#I never remember a word only in Dutch so haha

[linguenuvolose]

I love that I can use my full linguistic repertoire with my boyfriend, like we speak English to each other but he's learning Swedish and most of the time single words in Italian or French are close enough to Portuguese for him to understand so it's truly <33 a big win

[sweet-villain]

My Little Joy~ E.M

Words : 6k

Anonymous asked:

Hi!! I love your fics, so i saw is opened and i think it 🤍

I don't know if you make requests about dad!eddie, but here's one; I see a lot of fics about dad!eddie and mom!reader asking their little boy if he wants a brother or sister, but what if they ask and the kid is like "you want another one why don't you like me more?" and start crying? haha poor baby 😅

@babyloutattoo89 @palomam18 @becca-alexa @sadbitchfangirl @alienthingstwo @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch

Those big brown doe eyes lit up as soon as he found out you were pregnant. His mouth was jar as he stared at you in awe and shock. Tears began to shed down his cheeks and you thought he didn’t want this. 

“ I-I’m sorry” you mumbled thinking you have made a mistake. Your own hands shock and you dried your bottom lip, wetting it with your tongue and turned around having your back to him.

Eddie’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion on why you turned around and he shooks his head.

He made his way towards you and wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into him. 

“ No, no, no. You’ve got it wrong, sweetheart. I’m so excited to start a family with you” your pouty lip and the sadness in your eyes changing into surprise and you turned around to look into your husband’s eyes.

It wasn’t that you two talked about having kids one day, it was just after high school things got a little busy with Eddie working in the mechanic shop while you had your own job. 

“ Really?” You asked. He nodded, a wide smile appearing on his face. 

“ I never wanted something more than this, well more than being your husband is to be a father. To our children” he says, brushing his nose against yours causing you to giggle.

One of his favorite sounds in the world. Your eyes dropped down to your wedding ring on your finger.

It wasn’t too big or too small. It was perfect and it had your initials and his together. He followed your gaze and grabbed your hand in his bringing it up to his lips as he kissed the wedding band. 

“ I always think about how lucky I am that day that I got to meet you, to have you as mine, to marry you and live our lives together” 

“ You’re such a sap, Eddie Munson” he shrugged with a hint of red on his cheeks. 

“ Only for you, sweetheart” his hands came to your stomach, “ I can’t wait to meet our little bugger.” 

“ Be nice, Munson” Eddie caught your eye, “ Oh? You want me to be nice? I thought you like it when I’m mean and scary?” He asked, he teased with an eyebrow raised. You couldn’t really tell as it disappeared into his hair line. 

“ I like to have both world” you muttered. He was about to say something when your eyes grew wide and you ran to the phone. 

“ Wait till Steve and Robin hear about this, and the kids too!” You took the phone off the wall to dial the familiar number that you remember by heart by now. Eddie groaned as he threw his head back. 

“ They always have to be the cockblocks” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair and settling down on the couch as he watched you talk on the phone.

From your excitement in your voice and the little jump you had made was that you called Robin first to tell her the news knowing that either Steve was with her or he wasn’t. He would be second to receive the news. 

“ He was beyond excited, we’re going to have our little Munson baby” you gushed, squealing. Eddie chuckled before shutting up as you shot him a glare. 

He watched as you did the little gesture with putting your hand on your stomach that didn’t even have the bump yet. You were distracted to hear the knock on the door as Eddie turned his head.

He wasn’t expecting anyone and when he looked over to you, your back was to him as you talked on the phone.

He slowly stood up from the couch and made his way to the door. 

“ Who is it?” He asked. He didn’t need an answer as the person shoved the other person and the two started to play fight. Eddie rolled his eyes when Dustin and Mike appeared on his doorsteps, shoving one another.

He put his arms across his chest and waited till they were done. You were done on the phone and stood behind Eddie. A chuckle had stopped Dustin and Mike from fighting noticing the door was opened. 

“ If you two knuckleheads are done fighting, care to tell me why your here?” Eddie asked. Dustin fixed his hat on top of his head and cleared his throat. 

“ We wanted to know if you’ve been working on the next campaign for next week?” Mike asked. “ You’ve postpone the last one and said something about working on something new” 

Eddie nodded his head. 

“ I’ve been working on something but my two little sheep, I do have a wife” he motions to you which you wave your fingers over at the two of them as they first noticed your standing there. “ And I do have a job too.” 

“We-“ Eddie put his finger up to silence them. They know better than to anger Eddie. 

“ But, that doesn’t mean I forgot about the campaign and something else has came up, that will have less and less of campaigns happening” Eddie says. 

“Eddie” you put your hand on his shoulder, “ It’s okay.” He looked over at you over his shoulder and shook his head. You and his child were going to be more important weather the sheeps liked it or not. 

“ What? What does that even mean?” Dustin asked, looking upset between Eddie and you. 

“ It means” Eddie took your hand in and smiled. 

“ I’m pregnant” you tell them. Both Mike and Dustin looked at each other with happy and shocked looks on their face as they both hugged each other and screamed. 

“ Boys!” You shouted causing them to stop their hugging and happy dances.

“ I get it your excited but don’t be so loud. It’s enough that our neighbors don’t like us” you looked to your right and to your left to see if one of. Your neighbors had came out to yell at what or who was being loud. 

“ Congratulations Eddie, you’ll be a great dad” Dustin wrapped his arms around Eddie and got a hug and a pat in return as a thanks. Mike went next.

A certain BMW pulled up and an unhappy Steve got out of the car followed by Nancy, Max, Lucas and El who happened to talk all at once. You looked towards at Eddie to crow back at little and over look his shoulder. 

“ HEY!” Eddie shouted over them. It all got quiet. 

“ Why are you all yelling?” You asked over his shoulder. 

“ You told Robin first??? Come on, I was your best friend first” Steve stomped his foot. “ I should of been the first one you should of told” he had his hands on his hips like he usually does. “ And I thought we shared everything together” Nancy said. “ Yeah, sisters for life” El says as had her arms over her shoulder, looking at you grumpily. “ We’re like family” Max added. 

“ You’re all like family to me” you came around from Eddie’s shoulder looking at them. “ We’ve been through together so much, and I love each and every one of you. A lot. Trust me.” 

“ Doesn’t explain to me why I wasn’t told first” Steve says throwing his hands up in the air. 

Dustin looked back at him, “ It’s not all about you.” 

Steve gave him a look before he looks back over to you. 

“ Congratulations” he smiles over to you.

“ This baby is going to have a lot of aunts and uncles” Lucas says. 

“ We’re all spoiling the baby” Mike says. 

“ I get first dibs on the first gift” Dustin says and another yelling fight starting on who gets what. The baby was going to be so loved by so many. 

“ I love you” Eddie says, kissing your cheeks. “ I can’t wait to start our family, even if this baby is going to have this” he motions with his head towards the scene in front of him causing you to laugh. 

“ Eds, they are all going to love our baby” He nods. 

“ Our baby” he repeats those words with a a big smile on his face before his eyes grow wide. 

“ I have to tell Wayne” he threw his hands up and run out to the street but not before returning as he chuckles to himself. “ I forgot I had no shoes on and no shirt” he says glancing down. 

“ Pick up your pants too while your at it” Steve says, scrunching up his nose. “ We don’t need to see anything to scare us off” He says. 

“ You’re so funny, Harrington” Eddie says. “ Not like you can get any by looking like that” he points towards him. Steve glances down at his choice of outfit in the polo shirt he’s wearing, some jeans and his shoes. 

“ What’s wrong with this?” Steve pouted. 

“ It’s not giving an vibes that girls would scream for you” 

“ Eddie..” You warned sending him a look. 

“ What?I am just telling him how it is” 

“ Now is not the time to be a jerk” you pointed towered the road knowing that it wasn’t very far where Wayne lived. “ You have somewhere to be” Eddie did the salute with his forehead and left after putting on a shirt and some shoes. 

“ Don’t listen to him Steve, there are plenty of girls for you out there” you motion with your hands around. Steve appreciated it but it did hurt a little and you saw. 

“ Does Stevie need a hug?” You asked. Heads turned but Steve put his hands up as he shook his head. “ No, thank you. I appreciate it.” 

But you stepped down with a smirk on your face. 

“ You better run, Harrington while you still can” Steve’s eyes went wide as he said “ Guys.” But no one was listening as they all took a step forward. 

“ Guys, come on” Steve tried again. But then another step until you said the words, “ run” to Steve. He gasped as he turned around and ran for his life with you and the rest running after him. Lucas has caught up to him and tackled him on the ground before a pile was formed on top of him. You stood there laughing, shaking your head. 

“ If only Eds could see this” 

The nine months flew by before you know it, you weren’t allowed to carry any heavy lifting even nothing from the grocery store. When Eddie was at work, either Steve was with or Robin or Dustin if he could.

You were always with someone. Eddie was too worried that something might happened when he wasn’t there. He picked up extra shifts too, he didn’t want you to work a single finger but you argued with him on it until he gave in. 

You were just on your way to the kitchen for a snack when you felt it. You glance down seeing the water on the ground meaning your water had broken.

Your breathing picked up and your eyes grew wide as a mass amount of pain shot through you. 

“ Ow!” You shouted gripping your side. Steve who has been in the house had heard it and rushed to your side thinking that something bad was happening. Something was happening alright. His eyes fallen on the water on the ground. 

“ What is that?” He asked, his tone growing in panic. 

“ What do you think that is?” Your voice grew louder by the end of the question. His hands went to his head as he gripped it. “ Don’t tell me…” you nodded your head, wincing in pain. 

“ What are you still standing there for?! I need to get to the hospital” He ran in panic to the phone, “ No time for a phone, Harrington!” You yelled.

“ Get me to the hospital. NOW!” His hands shook as he grabbed your to go back for the hospital and helped you to his car. 

“ Hurry up, Steve” you muttered him grabbing onto his sweater and angrily spatting at him, “ If you don’t get me to a damn hospital right now Harrington, I will end you. You hear me?” He shakily nodded with his eyes widen. He got into the driver side after he put you into the backseat of his car and drove off. 

But it seems that he wasn’t driving fast enough and in panic he kept looking back to see how you were doing and it looks like you were in a mass amount of pain. Your face was red, you were panting and gripping his seats.

Your eyes clenched in pain while you tried to take deep breathe in an out. Steve’s foot pressed on the gas so hard he thought it was going to break the gas pedal.

Beat of sweat appeared on his forehead while he looked through the review mirror seeing the pain you were in and his heart raced like no tomorrow.

When he arrived at the hospital, he didn’t even parked the car properly as he raced to the side you were on screaming, “ Pregnant lady needs help!” 

You were to busy wincing in pain to shoot him a look as people around you both rushed to help you into the hospital. Steve was gripping his own hair as he looked around in panic when it downed to him that Eddie had no idea you were in labor and having his kid. 

“ Eddie!” He shouted racing inside the hospital partially flying over the receptionist desk and sending a few files onto the floor which he ignored.

His chest was rising up and down as he said in one breath “ Need phone now.” The receptionist looked at him like he had two heads instead of one and backed up from her chair. 

“ I need to make a phone call” he says after he calmed down a bit, but he wasn’t really calm because you were taken away to have Eddie’s baby and he had no idea what room number or anything.

The receptionist put the phone on top of the counter carefully but Steve was scrambling to get the phone and it slip from his hands but he caught it somehow in mid air and gave the receptionist a look that it was okay.

He ran a hand through his hair while he dialed the mechanic shop. He knew it by heart because Eddie had made him study it for in case of emergencies just like this.

Steve repeated the numbers in his head like he remembered to himself while dialing the number.

On the first few rings, he patiently waited while muttering for Eddie to pick up the damn phone up before he rips his own hair out.

Once the phone picked up, it was Eddie since it was only him while the other two mechanics were helping the customers outside of the shop not hearing the phone. 

“ Harrington?” Eddie question hearing Steve’s voice. “ What’s wrong?” Eddie asked hearing the panic in Steve’s voice. “ She’s having the baby!” Steve screamed scaring some on going patients and nurses. “ Sorry!” He shouted while going back to talking to Eddie on the phone. 

“ Now, Munson. Now. Hospital!” Eddie gasped on the other line, gripping the phone tight as his eyes widen. You were having his baby right now.

He needed to hurry. Steve has hanged up the phone before Eddie could ask him what room number they rolled you in or anything else for that matter.

Eddie scrambled to tell his boss who walked through the doors a minute ago screaming he had to go because his child was about to be born.

He didn’t even wash his hands racing to the van, and hopped in pressing on the gas racing towards the hospital. 

You were screaming at the nurses to give you something from the pain with tears streaming down your cheeks asking where Steve Harrington was at the moment and you swore to god to kick his ass for leaving you alone like this.

Minutes later after you were cursing to yourself in pain and mentally kicking his ass, Steve raced through the doors gripping it. His shirt was soaked with sweat showing in on the futon of his shirt and near his armpits.

His har hung in front of his forehead, some strands plastered to his sweating forehead. 

“ Steve Harrington where the heck have you been?!” You winced in pain throwing your head back. Sweat captured on your forehead feeling someone near you and taking your hand in theirs.

“ Eddie is on his way” they say. Steve. The grip on his hand tightened and your eyes flashed open in anger as you looked towards him. “ I swear to god Steve Harrington, after this baby is born. You will have your ass handled for leaving me alone like this” 

Steve shook his head, “ I was in panic and had to call Eddie” you nodded your head. “ He better get here in time or your the one that better stay with me.” 

Steve was shaking tying to not to panic more than he already is hoping that Eddie was going to make it. He needed his hand and it felt like right now it was going numb from the way you were gripping it. 

“ Jesus” he mumbles to himself. “ Munson, you better be racing here.” 

Eddie raced through the doors of the hospital in his overalls, a bandana wrapped around his head with his hair tied back. There is grease on his overalls and his arms are covered in sweat too from working on the car all morning.

He is turning his head left in right in panic and races to the receptionists and almost flying over her desk while she looks at him in fright. 

“ Sir? Can I help you?” She asks. Her name tag reads “ Marie” which Eddie uses to his advantage.

“ Marie, hi” he says to her throwing her a smile but he’s all dirty and looking freaked out so it scares her a bit.

She has files in her hands and stands a few steps back not knowing what to expect from Eddie. 

“ What room is Y/N L/N is?” He asks, he brushes his hands down his overalls knowing they are covered in grease and dirt. He looks around for something to clean his hands but finds nothing and sends the receptionist an uneasy look. 

She slowly types in her computer and tells him not asking if he’s related or who he is because she has seen enough for the day. Eddie thanks her and races towards down the hall.

His boots squeaking as he runs passing by nurses and patients who send him a look of if he’s crazy or something. Your screaming trying not to cry being told you were getting closer and closer to the time you were going to pop this baby out of you. 

The door flies open at your next scream and it’s Eddie stumbling into the room as he is trying to catch his breath.

He takes in the scene seeing you laying in the hospital bed and in the hospital gown with Steve holding your hand but he’s on his knees in front of the bed holding onto the the bar with his teeth gritted. He can’t feel his hand anymore but sends a look towards Eddie in relief he’s here. 

“ I’m here” Eddie slowly walk towards your other side of the bed but your hand reaches out to grip his overalls. His eyes grow to the size of saucers from the grip as you bring him closer to you. 

“ Where the hell have you been, Munson?” He softly chuckles, but your eyes are sending him into panic. “ Baby, I got here as fast as I could” he says.

You release the hold you have on Steve’s hand and grip Eddie’s causing him to yelp for the moment.

Steve shakes his hand in hoping he gets blood flowing through his hand and getting to feel it. He doesn’t mind holding your hand, but you have such a tight grip that he never imaged you’d have. 

He slowly stands up from the floor and looks down. 

“ It’s almost time” he says. 

“ Get me a nurse or doctor, Harrington before I rip my own hair out” you spatted to him in anger. You were ready to have this baby. You didn’t want to be in pain anymore. 

“ NOW!” You shouted causing Steve to run out the door in panic screaming for a nurse or a doctor.

“ Munson” you mumbled to him. He became alert that you were calling him and leaned closer, “ next time your staying home with me.” 

He nods and breaths in relief when a doctor walks in with two nurses.

“ It’s time” he say after he checks to see how much you were dilated. You look at Eddie with worry as he softly smiles at you, “ I’m here. Your going to be great, sweetheart. I’m not leaving you.”

The words reassure you and turned to the doctor with a nod. You looked up towards the bright lights and clenched your eyes, as you pushed. 

It felt like hours and hours while you pushed, getting more tired and tired by the minute and by every push. 

“ I’m so tired” you cried out. “ I don’t want to push anymore” you cried out.

A pair of lips landed on your sweaty forehead, “ Just a little bit more, sweetheart. You’re doing great. I’m here. The baby is almost here.” 

“ Give it a few more pushes” the doctor tells you, “ the head is about to come out. Just give me a few more pushes” he says. You threw him a glare his way, “ I am pushing!” 

You shouted, clenching on Eddie’s head who’s ready to pass out not feeling his hand anymore and his heart clenches at your cries as you push.

Then he hears it, the baby’s cries and it brings him to tears. He smoothes the hair away from your sweaty forehead.

“ I’m so proud of you, sweetheart” he says. 

“ It’s a boy” the doctor says, “ Congratulations, you two” he says. He gives the baby to the nurse to clean him off and cut the umbilical cord before the nurse comes over to you to hand you the baby.

You have tears streaming down your face, from happiness and from the fact that your a mother now. 

“ He’s so perfect” you look down at your son. Eddie is leaning over with tears of happiness and smiles wide. “ What is his name?” The nurse asks.

You didn’t need to ask Eddie what he wanted.

To be because the both of you agreed on the name already. You wanted to name the baby after Wayne, the one person that looked after both you and Eddie. 

“ Wayne Munson” you replied before Eddie could. Eddie’s mouth a jar hearing that you were giving the baby’s last name as his.

“ I love you so much” Eddie says. Your eyes meet his brown teary eyes in happiness, “ I love you too.” 

Eddie ended up racing out the room to tell Steve that the baby was here to be met by Dustin, Mike, Will, El, Nancy, Robin, Lucas, Max, Steve and Wayne in the waiting room as they all stood up when he appeared.

