, it’s natural to help out.” He then sat down on his knees, looking at me with that grey-blue eye, now sparkling. “I’m Sanji by the way, ojou-chan. What’s your name?”

Ah. He reminded me of Leo, at least a little. “I-I’m Hoshino Tomoko, Sanji-san.” Out of habit, I took a bit of my skirt to curtsy. “It’s nice to meet you, and I hope to work with you!”

Sanji-san only grinned. “And I you, little lady.”

He then brandished a bowl of cut carrots. Wow, that was a lot of skill.

Chicken Noodle Soup was, surprisingly enough, simple. Even though I only had Vy’s experience to call from when cooking, Sanji-san was quick. It only took an hour for him to prepare homemade chicken and vegetable broths for the soup, and by the time the chicken hit the soup pot, a warm homey smell was wafting around the kitchen, and I could’ve sworn some chefs were drooling while walking past.

“So, ojou-chan,” he said while stirring the soup with a ladle, “who’s your older sibling?”

Aaaand Sanji-san had to ask just when I was putting dishes away in this little corner. “Davy Jack-san! Currently going by Jackie, but I call her Jackie-nee! I think…” my voice cracked while recalling Wendy-nee’s words. “A Flamingo got angry and gave her a cold? Or something?”

The words were silly, but I didn’t miss how Sanji-san tensed. It almost looked like a shiver went up his spine before a nervous chuckle sounded. “D-Davy Jack, huh…? That’s interesting, ojou-chan.” He then muttered something under his breath that I couldn’t hear, but all I could make out was, “that explains things.”

Hisako wasn’t having any of it. He’s nice, but I dunno, Tomoko-chan. That reaction wasn’t the best.

Did my caretaker know this guy?

I ended up voicing it. “Do you know Jackie-nee, Sanji-san?”

Immediately, the cook turned to me with a warm smile, turning down the heat to the soup pot while doing so. “Kinda, ojou-chan. It’s a long story. But the soup’s almost done!”

Yep. That was a sudden subject change. So something did happen between them.

And was it just me, or did Sanji-san look sad for a moment?

I blinked, and as soon as I thought that, the glint in that grey-blue eye disappeared. “Still, ojou-chan, wanna go serve this soup to your sibling then? I have to be somewhere, so I can’t stay long.”

Already, I was feeling disappointed. It had only been a few hours but having a cooking companion aside from my Nobody did something. “Will I see you again?”

Sanji-san then turned off the heat entirely before turning to me fully and sitting down on his knees. “Of course, ojou-chan.” He then grinned, reaching over to poke my forehead through my bangs, and I tried not to wince. “Just look for a sail with a skull and a straw hat, and you’ll find me.”

Skull and a straw hat? What the hell is that supposed to be? A pirate flag thing?

I still nodded in spite of Hisako’s incoming rant. “Okay.”

Of course, I would jump on Sanji-san for a hug too. He deserved it, at least.

Jackie-nee was sitting up in her bed at the barracks, reading what looked like a book when I was finally able to pop in. Wendy-nee was still at work along with the other Marines, so it made sense that there was no one else around.

I did my best to balance the soup bowl tray in my hands while hiding it from view. “Jackie-nee?”

She blinked before looking up from her book, and of course I could see that familiar spark that I grew to love so much. “Tomo-chan,” she murmured happily, then coughed softly into one of her hands. “Sorry, I can’t hug you right now. Still — hack — sick. Wendy told you that, didn’t she?”

Even then, I couldn’t help but smile back. “Wendy-nee did say that, but I do have something for you!”

“What’s that, sweetie?”

“Well…” I tried not to run over to her bedside and instead walked over as gently as I could before brandishing the tray for her to take. “Chicken Noodle Soup. To help make the sick go away?”

I still wanted to ask myself how and why I reverted to childish talk when it only came to my caretaker, but the warm smile on her face made the thought process stop in its tracks. “Oh, Tomo-chan.” She looked down at the warm bowl before taking the spoon and blowing at it. “You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to!” Another pout was coming up on my face now. “I missed you and you deserve something to help you rest better! You work too much!”

At that, Jackie-nee suddenly snorted before laughing softly. “Yeah? I guess so.” The warmth in her voice said everything as she finally took a sip, and then the color was returning to her face as she smiled. “Whoa. Tomo-chan,” she gave me that same warm smile, “did you make this all by yourself?”

Nope. Hisako said for me.

“Nope,” I repeated with a more sheepish shrug. “I had help.”

Now Jackie-nee was confused. “Who helped? Wendy?”

Should I say the name…?

No harm in trying, dear. Hisako only patted my head.