Hopper and Joyce, and Jonathan walked down the hall just as Eddie appeared. 

“ So?” Max asked him, waiting to hear the baby’s name since you haven’t told her or anyone. It was something you wanted to keep until the baby was born. 

“ The baby is here” Eddie says in tears. His shoulder s are shaking as he’s crying with happiness.

He was a father, and you were the mother of his child. His heart was so happy and could burst any minute now. 

“ What the baby’s name?” El asked. All of them were on their toes awaiting the name. Eddie wiped his eyes with the back of his now cleaned hands. His eyes locked his uncle, and gave him a wide smile.

“ Wayne Munson” he says. Wayne’s eyes grew wide hearing the name and he walked over towards Eddie to bring him into a hug. 

“ Son, you better not be joking with me” Wayne says mumbling into Eddie’s headband. Eddie shook his head and pulled away from Wayne staring up at him with big doe eyes with happiness, love and appreciation. 

“ I’m not, we wanted to name our son after the person that looked after us all along. It was you, Wayne and we couldn’t be happier with the name” he says. 

Wayne couldn’t handle this as he started to cry. 

“ When can we see the baby?” Robin asked. 

“ Can we?” Dustin asked. The doctor walked out from your room and jumped a bit seeing how many people were in the waiting room with Eddie. All heads were turned to him.

“ I’m guessing you all want to see the baby” he says. 

“ Please doctor” Will says. “ She’s our friend, our best friend” he begs. 

“ Please” El begs with her eyes as she steps forward staring up at the doctor. Max steps next to her, Robin too and Nancy too as they all glare up at him.

The doctor rose his hands up and chuckled. 

“ Only a few at a time” He looks towards Eddie, “ Congratulations again.” Eddie thanks him, but sighs hearing who’s going in with who to see the baby.

He pinches the bridge of his nose but peeks through the window seeing you holding the baby, and cooing at it. He doesn’t miss the smile on your face. 

He was a dad. He promised himself he was going to be the best dad there ever will be and was. Wayne slips a hand around his shoulder and pulls him to his side, “ You did good, kid. I’m proud of you and your boy will be too.” 

The next couple of days haven’t been too difficult as Eddie took some time off to be around you and little Wayne.

But he had more hands on him to help look after the little one, Steve stopped by with Robin as the two looked after Little Wayne while you and Eddie rested. Jonathan and Nancy had stopped by too.

Everyone has been stopping by and Wayne even stopped by to give you and Eddie a chance to have a date night.

But, you were more happy to stay at home with Little Wayne and spend time with your son.

He was the light to your world, your little nugget and he was starting to have really dark hair like Eddie has. Little curls appeared on top of his head. His eyes were just like yours as your nose while he was the exact copy of Eddie. 

Little Wayne cooed every time Eddie took out his guitar and softly sang towards him.

It was like music was pulling your little nugget. He was Eddie’s son, a copy.

You would watch when Eddie spent time with him always talking about music, how beautiful you were and that he was so happy to be a father. 

Eddie didn’t miss Little’s Wayne’s first steps, first words which was “ Mama” which Eddie wasn’t too fond off because he pouted about it. He wanted Little Wayne’s first word to be “ Dadda.”

He’s been trying for Little Wayne to say it day after day. Eddie didn’t miss Wayne’s  first tooth smile either.

He partially called everyone letting them know that Little Wayne was growing teeth.

Yours and Eddie’s relationship was stronger than ever, you still went out on date nights, sometimes taking Little Wayne with you and everyone gushed about how cute your son was.

Eddie build a back seat in the car and had a car seat for Little Wayne. Sometimes Dustin rode in the back with Little Wayne talking to him. 

“ Dadda” Eddie’s head turned as soon as he heard the word and turned off the stove. He was hopping over his soon seeing him awake and reaching up with his arms at nothing in the air. Little Wayne had awoken up a bit before you did. You happen to walk in the time where Eddie had him in his arms, bouncing him on his hips. 

“ What happened?” You sleepily asked, yawning. 

Eddie had the biggest smile on his face once heard his son speak the word he has been trying to teach him every day for the past few months.

Little Wayne was growing and growing looking more and more each day of a copy of his father. 

“ Why don’t you say it again, Wayne? Tell Mommy what you just said”Wayne looked at his dad with curious eyes reaching for his curls and tugged on his hair.

Eddie winced in pain for a moment, but smiled toward his son. “ Come on” he bounced on him on his hips. Eddie pouted and looked over at you.

“ He said “ Dadda” 

“ I’m sure he did, Eds” you nodded, chuckling to yourself and turned around to go into the kitchen to make breakfast when you stopped in your tracks hearing it. 

“ Dadda” you heard the sound of your son’s voice. You turned your back quickly staring with a wide smile on your face and hands over your mouth.

Little Wayne giggled with his hands on his dad’s face. “ Dadda” he said it again. 

Little Wayne noticed that you were by his other side and he turned his head and reached with his hands, giggling saying “ Mama.” 

“ That’s right, you little nugget. Dadda and Mama. We are your Dadda and Mama” Eddie tickled his little tummy, the giggle that became your second favorite sound and squirming from your son as he giggled in happiness made your heart swell up in happiness. 

“ You two are my favorite” you kissed your son’s cheeks causing Eddie to pout. 

“ Excuse me, m’lady but where is my kiss?” Eddie huffed and stomped his foot like a child.

You playfully rolled your eyes leaning over while holding Little Wayne in your arms, kissing him quickly. 

“ That’s not fair” Eddie mumbled. Eddie took Little Wayne from your hands and kissed his cheek.

“ Why don’t we attack Mama with kisses? Huh? What do you say, nugget?” He asked his son who giggled. 

“ I think that’s a yes” he nods his head and turns his head, “ Mama, get ready for some lovin” 

“ Bring it” you giggled as the two chased you around. 

Time went by quick, Little Wayne was six years old already running around and trying to learn how to play D&D already, he became interested in the things his father liked to do along with reading books like you like to do.

He took interest in drawing, painting and loves exploring outside. He would go to work with Eddie sometimes, holding a wrench for him or stealing candy from the front desk.

He was loud, adventures, a sweetheart and loved spending time with aunts and uncles. 

One day he was drawing in his sketchbook that you had gotten him for his birthday when Eddie came home from work.

Little Wayne dropped the color pencils he had in his hands and raced towards his dad. You were in the kitchen putting away the dishes when you heard the front door open. 

You walked in to see Eddie picking up Little Wayne and flying him around making airplane noises with your son laughing in happiness. This was one of your favorite sights to see.

Eddie always came home from work, even with having a bad day, he always put a smile on his face for his son. Eddie put him down noticing you were watching them.

“ Hi, sweetheart” he greeted you. He looked like you have given him the world and you did, you’d given something he wanted. A family.

He was a better father to Little Wayne than his own father was too him.

He never missed Wayne’s birthday, Christmas or any holiday. He always made time to spend time with you and Wayne. He put on hold practicing and doing gigs with Corroded Coffin. They still did it, but once a month.

Family was more important to Eddie. You two came first to him. 

“ Hi, Eds” you threw your arms around him. He always smelled like sweat, his cigarettes and something from the shop that was always different. “ How was your day?” You asked. 

“ Better now that I’m home” he says, pecking your lips. The shy smile appeared on your lips.

“ I love you Eddie Munson” his hand reached over to wrap around your waist. “ I love you too, sweetheart.” 

“ And me??!” Little Wayne shouted jumping up and down in the air. He had those same eyes as his father has looking up with those brown doe eyes.

Your heart melted at the sight. 

“ We love you too, our little nugget” you ran your fingers through his hair.

“ Mom!” He shouted, “ You’ll ruin my hair” he says styling back to the way he wanted. Eddie chuckled, shaking his head. 

“ Go wash your hands for dinner” you tell your son, “ you too, Munson” you turn to Eddie.

He made a salute with a hand to his forehead as Little Wayne copied his dad too as they both raced towards the bathroom with giggles and laughter.

You walked back into the kitchen to finish off dinner. 

A few minutes later, Little Wayne walked in minutes later drying his hands on his shirt. 

“ You know there is a towel in the bathroom, sweetheart for your hands” you noticed sending him a look.

He sighed and stomped back into the bathroom to dry his hands grumping underneath his breath. 

“ Where is your father?” You asked him. 

“ Shower” he answered you walking back getting himself something to drink for dinner. “ he better finish fast, dinner is about done” you mumbled. 

“ Dad’s fast” he says as he sets his drink on the table. Eddie walks in ruffling his hair with a towel dressed in a black shirt and some sweats with a pair of sock on his feet. 

“ Hey nugget, I have a question for you” Eddie asks as he sets the towel on the back of his hair.

Little Wayne turned to him with his hands on his hips. It reminds you of the way Steve stands like that. He learned it from him wanting to be like his Uncle Steve too. 

“ What?”

“ What do you think about having a little brother or sister?” The question caught you off guard as you drop the spoon you were holding to mix something in the bowl you made, eyes wide looking at Eddie in an alarming way.

He put his hand up signaling you to wait for your son’s answer. 

Suddenly your son’s lower lips quivers and tears form in his eyes. 

“ Eddie” you hissed noticing your son was about to cry. 

“ Hey, Hey, Hey” Eddie shakes his head kneeling down and taking his son in his arms. “ What’s wrong, nugget?” He asks. 

“ you want another one why don't you like me more?” Little Wayne huffs as tears run down his cheeks. You make your way over to them and kneel down, rubbing his back. 

“ Baby we love you so much, more than mommy loves reading and daddy loves playing guitar” Little Wayne sniffles pulling away from Eddie and rubs his eyes.

“ Really?” He asks. He looks between Eddie and you with the little pout he always seems to do when he’s upset. He breaks your heart to see him so sad. 

“ Really my nugget, we want you to have someone to play with. Isn’t that right?” You turn to look at Eddie for answer. He nods.

“ Yeah, bud. We love that you love exploring, drawing and painting and reading. But what if you did that with your little sister or brother? Hm?” 

“ That sounds fun” Little Wayne says. “ But I want two brothers and sisters” he says causing you and Eddie to chuckle before Eddie grabbed him into his arms and lifting him off the ground as the two ran away together while you got dinner ready. 

[zenia62]

Happy Birthday Daendels!! ✨️

I've been waiting for this day since last week 😭 Words can't explain how much I adore him 😫 He had helped me through my worst time, gave me new interest n many more. I remember first hearing his name in Grade 3 during history class. I used to hate him so much bcs everyone kept saying "He's bad, he killed so many people!" n I believed them. But during early pandemic, all of this turns out to be wrong n that he actually paid the workers but were corrupted by the local leaders. Keep in mind tho during this time I was on my crazy years 💀 its embarrassing to say it but basically I was in the era of where I hated the Netherlands so much that I refused to eat or do anything that was related to them. Safe to say that I'm no longer like that anymore haha 😆

Fast forward where I started grade 8, I started to drift away from my crazy mindset n got interested in the governor-general of the Dutch East Indies. Fun fact, I was intially interested in Johannes van den Bosch, one of the govenor-general that was also popular in Indonesia. I often make this gacha club group abt the governor-general consisting of 8 popular figure n one of them are Daendels. At first, I wanted to make their personality to be very accurate so I planned to research them one by one but guess what? That's when I got interested by Daendels 🫢

Eventually time passed n its been 4 almost 5 years since I first started researching him. But I took 2 years of hiatus bcs of a problem in school 😮‍💨 Js around this year is when I started to come back learning more abt Daendels. Even when I'm taking hiatus, my interest on him never disappeared somehow. Something abt him is unique. I always ask why to myself, now I think it's more abt on how he was treated by others. I could relate abit to him sometimes.

Daendels always had so many enemies. I feel like he have more of them than actual friends. His personality might not be the best, I have to admit he always strive for powers n respect, his anger issues is probably the main reason why he was hated alot. His life quite complicated in a way, so does his personality. But in my opinion, he deserves what he wants. He achieve many things in his life, gave everything he had n yet I often found him being overshadowed by others instead. His braveness is what makes him special. Some say he is as brave as Ney n a little bit smarter than him. Surprisingly, throughout the 20 ish battle he fought, he was never wounded despite always being in the front line. He took good care of his soldiers aswell. The discipline that he put on his soldiers can be quite harsh but he js want the best from them. I'm actually quite surprised that he's always against looting since those things can be very common back in the days. Perhaps he had his own reasons 😶 Lastly, his loyalty towards Napoleon were amazing, but sadly Napoleon himself doesn't seemed to care that much abt him.

In my opinion, Daendels deserved the rank of Marshal. I get that he have that title for only a couple of years but even after the Marshal of Holland title was abolished, he still deserves them. They only compesate him by giving him the legion of honor which I feel like it's not enough for him. Maybe the main problem is that Napoleon never knew him in person so he only see him through what his marshals told him which are probably bad since Brune n Augereau despise him.

At the end, I really wish I could've done more to show how much he meant to me. I wish I could visit his grave but it's far away. I made a promise to myself that one day, I should visit his grave in Ghana at least once before I die. His death made me cry ngl. Imagine suffering so much, no doctors can help him anymore, his two childrens there can only watch him as he took his last breath. Even then, his body wasn't even brought back to the Netherlands. Either it was his wish or no, I believe he deserved to at least be burried in the country he was born.

Thank you Daendels for everything. I hope you are happy now with your family up in heaven 🌙

Note :

Art was made by Devinobita. I commissioned this a month ago. Also by the time this post was posted, I'm kinda ill so posts might not be as consistent as usual. Sorry everyone :(

[nightfang22]

The Norski and the Themby-Chapter One

A/N:I hope you all enjoy and keep in mind that I wrote this fic a very long time ago so I apologize if it's poorly written haha!I really like that this gives me the opportunity to compare my previous writing to my current writing!Remember to comment down below any thoughts so I can tweak future chapters because I'd love to continue this fic!And I'd like to give a special thank you to all of my kind followers and mutuals who like my writing!Especially my best friend @p34ch-tr33 who inspires me to continue what I do.I love you all!

Warnings:None

Pairing:Tord x OC

Word Count:2.5k

  I had just transferred to a new school in London. I dad got a really nice job offer that he couldn't possibly refuse. It was I first day. I was 16. My name is Lyric Aries. And I was a complete social pariah. No matter the school, no matter the people, no matter the country. I never seemed to have any friends. It probably doesn't help that I'm originally from Amsterdam. As in, the Netherlands. I mostly just spoke Dutch with my mom and older brother, Frost. Frost was 17. He had short, jet black hair like my mom but striking crystal blue eyes like me. He also shared the pale skin. For people who never used cars and were outdoors biking all the time, we both sure were pale. Unlike our mother, of course, who had gorgeous olive-toned skin and chocolate brown eyes. Our father on the other hand, was deeply tanned with your same striking blue eyes and hazelnut brown hair. Our father was Cuban. He mostly spoke Spanish but learned Dutch over the years to win over our mother's heart.

  Pulling on my hoodie and grabbing my bike helmet, I exit my room for breakfast. Today would be my first day of "secondary" school, as they called it. I hate to admit it, but I was slightly hopeful. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Perhaps I were worried for nothing. I hopped down the stairs, helmet in hand, and greeted my parents with a kiss on the cheeks. "Hola, Papi. Hallo, Moeder." My brother, Frost, cleared his throat to get my attention. He was pointing at his cheek expectantly and chuckling as I gave him a Goedemorgen kus. We sat around the table and I dug into my bowl of grapes and blueberries. "Ben je enthousiast voor school?" ("Are you excited for school?")  My mother asked. I simply nodded with a mouth full of fruit as I cleared my plate into the sink. "Bye!" I yelled, grabbing my messenger bag and hopping on my bike. We didn't use cars in Amsterdam. Why start now? I heard gravel kick up behind me which could only mean that Frost was trailing behind me to school. My palms were sweaty and my legs shook as I pushed the petals faster and faster. I skidded to a stop in the school's parking lot. I had to do my very best to use English while at school. That wasn't going to be easy since no one in my family spoke English fluently. My mom and brother spoke Dutch and my father spoke Spanish. I gulped as I locked my bike onto the bike rack. I waited patiently for Frost to pull up beside me. It wouldn't be hard for him to make friends here. He was nice and pretty in the way that most boys weren't. He was also very tall. He was a good 7 inches taller than me. I only stand at 5'7".

Once Frost pulled up next to me and locked in his bike, we walked to the doors together with our arms linked. I had a very loving and supportive relationship with my brother. He was my best friend. Well, aside from my actual best friend Lena of course. Lena and I are only online friends. We've never met in person yet. I came back down to reality from my daydream to realize that Frost was holding the door open for me. "Na jou?" ("After you?") I smiled and nodded. We both knew very little English so it was just easier to talk to each other in our native tongue. We approached the office where a pretty lady with blonde hair and librarian glasses was looking at us with a smile. She stood and greeted us rather loudly. "You two must be our new students. I'm Caroline. The school's secretary." We shook her hands. "Your schedules are in English. Is that okay?" She slowly spoke nodding at us for approval like we were slow in the head. This confused me. Speaking a language I don't understand slower doesn't make me understand it. I soon realized she was being offensive. This angered me. As I began to roll up my sleeve, Frost put a hand on my shoulder and smiled at her, nodding and taking the papers. He turned me around and back into the hallway. Handing me my schedule after scanning it, he said, "Het lijkt erop dat we maar één lunch en één les samen hebben. Komt het goed met je?" ("It looks like we only have lunch and one class together. Are you going to be okay by yourself?") I bit my lip, looking down at the terrifying piece of paper. I could only nod as my throat constricted. Frost gave me a tight squeeze and went off to his first class of the day.

 I took a deep breath, attempting to calm myself. My first class was…civics? I think that is some sort of history class. I start glancing around at the doors looking for the matching numbers to the class. '102…102…102…102!' I found it. I slipped in quietly just before the bell rang. I looked around at all of the people around me. They all spoke such fluent English. I didn't know where to sit or if there were assigned seats. Just then, the teacher noticed me standing there and grabbed the class's attention. "Everyone! Please quiet down. We have a new student in our year today. This is Lyric Aries and she's-" I cut the teacher off. "They." That's right folks. I'm nonbinary. The teacher gave me a questioning look. "Excuse me?" I looked at her. "They. Mijn pronouns are they/them. Ik ben nonbinary." I stated simply. She looked taken aback by my statement and interruption of her speaking. She continued, "Anyway, this is Lyric Aries and they will be joining us for the year. Please be kind. Lyric, you can have a seat next to Thomas over there." I looked around the room at where she was pointing. There was a boy in the front by the door. He had rather pointy hair and a blue hoodie on. He also had… black eyes? Well, okay then. I nodded and walked towards him as his head shot up at the sound of my bag dropping on the floor next to him. He smiled awkwardly and waved. I returned the gesture. Were those braces? 'Cute.', I thought as I turned my attention to the teacher. Class droned on for a bit. It was sort of hard to keep up what with having to flip through my translation tablet every few seconds to figure out words. As I was looking for the word government in my tablet, a crumbled ball of paper was tossed onto my desk. I looked over at Thomas with quizzical and curious eyes. He smiled and nodded at the paper ball. It took me a few moments to carefully unfold it without any tears. I scanned the words on the page while picking out the ones I understood. I held up a finger at him while I translated the message into a language I could understand. Once I was done, the message read, 'Hi, I'm Tom. You're new here, yeah? Where are you from?' I smiled at the note and then directed my toothy grin at him. I began scribbling in rapid fire Dutch. 'Ik kom uit Amsterdam.' (I'm from Amsterdam) Realizing that he wouldn't be able to understand it seeing as how he was an English speaker, I quickly translated and rewrote my message before handing it off to him in traditional ball form as he had done for me. Just as he was about to write a response, the teacher cleared her throat and walked over to us. "Thomas, you know the rules. No note passing in class. Give it here." She took the note from his fingers and scanned over it. "Well, since you two seem to be getting pretty chummy, I'm sure you won't mind being Lyric's guide for the remainder of the day then." I was about to object but Tom interjected with a nod. The teacher seemed satisfied with that and went back to teaching, leaving the note on his desk. He sneakily tossed it back to me. 'I'd love to show you around if you'd like. You could sit with me and my friends at lunch?' I grinned from ear to ear and nodded eagerly.

Tom and I walked down the halls together. "Can I see your schedule?" He asked. I tilted my head to the side, perplexed. He pointed to the paper in my hands. My eyes widened in understanding as I nodded, handing him the paper. I watched silently as his onyx orbs scanned the page. His lips quirked up in an awkward metallic smile. "We have all the same classes together!" I smiled excitedly. That was one of the only sentences I understood in English. We continued our day like that, him showing me to classes and us sitting together, until lunch rolled around. I had brought my lunch, mostly because I didn’t particularly care for anything besides my dad's Cuban cooking. Tom looked over to a table and spotted a group of boys whom I had assumed were his friends. "There! My friends! C'mon, you can sit with us." He motioned for me to follow him, making sure that I understood what he was indicating with his hand motions. Being around all English speakers was hard. I followed him to the table where the three other boys sat. They each wore a different colored hoodie and one of them wore a…suit jacket?...over his purple hoodie. "Guys, this is Lyric. They're new here so I thought that they could sit with us." This caught the attention of the one in the green hoodie who was drinking a can of what appeared to be some sort of cola and the one who had the suit jacket/hoodie combo. "Hi! I'm Edd and this is Matt", he pointed to the ginger who made the fashion statement, "and that's Tord." He pointed to the boy with the red hoodie and devil horn-like hair. I smiled at this. I peered closely at the book he was reading. It looked like some sort of manga for an anime. I simply waved. "Ik ben Lyric." Edd and Matt looked at me with confused faces. "Lyric speaks very little English." Tom supplied. This is what caught Tord's attention. "Where are you from?" He asked. He had a very alluring accent. It was clearly Norsk. I racked my brain on how to say it in English so they would understand. "I'm from Neverland." I said, feeling rather proud of my English usage to what I had hoped would be my new friends. The boys all burst into laughter. Tom patted me on the shoulder. "Lyric, I believe that you meant The Netherlands. Not Neverland." He chuckled. I blushed a bright red and looked away, grumbling back in Dutch. "Hetzelfde." ("Same thing.") I decided to sit down and open my lunch box. That's when I noticed Frost walk into the cafeteria out of the corner of my eye. We made eye contact and I waved him over smiling. I tugged on Tom's blue hoodie sleeve. "Kan mijn broer bij ons zitten?" ("Can my brother sit with us?") Tom looked at me quizzically. "Huh?" Oh, right. He only spoke English.

As I was trying to translate my question into a language he could understand, Tord spoke up. "Zeker." ("Sure.") I widened my eyes at him and then smiled as I waved Frost over. "You speak Dutch?" I pronounced my English slowly and awkwardly which embarrassed me. Tord nodded. "A little. Is very close to Norsk." Frost sat next to me and looked around at everyone awkwardly. "Everyone, this is mijn broer Frost. Frost, this is Tom, Edd, Matt, and Tord." I pointed at each one of them in turn while smiling. "Hallo." He spoke confidently. "How do you know these people, Lyric?" Frost was a great deal better than me at English which didn't say much because he wasn't very good either. "Tom and I have all of the same classes and Edd, Matt, and Tord are friends with Tom." I spoke slowly and softly so I wouldn't slur or stumble on my words. This was harder than I thought it was going to be. He simply nodded as his response before digging into his tray. He wasn't as picky as I was so he elected to eat cafeteria food while I had Papi make my lunch. "What are you eating, Lyric? Its smells delicious!" Matt spoke up. I blushed a little out of nervousness. "Erm, shrimp quesadillas and empanadas with tortilla chips and homemade queso." I said softly while poking my lunch with a fork. "Veel spaans eten voor een beetje Nederlandse themby." ("Lots of Spanish food for a little Dutch themby.") Tord spoke up. It made me blush heavily that he went out of his way to speak in my native tongue for me. It felt so…intimate. So special. I shook off the thought and chalked it up to him just being a nice guy. Frost eyed him suspiciously. When Frost started to sneer I elbowed him in the stomach. "Ow!" I glared at him. "Wees aardig!" ("Be nice!") I turned my attention to Tord. "Mijn vader is Cubaans." ("My father is Cuban.") He smiled this pointy toothed grin. "Mag ik je agenda zien?" ("Can I see your schedule?") I nodded and slid the piece of crumpled paper across the table to him. He grinned from ear to ear as he looked over it. "We hebben onze tweede helft van de dag samen." ("We have our second half of the day together.") I blushed even harder and suppressed a giggle. There was something about this Norski that kept pulling at me. It made me want to be around him more. Much, much more. I bit my lip softly as I finished up my lunch. The bell soon rang signaling the end of lunch period. I gathered my books and hugged my brother farewell as I followed Tom to our next class. Sure enough, there sat Tord in the back of the class. Tom was seated at the front and I was once again put through the introductions. I was told to go and sit next to Tord because the front rows were filled. I made my way to the back of the class and looked over at Tord. He was smirking at me. I raised my eyebrow. "Ja?" ("Yes?") He lowly chuckled. "Je lijkt te worstelen met de Engelsen. Kan ik het je leren als je wilt?" ("You seem to struggle with the English. I could teach you if you want?") I bit my lip and looked down. I was kind of embarrassed that he'd noticed my lack of expertise in the English language. I looked up into his silver eyes. I slowly nodded as he slid a piece of paper onto my desk. It was his phone number. He sat forward and smirked at me from the corner of his eye. I tried my hardest to focus on the teacher but that was nearly impossible sitting next to Tord.

[macaroni-rascal]

Tysm for the explanation! My only exposure to Canadian French has been from following skating and while I never studied French, I understand quite a bit, but the Quebecois skaters not a word lol. It sounds like French-ish with an American/Dutch accent to me, especially the Rs. That's super fascinating that basically there's centuries of separation and it's become its own thing, I wasn't sure how strong the ties are with France or if it's considered its own culture that just uses a language that happened to originate in France. My only followup question would be how much the Indigenous languages have impacted it, because the place names at least seem to have been preserved a great deal. Thanks again!

The Quebecois accent is definitely a trip the first time you hear it, I've always said the French Rs are up and down and Quebecois Rs are circular, that's how I see it in my head, and how I hear it.

It is interesting, France French actually was subjected to more outside influences than Canadian French ever was, France is surrounded by Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany, Switzerland, Italy, and Spain, all the French had to contend with in Canada was the English, so Quebecois/Canadian French is actually a much more archaic version of the language -- callback to my char/chariot comment, haha! Years after the Acadians were deported, many of those who were sent back to France, ended up settling in Louisiana aka the Cajuns. Fun little linguistic history:

Acadiens in French, depending on your pronunciation, the d ends up sounds like a dg, and with slang you sometimes lose the first found of a word, so over time:

Acadiens = acadgiens = cadgiens = cajun

As for the names of place, there are lots of places in Canada in which are names devised from different indigenous languages, Penetaguishene, for example, in an Alqonguin name. I live near Kejimkujik, and Musquodoboit, which are both derived from Mi'kmaq. However in terms of language, there is some influence, the French and some of the indigenous population in Canada were allies, to a certain degree, certainly allies against the English. The French were the first official colonizers, they settled in the very early 1600s.

But the names of places isn't a new thing, I believe at least half of our provinces have indigenous derived names. I know a few of them, and googled to be sure:

Nunavut is a given, it means "our land" in Inuktitut

Ontario is from a Huron word onitariio which means beautiful lake -- I grew up in Ontario, and we were taught that, learned it every year.

Quebec is from the Mi'kmaq word kepék, which means "narrows"

Saskatchewan is from the Cree word for "swift flowing river" -- also remember learning that in school

[biffhofosho]

NO WAY!! I can't believe your bias is Hyungwon also. I feel like I never meet other monbebe who are in his lane :( Fun fact, I actually couldn't pick a bias for such a long time because of how much I love all of them. One day, however, I was showing my friend one of their music videos and they asked me who my bias was. I balked at first but ultimately I had to admit I always felt so validated, appreciated, and moved by what wonnie had to say.

His songs made me feel something, unlike other artists(not compared to the other members lol). He has such a way with words and as an avid reader, I fell in love with how he wrote. His personality played a huge role in my trip also haha. I feel so safe when I listen to him sing or read stories about him. His disposition was similar to mine, I am an INTJ, and his fearless nature helped me gain confidence in myself.

ALSO, I am in awe that Wonho was your semi-first bias of MX, considering he was the one who got me into them. I saw a TikTok of him dancing and I was immediately absorbed by his energetic yet smooth style. After that, I searched them up and fell in love lol.

Although Hyungwon holds my heart, I must say Kihyun bias wrecks me so hard all the time, which isn't helpful when MX are my ults.

Anyway, enough about me, who's your bias wrecker? I feel like you are possibly a Honey mbb lol. You give off such a comforting and kind energy, yet an intelligent and analytical one at the same time. Getting to know you has already been such fun, I can't wait to develop our friendship further! Speaking of which, how should I call you? I figured since you call me Santa lol you deserve a nickname also haha(I hope that didn't come off the wrong way!)

xox mbb Secret Santa

p.s. remember to drink lots of water and eat well!! much love :)

Sorry for taking a while to respond! Weekends are busy because I do many things with my husband and kiddo, and I wanted to give you a nice, long response for your very nice, long ask. <3

You can call me Dutch or Biff on here or any kind of silly pet name you want--I'm only picky about food haha. (My real name is reserved for DMs where MX can never find me embarrassing myself lol.)

Oh, it's so true, isn't it! Where is the Hyungwon praise, people?!? At least that means it's less we have to share of him haha. :D Stil, Hyungwon (and all seven boys) deserves all the love and best things in the world. I feel like he's really only become truly comfortable in his idoldom since Wonho left, as it was pretty easy to take introvert shelter in Wonho's tremendous wingspan heh heh.

Yes, Hyungwon is as unintentionally funny as he is intentionally funny. Since Inssaoppa, too, he's really been flexing his quick wit and wordplay, and I'm here for all of it. I love that he's been given more and more creative freedom, too. He's an INFP like me, and if we can't create, we wither and die.

Almost all of my all-time fave MX tracks are written by Wonnie, particularly "Mercy" (though I hadn't realized he'd written that song until long after it had been my favorite). I remember the first time I played the No Limit album in my headphones. I had intended to fall asleep listening, but the second "Mercy" hit, an entire universe opened behind my eyes. I cried into my sheets lol. That song rattled my bones. Needless to say, it's my favorite from their whole discography, and I started an entire novel around it. So, yeah, there's that.

I'm not sure if I have a clear bias wrecker since they've all wrecked each other for me for years lol. If I go by non-Hyungwon fics I've written, my favorites tend to be Kihyun's. If I go by the numbers of photos I've saved per member, Minhyuk's and Wonho's are a dead-heat in terms of how many photos I've saved. And aren't we all Honeybebes at heart? ;) I feel the same intense compulsion to put Jooheon's head in my lap and stroke his hair that every single member of MX does. *sighs* He must me adored and babied at all costs. :D

Oh man, I've got you fooled haha. But thank you for saying such nice things about me. If I give off a 1/16th of the warmth Jooheon does, that's the highest compliment I can think of (behind you saying I write like Hyungwon *continues to sob for all eternity*).

I feel like we were matched so well for Secret Santa omfg! Your energy is just my flavor, dear Santa. <3 Thank you for being so chatty with me. Is very, very lovely. :D Can't wait to chat more!

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 63)

Goodbyes

Soooo this one has some gory details I guess, and some sad moments. But I hope you enjoy! Please let me know if you’re still enjoying this because I could use the motivation haha 😅

Tagging @emily-strange and @actuallyhansolo ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

I stood outside the tent flaps. They were drawn closed and shivered in the wind in a ghostly fashion that made the hair on my arms stand up when the wind didn't even have much of a chill. The sounds I heard weren't pleasant. Shaky, gurgled breaths, rolling grunts and heaves, raspy inhales and sharp exhales. A near constant string of sickening moans. He was alone in there, with Dutch off out somewhere, with Miss Grimshaw giving him all she could before leaving the tent, and nobody else liking him enough to want to sit by his bedside… Micah was alone. Alone, and dying. 

I sighed and pulled back the canvas and peered inside. There he was, laying down on Dutch's bed, his shirt was off and his gut was bound up with bandages and rags, tight, but blood had still managed to seep through. The tent smelled like sweat and something rotten, like death, it was heady and warm and it caught in my throat and made me want to gag, but I entered anyway. I approached him, looked down at his scrunched up, agonised face, shiny with perspiration and a mix of deathly washed out skin and blotchy, feverish redness in his cheeks, running down to his neck. His hair looked wet and it clung to his forehead and laid limp and messy, framing his head against the pillow. 

I covered my mouth with my hand and stared down at the sight before me. This man… whom I'd worked with, spoken with, shared a drink with, lived with. Whom once upon a time had seemed like a friend, like our bond would grow closer in the name of the gang and the family we shared. But here he was, laying motionless and in pain, suffering in a prolonged state of hell. Because he'd tried to kill me. 

I felt guilty. No. I felt as though I should feel guilty, but I didn't. And that in itself generated a sickly sensation in the pit of my stomach that was something like guilt, but far more muddied. 

"Micah," I whispered, my head shaking of its own accord. His eyes flashed open and he stared up at me with a bloodshot, dilated gaze that unnerved me. His teeth were bared, and something that sounded like his laugh escaped him but was quickly interrupted by a choking cough and a groan. "You really did it this time," I sighed. 

"F– fu–" the sounds he made were weak, shaky, drawn out and almost incomprehensible. He was struggling bad. 

"I'm surprised you thought you could get away with that. You know that even if you had shot me, Arthur would've killed you immediately afterwards. It wasn't the smartest move. But you're paying for it. For your lies and betrayal and the suffering you have caused," I said to him, standing over him. He stared at me, unblinking, shivering. "You smell like death," I added. 

"You'll– you'll never be free. Y-you know that… right?" He spoke breathlessly. I stared blankly at him. 

"You'll be free soon. From all this," was my nonchalant response. "You're gonna die." 

"I'm a fighter," he hissed, his shaking hand rising to his gut, gingerly resting there against the soiled bandages. 

"You don't look good at all," I frowned sadly at him. "Arthur stabbed you deep. Charles said it might've punctured your bowels."

A grunt of some sort came from him, it wasn't clear whether he was trying to speak. 

"That's a death sentence, really. How could it not be? Your heart is pumping dirty blood to every part of your body," I bent down, leaning close to him. "Even dirtier than it was when you weren't dyin'."

Micah's face screwed up tighter, something like dread seeping into his aura. 

"I'm just having fun with you, sweet thing," I whispered to him, smirking as I regurgitated his own words back to him.

"'Least my prediction came true," he grunted. 

"Which one?" 

"We'd either f-fuck each other or–"

"Oh yeah," I cut him off. "Only it ain't me that's killed you." 

A smile passed over my lips as I thought of Arthur. 

"And you're alone. Ain't nobody here to help you through your suffering," I continued. 

"You're here," he pointed out, seemingly taking a kind of satisfaction from it. 

"Only so I remember this," I shrugged. "I'd rather this be my last memory of you, instead of that God awful kiss."

My gut churned uncomfortably. I felt so strange. At the mention of his kiss, I almost pitied him, and that brought some real guilt. His eyes kept trying to roll back, his breathing was becoming far more strained and the gap between each one increased and increased. He didn't have long, that much was clear. 

He was evil. He'd betrayed the gang, tried to frame me and then tried to kill me, all the while toying with me from day one. Kissing me just so he could violate me. What a vile man.

Even so, I didn't feel good about the way he was dying. I rested my hand on the Schofield revolver at my hip, wondering whether I should use it. I eyed Micah, his gaze had gone soft, out of focus, ascending to the top of the tent. I never thought I would see him so weak and vulnerable. I dropped my hand away and sighed.

"Things could've been so different, you know," I told him, brow curving, bottom lip protruding. "You did all this. If you'd just left me be earlier in Van Horn, if you'd kept your mouth shut to those Pinkertons– no, if you'd never worked for the Pinkertons at all. Maybe we'd all have a fighting chance. But you thought you were special, huh?"

I shook my head and sighed. 