“A new chef in the kitchen?” I found myself raising a pointer finger. “His name was Sanji-san!”

I was not expecting Jackie-nee to nearly drop her spoon mid-bite. “S-Sanji?”

Oh dear. Bombshell.

“Um, he was nice,” I filled in instead, because the sudden silence and the shock in Jackie-nee’s gaze was kinda hard to deal with all at once. “He helped me cut chicken and taught me how to make vegetable broth for next time! He also kept me out from being trampled by crowds and called me ‘ojou-chan’!”

“…What next time?” Jackie-nee said incredulously, but the simple fact that she was still eating was a good sign. At least, I was hoping so. “And, pffft.” I wasn’t expecting her to snort into her free hand. “‘Ojou-chan,’ huh.” But, oh.

She was smiling again.

I sat down at the foot of her bed, trying not to show my confusion. “Jackie-nee?”

She gave me that same warm smile. “It’s nothing, Tomo-chan. Nothing at all.”

And this time, I could believe it. Somewhat. At least while sneaking in one hug.

Hey. I have pride in my immune system, and screw colds! Soup keeps the doctor away!

“T-Tomo-chan, I’m sick…!”

“Just lemme hug you once, Jackie-nee, I missed you!”

Her only response was an exasperated laugh. I could settle for that. It kept thoughts of asking about Sanji-san away for another day.

#Seaside Sibling Train #hoshino tomoko #davy jack #lieutenant wendy #long post #writing #hisako #unlucky marine

5 notes · View notes

everly-kindred · 6 years

Text

Everly’s Diary - Entry #2

Synopsis: Eve enjoys the chaos and wonderment of the winter holidays, and the wait for her Hogwarts letter continues!

Words: 1,360

Date: 27th of December, 2025

Dear Diary,

It’s been a few days since nearly all the holiday celebrations have been… well, celebrated. Now we simply await the new year! I’m saddened to say that my Hogwarts letter has not yet arrived, but mum and dad say I have nothing to worry about. I certainly hope they’re right, though my cousin did once say I might not get in since my family isn’t ‘pure-blood,’ whatever that means. But then my uncle scolded him and said that ‘no one has given a rats tail about blood purity since the nineties,’ so, who knows.

Things have gotten crazy since my birthday. So many things to celebrate, after all! Of course, I know it’s all separate, but my brain kinda mashes everything together as one big winter celebration that lasts about a week between all the family members I have to see. There’s the Winter Solstice, otherwise known as Yule, which is more so recognized on my dad’s side, while my mum’s side prefers Christmas. Either way, the traditions, while amazing, have put me in a perpetual state of sleepiness.

I guess I’ll start with the things we did at my dads. For Yule, we got our Yule Log which we had carved from an oak tree and burned with runestones for light, warmth, and happiness in the dark days ahead - Kaunaz, Peorth, and Wunjo. After the Yule Log was lit, we did a candlelight walk with several witches and wizards my mum and dad are friends with.

In this celebration, we both greet and say farewell to the darkest day of the year, and know that from here on out, we will be gradually granted more sunlight. When the sun had gone down, we lit a pathway through a forest nearby with candles and lanterns. Everyone gathered around a bonfire and sang a song, which, I wish I could remember the words to. I should have written it down right after, truthfully. It reminded me very much of the kind of song a phoenix would sing - rebirth, and light in the dark. With everyone singing it all together, it was quite haunting but also filled me with an odd sort of hope. I'll ask my parents what the song was tomorrow, I think.

We then walked the lit pathway with our own lanterns and candles in hand, in complete silence. The world around us seemed an endless black oblivion, with only tiny flames to follow. I nearly slipped once or twice, too. It was, like I said, dark, but on top of that, it was also quite muddy.

When we got home, we all had a dinner of soups, bread, and roasted vegetables, and I did a tarot reading with a Yule-specific spread I had gotten from a book my mother gave me. It was designed after a Christmas tree, with five questions for me to answer. The first was called ‘the star’ and asked me what my life had looked like the past year. For this, I drew the Empress in reverse. Based off of what the book that came with my tarot deck had to say, this means that I’ve felt like something has been lacking in my life, and I am unsatisfied. It suggests that I take a step back from things that lack creativity and look to myself to see what I am craving.

Next was ‘the branches’, which asks me what I appreciate most about myself. For this, I drew the one of coins, which suggests that I appreciate inspiration and positivity, and am willing to work hard to achieve these things. After that was ‘the needles’ which ask me what my greatest weaknesses are. For this, I had drawn the nine of swords, which says that I torment myself with my own thoughts, which means that ultimately, my own anxieties are my greatest enemies.