"Don't think for one second that any of this ain't your fault," I finished. "But I suppose I should thank you, really… if it weren't for all this, Arthur and I wouldn't be leaving tonight. Jack wouldn't be getting away from here with his family just yet. Who knows when that would've happened without your help."

He wasn't making much noise, and I stepped forwards, frowning. I reached my hand out, hovering the back of it in front of his mouth and nose. I felt his hot breath against my skin and immediately withdrew. It was weak, but it was there. I swallowed hard. 

"Thank you, Micah," I finally said. Then I turned around, heading out of the tent. I paused before walking away, considering my next actions carefully, unsure if it was the right thing to do but knowing that I would think about it for years to come if I didn't. I took the canvas in hand and drew it back, securing it in place to expose the outside world to him. I didn't know for certain why I was compelled to do that; perhaps it stemmed back to when my brother and I opened a window when each of our parents passed to let their souls leave. Perhaps it was because I figured Micah deserved at least one last look at the rising sun. Either way, I walked away once the tent was open, knowing that it was the last I'd see of him alive. 

Arthur caught my eyes from across camp. He looked as though he'd been searching for something, and by the way he immediately beelined for me, I realised it had probably been me. I met him halfway, and he eyed up the open tent behind me with a small frown upon his face. 

"What're you doing in there with him? He don't deserve one second of your time," he scolded, though his hands scrubbed my upper arms affectionately. 

"Just needed to see how he was doing. He's goin', Arthur. Ain't nothing for it," I shook my head. His eyes were intense in how they gazed into mine, and he nodded slowly.

"I can't believe he kissed you," he whispered. 

"No… I can't say I expected it," I frowned, looking down, "I'm so sorry."

"Ain't you who's gotta be sorry."

"No, I do, maybe I… maybe I pushed him. I should'a known better than even talking to him when he was in that mood."

"What mood?" Arthur frowned.

"Just, saying all this crap, about how there's something between him and I, a fire, when we bicker," I murmured, not really wanting Arthur to hear it. "When he kissed me, I froze, couldn't do nothing. I'm sorry." 

Arthur was quiet for too long and it made me anxious. When I looked up at him, his eyes were distant and hurt and angry, and he was gazing towards Micah.

"Arthur?" I whispered. His jaw grew tenser and I could practically see the plan forming in his head, then a second passed and he began walking, but I grabbed his arm to stop him. "He's dying anyway, leave it."

"I can make it quicker–"

"Arthur, just stop. I don't want that. He got what he deserved already, I just wanna leave him behind. What he did don't matter, didn't mean a damn thing," I pleaded, holding his arm tight despite the fact he carried on walking. "Please kiss me. Make me forget about it," I cried out, and it made him stop. 

He was still for a moment, his back to me. Then he whirled around and cupped my face, pushing his mouth to mine and stealing my breath, exploring me with tongue and kissing me with such a flame it burned and melted me beneath his fingertips. Didn't matter at all that we were in the middle of camp. When he broke the kiss his mouth stayed close to mine, puffing hot breaths. 

Before he could say or do anything, I asked; "when're we leaving?" 

"Soon. Abigail got the money. Just our share, like we discussed. I've packed our things and spoke to a few others– Lenny's coming too. And… and Susan is," he said, and my eyes flashed wide and I jerked back a bit in surprise. He was nodding in agreement before I even said anything, "I know, I'm as surprised as you are. She came and spoke to me after she realised what we was planning and invited herself along without a second thought. I weren't even planning on asking, just coz she's been with Dutch so long–"

"I thought she was on his side! Patching Micah up like that," I exclaimed and Arthur nodded. 

"Yeah, so did I. But she was just doing what she felt she had to. Was a wild few minutes when all that happened, she couldn't just leave him. But she… she's had time to think now," he told me, looking over his shoulder at her as she packed up her things. He whispered the next part. "She's not happy with Dutch's behaviour. She sees as clear as I do how he's changed."

"God… it feels good knowing we ain't alone," I sighed. 

Arthur nodded. "Lenny don't like how he's been handling things, neither. Wanting to leave John to rot, taking advantage of Eagle Flies."

"Tilly's leaving. So are Mary-Beth and Kieran. I asked 'em if they wanted to come with us, but it seems they're trying to get away from it all for good," I told him. Arthur exhaled and his shoulders dropped. It was relief. 

"Good. That's good. What about Karen?" 

"I don't know about Karen. She says she's fine, but…" I trailed off. "She didn't say she'd come with us."

"I'll try talking to her," he said, and I nodded. 

"But Charles said he'd come, and he asked Sadie… we got quite the family forming," I said hopefully.

"It'll just be till we get on our feet, make sure everyone's got a plan. A real one. A proper way out; not what Dutch's been promising all this time."

"And then what?" I asked, and Arthur blew a jet of air through his lips as his eyes peeled to the sky. 

"I don't rightly know. Maybe you and I'll head west like we were going to before… before everything," he breathed. I nodded, reaching up and stroking his cheek. 

"I love you," I whispered to him, and he cupped his hand over mine and leaned into it, closing his eyes momentarily. 

"Then it's all worth it," he whispered, then took my hand from his face and squeezed it, "come on, princess, let's finish packing up. We're taking a couple wagons, don't care what anyone says. I want us gone before Dutch comes back."

-

The gang disbanded a little like this; while we were preparing to leave, others dropped off too. Trelawny was the first to get gone, he spoke to Arthur and I and we wished each other the best of luck and then he waltzed out of camp like he'd done many times before. Pearson was next, he quietly slipped away with only a few words of goodbye. Then Swanson and Uncle left. Mary-Beth and Kieran were all prepared to go but hung back, seemed nervous and hesitant. Some didn't seem prepared to leave at all. Most notably Javier and Bill, of course, but also Strauss. He sat with his little ledger and didn't move, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Not that I had any disappointment over the fact he wasn't coming with us, after the work he gave to Arthur.

We were all ready. Arthur, Charles, Sadie, John, Abigail, Jack, Lenny, Susan and I. Our things were distributed across two wagons and we could leave at any moment. It was so strange. Bill had come over to argue over us taking the wagons but Arthur had reasoned with him. It wasn't a violent or aggressive reasoning, it was a respectful plea. Let us go our way so that you can go yours. As thick-skulled as Bill could be, even he accepted it.

Tilly approached Arthur and I where we stood by the wagon, making final preparations for our departure. Karen was behind her, looking dazed and tired and only slightly more sober than the last time I'd seen her. 

"I, uh, I'm leaving now… and I'm taking Karen with me, ain't that right?" Tilly said firmly, glancing over her shoulder at Karen. 

"It's a hostage situation," Karen murmured, her arms crossed vulnerably over her chest. Tilly breathed a laugh and shook her head. 

"I'm gonna make sure she pulls herself together. We both need to get away from this, find something normal. I ain't leaving her to find some ditch to lay down and die in," she explained bluntly and Karen scoffed.

"I love how you see my potential, Miss Jackson," Karen rolled her name off her tongue with attitude, but a lot of love. It was honestly a massive relief to know that they would be leaving together. They'd have each other, and Tilly was a smart woman and she'd make sure Karen looked after herself. They just needed a better environment to thrive in. 

"You're my friend, Karen, I'm just being honest," Tilly sighed. I smiled at them both. 

"You two look after each other, alright? You're good people. Smart. Kind. You'll get on out there alright, I know it," Arthur said, reaching a hand out and knocking Tilly's chin with the edge of his knuckle like she was his little sister. My smile only widened. 

"Arthur–" Tilly began, but her voice wavered and her eyes looked wet, and she took a moment. A lump formed in my throat immediately. "Thank you for being in my life," she managed. Arthur took a shaky breath and wordlessly pulled her into his chest for a gentle hug. I pressed my lips together and averted my eyes, trying desperately not to cry. 

"You bastards, you're making me wanna cry," Karen bemoaned, and nestled herself against the two to join the hug. She was accepted easily, and Arthur's arm came to wrap around me as well, dragging me in whether I liked it or not. 

"You girls, all'a you; you're all the best people I know. I just want you all to be safe and happy, and I know this situation is messed up and it ain't ended too well, but…" Arthur began, taking a breath before finishing, "it's for the best. I know it."

We all parted after a moment, and Mary-Beth and Kieran joined us. 

"You're all saying your goodbyes?" Mary-Beth tentatively asked with a small smile. "We're heading out too, wanna go before…"

"Before Dutch comes back?" Karen asked. She nodded.

"Seems we all have the same idea," I breathed. 

"I love each and every one of you, remember that," Mary-Beth told us, "I will always think of you, and I hope somehow we can keep in touch."

Arthur glanced at me considerately for a moment. "Send all your letters to Miss Jemima Jones in… in Manzanita Post. We'll check there if ever we pass through. We'll find each other some way or another, we ain't ever lost each other before."

“That’s right… I… I feel a little better leaving knowing that you’re all leaving too. Last few weeks ain’t been easy– well, they’ve been just awful. And after what happened today, I just can't see this thing lasting any longer," Mary-Beth said quietly, "everyone's just so divided."

"Micah was gonna shoot you!" Tilly exclaimed, nodding along with Mary Beth and turning her wide, doll-like eyes to me. "Right there in front of everyone! Even Jack was there," she sighed, shaking her head. 

"Well it turned out to be his last mistake, didn't it? The fool," I said, almost a little too mournfully. I wasn't sad that Micah was dying. I was sad that things had turned out in such a way. So full of poison and betrayal and heartache. It tore the gang apart. 

"Good riddance," Karen scoffed. 

"I can't say the same thing for you folk," Mary-Beth said sadly, then took my hand and then Tilly's in hers. "I really am gonna miss you girls. And boys," she turned her smile to Arthur and he nodded a little bashfully.

"Kieran, you better look after this lady, treat her right," Arthur said sternly to the man who had been standing sheepishly and silently behind his sweetheart. 

"Oh, I– I will, sir, I'll do my utmost," Kieran nodded firmly, squaring his shoulders and standing up straight. Mary-Beth broke into a fit of giggles and playfully smacked the back of her hand against his chest.

"Mr. Morgan, I did not realise you were my father!" She exclaimed. I snorted and grinned up at Arthur who shook his head fondly and smiled, but otherwise said nothing. "Anyway, we best get going." 

"Said all your goodbyes?" I asked.

Mary-Beth nodded, "I have. I tried not to linger too long 'cause otherwise I'll start crying and I'll never leave," she chuckled.

"Yeah, I understand," I smiled and squeezed her hand. She took a breath, glanced at Kieran, then back at us. 

"Well then. Until we meet again, whenever, wherever that may be," she breathed. 

"The very best of luck to you," I said.

"Take care," Arthur nodded. 

"Thanks for everything," Kieran blurted out, "this all changed my life and I– I'm real grateful."

"Grateful? We had you tied to a tree, boy!" Arthur bellowed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Get out of here, enjoy your life. Stay out of trouble. Lord knows you ain't cut out to be an outlaw anyways."

"Yes sir," he nodded and took Mary-Beth's hand, and they each gave us one last smile.

And with that, Mary-Beth and Kieran skedaddled, and disappeared on the little wagon they'd claimed for themselves.

Not long after that, Karen and Tilly left too. They said the rest of their goodbyes and left on horseback quietly and discreetly with only a few tears from Karen, surprisingly. Tilly held it together well and comforted her, but I could see that she was struggling to hold back emotion of her own. The camp looked so barren with just Javier, Bill and Strauss still hanging around, and Micah still in the tent. 

Our little group was all ready to leave and after a lot of last minute hesitation, soon we couldn't put off the inevitable any longer. It was time to go. 

Jack, Abigail, and John boarded one wagon, while Susan, Arthur and I boarded the other. Lenny, Charles and Sadie mounted up on their horses and we stood motionless in the middle of camp, each holding our breaths as we waited for someone to make the first move. 

"Are you ready, sweetheart?" Arthur turned to me, his hands tight on the reins. I met his eyes, stared into the beautiful blue ocean that was his irises, and took a shaky breath. 

"I am, if you are," I nodded. 

"If you're with me, I'm ready for anything," he whispered, then snapped the reins. The horses got moving and the wheels turned, and I only looked back once at the sparse remains of the gang that once welcomed me with a blanket and kindness and songs sung around a campfire. At the people whose hearts were once full of warmth and hope now turned to icy stubbornness, a refusal to let go of what once was. 

Truth be told, I couldn't blame a single one of them, for I knew that part of me would never let go of it either, not fully. 

And as Micah Bell took his final breath lying upon the bed inside Dutch's tent, with the man he'd turned so sour against his own family still nowhere to be found; I could only hope that those that I once regarded as family of my own would see the light and find happiness in a world where they were more than just pieces of a weapon.

[akkermans]

( madelyn cline / cis woman ) PHILIPPA ‘PIP’ AKKERMANS is 22 years old and is a JUNIOR at thales university. SHE is majoring in JOURNALISM and is known for being THE DESPONDENT as SHE can be CURIOUS and INSIGHTFUL as well as SELF-PUNISHING and MOODY. every time i see HER, SHE reminds me of SMOKE RISING FROM A CIGARETTE, THE CRUNCH OF LEAVES UNDERFOOT, INCOHERENT SCRIBBLINGS IN A NOTEBOOK.

hi hello hi i’m hero, i’m 22, she/they and i live in the est tz! i’m a recentish graduate who likes horror, my cat, and a damn fine cup of coffee!! i’m so excited to be here w/ pip!! if u wld like to plot, give this a like or hmu on my discord @ ‘garlic bed #3345′!!

full name: philippa ‘pip’ akkermans 

birthdate: june 24, 1998 

age: 22 

gender: cisgender woman 

pronouns: she/her 

zodiac: cancer 

nationality: dutch-american 

ethnicity: white

hometown: utrecht, the netherlands

languages: dutch, german, english 

family: 

julian akkermans, father 

lotte de vries, stepmother

amelia akkermans, mother (deceased)

sophie akkermans, twin sister (deceased)

orientation: bisexual biromantic 

religion: atheist (formerly catholic) 

height: 5 ft 6 in 

distinguishing features: thin scar from crown of head to right eyebrow, eyes, lips 

character inspo: theo crain, alaska young, shane and ryan from buzzfeed unsolved, camille preaker

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

TRIGGERS: death, car accident, alcohol and drug use, mental illness (depression, ptsd)

born in utrecht, the netherlands to a dutch father and american mother, pip akkermans’ life has been marked with tragedy since she was born. it seems to follow her. she was born five minutes before her twin sister, sophie, but as the two girls took their first breath, their mother took her last, leaving julian akkermans a single father. 

growing up without a mother, pip and sophie found solace in each other, forming a bond akin to many twins, one so close, so dependent, it was like they were in their own little bubble. sophie was always the bright one, the one who walked into a room and immediately lit it up. pip was always the quieter of the two, her energy more dour, more withdrawn. but together they were a team, causing trouble left and right, getting out of it with sophie’s sweet smile. 

their father was never the same after their mother died, but the coldness that possessed julian was all they’ve ever known. often times he was out of the house, unable to properly step up in the role of father to girls that were the spitting image of his lost love and the sole reason she’s gone. he drank. a lot. but he was never violent, simply sad. 

he starts going out a lot, and eventually, brings home a woman that he says is going to become their step mother. a wedding quickly ensues. there’s a meanness in her, a clear disdain for the twins. but they don’t care, they don’t need to. they have each other. they’ll always have each other. 

they’re fourteen and visiting amsterdam for the weekend when their car is hit head on by another, there’s enough momentum to flip them twice. the driver and pip are fine, minor injuries, but sophie passes away before anyone arrives, her hand in her sister’s as she takes her last breath. 

pip is distraught, and for obvious reasons, she’s lost the better part of herself, even though she promised she wouldn’t go away. if her dad is heartbroken, he doesn’t show it. he simply continues to pull away. eventually sending pip to live with her aunt in america, rhode island to be specific. 

she doesn’t exactly adjust well, not only is she still reeling from the death of her sister, but she’s experiencing intense feelings of detachment and nightmares of sophie every night, among other symptoms. her aunt eventually takes her to a psychologist, where she’s eventually diagnosed with depression and ptsd. 

thus begins her long journey into managing her mental health, her aunt showing a surprising amount of support. she wishes on some level, that she had always grown up with her, that her father sent them away when they were children, maybe she wouldn’t feel so alone. maybe sophie would still be here. 

for the first year in america, she doesn’t quite have friends, because she prefers her usual solitude. but eventually, she finds her group of friends, within her soccer team, her clubs, anything to get her mind off of her old life. 

she tries to be normal, she really does, but she knows something is off– she feels empty, all the time, and her medication makes her feel like a zombie. eventually she falls into a crowd that is prone to partying, drinking, smoking. she’s sneaking out most nights to join them at their spot. 

her senior year, she spins out, has a very public breakdown, that ends up leading to her taking a leave of absence from school, and essentially once again, returning to pariah status. 

she does manage to graduate and get into thales university, by sheer force and extracurriculars, where she begins majoring in journalism, because it’s always been something she’s interested in, having been a part of her school’s newspaper before, well, everything. 

she meets nana in one of their gen eds, and they hit it off immediately. they’re practically inseparable for a few years, until there’s an incident of pip being caught in a compromising position with one of nana’s flings at the time (it wasn’t what it looked like) and before she has a chance to explain, they’re no longer speaking.

 nana goes missing a few weeks afterwards, and the emptiness comes back, feeling guilty as if it was her fault. as if everything that has happened has been a result of knowing pip and her general trail of misery. she was going to apologize, too. she just never got the chance. 

now with the death of steven, her curiosity is piqued, her journalistic instinct triggered by the mystery afoot, and focusing on that means she doesn’t have to think about herself, because by god, she does not want to think about herself. 

TL;DR: pip and her twin sister, sophie, are born in utrecht, the netherlands– their mother dies when they’re born. their father withdraws, eventually remarrying a bitter woman. when pip and sophie are 14, they’re involved in an accident that takes sophie’s life, and leaves pip alone, a bit traumatized. she moves to america to live with her maternal aunt, and goes to high school there, until she essentially has a breakdown her senior year. she meets nana her first year of thales, and they’re inseparable until a misunderstanding a month or two before she disappeared. now with steven’s death, she’s using her journalism skills to investigate it all. 

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈���𝐘

between the melancholy is a very bright girl. she’s always been rather inquisitive and observant, the quieter one of the akkermans twins. as she grows older, learns to live without her sister, learns to live alone, she grows into her own voice. she becomes someone unafraid to speak her mind, simply because she has nothing left to lose. she’s a bit dry, a bit sarcastic, and her humor can border morbid on occasion because she’s gotta laugh or else she’ll cry. she has a bit of trouble sticking her nose in places it shouldn’t be. she’s rather loyal, but it takes a lot for her to trust you– she trusted nana, and look where that got her. that being said, she has long bouts of depression, and detachment, which she’s been trying to manage for years now, but still, in the quiet moments, there’s a feeling the girl is rather– haunted. 

𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒

she has pretty good investigative skills! she works on the newspaper at the school, so she’s kind of all over the place

explores a lot, likes to wander because it clears her head, though it also means she’ll probably enter places she’s not usually allowed (i.e. abandoned buildings, etc.) 

also a soccer player! she’s played soccer for a good amount of her life, except her senior year of high school when she withdrew, she’s debating quitting the team here though 

has a slight dutch accent, it’s noticeable mostly on specific words 

disaster bi….. disaster bisexual…. usually stumbles into relationships and they never last due to her own shortcomings 

can’t drive fr shit never learned how, fr some… obvious reasons, has some anxiety getting 

has a few tattoos! her first and favorite was two butterflies on her wrist for sophie 

has two piercings in each ear, a daith piercing in her right, and a upper cartilege piercing on her left

doesn’t really talk about her sister, however, claims she sees her/feels her sometimes 

a skeptical believer of ghosts and spirits, mostly likes the stories that comes with her 

speaks to her father once every two years, their relationship is nonexistent 

likes to have a beer every so often but doesn’t exactly party, if u do see her at parties she’s prob lounging on a couch chatting with someone who’s name she’ll never remember 

lived on campus for the first two years but this year got her own apartment, has an esa, a two year old scottish fold named noodle 

has an extensive collection of sweaters and cardigans

kind of an old lady……. just learning about tiktok now

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

partner in crime – the ryan to her shane, the trixie to her katya, maybe they’re not the best of friends but they get into a LOT of trouble together

the reason nana and her stopped talking – pretty much nana walked in on a situation and misread it entirely and her drama loving ass cut pip off until her disappearance

friends 

former friends – pip pulls away a lot, she is the undoer in a lot of relationships… or maybe it was your muse…. 

roommates (2-3) – new girl-esque shenanigans to be had!

newspaper coworkers 

soccer teammates 

someone she’s been helping with a case

fwb (f/m/nb) – girl has got needs, and doesn’t always like to be alone so

exes (f/m/nb) – prob broke up because pip’s inability to ever truly connect to other’s… haha! or it could be on good terms, and they’re pals now

crush (f/m/nb) – either way, reciprocated or unreciprocated, but it’s weird and you’re both kinda hot?

people she has Hooked Up w/ and now it’s awkard (f/m/nb) 

rivals, but are we? 

only likes her because her cat – noodle rights, babey!

‘she accidentally stole your coffee order once, but hey, she’s pretty cool’ – prob bought u a new one after she drank a bit of it…. now you see each other around fondly

‘she stuck her nose in your business for the Scoop’

hate-to-love friendship – i want to k*ll you to hey you’re pretty alright but don’t tell anybody i said that

‘you sent her an anonymous tip, but she accidentally figured out it was you’ 

someone who gets her out of her shell – takes her to parties! out with friends! 

anything in my wanted tag!

[emily-strange]

Growing Pains...

Sooo I kicked off something that I’ve never written before haha I hope it’s okay!

Summary: Emmy has been with the gang since she was a little girl. Her mother moved on, leaving her to be raised by Dutch, Hosea and Susan. Arthur and John are her brothers (argue and she will fight you). Becoming a woman is hard when everyone still sees you as a child. Since the Blackwater mess she’s trying to find her feet while dealing with her new feelings for the gangs resident douchebag.

Tagging @strwxberrymilk @porkchop-ao3 @arthursgirl @angelsjudge and @scy77a but if you’d like to stop being tagged just let me know! :) Also if anyone else would like to be tagged just say the word xx

Pairing: Slow burn Micah x female OC.

Warnings: Swearing, comments alluding to abuse, sexual themes and a racial slur.

Chapter 15

“So as far as first shootout’s go, I’d say it went pretty well.” I declare to Arthur through gritted teeth.

“Yeaah went real well. Despite the fact yer now have’a new hole in yer leg.” Arthur replies without a modicum of humour.

“I can NOT believe you let this young lady run into a firefight, Mr Morgan. I expected this from the likes of Mr Bell but not you!” Miss Grimshaw chimes in while she wraps up my left thigh. The bullet was a through and through so I managed to avoid any sort of “surgery” and the slug was of a small caliber, so really, all in all, it could’ve been so much worse.

“I’m fine Sus-AN”I yelp after one very firm tug of the bandage, “Was that necessary!?”

Miss Grimshaw doesn’t answer me but gathers her supplies and with one last stern look, storms from the tent shaking her head and muttering under her breath.

Arthur laughs and shakes his head.

I maneuver my leg so it’s a bit more comfortable on my cot and Arthur sits on a crate next to me.

“You’re covered in blood by the way.” I state as I start to feel the effects of the whiskey coursing through my veins.

He huffs at me and replies, “Yea, well that happn’s when yer lugging people about with blood comin’ outta them.”

And then in my hazy state I remember.

“Lenny’ll be okay right?” I ask in a whisper.

“Ooh yeaa I was only jokin’ sweetheart. His wounds’a no worse than yers, just happens ta be in his shootin’ arm. He’ll live.” Arthur reassures with a hand on my cheek, “Now you sleep.”

“Tell everyone I owe them a drink okay?” I say back, feeling my eyes start to drop closed, “I did good dn’t I Art?” I slur.

All I register before I fall asleep is Arthur quietly chuckling and kissing my forehead.

We storm the ranch, guns blazing.

The rush running through me is unreal.

I’ve never been in a shootout and you know what, it’s not something I fancy doing again.

“Stay behind me.” Arthur growls as we push forward. There aren’t a lot of men but they appear to be well stocked with weapons, so we’re all planted in one spot pretty quickly. I’m with Arthur and Charles while the others are spread out alone.

From not too far away, as I duck down after firing a shot, I can see Micah smirking at me from behind a wagon. He winks at me and I find his ability to remain jovial at a time like this almost impressive.

The sound of a soft voice saying “Knock knock” jerks me awake.

“Hey, can I come in?” Sadie asks from tent entrance.

I struggle to sit up and rub at my eyes while saying “sure”. She comes in and takes Arthur’s spot on the crate next to my cot. It takes me a second to register where I am. Drinking half a bottle of whiskey in one go will do that to you. Even if it’s starting to wear off.

“You ‘kay?” she asks me quietly and it’s then I register the dull ache in my leg. Not too painful yet, but a horrible promise of what’s to come.

“Not bad….you alright?” I can see that she’s changed from her previous clothes and her hairs wet. She must’ve gotten blood on her as well. Either from me or Lenny.

“Oh, you know me.” Sadie replies but she seems a bit distant.

“Sadie. What’s wrong?” I ask quietly. Sadie looks at me but avoids direct eye-contact until I reach out for her arm asking a silent, “What’s wrong?”

“You know I ain’t good with feelin’s since Jakey….I….I’ve tried ta shut ‘em off as it were.” Sadie starts and I can see unshed tears in her eyes, “But I wan’ed ta say that….I wan’ed to tell ya….that I’m proud. Of you. Very proud.”

Suddenly the emotions of the night, along with the ache in my thigh, come crashing down upon me and my own unshed tears start to fall.

There’s a break in the gunfire and everyone takes the opportunity to rush forward towards the house. I see Micah bashing some guy in the face while Sadie uses her knife to slit another guys throat.

I’ve not sure I’ve ever seen something so brutal. But really what did I expect? I just need to remind myself that these “men” deserve everything they get.

“I want at least one Arthur” I say loudly to him as Charles breaks off from the two of us. We’re crouching and shuffling forward quickly, trying to stay out of anyone’s line of sight.

Then all of a sudden, we hear it. A scream and John’s shout.

“LENNY’S HIT!” he yells over to us.

“GET’IM OUTTA HERE MARSTON!” Arthur shouts back and as I look forward, I see the smoke and barrel of a gun pointing out of an upstairs window.

A barrel that now points at my brother.

“ARTHUR” I scream to gain his attention and then aim my gun. I pull the trigger and after a few seconds, a man comes tumbling down to splat onto the ground in front of us.

Arthur clears his throat and looks back at me smirking, “Well….I’d say ya got one.”

“Well if that weren’t just the sexiest thing.” Micah shouts over to us, causing every other man around to snarl. However, they have no time to dwell on him because soon guns start firing again.

“Sadie” I murmur while holding her hand with my spare one, “I didn’t even really do anything. I got one guy.” I laugh, trying to ease the tension, but Sadie shakes her head.

“That’s not….you got us there….imagine if you hadn’t….” She says quietly squeezing my hand. All I can manage is a nod.

After what feels like forever the guns stop and the sick bastards are dead.

My gang start looting bodies and rifling through draws and cupboards while I look around….and maybe kick the odd body now and then. The place is disgusting. Absolutely vile.

I walk through the open plan kitchen/livingroom but trip after I stand on a particularly springy floorboard (that my feet weren’t expecting) that’s covered by an old faded rug. Annoyingly I trip straight into Micah’s arms who revels in my clumsiness. As usual.

“Woah now Miss. This ain’t the time ta be gettin’ frisky…..I mean we can but big brother over there might take some offence.” He drawls into my ear playfully and I push him back, knowing he’s just trying to get a rise out of Arthur.

I start to move the rug and mumble under my breath so he can hear, “Why couldn’t it have been Charles.”, causing Micah to fake his hurt in an over reacted clench of his heart.

“You wound me.” He gasps and despite myself, I laugh.

“Help me with this will you?” I ask and he makes a snide remark about “getting Charles to help” but ultimately relents when seeing my unamused face.

We pull back the rug to reveal a trap door.

“Looky looky” Micah whistles to himself and tugs up the heavy wood, which opens to a basement.

“Okay you wait here.” I say while I take a step forward but Micah puts his hand out in front of me.

“I don’t think so Missy. You won’t see a damn thing down there.” He scoffs and I motion to a lamp that’s been, luckily, undisturbed by the gunfire.

“Hand me that then.” I ask and he rolls his eyes, but does as I ask.

“Just don’t break a nail or nuthin’” he scoffs to himself and I just flip him off.

I slowly make my way down into the basemen and when I touch the floor I yell,

“Micah!! Get my brothers!”

Sadie squeezes my hand before kissing it.

“You did good. Be proud. We are.” She says quietly to me and I smile. I really smile.

“Thank you, Sadie.” I whisper through my emotional haze and she gets up slowly, making her way to the entrance of the tent. She stops before she exits and looks at me for a moment.

“Look. When you’re ready. Come see me okay? We’ll talk.”

I nod, knowing exactly what she means. Arthur did want me to talk to someone.

After Sadie leaves, I settle back down onto the cot and close my eyes. Willing myself to sleep away the increasing pain in my thigh.

When I descend the final step, I shine the lantern around as the smell from the basement makes me gag. What I see makes me cry out for Micah.

“Micah!! Get my brothers!” I yell and watch as the three young girls in front of me cower away on the furthest wall, “Fucking hell.” I whisper to myself and move to approach them.

“You’re okay. You’re safe now.” I try telling them but they huddle impossibly closer together and push themselves further back onto the wall. I think for a second that I should yell for Sadie. My gut reaction was my brothers but that’s just out of habit. I think this will need a woman’s help.

However, before I can yell for anyone else, I feel the cold, hard barrel of a gun pressed behind my head.

“You killed my men” comes a revolting voice behind me.

“Technically, I only killed one…” I reply but completely shut up once the barrel pushes painfully into my temple, “….okay so not the time for being a smartass, got it.”

“Emmy?” Arthur yells down into the basement but stops his movement at the hatch once he catches sight of the gun against my head.

“Yeah, I’m here….and um, I’ve made a friend.” I joke humourlessly as the man guides me up the basement stairs. Once we’re at the top I see that Arthur and John have brought Lenny inside as the others look around. He’s sat on a shot up sofa while my brother’s stand with their hands up and away from their guns.

“Just shoot him!” I shout at them. I’ll be damned if one of these assholes get away.

“Emmy, shut the fuck up.” John growls quietly and the little sister in me wants to hit him so bad. But the gun to my head keeps me firmly in place.

“Now this’s how it’s gonna go down. Imma get to one’ve ma horses with ya little lady here. We’re gonna ride off and once I know ya ain’t followin’, I’ll letta go. ‘kay?” the man snarls and from his breath alone I can tell he’s vermin.

Everyone takes a breath and you just know they’re waiting for Arthur.

“Now, that ain’t gonna happen friend.” He says sternly while keeping his hands away from his holster.

Suddenly the door blasts open and Micah, along with Sadie and Charles come barging in asking what’s taking so long. They instantly freeze and for once I see pure confusion on his face. He also looks at Arthur for the solution. Even if he’d never admit it.

“Who’s dumb idea was this anyway?” I hiss rhetorically but Micah just has to answers.

“Yours” he replies and even though I have a gun to my head, I roll my eyes, “Yes thank you Micah.”

Micah shrugs and Arthur gives everyone in the room a death glare.

“Everyone shut the hell up! And hands where I cn see em’! You too darky.” The man shouts and motions to Lenny.

“Do I look like I can fire a gun right now!?” Lenny snaps back holding his bloody upper arm.

Knowing what this man is and hearing how he speaks to Lenny makes me feel physically sick. But not just that, it makes me stupid with rage. I see red.

I decide there and then that if I’m going to die, I’ll be taking this fucker with me.

I move the hand that’s still holding the lantern back a bit, positioning it over this guys foot. And then I simply…..let go.

As soon as I do, I duck as much as I can in his grip and watch as the lantern hits his foot.

His gun fires. But so does everyone else’s.

It was all a big blur. One moment I’m ducking and elbowing this pervert in the dick as flames quickly engulf his leg and then the next, I’m on the floor with a hole in my thigh.

Everyone fires so the man is quickly riddled with bullets and lies burning on the floor. Charles grabs the rug and smothers the flames before they can spread further. Everyone else just remains in place, stunned.

The shock wears off quickly and the pain in my leg starts.

“WHO. THE FUCK. SHOT ME!?” I shout as Arthur throws himself to the ground to wrap his bandana around the wound. It’s quiet for a few seconds (other than my pathetic “ow ow ow’s”) and then a small voice pipes up from the corner.

“Um…I think that was me….” Lenny says timidly from his position on the sofa, a smoking gun still hanging from his pained hand.

“Why the fuck did you shoot!?” Micah shouts at Lenny and Charles jumps to his defense, “Everyone shot! Could have been anyone….”

Unfortunately, Micah wasn’t having any of it and argues back. Then Arthur joins in…..and then John who was annoyed at Arthurs handling of the situation…..then Lenny sticks up for Arthur….who turns his anger onto Micah for bringing this whole thing upon us.

It was ridiculous.

The only people not making any noise are me and Sadie who catches my eye from across the room, causing us both to burst into laughter. Making all the men stop.

“My first gunshot and it was given to me…..by Lenny!?” I say wheezing through my laughter as Arthur helps me up. I stumble as I struggle not to put too much weight on my left leg.

“Could’ve been worse!” Arthur says sternly to me and I just pat his face like you would a child who’s too riled up.

“Yeah, yeah” I whisper looking away and remembering what caused all of this.

“They’re holding girls down there.” I say grimly looking from the basement to the others around me.

“Girls?” Sadie says taking a large step forward to me and I nod.

“Three of them….they look around 12/13 years old.” I whisper to her.

Sadie nods and orders the men out before turning to me softly, “Let’s go get them.”

“Hey…..hey!” Micah barks as he shakes me awake.

“God damn Micah!” I growl after I’ve gathered my bearings, “You could’ve woken me up nicely!”

“Oh yeah…how would you want me to wake you up then?” Micah drawls while wiggling his eyebrows at me.

“Try not at all” I say sickly sweet back to him. He’s taken residence on the very popular crate by my bed.

Micah scoffs and turns away from me scratching the back of his neck. He’s not wearing his hat and he’s changed into his black shirt, the one I borrowed. He shakes his head while turning his gaze to the ground.

“You okay?” I ask quietly when he fails to look back at me, “Micah?”

I reach out and touch his arm, but doing so pulls at my leg, causing me to hiss. Micah snaps his attention back to me.

“Hey don’t go movin’ around! You gotta be more careful.” He barks again and moves further towards me, placing my hand on his arm where I was reaching for him. I smile.

“You sound like Arthur” I chuckle despite the pain in my thigh.

“Pfft. Guess he can’t always be wrong then.” Micah scoffs and looks at the bandage on my thigh. “I still can’t believe that idiot shot you!”

“It’s not like he meant to and anyways I’m lucky he wasn’t using his own gun. Just one he found on the ground. Might’ve been a lot worse otherwise.” I sigh looking down at where my skirt is ridden up. I no longer have my cut off union trousers under it so one thigh is completely bare while the other one is covered in bandages. I catch Micah looking.

“Hey”, I snap my fingers at him, “My eyes are up here buddy.”

I expect some witty retort but instead he picks up the hand that lies on his arm….and kisses it. His mustache tickles my knuckles and the feeling makes me sigh happily. For a short moment I close my eyes and forget about the hole under the bandages.

“You did good out there.” He eventually says in a whisper. If he wasn’t so close I’d of never heard him.

“Thank you” I reply giving him a sleepy smile. I shift a bit and wince at the pull in my thigh.

“You want some more whiskey?” Micah asks me and I shake my head.

“Nah, it’s making me feel a bit sick. I just need to sleep….which I was doing very well I’ll have you know.” I say narrowing my eyes are him. Micah laughs and shifts even closer.