Following that is ‘the pinecones’ which asks how I can make positive changes for my future. At this I pulled the knight of coins, which tells me to apply determination and perseverance in the future, to maintain my goals and push through any trials I may face. Lastly, for ‘the trunk,’ I am asked what I should pay attention to, to keep me moving in a good direction. For this, I ironically enough pulled the Emperor in reverse. This warns me that someone with authority over me may abuse my ‘good nature’ and that I should be cautious of manipulation. I can’t think of anyone I know who is like that, but I’ll be sure to keep an eye out…

After my Yule reading, my dad and I made ‘witch balls’ which are glass ornaments that you decorate. Muggles believe that the ornaments by themselves will be enough to ward away negativity, but dad put a few charms on them. ‘Just in case,’ he said. I filled mine with some pine needles, cinnamon, hazelnut, powdered ginger, citrine, and garnet, and then painted a star on the outside with gold paint. I decided against hanging it on the tree and instead hung it in my window.

At that point, it had gotten quite late, so I went to bed and had very peculiar dreams. I dreamed as though I were but a few inches tall, and climbed on my windowsill. I used a candle like it were a broomstick, and flew into the sky. I had an old-timey nightcap on like the kind my grandpa wears, and I used it as a sort of bag to collect the stars from out of the night sky. It was a pleasant dream, really.

The next day, I had gone to my mum’s house for Christmas. I had a very long debate with her about how Santa is probably just a really old wizard who borrowed the Philosopher's stone, and how he probably uses floo powder and apparition to get everywhere with his red velvet bag that has obviously been enchanted with an extension charm and featherlight. Mum laughed and says it’s impossible, but sometimes I hear about Christmas miracles that make me think otherwise.

When we got home, I helped my mom make gingerbread ornaments to hang on the tree. Mine didn’t turn out quite as nice as hers had - I was particularly messy with the icing. By the time we had finished, mum and my stepdad’s family had arrived, and it was time for dinner on Christmas Eve.

I ate enough to make me sick. Mostly mashed potatoes, but I also had a great deal of chicken pot pie, and this baked fruit my mom makes - yams, prunes, and apples with brown sugar. Then, we opened presents. I didn’t get a whole lot this year, which is fine, honestly. I’d had such an amazing birthday, after all. Though I did get this stuffed fox with snowflakes printed on its velvetine fur, and it’s probably my favourite present so far.

Only one other thing happened that night, something I haven’t fully wrapped my head around. If I were a muggle, I’m sure it would have been quite frightening. While I was trying, and quite frankly failing, to fall asleep, I heard a clattering in the living room. I thought for sure that my theory about Ole’ St. Nicholas had been correct, but when I poked my head around the corner, I saw someone of transparent silver, who seemed to be the saddest creature I’d ever seen. She looked and sounded like a woman, and drifted around the Christmas tree. It seemed like she was trying to put out the candles that were hung from it.

I sat there watching her for a long time, all wrapped up and hidden in my blanket with my fox in my arms. But eventually, I drifted to sleep, and by the time I had woken up not more than an hour later, she was gone. I’m not sure I’ll ever see her again or know her story, but according to mum, ghosts are common in our world, and all muggles really fear is ‘that of the unknown.’

I’ve written quite a bit, and that’s about everything that happened, so I suppose I’ll stop for the night. I’ve managed to stay up late, again, but luckily, I can sleep in. See you next time, in 2026 perhaps?

Sleep well! - Everly

About the Character: Everly Rosemary Kindred is an imaginative Hufflepuff attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She keeps up with her magical journey through a series of diary entries, dream journals, and tarot readings, all documented for future reflection. Her diary is a small glimpse into her enchanted life, and her adventure into the wizarding world and all its splendors. If you’d like more information about Eve, visit her wiki page.

About the Author: My name is Elowen! I am a 21-year-old Hufflepuff & Pukwudgie from Louisville, Kentucky. This page is my creative journey into the magical world, through the lenses of Second Life. Here I post diary entries, dream journals, and tarot readings all from my character’s perspective. If you’d like more information about me, visit my Flickr!

Outfit Credits:

Hair - TRUTH / Beatrix

Fox - EF: Spirit Animals: Winter - Fox

Nightgown - hazy . dreamer baby . M 9

Necklace #1 - .Atomic. {Unicorn Horn} Necklace

Necklace #2 - Kibitz - Magical moon and star necklace - copper

#harry potter #diary #witch #hufflepuff #magic #mischief managed #secondlife #second life #hogwarts #witchy

1 note · View note