“You know…I could make you feel a whole lot better without whiskey.” Micah whispers into my ear and I shiver at the sensation of his breath on my neck. Micah puts his large calloused palm on my good thigh and lets his thumb graze over my knee.

“Micah” I whisper, instantly feeling my underwear become wet, “I was shot like, three hours ago.”

Micah kisses from my ear down to the side of my neck and back up again. He delicately licks at my ear and nibbles on my lob before saying “Mmhm and I think that means you deserve somethin’ don’t you? For doin’ so good….savin’ those girls….you did real good.”

As much as I’d go to my grave denying it, Micah’s praise is doing something to me. I lie my head back and close my eyes, giving into the sensation of his large fingers skimming my inner thigh. The only problem is he’s said the word that I’ve heard one too many times to feel good.

“Thing is Micah,” I whisper opening my eyes. I run my hand up into his hair and pull his head back to look me in the eyes. I lick my lips and plunge forward connecting my lips to his in a brief, heated, dominating kiss. One that, if it had a winner, would be me. I nip his bottom lip as we detach, “I don’t like being told what I ‘deserve’.” I finish by licking along the seams of his lips and let go of his hair.

I settle back into my cot and gently take his hand from my inner thigh and press it to my soaked underwear.

“Fuck” Micah sighs under his breath and I can see the tell-tale signs of him growing hard in his trousers. His eyes snap to mine as I start to gently rut against his fingers which I’ve maneuvered to press against my aching clit.

“You see….” I whisper to Micah as I pick up the pace as much as I can with my injured leg, “…..telling me what I ‘deserve’ makes it feel like I’m being gifted something…..” I continue to rub his fingers against me and I can see Micah rub his erection through the fabric of his trousers. His eyes haven’t moved from where his hand has disappeared up my skirt.

“……when the reality is…..” I pause a moment while I slip my underwear to the side and allow one of Micah’s thick fingers to enter me, “…..I take what I want. Not what men think I ‘deserve’”

My tent is filled with the sounds of Micah quietly grunting as he palms himself and the wet, slick noise of his finger being moved in and out of my tight heat. When I feel that I’m ready, I move another of his fingers to push into me and once I feel adjusted, I snap my fingers at Micah to grab his attention.

Micah watches with his mouth hanging open as I lick my own essence from my fingers. I then lie back and hold the top of my cot before asking huskily, “You know what to do right?”

It takes a moment for Micah to come to his senses but when he does, he snaps his mouth closed and lunges for my lips. While he kisses me, a kiss that I allow him to control, his fingers begin to move inside me.

“Yer so fucking wet,” he growls in my ear and the sensation sends shockwaves all the way down to my core, “and tight. Jesus, so tight.” Micah’s other hand moves to his belt and I grab the wrist of his hand currently fucking me. He stops and looks at me.

“No….this is mine remember.” I say to him cockily, “I’m happy to finish alone. But I will admit I’d rather ride your fingers than mine.”

Micah removes the hand from his belt and moves to tower over me on the cot. His right-hand resumes fingering me while his left moves to clutch at the top of the cot near my head. He very, very carefully places his knee on the cot, making sure to avoid my injured thigh.

“You like being in charge?” he hisses at me while his fingers move faster and faster, “That’s fine…..for now.” Micah moves his thumb to my clit and starts applying just the right amount of pressure. I grab the sides of his face and pull his lips to mine to quieten my moans and then grab at his shirt to keep him in place.

“Faster” I gasp between kisses and Micah obliges, “Fuck, you feel so good.” I praise and I’m sure I see his eyes light up, “Don’t stop.” Micah shakes his head and kisses at my neck again while my free hand finds purchase in his long hair.

I feel myself climb higher and higher towards my peak as Micah kisses and nibbles along my neck. I know he wants to sink his teeth in but he also knows that wouldn’t end well. Micah wants more than his fingers inside me one day and if he pushes too far, he knows he’ll lose that opportunity. Micah’s an idiot, but he’s not stupid.

“You like my fingers darlin’?” Micah drawls as he pulls back to look at me. I nod eagerly and whimper the closer I get. Micah moves his free hand to my face and brushes his thumb down to my lips which I eagerly take into my mouth and suck. “Fuckin’ hell baby….keep doin’ that….” When I stop sucking, Micah adds a quick “please.”

Micah’s fingers, along with his hot breath on my face as he pants and his thumb moving in and out of my mouth, causes me to hit my high and I cum. Hard. I grab the wrist under my skirt and still his hand which I grind against to ride out the final waves of pleasure.

I bite down hard on Micah’s thumb to contain my cries and for a moment I worry that I’ve hurt him but when I open my eyes, I’m met with his signature smirk. I also notice he’s breathing very, very hard.

As he removes his fingers from me, I glance down to his lap and see a dark stain spreading around his crotch. I bite my lip as he brings his fingers to his lips and licks my wetness off of them.

“Well” he huffs once he’s finished, “That was somethin’.”

I can’t help but laugh and can only get out a quiet, “Yep.”

Micah smiles and leans down to capture my lips with his, giving me a taste of myself on his tongue. When he pulls back, he takes a moment to grasp my face and growl. I wink at him and giggle as he pulls his face away from me; the euphoria, whiskey and exhaustion from the day making me giddy.

“Goodnight darlin’” he drawls quietly and honestly the only thing I can manage is a nod. My body is tingling and I feel weightless. As Micah straightens up, fully ready to face anyone outside my tent with his wet crotch, I feel my body giving into sleep.

Before I doze off, I’m almost 100% sure I feel blankets being pulled up over me as the lantern is dimmed.

[hs-1dfan]

Every atom of me missed him

Hi loves🌷

I’m back with another story!! It’s has been centuries for me to post something new. Sorry about that. Hopefully this will get me back at the writing game.

 ⚠️Hinting of smut. 

I know the time period for his hip tattoos doesn’t add up here. But it isn’t all set around 2017/18 harry. It’s a bit of a mix.

As always like, reblog and enjoy!

Xx Mir

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‘’I love you, Harry,” she blurted as she woke. She found the right side off her bed cold and empty. She missed the muscular, tattooed arm that used to be wrapped around her. Waking up from her dream, she found that he wasn’t there. Sitting up in bed, surrounded with complete darkness around 3:00 A.M, she thought about how her life changed so much after agreeing to take a break. Because in Harry's words, “I can’t deal with this anymore. We need a break. A break from each other to figure out if we still want this.”

In the last few months of their relationship, they argued about everything. The fighting and arguments were things she thought about whenever she woke up in the middle of the night. She recalled all the bad and hurtful things she said in their last fight. After that argument, she realised that the words she said out loud weren’t about him, but of things she was dealing with. Neither one of them were angels. She realised that he worked hard, but she only saw what he didn’t do. All she knew was that she wasn’t making him feel loved or validated. It was something she deeply regretted. The fact that he was away a lot for his job wasn’t making things easier. Moments they spent together were filled with tension. Not a good or sexual tension, just an uncomfortable feeling of not wanting another argument.

In that moment, she just wished Harry was there with her. Maybe trying to fix things and work it all out. Was it too much to ask? She knew it was. It wasn't up to her to make a decision. A few nights ago, she let Harry know that she was sorry for everything that was said and done. That was all she could do.

But the ache of longing to be with him was overpowering. She never knew missing the one you loved the most could take over every fibre of your being. It felt like every atom in her body missed him. This wasn't something she had ever felt before.

The way he smiled at her made it feel like she was the only person in the room. His eyes full of adoration and love. Sometimes it was mixed with lust. The way his eyes darkened and the way his lips would curl up to this smirk. He knew… he knew how to make her feel good.

Or Harry telling corny jokes to her, knowing she would probably not find them funny. His perfect dimples when he smiled. But what made her fall in love with Harry was his love for others, helping people out. He still is a kind and loving person.

Thinking about these things put a smile on her face. Somehow, she lost this way of seeing him. All she focused on were the “bad” things, those typical little things you could get annoyed by. Having some time away from one and other made her remember the great things about him. The only hope she still held onto was that he might decide to give it another try.

Sighing deeply, she looked over to the clock on her nightstand. 4:15 A.M., another hour and fifteen minutes spent on Harry. Luckily, she didn't have work the next morning, so she could wake up later than usual. Getting out of bed, she walked over to the bathroom and took a few sips of water, gazing in the mirror at her own complexion. She switched off the lights and walked over to the bed. After getting comfortable and pulling the duvet up to her neck, she felt that her eyes grow heavy and she soon the drifted off back to sleep.

A few hours later, she received a loud wake up call as someone banged their fist on the front door. Grabbing her phone, she noticed a few missed calls and messages from a number she didn't know. She laid her phone back on the nightstand and walked over to the door to open it.

She couldn't find her voice; she lost every word she had ever learned. Her cheeks flushed and her heart pounded in her throat. He... Harry was here, at her house.

“Can I come in?” His eyes never left hers. How many love songs or movie lines are there with the line “He takes my breath away”?  At that moment, that line made so much sense. Even though her body felt numb, she still stepped aside and let him in.

“I thought it was time to talk. Don't you?” He let her lead them to the living room.

“Yes.. I believe so.”

Both of them sat down on the couch. Not sure who would talk first, they both waited. Harry finally decided to speak up and turned his entire body towards her.

“Let me begin by saying I'm sorry. And don't say I have nothing to be sorry for, because I do. Before we took a break, I was busy with work and I didn't pay enough attention to you when I was with you. Every time we were together, there was always a phone call from clients and colleagues. You never complained about that, until you were done with all of it. I didn't notice you were upset, tired, feeling alone. I've never wanted you to feel like that. So yes… I'm saying sorry. Both of us made mistakes, misjudgements. It took me a while before I realised that.

Right from the beginning, I missed you. Just last night I woke up thinking you were in my arms. But you weren't. I miss your laugh, the way you hate my corny jokes but still laugh about them, the way your eyes light up whenever you see a loved one, the way you are always there for everyone. I miss you. I want you to be in my arms whenever I wake up in the middle of the night. I want us back.”

He looked down at the ground, waiting for her reaction. He was never the one to be completely honest about what was going on in his mind. So this was something that he was not used too.

‘’ I woke up in the middle of the night and thought about you. I wished I was laying in your arms. I miss you. I have missed you for a long time.’’

She was nervous. Not looking at harry but at the ring on her finger. It was a ring that he bought her year and half ago.

‘’ I was mad. Mad at you, but also mad at myself. I said some horrible things to you. After you left I cried my eyes out. Obviously figuratively not literally.. I  mean.. haha ‘’ pointing at her yes. Whenever she got nervous, she ended up rambling.

‘’ I shouldn't have called you a self-centred guy. You’re the least self-centred man I know. But when you decided to take that break something snapped inside of me. Because I was there for you for so many years.. as a friend and partner. To see that you didn't even feel like fighting for us.. I got hurt.

I know that I’ve made mistakes as well. Whenever you got back home, I was more focused on my own issues. Not thinking about you needing to vent, or that you might needed me to listen. So.. I’m sorry. I know I apologised a few days ago. But seeing you now. Makes it more real.”

Harry just looked at her with a blank face. It made her nervous. But then he smiled. First a small curved smile, but then he got a big grin on his face.

“I know you’re sorry. But now we’re both sorry. What’s going to happen now? Because I still love you very much. That never stopped.” Grabbing her hand.

“I want to start fresh. I wouldn’t say get back to where we were, because that didn’t end well. Get back to being how we were before that. Because I would still do anything for you, I love you so much” getting comfortable on the couch, she looked at Harry’s hands holding her own.

The feeling of his cold rings, was something she missed.

He nodded his head, pulling her closer towards him. “I agree. Soooooo? We’re like a thing again?”

Putting her feet on the couch and nuzzling up against harry, “Yes.. we’re a thing again.”

After they were done talking about what has been going on in their lives, they walked over to her kitchen. “God.. all that talking made me hungry,” he said while scratching the back of his neck.

“I know. I’m starving,” she smiled. “What do you want for breakfast? It’s almost half past twelve. I could make some pancakes or just bake some eggs.”

“Pancakes are fine, can I help you out?” And he walked further into the kitchen. “Sure” and she amusingly watched him open kitchen cabinets, trying to find anything that would help them make pancakes.

She changed everything in the house after they broke up..technically they were on a break. A long break, very long. So seeing Harry trying to find everything was kind of amusing.

“Harry…. Harry. HAROLD!” She raised her voice. “What are you looking for?”

“You know… just that stuff.. THIS!” And he held up the flour. “We are making them the Dutch way right? Those big pancakes?”

“Yeah we are. Those are the only ones I know how to make” shrugging her shoulders. They put every ingredient in a bowl and started to mix it all together.

Harry looked at her and smiled. She looked beautiful with her hair in a bun, biting her lip out of concentration trying to mix everything together. He was about to clean up the flour, when he suddenly saw the flour on his shirt.

She hit him on his shirt. When Harry looked at her, he saw that she was shocked. But then started to laugh uncontrollably.

“I...I… I’m sooo sorry”  and snorted a little bit.

“It’s okay. You’ve never been able to hit the mark.” Grabbing a fist full of flour. “Let me show you how it’s done” and he threw the flour right in her face.

“OH.. “ wiping the flour off of her face. Making her way over to Harry. She went in for a hug, which he happily accepted. She had the biggest smile on her face. This was something they had both missed.

What harry didn’t realise was that she grabbed a bottle of chocolate syrup. After the hug she turned away for a second or three. “Hey love?”

“Hmm” And he lifted his head, while doing that he felt a sticky substance over his face.

Wiping his finger over his face, he saw that it was chocolate syrup. “What…the fuck.. was that for. We’re too old for a food fight. We could use this for so much  more” giving her a big smirk.

“No one is ever too old for a food fight. Oh really? What else can we do with chocolate syrup?” and she proudly put down the chocolate syrup.

Harry slowly walked over to where she was standing, not looking anywhere else but her eyes. She knew what he was about to do, and didn’t stop him.

He lifted her up on the counter, putting himself between her legs. He grabbed and opened the syrup bottle, holding it upside down and slowly pouring a little bit on her chest. Seeing the chocolate syrup making its way down her body, he moved closer towards her and swooped some of the liquid up with his finger.

“That’s something you can do with chocolate syrup”. He smiled at her, but his eyes were dark and full of lust.

She placed one arm around his neck and the other caressed his cheek. “What now harry?”

Harry didn’t answer her for a few seconds. He was too busy with placing kisses on her neck. While he was moving his hands from her hips to her inner thighs he answered her. ‘’Hmm.. Good question. What now?’’ He covered every single sweet spot that she had, and it was having the effect that he wanted.

She moaned and squirmed underneath his touch, leaning her head backwards in pleasure. Her hands made their way on his back, slightly digging her nails in his back. ‘’Hmm’’ a deep groan could be heard in her entire flat. A small smile covered her face, hearing Harry moan was the sexiest thing in the world.

Harry slowly moved his kisses to her ear and jawline. Their foreheads touched, looking into each other eyes. He placed one hand on her cheek. They both just gazed into each other eyes. A smile covers both of their faces.

While they were staring at each other’s eyes, his hands found their way to her shirt and started to unbutton them. At the same time she was trying to lift up his shirt, that clearly failed because they were both trying in a hurry to get the clothes off. When harry pulled his shirt over his head, she saw that he had a new tattoos. She moved her fingers over his new tattoos. ‘’You have a two new ones I see.. I like it. Brings out your v-line’’ she told harry with a smirk on her face.

‘’Hmm.. Yeah I did get two new ones. Few months ago..’’ breathing heavily. And when harry opened the last button of her shirt he saw that she had gotten her first tattoo. ‘’So did you, I see. First one? I like it”.

She just nodded “yuppp.” emphasising the p.

His hands moved over her from her hips, to her stomach. He cupped her breast, and one hand went to her back. Opening the clips of her bra.

The cold air gave her goosebumps, or it was just harry’s rings. God how she missed those rings. The way the cold shiny jewellery made contact with her body. Either way she was loving the feeling he gave to her, once again.  

“Come on” and she jumped of the kitchen counter. Taking Harry’s hand and leading him to her bedroom. The room was completely silent, neither of them spoke a word to each other. There was no need to talk.

Grabbing her hips, he slowly moved her backwards to the bed. His hands traveled all over her body, touching her sides moving up to her chest and then stopped at her neck. Both of his hands cupped her face, and he caressed her cheek with his thumb. And gave her small pecks on her lips.

“I love you” and he kissed her more passionate this time.

Turning him around she pushed him on the bed. He moved to the headboard. She crawled over the bed and straddled him. Her hair was loose, a few strands of hair covered her face.

They  just looked at each other. Harry liked this.. he wanted slowness, the closeness and warmth. Removing a piece of her out of her face, he planted a kiss on her lips. Turning her around, he made his way down.

He put his head between her legs, nuzzling at first. His beard was a little rough on the insides of my thighs. Then with his lips, then his tongue, he struck fire. She had to cry out in astonishment, at being touched in that right place.

There are no words, only sensation, smooth sensation. They were longing for each other.

[sim-songs]

“hi, I’m not from the US” ask set

So I wanted to answer all of these, because why not you know? @dreamsongsims now you can learn more about Belgium ;)

It’s under the read more so I don’t clog up your dashboards.

1. favourite place in your country? Honestly my home. I am living in Antwerp right now with the bf and I honestly love it, even though we aren’t really going outside much right now bc of the virus. I do miss the green and the “not city” smell haha

2. do you prefer spending your holidays in your country or travel abroad? I am okay with both. My family always goes on vacations during holidays, the last few years we’ve gone to Thailand for example but I’m more interested in staying closer to home. I LOVE Norway and want to go on holiday there again but it’s expensive.

3. does your country have access to sea? Yes. 67 kilometers of ugly “badsteden” lol (literally means bathing towns). To be honest I like the coast in the Netherlands better because it isn’t as gray and superficial.

4. favourite dish specific for your country? A nice “frietje van de frituur” (french fries), specifically a “frietje speciaal”, that’s french fries with ketchup, mayo and thinly sliced onion.

5. favourite song in your native language? I hate Belgian music, absolutely despise every Dutch song on the radio. But if I have to pick one its Goud from Bazart, it’s an older song by now but it’s one of the few I did not mind listening to.

6. most hated song in your native language? As soon as I read this I immediately thought of Banaan from Jebroer. Just shudders ugh. But really all Dutch songs in this style.

7. three words from your native language that you like the most? I’m gonna paste my earlier answer here: Hmm that's a hard one for me... Gezellig is a word I've always liked bc it doesn't have a real translation, just like cozy or smt. Another one I like is grassprietjes, meaning blades of grass bc it sounds funny and kinda rolls of the tongue and non dutch people will never be able to properly say that! and a third is eenzaam, meaning lonely. I don't really know why I like that one tbh

8. do you get confused with other nationalities? if so, which ones and by whom? I don’t really remember ever being confused for another nationality. I have read that Dutch sounds like German on crack, and that Belgian Dutch is easier than Netherlands Dutch for foreigners.

9. which of your neighbouring countries would you like to visit most/know best? Visit most: France and Germany, I have been to them both already but never for long and a long time ago. Know best: Probably the Netherlands. We share a language after all so we share some cultural things! (Does Temptation Island count as a cultural thing lol?)

10. most enjoyable swear word in your native language? Mmm tough one to answer, because me and my bf are big English speakers so most of our swearing is of the “fuck” variety. I like “godverdomme” (god dammit) and what my dad sometimes says “godverdomme miljaarde nondeju” (there is literally nothing I can do to translate this)

11. favourite native writer/poet? I can’t think of any poets, but I like the writer Valerie Eykmans, specifically the book “Verloren Maandag”

12. what do you think about English translations of your favourite native prose/poem? So I really like “Het Weer” by Hugo Claus, I even have a poster in our living room with the poem in his handwriting.

Weather

How was the weather in the country without you? At first mist fell over the concrete mountains.

Then the sun hung like mist over the mother-of-pearl sand.

Then the sky moved and became clammy as your armpits.

A lightning closed my teeth.

And everywhere the smell rose of the big animals that don't exist

unless in the ringing of your ear, in the rustle of your hair.

That's how it was back there without you. You are the air pressure and the dew and the snow in my skull.

It does not rhyme much in Dutch, it’s more about the rhythm of the words, so as far as the translation goes it’s pretty accurate in it’s contents but the rhythm is definitely off in the translated version

13. does your country (or family) have any specific superstitions or traditions that might seem strange to outsiders? What immediately comes to mind is the whole “Sinterklaas” problem where every year the discourse starts again whether or not the “Zwarte Pieten” are racist. Honestly not gonna comment on that because it’s not my place to feel offended or otherwise about this issue. Another thing that’s a bit more lighthearted is the “jaarmarkt” in our hometown, it’s like a big market that always finds place on the first sunday of the year. There’s a “stoet” (procession) with the walking orchestra, horses, horses and carriages, dogs and a whole load of tractors all going to get blessed at the church where the pastor throws holy water on everyone passing by. I have a love hate relationship with this tradition because it’s always freezing, and the tractors take forever to end. Oh and the main street of our town is completely closed of and there’s a big market with stalls in the street and everyone gets drunk of of the “jenevers” from the Scouts stalls lol.

14. do you enjoy your country’s cinema and/or TV? Not really, the only thing I used to watch was “Helden van Hier: Brandweer” (Heroes from here: fire brigade), it was just following the fire brigade around to fires and what not.

15. a saying, joke, or hermetic meme that only people from your country will get? ah je moe kakken moe je kakken he 😉

16. which stereotype about your country you hate the most and which one you somewhat agree with? Hate: Belgians are small-minded people not interested in anything going on outside of their home. Just not true at all. Sure there are people like that but every country has those. Agree: Belgians are hard to get to know. I hear this one a lot and I can see why people say that.

17. are you interested in your country’s history? Copied from an earlier answer: I am interested in history in general, it was one of my favourite classes in high school. I do like learning about Belgian history, mainly because Belgian history is, in one term, a messy bitch

18. do you speak with a dialect of your native language? Yes, I speak with a “Kempisch” accent, but in general I’m still pretty understandable.

19. do you like your country’s flag and/or emblem? what about the national anthem? I really don’t care about our flag, the Flemish Lion is being overly politicized to exclude the Walons lately and our national anthem is meh, no one can sing it and it’s more of a joke to people my age I think.

20. which sport is The Sport in your country? Soccer (or football idk) and veldrijden (literally field riding, but cyclo-cross as the translation) GO Wout van Aert! (idc abt sports but he’s local to me so)

21. if you could send two things from your country into space, what would they be? I’m not sure if this means you want to get rid of it or if you want to memorialize it? Getting rid of “Manneken Pis” because he’s stupid and memorializing an entire classic “frietkot”

22. what makes you proud about your country? what makes you ashamed? Proud: Our cultural diversity and lately our banding together during the crisis Ashamed: All the racists (looking at you Vlaams Belang)

23. which alcoholic beverage is the favoured one in your country? BEER, ALL THE BEER

24. what other nation is joked about most often in your country? Honestly our own nation is most joked about for good reasons. Flemish joke about the Walons and vice versa, and everyone jokes about the joke that is our government.

25. would you like to come from another place, be born in another country? I’m happy where I’m at now, so no.

26. does your nationality get portrayed in Hollywood/American media? what do you think about the portrayal? I have never seen any prominent representation of Belgian in a Hollywood movie.

27. favourite national celebrity? Probably Tom Waes

28. does your country have a lot of lakes, mountains, rivers? do you have favourites? We dont have much haha, we have rivers, most notably “De Shelde” which runs though Antwerp not too far from my apparment.

29. does your region/city have a beef with another place in your country? Flemish and Walons have always had beef, so yeah.

30. do you have people of different nationalities in your family? I had a phase where I was into genealogy and it’s safe to say I’m one of the most Belgian Belgians out there lol, especially on mothers side her family literally has been living in the same place since the 1600′s and my grandparents had never seen the ocean until my parents took them.

[darlingsdevil]

The Ballads of Rebirth (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

Chapter 3: “Mrs. Morgan”

Masterlist

•••

A/N: thank you all so much for the support! This is the most I’ve ever written in three days, all three parts were written within 12 hours of the last! I’d love to hear more feedback from you guys. And btw, this story is def gonna be more like 10 chapters long haha.

•••

“I’m fine, Charles. I am, now let me go out hunting, you know I’m just as deadly with a rifle as you are with a bow.”

“I know, but we’re bow hunting, it’d be like bringing an elephant into the woods and telling it to go sneak up on someone.” Charles pushed Arthur’s chest into the bed, he fell back with a thud.

“It’s only because you’re still sick. In a couple weeks, I’ll take you out hunting with me, but until then you’re staying here.” And with that, Charles promptly walked out of the tent leaving Arthur annoyed in his bed.

Arthur hated everyone treating him like he was a baby, and he already always hated people fretting over him in general. You would have laughed at everyone’s attentiveness towards Arthur’s health, while Arthur could do little but just sit there and look pretty.

He missed you more and more everyday, Charles and Mahala could see the longing for you in his eyes, it was heartbreaking to watch. Mahala knew nothing of you, Arthur’s past was a mystery, but by the way Arthur spoke she knew he was missing his other half, like a record player that could not play any music.

Even if he missed you, Arthur promised himself he wouldn’t search for you until he was better, which could take many more months.

Mahala estimated it would take around three more months to fully recover if he didn’t relapse. In three more months you could be on the opposite side of the country, it would take so much longer to find you. But he eventually would, he would begin that journey when he was ready.

Arthur was slowly gaining weight if he were to prepare for his journey he would need to first maintain a decent weight. His fevers left him with little appetite but Mahala had kept him on a reliable diet that he could usually keep down. Rabbit that Charles hunted, wheat bread and carrots and peppers. Mahala was a good cook, so Arthur never got bored of his daily food.

It was early in the morning, Mahala usually brought his breakfast in at nine, but she always visited before that. She’d tell him stories of her youth which were surprisingly interesting,her stories were the only thing keeping Arthur sane. He never liked sitting around and being lazy like Uncle, but listening to a story wasn’t exactly just sitting around. Mahala had lots of stories, fables and legends, it always kept him intrigued.

When seven rolled around, and Charles had long been gone, Arthur could hear Mahala’s cheerful humming from outside the tent.

“Rise and shine, my son.” She said, ripping open the tents opening.

“G’morning Mahala. Sleep well?” Arthur mumbled, attempting to sound sleepy. Mahala always got angry when Arthur didn’t sleep in, since he rarely ever slept and if he did it was for very short periods of time.

Mahala gave Arthur a knowing look, turning away from him. She pulled a small vial out of her bag, Arthur groaned. Medicine.

“It’s your favorite,” she said in a sing songy voice, putting some on a spoon. Arthur grabbed the spoon from her nimble hands. He shoved the spoon in his mouth. It was bitter and awful and he nearly choked on it every time.

“Swallow it.” She said sternly, glaring at him. He obliged and felt the viscous liquid fall down his throat. It was his least favorite part of Mahala’s visits, minus the coughing fits and fevers.

She sat down next to Arthur’s bed, setting her bag down next to her. Glass vials clinked in her leather bag, it was old and worn and held lots of medicine for Arthur. He wasn’t sure what he took everyday, never bothering to ask, even if he did, he wouldn’t understand it. It was some sort of herbal mixture, but tasted like it was left out in the sun for hours and had turned rancid.

“Today I want to hear a story from you.” Mahala began after she noticed Arthur had drank the medicine.

It felt like the air had been sucked from his lungs, something he had unfortunately become accompanied with in the last few months. She had never asked of his past. He hadn’t even prepared an answer, expecting . Even if he knew he would never lie to Mahala, knowing she could see through it instantly, he could still avoid the full truth.

“A story about me?” He asked with a light chuckle, sitting up. Mahala nodded.

“Well I’m not that interesting. I ain’t got much to tell.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” She told him.

He thought for a moment, deciding what was the safest to tell, interesting but not risky. She eyed the small gold band on his finger, the only thing besides Charles that anchored him to his past.

“Tell me about her.”

“You wanna know about Mrs. Morgan?”

“Yes. You’ve never spoken of her. Was she dull? Is that why you’ve never talked about her?” Mahala tilted her head in humorous curiosity.

“No, no, she’s far from dull.” He laughed, shaking his head. A small smile splayed on Mahala’s lips.

“She was wonderful, kind and beautiful. A compassionate heart, but boy, if you got her mad you’d better be praying.” Mahala listened to every word he said.

“Once.. once I’d forgotten to lay my socks out to dry and gotten sick from it, she didn’t let me rest for one minute. She was fuming, but she still kept care of me.” It had been years ago, long before either of you had confessed your feelings but he remembered it like it was yesterday. It felt good to speak about you, like a large weight had been pulled off of his chest. He felt lighter.

Mahala laughed at the story, she had never been married, claiming a man could not handle her ideas. A pang of happiness struck her heart, Arthur was like her son, and to see him be open and smile around her was wonderful, but she could still tell he was keeping the full truth from her.

“It seems like she was good for you.”

“Yeah, I think she is.”

“My, my child. Is she alive or dead? You speak of her in different pretenses, I cannot tell.” Mahala, ever the curious cat was incredibly broad, perhaps too broad for her own good.

Arthur let out a heavy sigh, not realizing he’d been holding it in this entire conversation.

“I’m not too sure to be honest. We got separated a few days before Charles found me, Charles doesn’t seem to know where she went. She could be halfway across the country or six feet in the ground by now.”

Mahala pursed her lips tightly.

“You’ll find her, lovers always find a way back to each other.”

“Don’t give me that sappy stuff, Mahala. The world don’t work like that.”

“Believe what you will, but I’m sure you’ll find her. I can see the love in your eyes for her.”

Arthur had heard that from Hosea on the night he proposed to you, after you had gone to bed for the evening and Arthur was still up drinking with the few men who were still awake in celebration. It was right before everything went to shit, and the entire gang was forced out of Blackwater. It was only him, Hosea, Dutch and John who were awake, the true Van der Linde family, the only missing piece was you. Drunk Arthur didn’t remember much of the rest of the night besides that one comment.

“I see your love for her in your eyes. They twinkle more, it’s like you’re finally seeing the bigger picture. A love like that can’t be broken by death, and god knows death comes quickly and often in this life.”

•••

“Lee, can you pick that up for me?” You pointed towards a can of green beans that had fallen down, since you were at the cash register helping a rather moody customer.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He picked up the green beans, and instantly returned to restocking. Lee had been acting strange all day, he avoided your eye and spoke to you only when talked to first. It wasn’t like him at all. You were sure it had something to do with your kiss on the cheek last night. You smiled at the thought of him becoming weak at just a peck on the cheek, it was how Arthur used to be as well at the beginning of your relationship.

Today had been awful, two customers had yelled at you for running out of items and one, you realized later, had stolen multiple cans of food. The general store was already hurting after a newer one had been put up. It was a chain store, so everyone wanted to go see what all the fuss was about. You hadn’t told Lee about the crook who took the food, and you were still deciding if you were going to. You had stolen food countless times while in the gang, it felt so much worse when you were on the opposing end.

When the shop finally closed, it was just you and Lee again. He was still nervous to be around you, moving to the opposite side of the room to ‘sweep’ when you moved closer to him.

Around ten minutes after being closed, he cleared his throat. You look up at him, putting the money you were counting on the glass shelf.

He stared at you with big brown eyes.

“Can I take you on a date, Mrs. Morgan?” Lee asked you with sudden confidence.

You froze for a moment, you eyes staring off at the window behind him. For a second, you thought you saw Arthur, standing there behind Lee.

“I’ll take you down to the restaurant, the one that just opened by the pier,” Lee’s sudden confidence was destroyed by your silence.

You liked him well enough, but were you really ready for that type of commitment again? Arthur was barely dead, you had mourned for him while he was living, since he had pushed you away as soon as he got sick. It was like he was a ghost the minute he had found out about his diagnosis. Arthur did his damn best to make sure you made it out okay, even if it meant pushing you away to keep you safe. Your biggest regret was not staying with him through it all, no matter his protests.

“I’d love to go with you.”

You could finally let go of Arthur, the final thing holding you back. He would have wanted you to move on, to see you happy.

And you were happy right now, you felt contempt with your life for the first time in a long time.

•••

[arcticdementor]

Let us begin with the comments section from a Youtube video of Michael D. Higgins’ presidential inauguration in 2011, the moment when the national anthem is played and many of the participants sang along with varying degrees of commitment and enthusiasm, a moment of palpable awkwardness. A comment that could have come from the pen of D.P. Moran himself sets the tone: “You see the mumbling and fumbling, even by An Uachtarán (sic.) English-speaking all, they persist in this charlatanic flummery, miming and mummery”.

A shrewd and appropriately poetic observation that may have a much wider, even metaphorical extension than the issue of mere competency in the Irish language and, of course, the day that was in it. Other commenters continued in this vein, “It is funny because many Irish are extremely anti-british BUT hate their own language”. Funny indeed, but not funny-haha, for this is a remark that more or less summarises in just one sentence the essential core of Douglas Hyde’s 1892 address, ‘The Necessity for De-Anglicising Ireland’. We can conclude this very brief review with a comment that really captures a certain aspect of the Irish Ireland movement, “[f]orget the ’32 County Republic’, without the language Ireland might as well rejoin the commonwealth”.

How remarkable it is to notice from a brief perusal of the comment section of a YouTube video that essentially nothing has changed since Hyde and Moran’s time, at least not in matters bearing on the well-being of the national psyche. Maybe there has been a change. Perhaps things have become worse?

We have very fine motorways, ingenious globalist finance schemes that are the envy of the world, we are garrisoned by the Silicon Valley Expeditionary Force, and we lead the world in the production of erection pills. These are all very impressive achievements if you are signed up to the Globalist’s “Ireland Inc.” vision but somewhat less inspiring if you hold to another.

In the first quarter of the twentieth century, the controversial figure of D.P. Moran (1869-1936) was an important influence on the cultural discussion that paralleled the political struggle for independence in Ireland at this time through his journal the Leader, founded in 1900. Not only his own writing, but his skill and vision as an editor, propelled The Leader to become a central locus of discussion and debate in what was known as the ‘Irish Ireland’ movement. Readers interested in a general account of D.P. Moran and his work should start with Paul Delaney’s 2003 article ‘D.P. Moran and the Leader: Writing an Irish Ireland Through Partition‘ and which contains much additional information in the notes.

…

The philosopher Martin Heidegger has observed in another context how obliviation involves not merely an obliviating of the matter at hand as conscious act, for we would surely remember doing such a thing, but rather a forgetting of a forgetting.  Complete obliviation comes when I do not remember that I have forgotten something: I have forgotten it and I have forgotten that I have forgotten it. This had become the strategic aim of the Elizabethan conquests and continued (continues?) to guide state policy here for a considerable period thereafter, namely, to obliviate the Irishness of the Irish and make of them good Englishmen.

The radical transformation of the Irish proposed by Edmund Spenser and his contemporaries would have to complete this oblivation in order for it to be truly successful. He understood all too well that real and lasting conquest will come not so much from crushing the body but from wiping the mind and recreating a new identity, and the only medium through which this mental conquest take place must be language: “wordes are the image of the minde, soe as, the[y] proceeding from the minde, the mynd must be needes affected with the wordes. Soe that the speach being Irish, the hart must needes be Irishe; for out of the aboundance of the hart, the tonge speaketh” (Spenser, A View of the Present State of Ireland, 1596). Replacing one system of images with another will at the same time transform the mind, from Irishman to Englishman.

Now, it should be readily apparent that the success of such a project rests on the degree to which obliviation can be brought to completion. Consider this; do any of the current inhabitants of Anatolia pine over the loss of Hittite? Are there disconsolate Iraqis lamenting the passing of Sumerian in ballads composed in Arabic and sung in the coffee houses of Baghdad? Hardly likely as these respective languages, insofar as they can be reconstructed at all, are solely the province of a small group of international scholars of ancient near eastern languages. These languages have been effectively obliviated and with them, the mentalities and worlds they constituted.

…

That Spenser’s project has not been entirely successful does not mean that all is well, rather it has created a very unhealthy mentality that to this day continues to bedevil Irish well-being within individuals and as a nation. Much emphasis has been placed on the external and physical damage wreaked by colonial conquest and foreign domination upon the Irish nation, but all too little has been devoted to examining the internal or mental, emotional and even spiritual damage.

…

Hyde believed that language is the front-line, so to speak, wherein this mentality replicates itself trans-generationally; “[it] continues to apparently hate the English, and at the same time continues to imitate them; how it continues to clamour for recognition as a distinct nationality, and at the same time throws away with both hands what would make it so.” I might add that this mentality is seen at its strongest and concentrated form among the Irish bourgeois-state class.

This mentality has had layers added and been rendered somewhat more complex with the advent of Globalisation, the cultural hegemony of America, and the reflexive tendency to look abroad for any and all solutions to problems on the underlying assumption that nothing good can come from within. Local solutions are routinely derided as “Irish solutions to Irish problems”, sometimes with just cause.  The relevant Wiki article defines this phrase as “any official response to a controversial issue which is timid, half-baked, or expedient, which is an unsatisfactory compromise, or sidesteps the fundamental issue.” Some commentators of the Irish condition, the present author included, contend that underlying this mentality and its accompanying tendencies is a deep psychical wound, and while acknowledging that this claim is deemed by some to be objectionable, it is nevertheless defensible.

…

Independent Ireland never really decolonised itself. If you want to see what decolonisation looks like, consider what happened in Hong Kong in 1997. At the stroke of midnight of the beginning of July 1st as the Union Jack came down, and the flag of the People’s Republic of China was raised, a fleet of vans with workmen spread across the territory unscrewing and removing every symbol of British rule, every ‘ER’, every lion and unicorn, every crown, so that when the citizens of Hong Kong arose the next morning and went about their business, not a trace of the British state was left to be seen anywhere. All this shows is what observers of the situation there always knew – the British never really got into the minds of the Chinese people. One hundred years on, the lion and the unicorn is still atop the Custom House. A failure in the external domain indicates failure internally.

…

At this point, the question must surely become: “Who are you?” For years now, we have been saturated with endless (and boring) discussions revolving around questions as to what it means to be Irish, but with no satisfactory conclusion. Of course not! Because the elephant in the room is assiduously avoided throughout. It is necessarily an endless inquiry because a priori there is tacit agreement that the obvious solution to the problem that generates the question in the first place will not be adopted, namely, to restore our own language to the condition of normality. And to anticipate a frequent objection; normalising Irish does not mean abandoning English. The Dutch are renowned for their fluency in English, yet Dutch is the normal language of national life in the Netherlands.

[normal-thoughts-official]

So magnus ask. Do you think magnus ever went back to the Dutch java. In the past. Or now that it is Indonesia. Also will he take alec there.

i actually tend to think he didnt? at least not after he got his mom's dagger back (because i mean, i dont think he took it on the same day, since his stepfather tried to kill him almost immediately. i think he probably was wandering around homeless for a while before asmodeus found him so maybe during this time he went back and got it because he loves torturing himself? It cant have been too long after she died because, i mean, he would have lost it. unless he never really went back for it at all and it was camille who went for it just to be a sadistic bitch haha i always assumed she stole from him but shit that's worse :) anyway im perfectly fine). the memories are just too painful, and beyond that, it would probably also hurt a lot to come back and see how much everything's changed, how a lot of stuff he remembers like the forests and towns and people were just. destroyed completely by the colonisation. like its gotta be hard, you know, coming back after all those centuries and seeing the extent of the damage that you couldnt stop from happening. he was there when these people were being murdered, when their sacred places were being destroyed, when their food was being taken- yeah. it must have hurt. a lot. and magnus seems to carefully never mention indonesia or even indonesian culture and food, so i tend to think that no, hes never come back

with that being said, i think he will come back eventually, if anything because this is kind of a milestone in his recovery from all this trauma - being able to go back and confront his loss, but also reconnect with his origins in a more healthy way, accept the pain and remember the good things, too. accept that it's part of who he is. be able to breathe through that. make new memories. all of that

it's something that would take a good while for him to be able to do - but i mean, he's got eternity, right? and i think magnus would eventually find himself a good warlock therapist who Gets It and is able to deal with the parts of his experiences that really only another immortal being can understand. hes never heard of it before because i mean i dont think it was a hot priority and magnus wasnt really looking for professional help for a long time, not really, but once he finds out he gives it a go and it does help him a lot. so one day, he decides to go, and asks Alec all timid if he'd be willing to go with him, half expecting him to say no, because this will be different from their other vacations and they wont necessarily be visiting the more tourist-y places and magnus will probably be quiet and introspective the whole time and it might be really exhausting and hard so he totally gets it if alec doesnt want to come - but alec just holds him, all like "hey, stop. id never want you to face that alone. im proud of you, i want to be there for you" and magnus, at a loss of words because this means so much to him, just looks at him with those eyes full of wonder and shakes his head slowly

("don't look so surprised," alec says, "i want to be there for you". "i know, it's just hard to remember that, sometimes," magnus answers)

so they go, and, yeah, its Dense. magnus finds himself just sitting down and contemplating stuff in silence for minutes on end, but every time alec just sits beside him and waits, looking around, taking in the cities and the people. then magnus stands up eventually, and alec, obligingly, follows him.

eventually he starts to open up - he'll point to places and say, "there's where this girl i grew up with lived," and "there used to be a forest here - some trees were so big, i used to think they were gods," and "my mom really liked this dish". alec listens to him, and magnus reminisces about all the little things he thought he'd forgotten, his words breathing life into the place and making it dance with stories that were silenced for so long. the more he talks, the more alive Java seems to become, and soon he's talking nonstop, taking alec by his hand and showing him places, talking to people on the streets, visiting stuff. it starts to be more sweet than bitter, and magnus finds himself not wanting to leave. he eats things he had forgotten he loved and listens to javanese for the first time in centuries and feels just that much more whole.

when they go back home, magnus is slightly embarrassed for all the infodump that he laid on alec, but alec just smiles and says that he loved it, that listening to him talk was absolutely magical, that it had him connecting to the place like he never had before. he tells magnus that he's proud of him, and that he's come so far, and that it's so fascinating that magnus has lived so long and can carry on so much legacy, even with the pain, that this is one of the aspects of immortality hes looking forward too.

from then on, they start going to indonesia like they would go to any other place - sometimes just to eat something, sometimes to spend a little more time, sometimes just to get away from their daily lives - but every time is just as special and brings them closer together and has magnus feeling a little more whole, a little more at peace with himself, a little more like he belongs :')

[spnfanficpond]

April 2019 Pond LiveChat Recap

We had a great time chatting with @deanscarlett today! Thank you so much, Scar, for joining us!!

We had a bunch of non-native English-speakers in the room today, and we all discussed the challenges of writing in a language that is not your first. A rundown of the chat, as well as general Pond news, is below the cut!

People attending: @deanscarlett @katehuntington @emilyshurley @focusonspn @mrswhozeewhatsis 

Q: What is everyone’s first language?

Scar: Spanish Kate: Dutch Emily: Hindi Sol: Spanish

Q: You all are so fluent, did you grow up speaking English?

Scar: My mom sent me to learn English when I was 6 or 7. I’m almost 41 lol Emily: I did, grand dad is a retired professor of English so like almost the second language kinda thing Kate: My mom grew up on Australia and she thought it was important for me to learn English from a very early age. 

Q: What do you guys think is the hardest part of English?

Emily: Grammar. I can speak fluently, but for me, it’s grammar and punctuation. Speaking is easier because I grew up talking to my dad in English on occasions. Scar: The listening and pronunciation part. Grammar comes easy to me because of the way it was taught to me. Spanish has waaaay too many verb tenses that makes English a joke in that sense. Kate: I personally sometimes struggle when I wanna use a Dutch way of saying things. I translate too literally.

We then discussed how even English is very different depending on what country you’re from. US vs. UK vs. Australian, for example. The same words mean different hings, different countries have different words. Sometimes, the differences can seem like it’s a whole different language.

Q: Is there anything about English that constantly trips you up, even though you know better?

Kate: Times. I mean, tenses. Scar: I got it, tenses in Spanish are called “tiempos”, which in EN is “times” 😀 For me, phrasal verbs, certain rules when it comes to prepositions. Those are my bane. Emily: Tenses. I mess those up a lot. Michelle: Well, it’s not like there’s not 2983625 tenses or anything. Native speakers screw them up, too. Apparently, we’re all REALLY invested in knowing exactly when things happened!

Q: Which brings up a side thought. I know that language informs thought. Like, some languages have no words for things, or special words for things. How often do you run into that?

Kate: A lot. I’ve looked so long for a translation to the word ‘gezellig’. It doesn’t exist. Scar. Yup. We don’t have a word for toes, for example. Kate & Michelle: Toes? How can you not have a word for toes??? Scar: Yup, it’s “fingers of the foot/feet”. There isn’t a word for it. Emily: Same. Michelle: I was thinking about those cultures that don't have words for stealing because they believe everything belongs to everyone, and here Scar is telling me the South Americans don't have toes!

Emily then turned us onto a discussion about how English steals from other languages.

Emily: Speaking of word stealing "jungle" is a Hindi word. Michelle: Oh, English is a great thief. English steals from EVERYONE indiscriminately. Kate: Oh now I wanna know what they stole from the Dutch. Emily: *cough* colonialism *cough* Kate: We were just as bad. England owned half and the Dutch the other half. Scar: Spanish stole terms, too, but they evolved in time. Emily: Jungle is straight up Hindi word with same meaning. The only English words we use in Hindi are for the things British introduced to India. Even then we came up with word for them eventually. Michelle: Quick Google search for English words with Dutch origin: Coleslaw (from the Dutch word meaning cabbage salad), boss (from baas, which means master), stove (from the Dutch word for heated room), and booze (from a Dutch word "busen" meaning to drink in excess). Kate: Koolsla! Haha! Of course we inspired a word for alcohol. Busen is old old Dutch, though. Stoven is a Dutch word for cooking. But what the English speakers call a stove, we call a gasfornuis, now. Language is weird, man.

Q: One of the facets of English that I don't know if other languages do, is how it constantly changes. I took a history of the English language course in college, and if you read Old English, like Chaucer's Canterbury Tales was originally written in, it's a completely different language. For example, the verb to starve, came from a word steorfan (not the correct spelling), which simply meant to die. Over the centuries, the meaning changed to die specifically from hunger.

Emily: Most languages evolve with time.  Scar: Latin American Spanish and Spaniard Spanish have different tenses for 2nd person plural. Even a different pronoun.

Q: Someone once told me that English is more malleable than other languages. What do you think of that?

Scar: It’s true. Spanish is hard to evolve.You cannot transform a word in a verb as easily as with EN. Emily: I’ll speak for Hindi. It’s a constantly evolving language that’s super malleable.

Q: When you look for a beta, do you look for someone who speaks your first language, or just for a native English speaker? If you don't look for someone who speaks your language, do you think finding a beta who did would make things easier or harder?

Scar: Always a native speaker. For one, not many Spanish speakers around, and 2nd, they are bound to make the same mistakes I do. Emily: It’s hard finding Indian betas, so mostly they are native English speakers. Kate: I look for a native English speaker in a beta, at least one of them (I usually get my stories checked by 2 or 3 betas). Scar: Though I notice that EN speakers tend to not notice stuff like they’re/there/their and the like. I don’t have issues with those when I write, but I notice it a lot in other writers (native EN) who were betaed by other native EN, and you see tons of those mistakes.

Q: Is there anything that has tripped up your betas in the past, or anything that you wish betas would focus on more often?

Kate: Repeating a certain word. I use a certain verb or emotion too much. Synonym would be better, not everyone picks up on that Scar: I tend to go a little too happy with passive voice. I usually do 10 reads before giving it to the beta. Usually they find wrong prepositions.  Emily: For me, it's common English saying and day to day slang. A beta once said my dialogue sounds formal. Michelle: I can understand the formal thing. One ESL writer I beta for never uses contractions. Emily: That's because I learnt the "proper" way of speaking English in school. Scar: That’s another issue, too. I was taught the posh English, so when I went to England last year, it was hard af to understand the cockney English. Emily:  Then there is the whole cultural divide situation. For example, I have a really difficult time writing anything remotely NSFW because sex and PDA are kinda taboo in India. Any advice? Michelle: Only write what you're comfortable writing. If you REALLY feel that your story needs something you don't feel comfortable writing, then collaborate with someone. Scar: Don’t force yourself to write something you are not comfortable with. Because in some cases, you don’t enjoy it and in the end that shows in the writing. Emily: It isn't that I'm not comfortable, I don't have an issue I just have no idea what I'm doing. Michelle: Whenever you're writing something that you don't know much about, find someone who writes that or knows about that, and work with them. For example, @manawhaat is my weapons expert. When I wrote a fic about Dean and the First Blade, comparing it to his other weapons, I practically had her on speed dial. I wrote what I was thinking, and asked her if any of it sounded plausible, and she corrected what I had wrong, and gave suggestions for things I didn't know about. Another suggestions is to read TONS of other fics that have what you want to write. Kate: But if you wanna learn, read and practice, though. You don’t even have to publish it.  Emily: That makes sense but I'm to scared to reach out to people. I follow some people who are really amazing, but when they post stuff like, “No, I won't read your fics unless I offer myself,” I get scared thinking I'm bothering others as well. Michelle: That’s when the Pond’s Beta list comes in handy! Sol: I'm too scared to bother someone for beta my work. Michelle: That’s what the list is there for. These are people who want to beta read. If they’re busy, they’ll tell you. But they want to be on the list and welcome people asking them.

We ended with some advice on picking a beta, and complaints about Tumblr eating asks. REMINDER: IF YOU SEND AN ASK TO THE POND AND DON’T GET A RESPONSE IN TWO DAYS, SEND A MESSAGE TO ONE OF OUR ADMINS!!

Great talk, guys! Can’t wait for next month!!

General Pond Updates and Reminders

Angel Fish Award nominations are accepted all month long! No need to wait to tell us how much you liked a fellow Fish’s work!  IF YOU HAVE SENT IN A NOMINATION, BUT HAVE NOT RECEIVED A PRIVATE MESSAGE CONFIRMING WE RECEIVED IT, WE DIDN’T GET IT. Be sure to use Submit instead of Ask!

Don’t forget to submit your stories to be posted to the blog! When your stories are on the blog, then they are easier to nominate for Angel Fish Awards!

SPNFanFicPond Season 14 Weekly Episode Challenge - Now that the season is over, we will be reposting each prompt list through the summer months! Remember, there’s no deadline for submissions! 

Say hi to April’s New Members!

Check the Pond CALENDAR to see when Big Fish will be in the chat room and other Pond and SPN events are happening! Know of something that’s not on the calendar, send us an ask or submission with the deets info details!  The calendar offers a lot of features, such as showing you when things are in your own timezone! Since we’re an international group, that’s a definite plus!!

We don’t have a topic or speaker set up for May’s event, yet, so if there’s something you want to talk about, or someone you want to talk to, LET US KNOW!

[allons-y-to-hogwarts-713]

Jingle bells, Jingle bells.. Hohoho I'm back again. I hope you'll be able to find a job soon! Student loans suck. I'm sorry to hear about the situation with your family. These kinds of things can be very painful, especially around christmas time. I'll try to inlcude a lot of Christmas cheer in your fic! My language is dutch, and I basically just listen to traditional christmas songs, only translated haha. I'm not sure if there are a lot of original ones. [1/?]

It's cool that you're learning Mandarin! It seems so difficult. As you may have guessed from the language, I'm from the netherlands (Holland). Compared to a lot of countries, it's quite small: you could drive from one side to the other in about 4 hours! I have some more questions for you as well: What is your favourite thing about CS? & What is your favourite place you've ever been to? Anywhere you've never been, but that is on your bucket list? [2/2] ho ho ho!

Hi, Santa!

Putting my response under the cut because it’s kind of long oops...

Thanks ❤️

And I’ll gladly read and love anything you write, whether happy or sad or both. I’m totally here for Christmas cheer though. I finally started baking cookies, but I only made one batch so far. I tried a recipe I’d never made before, so I didn’t double it since I didn’t know how it would turn out (it worked well, so I’m definitely planning to make more), but I haven’t made any of the kinds my mom and I always make yet. I’ll probably work on those after the weekend so they’ll still be good on Christmas.

Neat! My brother and sister-in-law traveled with a tour group through a few countries in Europe over the summer and visited the Netherlands during that trip. I know they went to Amsterdam, and I think there was another place they stopped but I don’t remember where. They got some beautiful pictures. If they ever go again, I’d love to go with them if I could.

Mandarin is definitely a challenge for me. The same syllable said with different tones are different words, and I’m not great at hearing the tones correctly or remembering which word has which tone, so I’m afraid of accidentally saying something bad that I don’t even know. The written characters are a lot of memorization too, and my memory is horrible. It’s a very slow process for me.

Ooh, favorite thing about CS... does “everything” count? I love their love, how they just seem so cozy with each other and fight for each other, though they’re fully capable of fighting for themselves too and know each other’s strength. I love their early banter and their angsty moments and their sweet domesticity. I love the way Killian was love-struck from the start and the way he looks at her in amazement, and I love the way Emma slowly let down her walls to let him in and the way she even giggles when she’s with him. I love that they are each other’s true love and happy beginning and happily ever after. I love the Captain Cobra Swan relationship and that they’ll get to raise Hope together. I love that there’s a little pirate in both of them. And I love the leather jackets. ;)

I haven’t been many places, and I haven’t been outside the U.S. yet, but I love where I’ve been. My family and I used to go almost every summer to the Outer Banks, North Carolina, which is awesome. The beach is nice, and the food is delicious lol. I’ve also been to New York City a few times (specifically Manhattan), and I definitely want to go there more, hopefully to see more Broadway shows but also just to see more of the city. I tended to end up in the same general area most visits, whether I meant to or not, so there’s a lot I haven’t experienced yet. I’d also like to eventually visit my sister-in-law’s family in China if I can, and I want to go to a few places in the UK. Honestly though, I’d love to travel anywhere and everywhere I can. There’s so much of the world that I’ll probably never have the chance to see and experience, but I’d love to see and experience as much of it as I can.

What about you? What are your favorite CS things and places you’ve been? Is there anywhere you really want to visit?